Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew

We ought not to need the help of written words at all, but to offer a life so pure that the grace of the Spirit would take the place of books in our souls, and that as these are written with ink, so our hearts would be written by the Spirit. But since we have thrust this grace away, come, let us at least welcome the second-best voyage. For that the first way was better, God made clear both by what he said and by what he did. With Noah, with Abraham and his descendants, with Job, and with Moses too, he conversed not through writings but himself, by himself, because he found their minds pure. But when the whole people of the Hebrews had fallen into the very pit of wickedness, then at last came writings and tablets, and the reminder that comes through them. And one can see this happen not only with the saints of the Old Testament but also with those of the New. For God gave the apostles nothing in writing; instead of writings he promised to give the grace of the Spirit: “For he,” he says, “will bring all things to your remembrance.” And that you may learn that this was far better, hear what he says through the prophet: “I will make a new covenant with you, putting my laws into their mind, and I will write them on their hearts, and they shall all be taught by God.” Paul too, showing this superiority, said that he had received a law “not on tablets of stone, but on fleshly tablets of the heart.” But since, as time went on, they made shipwreck, some in doctrine, others in life and conduct, there was need once more of the reminder that comes through writings. Consider, then, how great an evil it is that we, who ought to live so purely as not to need writings at all but to offer our hearts to the Spirit in place of books, having lost that honor and come to need these, should not even use this second remedy as we ought. For if it is a reproach to have needed writings and not to have drawn down the grace of the Spirit, consider how great a charge it is to refuse to profit even after this help, and to neglect the writings as though they lay there idly and to no purpose, and so to draw down a greater punishment on ourselves. That this may not happen, let us attend carefully to what is written, and learn how the old law was given and how the new covenant.

How, then, was that law given at that time, and when, and where? After the destruction of the Egyptians, in the wilderness, on Mount Sinai, while smoke and fire went up from the mountain, a trumpet sounded, thunder and lightning broke out, and Moses went into the very darkness. In the new covenant it was not so, neither in a wilderness, nor on a mountain, nor with smoke and gloom and darkness and storm; but at the start of the day, in a house, while all sat together, everything happened with great gentleness. For those who were less rational and hard to rein in needed bodily displays, such as a wilderness, a mountain, smoke, the sound of a trumpet, and other such things; but those who were more exalted and obedient, and had risen above thoughts of bodies, needed none of these. And if even in their case there was a sound, it was not for the apostles' sake but for the sake of the Jews who were present, for whose sake also the tongues of fire appeared. For if even after this they said, “They are filled with new wine,” much more would they have said it if they had seen none of these things. And in the Old Testament, when Moses went up, God came down; but here, when our nature has been carried up into heaven, or rather to the royal throne, the Spirit comes down. Yet if the Spirit were less, what happened would not have been greater and more wonderful. For these tablets are far better, and the achievements more splendid. For the apostles did not come down from a mountain carrying stone tablets in their hands like Moses, but carrying the Spirit about in their minds, and pouring out a kind of treasure and fountain of doctrines and gifts and all good things, so they went about everywhere, becoming by grace living books and laws. So they drew in the three thousand, so the five thousand, so the peoples of the world, God speaking through their tongue to all who came near.

From this source Matthew too, filled with the Spirit, wrote what he wrote: Matthew the tax collector, for I am not ashamed to call him by his trade, neither him nor the others. For this above all shows both the grace of the Spirit and their virtue. And he rightly called his work a gospel. For he came announcing to all, to enemies, to the ungrateful, to those sitting in darkness, the removal of punishment, the release from sins, righteousness, sanctification, redemption, adoption, the inheritance of heaven, and kinship with the Son of God. What could ever be equal to this good news? God on earth, man in heaven, and all things mingled together: angels joined in dance with men, men shared in the company of angels and of the other powers above; and one could see the long war ended, God reconciled with our nature, the devil put to shame, demons in flight, death undone, paradise opened, the curse wiped out, sin put out of the way, error driven off, truth returned, the word of godliness sown everywhere and flourishing, the commonwealth of heaven planted on earth, those powers conversing with us without fear, angels continually visiting the earth, and great hope for the things to come. That is why he called the narrative a gospel, since all other things are mere words empty of reality, such as abundance of wealth, greatness of power, offices, glories, honors, and whatever else men count as good; but what the fishermen announced may truly and properly be called good news, not only because these goods are secure and unshakable and beyond our deserving, but also because they were given to us with all ease. For it was not by toiling and sweating, nor by labor and hardship, but only by being loved by God, that we received what we received.

And why, when the disciples were so many, do only two of the apostles write, and two of their followers? For one, a disciple of Paul, and the other, of Peter, wrote the Gospels along with John and Matthew. Because they did nothing for display, but everything for need. What then? Was not one evangelist enough to say everything? He was enough; but if there are four who write, neither at the same times nor in the same places, nor having met and talked with one another, and yet they speak everything as though from one mouth, this becomes the greatest proof of the truth. “But the opposite happened,” someone says, “for in many places they are convicted of disagreeing.” This very thing is the greatest sign of the truth. For if they had agreed precisely in everything, down to time and place and the very words, none of the enemies would have believed that they had not met and written what they wrote by some human compact; for so great an agreement would not come from simplicity. But as it is, the disagreement that seems to exist in small matters frees them from all suspicion and speaks splendidly in defense of the character of the writers. And if they reported something differently about times or places, this does no harm to the truth of what they said. These things too, as God grants, we shall try to show as we go on, asking you, along with what has been said, to observe that in the main points, those that hold our life together and make up the preaching, none of them is found to disagree even a little anywhere. What are these? For instance: that God became man, that he worked miracles, that he was crucified, that he was buried, that he rose, that he ascended, that he will judge, that he gave saving commandments, that he brought in a law not contrary to the old, that he is Son, that he is only-begotten, that he is genuine, that he is of the same essence as the Father, and all such things; for on these we shall find great agreement among them. And if in the miracles they did not all tell everything, but one told these, another those, let this not trouble you. For if one had told everything, the number of the rest would have been superfluous; and if all had written things altogether different and new to one another, the proof of their agreement would not have appeared. That is why they told many things in common, and each of them also took something of his own and told it, so that he might neither seem superfluous and thrown in for nothing, and might give us an exact test of the truth of what is said.

Luke, then, also states the reason why he comes to write: “that you may have,” he says, “the certainty concerning the things in which you were instructed”; that is, that being continually reminded you may have the certainty and remain in certainty. John himself kept silent about the reason; but, as the account that has come down to us from the beginning and from the fathers says, he too did not come to write without cause. Since the three had been concerned to dwell on the account of the dispensation, and the doctrines of the Godhead were in danger of being passed over in silence, Christ moved him, and so at last he came to write his Gospel. This is clear both from the narrative itself and from the opening of the Gospel. For he does not begin from below like the others, but from above, toward the point he was pressing to reach, and for which he composed the whole book. And not only in the opening, but throughout the whole Gospel he is loftier than the others. It is said too that Matthew, when those of the Jews who had believed came to him and asked him, left them in writing what he had said by word of mouth, and composed the Gospel in the language of the Hebrews; and that Mark in Egypt did this same thing at the request of the disciples. For this reason Matthew, writing to Hebrews, sought to show nothing more than that he was from Abraham and David; but Luke, speaking to all in common, carries the account higher, going as far back as Adam. And the one begins from the genealogy, for nothing so set the Jew at rest as to learn that Christ was a descendant of Abraham and David; but the other does not, but mentions many other things first and then proceeds to the genealogy.

Their agreement we shall establish also from the world that received what they said, and from the very enemies of the truth. For many heresies were born after them, holding opinions contrary to what was said; and some accepted everything that was said, while others cut off parts of what was said from the rest and keep them so among themselves. But if there were any conflict in what was said, neither would those that teach the contrary have accepted all of it, but only the part that seemed to agree with them; nor would those that took a part have been refuted from that part, so that even the fragments do not escape notice but cry out their kinship with the whole body. And just as if you take some part from the side, you will find in that part all the things of which the whole animal is made, nerves, veins, bones, arteries, blood, a sample, one might say, of the whole lump, so also in the Scriptures one can see in each part of what is said the kinship with the whole shining through. But if they disagreed, neither would this have been shown, and the doctrine itself would long ago have dissolved: “For every kingdom,” he says, “divided against itself shall not stand.” But as it is, even in this the strength of the Spirit shines, having persuaded men, occupied with the more necessary and pressing matters, to take no harm from these small things.

What each one wrote while staying where he was, we need not insist on very strongly; but that they did not stand against one another, this we shall try to show through the whole work. You, though, do the same as if, in charging them with disagreement, you required them to use the very same words and turns of phrase. And I do not yet say that even those who boast greatly of rhetoric and philosophy, many of them writing many books on the same subjects, not only disagreed but spoke in contradiction to one another (for it is one thing to speak differently and another to speak in conflict); I say none of this. Far be it from me to build my defense out of their folly; for I do not wish to establish the truth from falsehood. But I would gladly ask this: how were things that disagree believed? How did they prevail? How were men who said contradictory things admired, believed, proclaimed everywhere in the world? Yet the witnesses of what they said were many, and many too were their enemies and foes. For they did not write these things and bury them in one corner, but spread them out everywhere on land and sea in the hearing of all; and they were read in the presence of enemies, just as now; and nothing of what was said gave offense to anyone. And with good reason, for it was a divine power that went through all things and set them right among all. Otherwise, how would the tax collector, the fisherman, the unlettered man have taught such philosophy? For things that those outside could never have imagined even in a dream, these men both announce and persuade others of with great assurance; and not only while living, but even after their death; not two and twenty men, nor a hundred, nor a thousand, nor ten thousand, but cities and nations and peoples, land and sea, Greece and the barbarian world, the inhabited world and the uninhabited; and about things far surpassing our nature. For leaving the earth, they speak entirely of things in heaven, bringing in for us another life and another way of living, wealth and poverty, freedom and slavery, life and death, a world and a commonwealth, all of a different kind.

Not like Plato, who composed that ridiculous Republic, and Zeno, and anyone else who wrote a republic or composed laws. For from the start all these men were shown to be people into whose souls an evil spirit had sounded, some savage demon warring against our nature, an enemy of chastity and a foe of good order, turning everything upside down. For when they make women common to all, and strip virgins and lead them into the wrestling school for men to look at, and arrange secret marriages, mixing and confounding everything together and overturning the bounds of nature, what else can one say? That all these are inventions of demons and that what they say is against nature, nature herself would bear us witness, since she does not endure what they say; and this although they wrote not under persecution, not amid dangers, not amid wars, but in complete security and freedom, adorning it from many sources. But the words of the fishermen, though they were driven out, scourged, and in danger, were received with all goodwill by unlearned and wise, slaves and free, kings and soldiers, barbarians and Greeks.

Nor could you say that they were readily accepted by all because these things were small and low; for they are far loftier than those. Of virginity those men never imagined even the name, not even in a dream, nor of voluntary poverty, nor of fasting, nor of any other lofty thing. But those among us not only banish lust, nor do they punish only the act, but also an unchaste look, insulting words, disorderly laughter, bearing, gait, and shouting; they carry their strictness down to the smallest things, and they have filled the whole world with the plant of virginity. And about God and the things in heaven they persuade men to hold such philosophy as none of those men was ever able even to conceive. How could they, who made gods of images of things more contemptible? And yet these lofty doctrines were received and believed, and they flower and grow every day; but theirs are gone and have perished, vanishing more easily than spiders' webs. And with good reason, for it was demons who uttered those things; that is why, along with their licentiousness, they have much darkness and more toil. For what could be more ridiculous than that Republic, in which, besides what has been said, the philosopher spent countless lines in order to be able to show what justice is, and filled what he said with long-windedness and much obscurity? Even if it had anything useful, it would have been quite useless for human life. For if the farmer, the coppersmith, the builder, the helmsman, and everyone who lives by the work of his hands were to leave his craft and his honest labors and spend so many years learning what justice is, he would often perish of hunger before learning it, and would die because of this “justice,” having learned nothing else useful, and end his life by a violent death.

But ours is not like this. Christ taught us justice, propriety, expediency, and all virtue simply, gathering it in brief and clear words: at one time saying, “On two commandments hang the law and the prophets,” that is, on the love of God and of one's neighbor; at another saying, “Whatever you wish that men should do to you, do you also to them; for this is the law and the prophets.” All this is easy to grasp and easy to learn for the farmer, the house-servant, the widow, the child himself, and the one who seems quite foolish. For such is the character of the truth, and the outcome of events bears witness. All, at least, learned what must be done, and not only learned but also emulated it; and not only in the cities, nor in the midst of the marketplaces, but also on the tops of the mountains. For there you will see much philosophy, and choirs of angels shining in human bodies, and the commonwealth of heaven appearing here. For the fishermen wrote a commonwealth for us, not ordering that it be taken up from childhood, as those men did, nor legislating that the virtuous man must be of such and such an age, but simply addressing every age. For those things are children's toys, but these are the truth of reality. And they assigned heaven as the place of this commonwealth, and brought in God as its maker and as lawgiver of the laws laid down there, as was right. And the prizes of this commonwealth are not laurel leaves, nor olive wreaths, nor meals in the town hall, nor bronze statues, those cold and cheap things, but life without end, becoming children of God, dancing with angels, standing beside the royal throne, and being with Christ forever. And the leaders of this commonwealth are tax collectors, fishermen, and tentmakers, who did not live for a short time but live forever. That is why even after their death they could greatly benefit those who live under this commonwealth. This commonwealth has war not against men but against demons and those bodiless powers. That is why their general is no man, nor any angel, but God himself. And the weapons of these soldiers match the nature of the war, for they are made not of leather and iron but of truth and righteousness and faith and all philosophy.

Since, then, this book too was written about this commonwealth, and it lies before us now to speak of it, let us attend carefully to Matthew, who speaks of it plainly; for what is said is not his, but all of it belongs to Christ, who laid down the laws of this commonwealth. Let us attend, so that we may be enrolled in it and shine with those who have already lived in it and await those unfading crowns. Many think this book is easy, and that the prophets are what is difficult. But this too belongs to people who do not know the depth of the thoughts stored in it. So I urge you to follow us with great zeal, so as to enter the very sea of what is written, with Christ leading us on this entry. And so that the discourse may be easier to learn, we ask and urge you, as we have done with the other Scriptures, to read beforehand the passage of Scripture that we are about to explain, so that the reading may prepare the way for understanding (as happened in the case of the eunuch) and give us great ease. For the questions are many and follow one upon another. See, at any rate, right at the opening of his Gospel how many things one might raise. First, why is Joseph's genealogy given, when he was not the father of Christ? Second, how will it be clear to us that he descends from David, when the ancestors of Mary, from whom he was born, are unknown, since the virgin's genealogy was not given? Third, why is Joseph, who contributed nothing to the birth, given a genealogy, while the virgin, who became the mother, is not shown to be of what fathers and grandfathers and forebears? Besides these it is worth asking also why, though he carries the genealogy through the men, he mentioned women too; and since he decided to do so, why he did not set down all the women, but passing over the women of good report, such as Sarah, Rebekah, and others like them, he brought forward only those notorious for wickedness, such as one who was a harlot or an adulteress, one from an unlawful union, one a foreigner and barbarian. For he mentioned the wife of Uriah, Tamar, Rahab, and Ruth: of whom one was of another race, one a harlot, one was defiled by her father-in-law, and not by the law of marriage but by stealing the union and putting on the mask of a harlot; and the wife of Uriah no one is ignorant of, because of the notoriety of the outrage. Yet the evangelist, passing over all the others, put only these into the genealogy. And yet if women had to be mentioned, all should have been; and if not all, then some of those renowned for virtue, not of those notorious for sins. Do you see how much attention we need right at the opening? And yet the opening seems clearer than the rest, and to many perhaps even superfluous, since it is only a list of names.

After this it is worth asking also why he passed over three kings. For if he kept silent about their names because they were extremely ungodly, he ought not to have mentioned the others of the same kind either. And this is another question: having said fourteen generations, he did not keep the number in the third division. And why did Luke mention other names, and not only not all the same ones, but even many more, while Matthew gave both fewer and different ones, although he too ended with Joseph, with whom Luke also concluded? You see how much wakefulness we need, not only to solve, but even to learn what needs solving. For this is no small thing either, to be able to find the difficulties. For there is this difficulty too: how Elizabeth, being of the tribe of Levi, was a kinswoman of Mary. But so as not to bury your memory by stringing many things together, let us stop the discourse here for now. It is enough for you to be roused and to learn only the questions. If you long for the solution too, that also is in your power before our words. For if I see you roused and eager to learn, I shall try to bring the solution as well; but if yawning and inattentive, I shall hide both the questions and the solution, obeying the divine law: “Do not give,” he says, “what is holy to the dogs, nor throw your pearls before the swine, lest they trample them under their feet.” And who is it that tramples? The one who does not count these things precious and holy. “And who is so wretched,” someone says, “as not to count these things holy and more precious than all?” The one who does not give them even as much leisure as he gives to harlots in the satanic theaters. For there most people spend whole days, and neglect much of their household business for this untimely occupation, and they retain exactly whatever they hear, keeping it to the ruin of their own soul. But here, when God speaks, they cannot bear to stay even a little while. That is why we have nothing in common with heaven, but our citizenship goes no further than words. And yet God threatened hell for this reason, not to cast us into it, but to persuade us to flee this cruel tyranny. But we do the opposite, and every day we run on the road that leads there; and while God commands us not only to hear but also to do what is said, we cannot even bear to hear. When then, tell me, shall we do what is commanded and take up the works, when we cannot even bear to hear the words about them, but are vexed and restless at the time spent here, though it is very short? Then, when we talk about trivial things, if we see those sitting with us not paying attention, we call it an insult; but we do not think we provoke God when, while he speaks about such great things, we despise what is said and look elsewhere? A man who has grown old and traveled over much land will tell us with all exactness the number of stades, the positions of cities, their shapes, harbors, and marketplaces; but we ourselves do not even know how far we are from the city in heaven. Surely we would have been eager to cut short the length, if we had known the distance. For that city is not as far from us as the space between heaven and earth, but even much farther, if we are careless; just as, if we are zealous, we shall reach its gates in an instant. For these distances are determined not by length of places but by disposition of character.

You know the affairs of this life exactly, both the new and the old and the ancient, and you can count the rulers under whom you served in time past, … and the presidents of the games, and the prize-winners, and the generals, things that make no difference to you. But who has been ruler in this city, whether first or second or third, or for how long each one, and what he achieved and did, you never imagined even in a dream. And the laws laid down in this city you cannot bear even to hear and attend to when others speak of them. How then, tell me, do you expect to obtain the good things promised, when you do not even attend to what is said? But if not before, let us do this now at least. For we are about to enter, if God permits, a city of gold, more precious than any gold. Let us learn, then, its foundations, its gates made of sapphire and pearls; for we have in Matthew an excellent guide. For through his gate we are now entering, and we need much zeal. For if he sees anyone not attending, he casts him out of the city. For the city is most royal and splendid; not like the cities among us, divided into a marketplace and palaces, but everything there is palace. Let us throw open, then, the gates of our mind, let us open our ears, and as we are about to step upon the threshold with much trembling, let us worship the King who is in it. For at once the first sight can strike the beholder with awe. For now the gates are shut to us; but when we see them thrown open (for that is the solution of the questions), then we shall see much lightning within. For guided by the eyes of the Spirit, this tax collector promises to show you everything: where the King sits, and which of his armies stand beside him; where the angels are and where the archangels; what place has been set apart for the new citizens in this city, and what road leads there; what lot those received who first lived as citizens there, and those after them, and those after these; how many orders there are of those peoples, how many of the council, and how many distinctions of rank. Let us not, then, enter with noise and confusion, but with mystical silence. For if in a theater, when there is much silence, the letters of the emperor are then read, much more in this city ought all to be composed, and to stand with souls and ears erect. For it is not the letters of some earthly ruler, but of the Lord of the angels, that are about to be read. If we so order ourselves, the grace of the Spirit itself will guide us with great exactness, and we shall come to the very royal throne and obtain all good things, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.”

Do you remember the charge we gave you the other day, urging you to listen to everything said with complete silence and mystical stillness? For today we are about to step upon the sacred threshold; that is why I have reminded you of the charge. For if the Jews, when they were about to approach a mountain that burned, and fire, and gloom, and darkness, and storm, or rather not even to approach but to see and hear these things from afar, were ordered for three days beforehand to abstain from their wives and to wash their garments, and were in trembling and fear, both they and Moses with them, much more ought we, who are about to hear such words, and not to stand far from a smoking mountain but to enter heaven itself, to show a greater philosophy: not washing garments, but cleansing the robe of the soul and freeing ourselves from all mixture with worldly things. For you will see no gloom, nor smoke, nor storm, but the King himself seated on the throne of that unspeakable glory, angels and archangels standing beside him, and the peoples of the saints with those countless myriads. For such is the city of God, having the church of the firstborn, the spirits of the righteous, the festal gathering of the angels, the blood of sprinkling, by which all things were joined together, and heaven received the things of earth, and earth the things of heaven, and the peace long desired by angels and saints has come. In it stands the bright and glorious trophy of the cross, the spoils of Christ, the first fruits of our nature, the booty of our King; all these we shall learn exactly from the Gospels. If you follow with fitting quietness, we shall be able to lead you around everywhere and show you where death lies impaled, where sin hangs, where the many and marvelous offerings from this war and this battle are. You will see the tyrant bound here, and the multitude of captives following, and the citadel from which that foul demon overran everything in time past. You will see the robber's lairs and caves, broken open now and laid bare; for the King came even there. But do not grow weary, beloved. For if someone were describing a war of this world, with trophies and victories, you would not have had your fill; you would not have put food or drink before that story. And if that narrative is desirable, much more this one. For consider how great a thing it is to hear how God arose from heaven and from the royal thrones and leapt down to earth and to Hades itself, and stood in the battle line; and how the devil set himself in array against him, or rather not against God unveiled, but against God hidden in human nature. And what is truly wonderful, you will see death undone by death, and curse wiped out by curse, and the devil's tyranny destroyed by the very means through which he had prevailed. Let us rouse ourselves, then, and not sleep; for see, I see the gates opening for us. But let us enter with all good order and trembling, stepping at once upon the threshold itself.

What is this threshold? “The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.” What are you saying? You promised to speak of the only-begotten Son of God, and you mention David, a man born after countless generations, and say that he is both his father and his ancestor? Wait, and do not seek to learn everything at once, but gently and little by little. For you are still standing at the threshold, by the very gateway; why then do you hurry to the inner sanctuary? You have not yet looked well at everything outside. For I am not yet telling you of that generation; or rather, not even of the later one, for it is beyond speaking and beyond telling. The prophet Isaiah said this to you before me; for when he proclaimed his passion and his great care for the world, and was amazed at who he was and what he became and where he came down, he cried out loud and clear, saying: “Who shall declare his generation?”

Our discourse now, then, is not about that generation, but about this one below, which took place on earth, with countless witnesses. And this one too we shall describe as far as is possible for us to speak, having received the grace of the Spirit. For not even this can be set forth with complete clarity, since it too is most awesome. Do not think, then, that you are hearing small things when you hear of this birth; but raise up your mind and tremble at once on hearing that God came to earth. For this was so wonderful and unexpected that the angels formed a choir over it and offered praise on behalf of the world, and the prophets long before were amazed at this, that he “was seen on earth and lived among men.” For it is truly astonishing to hear that God, the unspeakable, the inexpressible, the incomprehensible, the equal of the Father, came through a virgin's womb, consented to be born of a woman, and to have David and Abraham as forebears. And why do I say David and Abraham? What is more awesome still, those women whom we mentioned just now. When you hear these things, rise up and suspect nothing lowly; but for this very reason above all marvel, that being Son of the God who has no beginning, and genuine Son, he consented to be called also son of David, to make you a son of God; he consented to have a slave as his father, to make the Master a father to you, the slave.

Do you see at once from the opening what the Gospels are like? If you doubt about what concerns you, believe it from what concerns him. For it is much harder, as far as human reasoning goes, for God to become man than for man to be called a son of God. When, then, you hear that the Son of God is son of David and of Abraham, no longer doubt that you too, the son of Adam, will be a son of God. For he would not have humbled himself so far idly and to no purpose, if he were not going to exalt us. He was born according to the flesh, that you might be born according to the Spirit; he was born of a woman, that you might cease to be only a woman's son. That is why the birth was twofold, both like ours and surpassing ours. For to be born of a woman was common with us; but to be born “not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh,” or of man, but of the Holy Spirit, proclaimed beforehand the birth that surpasses us and is to come, which he was going to give us from the Spirit. And all the rest was of the same kind. For the washing too was such: it had something of the old and something of the new. To be baptized by the prophet showed the old; the descent of the Spirit sketched the new. And as someone standing in the space between two parties set apart from each other, stretching out both hands and taking hold on either side, would join them, so he too did, joining the old covenant to the new, the divine nature to the human, his things to ours.

Do you see the lightning of the city, with what brightness it has shone on you from the opening? How at once it has shown you the King in your own form, as though in a camp? For there too the king does not always appear with his own dignity, but often lays aside the purple and the diadem and puts on the dress of a soldier. But there he does so lest, being recognized, he draw the enemy upon himself; here it is the opposite, lest, being recognized, he cause the enemy to flee from the encounter with him, and throw all his own into confusion; for he was eager to save, not to terrify. That is why at once he called him by this name, calling him Jesus. For this name Jesus is not Greek, but in the language of the Hebrews he is so called, Jesus, which interpreted into the Greek tongue is Savior: Savior, from his saving his people.

Do you see how he has given the hearer wings, speaking in familiar terms and through them disclosing to us things beyond all hope? For both these names were well known among the Jews. Since what was to happen was marvelous, the types in the names also ran on ahead, so that all the disturbance of novelty might be removed beforehand. For Jesus is the name of the one who after Moses brought the people into the land of promise. You have seen the type: look at the reality. He brought them into the land of promise, this one into heaven and the good things in heaven; he after Moses died, this one after the law ceased; he as a leader of the people, this one as King. But lest, hearing “Jesus,” you be misled by the identity of name, he added, “of Jesus Christ, the son of David.” But the other was not of David, but of another tribe.

But why does he call it a book of the generation of Jesus Christ, although it does not contain only the birth, but the whole dispensation? Because this is the sum of the whole dispensation, and it becomes the beginning and root of all our good things. So as Moses calls it the book of heaven and earth, although he discoursed not only of heaven and earth but also of everything between, so this one too named the book from the sum of the achievements. For what is full of amazement and beyond all hope and expectation is that God became man; and once this has happened, all that follows comes in reason and sequence.

But why did he not say “son of Abraham” and then “son of David”? Not, as some think, because he wished to go from below upward; for then he would have done what Luke does; but as it is he does the opposite. Why then did he mention David? The man was on everyone's lips, both because of his fame and because of the time; for he had not died long before, as Abraham had. And although God made promises to both, the one, being old, was passed over in silence, while the other, being recent and new, was carried about by all. At least they themselves say: “Does not the Christ come from the seed of David, and from Bethlehem, the village where David was?” And no one called him son of Abraham, but all called him son of David; for both because of the time, as I said already, and because of the kingship, this man was more in everyone's memory. So too all the kings whom they honored after him they called by his name, both they and God. For Ezekiel and other prophets also say that David will come to them and rise up, speaking not of the one who had died but of those who emulate his virtue. And to Hezekiah he says, “I will defend this city for my own sake and for the sake of David my servant.” And to Solomon he said that for David's sake he did not tear the kingdom apart in his lifetime. For great was the glory of the man, both with God and with men. That is why he makes his beginning at once from the better known, and then runs back to the father, thinking it superfluous, as far as the Jews were concerned, to carry the account higher. For these were the men most admired: the one as prophet and king, the other as patriarch and prophet.

“And how is it clear that he is of David?” someone says. “For if he was not born of a man but of a woman only, and the virgin's genealogy is not given, how shall we know that he was a descendant of David?” For there are two questions: why the mother's genealogy is not given, and why Joseph, who contributed nothing to the birth, is mentioned by them; for the one seems superfluous and the other lacking. Which, then, must we speak of first? How the virgin is of David. How then shall we know that she is of David? Hear God telling Gabriel to go to “a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house and family of David.” What then do you want plainer than this, when you hear that the virgin was of the house and family of David? From this

it is clear that Joseph too was from there. For there was a law that forbade marrying from elsewhere than from the same tribe. And the patriarch Jacob foretold that he would arise from the tribe of Judah, saying: “A ruler shall not fail from Judah, nor a leader from his loins, until he comes for whom it is laid up, and he is the expectation of the nations.” This prophecy shows that he came from the tribe of Judah; but that he was also of the family of David, it does not yet show. “Was there, then, in the tribe of Judah only one family, that of David? Were there not many others too? And it might happen that one was of Judah but not of the family of David.” But lest you say this, the evangelist removed this suspicion of yours by saying that he was of the house and family of David. And if you wish to learn this from elsewhere too, we shall not lack other proofs. For not only was it unlawful to marry from another tribe, but not even from another family, that is, kindred. So whether we apply “of the house and family of David” to the virgin, what was said stands; or to Joseph, this too is established through him. For if he was of the house and family of David, he would not have taken his wife from elsewhere than from where he himself was. “What then if he broke the law?” someone says. That is why he testified beforehand that Joseph was righteous, so that you would not say this, but, learning his virtue, would know also that he would not have broken the law. For he who was so humane and free from passion that, even when suspicion pressed him, he would not undertake to punish the virgin, how would he have broken the law for pleasure? He who showed a philosophy above the law (for to put her away, and to put her away secretly, belonged to one who showed a philosophy above the law), how would he have done anything against the law, and that when no cause compelled him?

That the virgin was of the family of David, then, is clear from this. But why he did not give her genealogy but Joseph's, we must say. Why then? It was not the custom among the Jews to give the genealogy of women. So that he might keep the custom and not seem to falsify it from the opening, and yet make the maiden known to us, he kept silent about her ancestors and gave Joseph's genealogy. For if he had done this for the virgin, he would have seemed to innovate; if he had kept silent about Joseph, we would not have known the virgin's ancestors. So that we might learn who Mary was and from where, and the rule of the laws might remain unshaken, he gave the genealogy of her betrothed and showed that he was of the house of David. For when this is proved, that too is proved with it, that the virgin was from there as well, because this righteous man, as I said before, would not have allowed himself to take a wife from elsewhere. There is also another, more mystical reason one could give why the virgin's ancestors were passed over in silence, which it is not timely to reveal now, because much has been said.

Therefore let us stop the discussion of the questions here, and for the present hold fast what has been revealed to us: why he mentioned David first; why he called the book a book of generation; why he said “of Jesus Christ”; how the birth is common and not common; from where Mary was shown to be of David; and why Joseph's genealogy was given while her ancestors were passed over. For if you keep these things, you will make us more eager for what is to come; but if you spit them out and cast them from your soul, we too shall be more reluctant about the rest. For no farmer would choose to tend land that has destroyed the earlier seed. So I urge you to turn these things over. For from caring about such things a great and saving good comes to the soul. For by attending to these things we shall be able to please God, and our mouths will be pure of insults, foul talk, and abuse, as they practice spiritual words; we shall be fearsome to demons, arming our tongue with such words; we shall draw God's grace more upon us, and it will make our eye more clear-sighted. For he set eyes and mouth and hearing in us for this reason, that all our members might serve him; that we might speak his words, do his works, sing him continual hymns, offer up thanksgivings, and by these cleanse our conscience. For as a body that enjoys pure air will be healthier, so a soul nourished on such studies will be more wise.

Do you not see that the eyes of the body too, when they spend time in smoke, are always weeping, but when in clear air, in a meadow, by springs and gardens, they become sharper and healthier? Such too is the eye of the soul. If it feeds in the meadow of spiritual oracles, it will be pure and clear and sharp-sighted; but if it goes off into the smoke of worldly affairs, it will weep and lament countless times, both now and then. For human affairs are like smoke. That is why someone said, “My days have failed like smoke.” But he was referring to their shortness and insubstantiality; I would say the words should be taken not only so, but also of their turmoil. For nothing so pains and clouds the eye of the soul as the crowd of worldly cares and the swarm of desires; for these are the fuel of this smoke. And as fire, when it takes hold of wet and soaked material, kindles much smoke, so this violent and fiery desire, when it takes hold of a soul that is wet and slack, itself produces much smoke. That is why there is need of the dew of the Spirit and of that breeze, to quench the fire, disperse the smoke, and give wings to our thought. For it is not possible, it is not possible, for one weighed down by so many evils to fly up to heaven; we must be content if, being lightly girded, we can cut through this road; or rather, not even so is it possible, unless we receive the wing of the Spirit. If then we need a light mind and spiritual grace to go up to that height, when we have none of these, but drag along everything contrary, a satanic weight, how shall we be able to fly up, dragged down by so great a weight? For if someone tried to weigh our words as on just scales, among ten thousand talents of worldly words he would scarcely find a hundred denarii of spiritual words, or rather not even ten obols. Is it not then a shame and the height of absurdity that, having a servant, we use him mostly for necessary things, but, possessing a mouth, we do not treat this member of ours even as we treat a servant, but on the contrary use it for useless and superfluous things? And would that it were only for superfluous things! But as it is, for things contrary and harmful, and of no use to us. For if what we uttered were useful to us, what was said would certainly be pleasing to God too. But as it is, whatever the devil suggests we utter: now laughing, now joking; now cursing and insulting, now swearing, lying, and perjuring; now grumbling, now babbling and chattering more than old women, bringing everything into the open that has nothing to do with us.

For which of you standing here, tell me, if asked, could recite a single psalm, or any other part of the divine Scriptures? There is no one. And this is not the only terrible thing, but that, while you are so slack toward spiritual things, toward satanic things you are hotter than fire. For if someone wished to examine you on devilish songs and lewd, effeminate melodies, he would find many who know them exactly and recite them with great pleasure. But what is the defense for these charges? “I am not one of the monks,” someone says, “but I have a wife and children and look after a household.” This is what has ruined everything, that you think the reading of the divine Scriptures belongs to them alone, when you need it much more than they. For those who move about in the midst of things and are wounded every day, these above all need remedies. So that, worse than not reading, is thinking the thing superfluous; for these are the words of a satanic training. Do you not hear Paul saying that “all these things were written for our admonition”? And you, if you must take up a Gospel book, would not choose to do it with unwashed hands; yet you do not think the things lying within are very necessary. That is why everything has been turned upside down. For if you wish to learn how great is the gain from the Scriptures, examine yourself: what you become when you hear psalms, and what when you hear a satanic song; how you are disposed while spending time in church, and how while sitting in the theater; and you will see how great the difference is between this soul and that, although it is one. That is why Paul said, “Bad company corrupts good morals.” That is why we need continual incantations from the Spirit. For this is the thing in which we surpass the irrational creatures, since in other respects we are even much inferior to them. This is the food of the soul, this its adornment, this its safety; just as not to hear is famine and ruin: “For I will give them,” he says, “not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but a famine of hearing the word of the Lord.” What then could be more wretched, when what God threatens by way of punishment, you of your own accord draw down as an evil upon your own head, bringing a cruel famine upon your soul and making it weaker than all? For by words the soul is naturally both corrupted and saved. For this leads it into anger, and this same thing calms it again; a shameful word kindles it to desire, and a word full of dignity leads it to chastity. And if a word, simply as such, has so much power, how is it, tell me, that you despise the Scriptures? For if an exhortation can do so much, much more when the exhortations are with the Spirit. For more than fire a word sounding from the divine Scriptures softens the hardened soul and makes it fit for all good things. So Paul too, taking the Corinthians when they were puffed up and inflamed, calmed them and made them more reasonable. For they were proud of the very things for which they should have been ashamed and have hidden their faces. But when they had received the letter, hear their change, to which the teacher himself bore witness, saying: “For this very thing, that you were grieved in a godly way, what earnestness it produced in you, what defense, what indignation, what fear, what longing, what zeal, what vindication!” So we set servants, children, wives, and friends in order, and make enemies friends. So too the great men, the friends of God, became better. For David after his sin, when he had the benefit of words, then came to that most beautiful repentance; and the apostles too became what they became in this way, and drew the whole world to them.

“And what is the gain,” someone says, “when one hears and does not do what is said?” Not small will be the gain even from hearing. For he will condemn himself and groan, and will come at some time to doing what is said. But one who does not even know that he has sinned, when will he leave off offending? When will he condemn himself? Let us not, then, despise the hearing of the divine Scriptures. For this belongs to a satanic mind, which does not let us see the treasure, lest we gain the wealth. That is why it says that hearing the divine laws is nothing, so that it may not see the doing come to us from the hearing. Knowing, then, this wicked art of his, let us wall ourselves in on every side, so that, fenced with these weapons, we may ourselves remain impregnable and strike his head, and so, crowned with the bright tokens of victory, may obtain the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.”

See, this is the third discourse, and we have not yet finished with what lies in the opening. So I was not speaking idly when I said that the nature of these thoughts has great depth. Come, then, let us say today what remains. What, then, is the present question? Why is the genealogy of Joseph given, when he contributed nothing to the birth? One reason we have already given; but we must give the other too, more mystical and more secret than that one. What is it? He did not wish it to be manifest to the Jews at the time of the birth that Christ was born of a virgin. But do not be disturbed at the strangeness of what is said. For the saying is not mine, but our fathers', wonderful and distinguished men. For if from the beginning he veiled many things, calling himself Son of Man, and did not everywhere clearly reveal to us even his equality with the Father, why do you wonder if for a time he veiled this too, arranging something wonderful and great? “And what wonderful thing?” someone says. That the virgin should be kept safe and freed from an evil suspicion. For if this had been made plain to the Jews from the beginning, they would have stoned the virgin, twisting what was said with malice, and would have condemned her for adultery. For if in other matters, of which they often had examples in the Old Testament, they were shameless openly (for when he cast out demons they called him possessed, and when he healed on the Sabbath they thought him an enemy of God, although the Sabbath had often been broken before), what would they not have said if this had been said? For they had all the time before this as their ally, which had never produced anything of the kind. For if after so many signs they still called him the son of Joseph, how would they have believed before the signs that he was of a virgin? For this reason, then, his genealogy is given and he is betrothed to the virgin. For when Joseph, a righteous and wonderful man, needed many things in order to accept what had happened, an angel, a vision in dreams, and the testimony of the prophets, how would the Jews, perverse and corrupt as they were and so hostile to him, have admitted this idea? For the strange and new thing, and the fact that nothing of the kind had ever been heard of, even by report, as having happened among their ancestors, would greatly have disturbed them. For one who had once been persuaded that he is the Son of God would have no further ground to dispute about this; but one who thought him a deceiver and an enemy of God, how would he not have been offended still more by this and been led to that suspicion? That is why the apostles too do not say this at once at the beginning; but about the resurrection they speak much and often, since there were examples of it in former times, even if not of this kind; but that he was born of a virgin they do not say continually. Not even his mother herself dared to bring this out. See, at any rate, what the virgin says even to him: “Behold, I and your father were seeking you.” For if this had been suspected, he would no longer have been thought the son of David; and if he had not been thought so, many other evils would have been born. That is why the angels too do not tell these things to all, but to Mary alone and to Joseph; and when they announced the good news of what had happened to the shepherds, they did not add this.

But why, having mentioned Abraham and said that he “begot Isaac, and Isaac Jacob,” and not mentioned Isaac's brother, when he came to Jacob does he mention Judah and his brothers? Some

say it was because of the perverseness of Esau and of the others before. But I would not say this. For if that were so, how does he mention such women a little later? For here his glory comes from the opposite: not from having great ancestors, but from having small and mean ones. For to the exalted it is great glory to be able to humble himself exceedingly. Why then did he not mention them? Because the Saracens, the Ishmaelites, the Arabs, and all who came from those ancestors had nothing in common with the race of the Israelites. For this reason he passed over them in silence and hastens to his own ancestors and those of the Jewish people. That is why he says, “And Jacob begot Judah and his brothers.” For here at last the race of the Jews is marked out.

“And Judah begot Perez and Zerah of Tamar.” What are you doing, man, reminding us of a story that involves an unlawful union? “And what of it?” he says. If we were listing the descent of a mere man, one might reasonably have kept silent about these things; but since it is God incarnate, not only should we not keep silent, but we should even display them openly, showing his care and his power. For he came for this reason, not to flee our disgraces but to take them away. As, then, he is more wondered at not because he died but because he was even crucified (though the thing is a disgrace, yet the more disgraceful it is, the more it shows his love for mankind), so one can say of the birth too: it is right to wonder at him not only because he took flesh and became man, but because he deigned to have such kinsfolk, nowhere ashamed of our evils. And he proclaimed this from the very opening of the birth, that he is ashamed of nothing of ours, teaching us also by this never to hide our faces at the wickedness of our ancestors, but to seek one thing only, virtue. For such a person, even if he has a foreign ancestor, or one who played the harlot, or one who was anything else, can suffer no harm. For if the former life does not shame the fornicator himself once he has changed, much less can the wickedness of his ancestors shame the virtuous man born of a harlot or an adulteress. And he did this not only to teach us, but also to bring down the pride of the Jews. For since they, neglecting virtue of soul, kept parading Abraham up and down, thinking they had the virtue of their ancestors as a defense, he shows from the very opening that one must not boast in these things but in one's own achievements. Besides this he establishes something else too: to show that all were liable for sins, even the ancestors themselves. At any rate their patriarch, from whom they take their name, is seen to have sinned not slightly; for Tamar stands accusing him of sexual immorality; and David had Solomon by the woman with whom he had committed adultery. And if the law was not fulfilled by the great, much less by the lesser; and if it was not fulfilled, all sinned, and the coming of Christ became necessary.

That is why he also mentioned the twelve patriarchs, here again pulling down the pride in noble ancestry. For many of them were born of slave women; yet the difference in the parents made no difference in the children. For all alike were both patriarchs and heads of tribes. For this is the prerogative of the church; this is the preeminence of our nobility, which took its pattern from of old. So whether you are a slave or free, you have nothing more nor less from this; one thing only is sought, the will and the character of the soul.

There is also another reason, besides those given, for which he mentioned this story; for Zerah is not thrown in idly beside Perez. Indeed it would have been superfluous and redundant, having mentioned Perez, from whom he was going to trace Christ's descent, to mention Zerah as well. Why then did he mention him? When Tamar was about to give birth to them and the pains had come, Zerah put out his hand first; then the midwife, seeing this, so that the first might be known, tied his hand with scarlet thread; and when it was tied, the child drew his hand back, and when he had drawn it back, Perez came out, and then Zerah. Seeing this, the midwife says, “Why has the fence been broken through on your account?” Do you see the riddles of mysteries? For these things have not been recorded for us idly; for it was not worth a narrative to learn what the midwife said, nor worth telling that the one who came out second put out his hand first. What then is the riddle? First, from the name of the child we learn what we are seeking; for Perez means division and breaking through. Then from the event itself: for it was not in the natural order for one who had put out his hand to draw it back again after it was tied; for these things were not the doing of a rational movement, nor did they happen in the natural course. That when a hand has come out first, another should come out first may perhaps be natural; but that the child should draw this hand back and give way to the other is no longer according to the law of births. But the grace of God was present with the children, arranging these things and sketching through them an image of what was to come.

What then? Some of those who have examined these things closely say that these children are a type of the two peoples. Then, that you may learn that the way of life of the second people shone forth before the birth of the first, the child that stretched out its hand does not show itself whole, but draws even that hand back again; and after his brother has slipped out whole, then he too appears whole. This is what happened with both peoples. For when the church's way of life had appeared in the times of Abraham and then had been drawn back in the middle, the Jewish people came, and the way of life under the law, and then the new people appeared whole with its own laws. That is why the midwife says, “Why has the fence been broken through on your account?” because the law, coming in, broke through the freedom of that way of life. For Scripture is always accustomed to call the law a fence; as the prophet too says, “You have broken down its fence, and all who pass along the way pluck it,” and, “I put a fence around it”; and Paul, “having broken down the dividing wall of the fence.”

Others say that “Why has the fence been broken through on your account?” was said of the new people; for this people, when it came, abolished the law. Do you see that it was for no few or small reasons that he mentioned the whole story about Judah? For this reason he mentions Ruth and Rahab too, the one a foreigner, the other a harlot, that you may learn that he came to undo all our evils. For he came as a physician, not as a judge. As, then, these men took harlots as wives, so God too joined to himself the nature that had played the harlot; which the prophets also foretold long ago had happened with the synagogue. But she was ungrateful toward the one who had married her; while the church, once freed from her ancestral evils, remained embracing the Bridegroom. See, at any rate, how what happened with Ruth resembles what concerns us. She was a foreigner and had been brought down to the utmost poverty; yet Boaz, seeing her, neither despised her poverty nor loathed her low birth; just as Christ too, receiving the church, foreign and in great poverty, made her a partner in the great good things. But as she, had she not first left her father and disregarded house and race and country and kindred, would not have obtained this marriage alliance, so also the church, having abandoned her ancestral customs, then became lovely to the Bridegroom. This is what the prophet too says, addressing her: “Forget your people and your father's house, and the King will desire your beauty.” This Ruth too did. That is why she became the mother of kings, as the church also did; for David is from her. Through all these things, then, shaming them and persuading them not to be proud, he composed the genealogy and brought these women forward. For she bore the great king through those in between, and David is not ashamed of them. For it is not possible, it is not possible, to be worthy or worthless, obscure or illustrious, from the virtue or the wickedness of one's ancestors; but if one must say something paradoxical, that man shines the more who is not of good ancestors and yet has become good.

Let no one, then, be proud of these things; but considering the Master's ancestors, let him empty out all his pride, and be proud of achievements, or rather not even of these. For so the Pharisee fell behind the tax collector. For if you wish to show the achievement great, do not be proud, and then you have shown it greater; do not think you have done anything, and you have done everything. For if, when we are sinners, we become righteous by thinking ourselves what we are, as the tax collector did, how much more when, being righteous, we think ourselves sinners? For if humility makes sinners righteous (although that was not even humility but candor), if then candor can do so much in sinners, consider what humility will not do in the righteous? Do not, then, ruin your labors, nor cut short your sweat, nor run in vain, emptying out all your toil after countless laps. For the Master knows your achievements better than you do. Even if you give a cup of cold water, he does not overlook it; even if you put down an obol, even if you only groan, he receives everything with great goodwill and remembers it, and appoints great rewards for them. Why do you examine your own deeds and keep bringing them before us? Do you not know that if you praise yourself, God will no longer praise you? just as, if you count yourself wretched, he will not cease proclaiming you before all. For he does not wish your labors to be diminished. Why do I say diminished? Rather, he does and contrives everything so as to crown you even for small things, and goes about seeking pretexts by which you may be freed from hell. That is why, even if you work at the eleventh hour of the day, he gives the whole wage; and even if you have no ground for salvation, “I act for my own sake,” he says, “so that my name may not be profaned”; even if you only groan, even if you weep, he himself quickly seizes all these as a ground for your salvation. Let us not, then, be lifted up, but call ourselves unprofitable, that we may become profitable. For if you call yourself esteemed, you have become useless, even if you were esteemed; but if you call yourself unprofitable, you have become profitable, even if you were worthless. That is why it is necessary to forget our achievements. “And how is it possible,” someone says, “not to know what we know?” What are you saying? You continually offend your Master, and live in luxury and laugh, and do not even know that you have sinned, handing everything over to forgetfulness; and you cannot cast out the memory of your achievements? And yet fear is stronger. But we do the opposite: offending every day, we do not even take it to heart; but if we give a little silver to a poor man, we turn it over this way and that; which is the height of folly and the greatest loss to the one who gathers. For the safe storehouse of achievements is forgetting achievements. And as with clothes and gold, when we display them in the marketplace we draw many plotters, but if we put them away at home and hide them, we shall store everything in safety, so too with achievements: if we continually carry them in our memory, we provoke the Master, we arm the enemy, we invite him to theft; but if no one knows them except the one who alone ought to know them, they will lie in safety. Do not, then, keep turning them over, lest someone take them away; which is what the Pharisee suffered, carrying them about on his tongue; that is why the devil snatched them away; and yet he mentioned them with thanksgiving and ascribed the whole to God. But not even this sufficed him. For it is not thanksgiving to reproach others, to make a display before many, to rise up against those who have offended. For if you give thanks to God, be content with him alone, and do not carry it out to men, nor condemn your neighbor; for this is not thanksgiving. Do you wish to learn words of thanksgiving? Hear the three children saying: “We have sinned, we have transgressed the law; you are righteous, O Lord, in all that you have done to us, for in true judgment you have brought all things upon us.” For to confess one's own sins, this is to give thanks to God, confessing what shows that he is liable for countless things and is not required to pay the penalty he deserves; this man above all is the one who gives thanks.

Let us beware, then, of saying anything about ourselves; for this makes us hated among men and abominable before God. Therefore the greater our achievements, the smaller the things we should say about ourselves; for so we shall reap the greatest glory, both with men and with God; or rather not only glory with God, but also a wage and great recompense. Do not, then, demand a wage, that you may receive a wage. Confess that you are saved by grace, that he may confess himself your debtor, not only for your achievements but also for such candor. For when we do well, we have him as debtor only for the achievements; but when we do not even think we have done anything, then also for this very disposition, and more than for those; so that this weighs as much as the achievements. For if this is not present, not even those will appear great. For we too, when we have servants, accept them most when, having served in everything with goodwill, they think they have done nothing great. So if you wish to make your achievements great, do not think them great, and then they will be great. So the centurion too said, “I am not worthy that you should come under my roof”; that is why he became worthy and was admired above all the Jews. So Paul too says, “I am not worthy to be called an apostle”; that is why he became first of all. So John: “I am not worthy to untie the strap of his sandal”; that is why he was the friend of the Bridegroom, and the hand which he said was unworthy of the sandals, Christ drew onto his own head. So Peter too said, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man”; that is why he became the foundation of the church. For nothing is so dear to God as counting oneself among the last. This is the beginning of all philosophy. For the one who is humbled and broken will not be vainglorious, will not be angry, will not envy his neighbor, will not admit any other passion. For a broken hand, even if we strive ten thousand times, we shall not be able to raise on high. If, then, we so break the soul too, even if ten thousand passions puff it up and lift it, it will not be able to be raised even a little. For if someone mourning over worldly matters banishes all the diseases of the soul, much more will one who does this for his sins enjoy philosophy. “And who will be able so to break his own heart?” someone says. Hear David, who shone above all for this, and see the brokenness of his soul. For after countless achievements, when he was about to lose country and house and life itself, at the very moment of calamity, seeing a mean and outcast soldier trampling on his misfortune and reviling him, he not only did not revile him in return, but even prevented one of his generals who wished to kill him, saying: “Let him alone, for the Lord has bidden him.” And again, when the priests asked to carry the ark about with him, he did not accept; but what does he say? “Let it sit in the temple; and if God delivers me from the dangers at hand, I shall see its beauty; but if he says to me, I have no pleasure in you, here I am; let him do to me what seems good in his sight.” And what happened with Saul, once and twice and many times, what excess of philosophy does it not display? For he went beyond the old law and came near the apostolic commandments. That is why he was content with everything from the Master, not passing judgment on what happened, but eager for one thing only, to obey everywhere and follow the laws he had laid down. And seeing, after so many achievements of his own, the tyrant, the parricide, the fratricide, the insolent, the madman holding his kingdom in his place, not even so was he offended; but “if this seems good to God,” he says, “that I should be driven out and wander and flee, and he be in honor, I am content and accept it, and I give thanks for the countless ills he sends.” Not like many shameless and reckless people, who, achieving not the smallest part of what he achieved, if they see some people in prosperity while they themselves have endured a little despondency, destroy their own souls with countless blasphemies. But David was not such; he showed all gentleness. That is why God said, “I have found David the son of Jesse, a man after my heart.”

Let us too acquire such a soul, and whatever we suffer we shall bear easily, and even before the kingdom we shall reap here the revenue of humility. “For learn from me,” he says, “for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” That we may enjoy rest, then, both here and there, let us with great zeal plant in our souls the mother of all good things, I mean humility. For so we shall be able to cross the sea of this life without waves, and to sail into that calm harbor, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David until the deportation to Babylon, fourteen generations; and from the deportation to Babylon until the Christ, fourteen generations.”

He divided all the generations into three parts, showing that not even when their forms of government changed did they become better; but whether ruled by aristocracy, by kings, or by oligarchy, they were in the same evils; and whether leaders of the people, or priests, or kings governed them, they gained nothing in the matter of virtue. But why in the middle part did he pass over three kings, and in the last, having set down twelve generations, say that they are fourteen? The first I leave to you to seek; for it is not necessary to solve everything for you, lest you grow slack; the second we shall explain. To me he seems here to count the time of the captivity in the rank of a generation, and Christ himself as well, joining him to us on every side. And he does well to remind them of that captivity, showing that not even when they had gone down there did they become more sober-minded; so that from every side his coming appears necessary.

“Why then,” someone says, “does Mark not do this, nor give Christ's genealogy, but say everything briefly?” It seems to me that Matthew began the work before the others; that is why he sets down the genealogy exactly and dwells on the pressing points; but Mark came after him, and so took the short road, as handling what had already been said and become plain. How then does Luke both give a genealogy and do it at greater length? Since Matthew had prepared the way, he wishes to teach us something more than what had been said. And each of them likewise imitated his teacher, the one Paul, flowing fuller than rivers, the other Peter, who was concerned with brevity.

And why did he not say at the beginning, as the prophet does, “The vision which I saw,” and “The word that came to me”? Because he was writing to well-disposed people who paid him great attention. For the miracles that had happened cried aloud, and those who received them were very faithful. But in the time of the prophets there were not so many miracles proclaiming them, and the tribe of false prophets reveled in great numbers, to whom the people of the Jews paid more attention. That is why this manner of opening was necessary with them. And if signs ever happened then, they happened for the sake of the barbarians, so that the proselytes might be many, and to display God's power whenever their enemies, having captured them, thought they had prevailed because their own gods were strong: as in Egypt, from which a great mixed multitude also went up, and afterward in Babylon, what happened with the furnace and the dreams. Signs happened also when they were by themselves in the wilderness, just as with us; for with us too, when we were coming out of error, many miracles were shown; but after that they ceased, once godliness had been planted everywhere. And if any happened after that, they were few and scattered; as when the sun stood still in its course, and again turned back. And one could see this happen in our time too. For in our own generation, under Julian, who surpassed all in ungodliness, many marvelous things happened. For when the Jews undertook to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem, fire leaping out of the foundations stopped them all; and when they showed his drunken insolence toward the sacred vessels, both the treasurer and his uncle, who bore the same name, the one died eaten by worms, the other burst asunder in the middle; and that the springs failed when sacrifices were offered there, and that famine fell upon the cities together with the emperor himself, was a very great sign.

For it is God's custom to do such things: when evils increase, and he sees his own people afflicted and their opponents greatly drunk with their tyranny over them, then he displays his own power; as he did also in Persia in the case of the Jews.

That he did not divide Christ's ancestors into three portions idly or at random is clear from what has been said. And consider also where he begins and where he ends: from Abraham to David; from David to the deportation to Babylon; from this to Christ himself. For both at the beginning he set the two together, David and Abraham, and in summing up he likewise mentioned both. For, as I said before, it was to them that the promises had been made. But why, as he mentioned the deportation to Babylon, did he not mention also the going down into Egypt? Because they no longer feared the Egyptians, but still trembled at the Babylonians; and the one was ancient, the other recent and lately happened; and they had gone down there not for their sins, but here they were carried away for their transgressions. And if anyone were to undertake to translate the meanings of their names too, he would find much contemplation here as well, contributing greatly to the New Testament; as from Abraham, from Jacob, from Solomon, from Zerubbabel; for these names were not given to them idly. But so as not to seem to trouble you by great length, let us pass these by and go to the pressing points.

Having named all the ancestors, then, and ended with Joseph, he did not stop there, but added, “Joseph the husband of Mary,” showing that it was because of her that he gave his genealogy too. Then, lest on hearing “husband of Mary” you think he was born by the common law of nature, see how he corrects this by what follows. You have heard, he says, of a husband, you have heard of a mother, you have heard the name given to the child; hear then also the manner of the birth: “Now the birth of Jesus Christ was thus.” What birth are you telling me of, tell me? You have already named the ancestors. “But I wish to tell also the manner of the birth.” Do you see how he roused the hearer? For as one about to say something quite new, he promises to tell the manner. And consider the excellent order of what is said. For he did not come at once to the birth, but first reminds us how many generations he was from Abraham, how many from David, from the deportation to Babylon; and by these he sets the careful hearer to examine the times, showing that this is the Christ proclaimed by the prophets. For when you count the generations and learn from the time that this is he, you will readily accept also the miracle that happened at the birth. For since he was about to say something great, that he was born of a virgin, before counting the time he veils what is said, saying “husband of Mary,” or rather he cuts short the account of the birth itself; and he counts the years, reminding the hearer that this is the one whom the patriarch Jacob said would come when the Jewish rulers had at last failed, the one whom the prophet Daniel foretold would come after those many weeks. And if anyone wishes to count down the years told by the angel to Daniel in a number of weeks from the building of the city to his birth, he will see that they agree.

How then was he born? Tell me. “When his mother Mary had been betrothed.” He did not say “virgin,” but simply “mother,” so that the account might be easily received. So, having first prepared the hearer to expect to hear something ordinary, and having held him with this, then he astonishes him by bringing in the marvelous fact, saying that “before they came together she was found with child of the Holy Spirit.” He did not say, “before she was brought into the bridegroom's house”; for she was already within. For it was the custom of the ancients to have the betrothed women in the house for the most part, as one can see happening even now; and Lot's sons-in-law also were inside with him. So she too was inside with Joseph. And why did she not conceive before the betrothal? So that, as I said at the beginning, what happened might be veiled for a time, and the virgin might escape all evil suspicion. For when the one who above all ought to be jealous is seen not only not exposing her or dishonoring her, but even receiving and caring for her after the conception, it is quite clear that, had he not been plainly persuaded that what had happened was from the working of the Spirit, he would not have kept her and rendered all the other services. And quite properly he put “she was found with child,” which is the usual expression for things that turn out marvelously, beyond all hope and unexpected.

Do not, then, go further, nor seek more than what has been said, nor say, “And how did the Spirit work this from a virgin?” For if, when nature works, it is impossible to explain the manner of the formation, how shall we be able to tell these things when the Spirit works the miracle? For lest you weary the evangelist and trouble him by continually asking these things, having named the one who worked the miracle, he released himself. “For I know nothing more,” he says, “except that what happened came from the Holy Spirit.” Let those be ashamed who busy themselves about the birth above. For if no one can explain this birth, which has countless witnesses, was proclaimed so long before, and was seen and touched, what excess of madness do they leave untried who busy themselves and pry into that unspeakable one? For neither Gabriel nor Matthew was able to say more than that it was from the Spirit; but how from the Spirit, and in what manner, none of them explained; for it was not possible. And do not think you have learned everything when you hear “from the Spirit”; for even learning this we are still ignorant of many things: as, how the infinite is in a womb; how he who holds all things together is carried in the womb by a woman; how the virgin gives birth and remains a virgin; how, tell me, the Spirit fashioned that temple; how he did not take all the flesh from the womb, but a part of it, and increased it and shaped it. For that he came forth from the flesh of the virgin he made plain by saying, “For that which is conceived in her”; and Paul, “born of a woman,” stopping the mouths of those who say that Christ passed through as through a pipe. For if that were so, what need of the womb? If that were so, he has nothing in common with us, but that flesh is something else, not of our lump. How then is he of the root of Jesse? How a rod? How Son of Man? How was Mary his mother? How of the seed of David? How did he take the form of a slave? How did the Word become flesh? How does Paul say to the Romans, “from whom is the Christ according to the flesh, who is God over all”? That he is from us and from our lump and from the virgin's womb is clear from these and many other texts; but how, is no longer clear. So do not you seek either, but accept what has been revealed and do not pry into what has been kept silent.

“And Joseph her husband, being a righteous man,” he says, “and not wishing to make her a public example, resolved to send her away secretly.” Having said that it was from the Holy Spirit and without intercourse, he establishes the account from another side too. For lest anyone say, “How is this clear? Who has seen, who has ever heard of such a thing happening?”, and lest you suspect the disciple of inventing these things to please his teacher, he brings in Joseph, contributing through what he suffered to the credibility of what is said, all but saying through what he reports: “If you disbelieve me and suspect my testimony, believe the husband.” “For Joseph,” he says, “her husband, being a righteous man.” Here he calls righteous the man virtuous in everything. For righteousness is also not grasping; but it is also virtue in general; and Scripture uses the name of righteousness above all in this sense, as when it says, “a man righteous, true,” and again, “they were both righteous.” Being righteous, then, that is, kind and gentle, “he resolved to send her away secretly.” That is why he tells what happened before he learned the truth, so that you may not disbelieve what happened after he learned it. And yet such a woman was liable not only to public exposure; the law even ordered her to be punished. But Joseph remitted not only that greater thing but also the lesser, the shame. For he wished not only not to punish her but not even to expose her. Do you see a man of philosophy, freed from the most tyrannical passion? For you know how great a thing jealousy is. That is why the one who knew these things clearly said, “For the wrath of a husband is full of jealousy; he will not spare in the day of judgment,” and, “Jealousy is cruel as Hades.” And we know many who would rather give up their life than fall into a suspicion that rouses jealousy. But here it was not even suspicion, since the swelling of the womb was convicting her. Yet he was so pure of passion that he did not wish to grieve the virgin even in the smallest things. For since keeping her at home seemed to be against the law, while exposing her and bringing her to court would compel him to hand her over to death, he does neither, but already lives above the law. For when grace was coming, there had to be many signs of the lofty way of life. For as the sun, even before showing its rays, lights up most of the world from afar with its light, so Christ too, about to rise from that womb, lit up the whole world even before he came forth. That is why, even before the birth pangs, prophets leapt, women foretold what was to come, and John, not yet come out of the womb, leapt in his mother's womb. Hence this man too showed great philosophy; for he neither accused nor reproached, but only undertook to send her away.

When things stood so, and all were at a loss, the angel comes, resolving all the difficulties. But it is worth asking why the angel did not speak before this, before the husband had this thought, but came when he had considered it: “For when he had considered these things,” it says, the angel comes; although he brings her the good news even before she conceived; and this itself again raises another difficulty. For even if the angel did not speak, why was the virgin silent, having heard from the angel, and when she saw her betrothed troubled, did not resolve his difficulty? Why then did the angel not speak before he was troubled? For we must first solve the first question. Why then did he not speak? Lest he disbelieve and suffer the same as Zechariah. For when the thing is seen, faith is easy thereafter; but when it has not yet begun, what is said is not so readily accepted. That is why the angel did not speak at the beginning; and the virgin kept silent for the same reason. For she did not think she would be believed by her betrothed if she reported a strange thing, but rather that she would provoke him, as if covering up a sin that had been committed. For if she herself, who was to receive so great a grace, feels something human and says, “How shall this be, since I do not know a man?”, much more would he have doubted, especially hearing it from a woman under suspicion.

For these reasons the virgin says nothing to him, and the angel comes when the time calls for it. “Why then,” someone says, “did he not do this with the virgin too, and bring her the good news after the conception?” So that she might not be in confusion and great distress. For it was likely that, not knowing the truth, she would resolve on something desperate about herself, and go to the noose or the sword, unable to bear the shame. For the virgin was wonderful, and Luke shows her virtue, saying that when she heard the greeting she did not at once pour herself out or accept what was said, but “was troubled, wondering what kind of greeting this might be.” And one so exact as she would have been beside herself with despondency, reckoning the shame and not expecting that, whatever she said, she would persuade any of those who heard that what had happened was not adultery. So, that these things might not happen, the angel came before the conception. For that womb into which the Maker of all entered had to be free from confusion, and the soul that was counted worthy to become the minister of such mysteries had to be rid of all distress. For these reasons he speaks to the virgin before the conception, and to Joseph at the time of the birth pangs. Many of the simpler sort, not perceiving this, have said there is a disagreement, because Luke says that the good news was brought to Mary, and Matthew that it was brought to Joseph, not knowing that both happened. This must be observed through the whole narrative; for in this way we shall resolve many apparent disagreements.

The angel comes, then, while Joseph is troubled. For both for the reasons given, and so that his philosophy might appear, he delays his coming. But when the event was about to take place, he comes at last. “But when he had considered these things, an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream.” Do you see the man's gentleness? Not only that he did not punish her, but that he did not even tell anyone, not even the woman under suspicion, but reasoned it out by himself, eager to hide the cause even from the virgin herself. For it does not say he wished to cast her out, but to send her away; so mild and gentle was the man. “But when he had considered these things,” the angel appears in a dream. And why not openly, as to the shepherds, to Zechariah, and to the virgin? The man was very faithful and did not need this vision. For the virgin, since she was receiving very great good news, greater than Zechariah's, and before the event, needed a marvelous vision too; and the shepherds, since they were of a rather rustic disposition. But this man, after the conception, when his soul had been seized by the evil suspicion and was ready to change to good hopes if anyone appeared to lead him to them, readily accepts the revelation. That is why he receives the good news after the suspicion, so that this very thing might become the proof of what was said. For having told no one, and yet hearing the angel speak what he had pondered in his mind, gave him an indisputable sign that the speaker had come from God; for it belongs to him alone to know the secrets of the heart. See, then, how many things result: the man's philosophy is displayed, what is said at the right moment contributes to his faith, and the account becomes free of suspicion, showing that he felt what a man

was likely to feel. How then does the angel assure him? Hear, and marvel at the wisdom of what is said. For coming, he says: “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary your wife.” At once he reminds him of David, from whom Christ was to come, and does not let him be thrown into confusion, by the name of his ancestors reminding him of the promise made to the whole race. Otherwise why did he call him son of David? “Do not fear.” And yet elsewhere God does not act so, but when someone was planning what he ought not about a woman, he uses rebuking and threatening language, although there too the act was one of ignorance; for that man did not take Sarah knowingly; yet he rebuked him; but here he speaks more gently. For the greatness of what was being arranged was great, and great the difference between the two men; that is why there was no need of rebuke. By saying, “Do not fear,” he shows that he was afraid lest he offend God by keeping her as an adulteress; for if this were not so, he would not even have thought of casting her out. Through all this, then, he shows that the angel has come from God, bringing out and setting forth everything he had thought and felt in his mind. And having said her name, he did not stop there, but added, “your wife,” which he would not have called her if she had been corrupted. Here he calls the betrothed a wife, just as Scripture is accustomed to call the betrothed sons-in-law even before the marriage. And what is “to take”? To keep her at home; for in his mind he had already sent her away. This one who has been sent away, he says, keep; it is God who hands her over to you, not her parents; and he hands her over not for marriage, but to live with you, and he hands her over through my voice. As Christ later handed her over to the disciple, so now he hands her to Joseph.

Then, hinting at the matter, he did not speak of the evil suspicion, but removed it in a more dignified and fitting way by giving the cause of the pregnancy, showing that the very thing for which he had been afraid and wished to cast her out was the reason why he would rightly take her and keep her at home, more than resolving his anxiety. For she is not only free from an unlawful union, he says, but has conceived beyond nature. So do not merely put away your fear, but rejoice the more: “for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit.” What is said is marvelous, surpassing human reason and higher than the laws of nature. How then will a man unacquainted with such accounts believe? From what is past, he says, from the revelations. For that is why he revealed everything in his mind, what he felt, what he feared, what he resolved to do, so that from these he might be assured of this too. Or rather, he leads him on not only from what is past but also from what is to come. “And she will bear a son,” he says, “and you shall call his name Jesus.” For lest, because he is of the Holy Spirit, you think yourself a stranger to the service of the dispensation: for even though you contribute nothing to the birth, but the virgin remained untouched, yet what belongs to a father, without harming the dignity of virginity, this I give you, to give the name to the child; for you shall call him. For even if the child is not yours, yet you will show a father's care toward him. That is why I join you to the child at once through the giving of the name. Then, lest anyone again suspect from this that he is the father, hear how exactly he puts what follows. “She will bear a son,” he says. He did not say, “she will bear to you,” but simply “she will bear,” leaving it indefinite; for she bore him not for Joseph, but for the whole world.

That is why the angel came bringing the name from heaven, showing from this too that the birth was wonderful, since it was God who sent the name from above through the angel to Joseph. For this name was not given idly, but was a treasure of countless good things. That is why the angel interprets it and holds out good hopes, leading him to faith by this too. For we are usually more inclined toward such things, and so we like to believe them more. Having built up his faith, then, from everything, from the past, from the future, from the present, from the honor shown to him, he brings in the prophet too at the right moment, casting his vote with all these. But before bringing him in, he proclaims beforehand the good things that are to come to the world through him. What are these? Release from sins and their removal. “For he will save his people from their sins.” Here too he shows what is marvelous. For he brings the good news of release, not from wars of the senses, nor from barbarians, but from what was far greater than these, from sins, which was never before possible for anyone. “And why,” someone says, “did he say his people, and not add the nations too?” So as not to alarm the hearer for the present. For to one who listens with understanding he hinted at the nations too. For his people are not the Jews only, but all who come to him and receive the knowledge that comes from him. And see how he has also opened to us his dignity, calling the Jewish people his people. For this is nothing other than showing that the one being born is the child of God, and that he is speaking of the King of those above. For to forgive sins belongs to no other power but to that essence alone.

Since, then, we have enjoyed so great a gift, let us do everything so as not to insult so great a benefit. For if even before this honor our deeds deserved punishment, much more after this unspeakable benefit. And I say this now not idly, but because I see many after baptism living more carelessly than the uninitiated, and having no distinctive mark of their way of life. That is why neither in the marketplace nor in the church is it possible to know quickly who is the believer and who is not a believer, unless one is present at the time of the mysteries and sees some sent out and others remaining inside. But one ought to be known not by place but by character. For outward dignities are naturally made plain by the marks placed outwardly around them; but ours must be known from the soul. For the believer must appear not only by the gift, but also by the new life. The believer must be a light of the world and salt. But when you do not even shine for yourself, nor bind up your own rottenness, how shall we know you after this? Because you went down into the sacred waters? But this becomes for you a provision for punishment. For greatness of honor, to those who choose not to live worthily of the honor, is an addition of penalty. For the believer ought to shine not only from what he received from God, but also from what he himself contributed, and to be recognizable on every side, by his gait, by his look, by his bearing, by his voice. I have said this not so that we may arrange ourselves for display, but for the benefit of those who see us. But now, wherever I seek to recognize you, I find you appearing from the opposite marks everywhere. For if I wish to learn about you from the place, I see you spending whole days at the horse races and the theaters and in lawless doings, in wicked gatherings in the marketplace and in the company of corrupt men; if from the look of your face, I see you continually guffawing and dissolute, like a grinning and loose courtesan; if from your clothes, I see you no better dressed than those on the stage; if from your followers, you carry parasites and flatterers about with you; if from your words, I hear you saying nothing sound, nothing necessary, nothing that holds our life together; if from your table, the charge will appear greater still.

How then, tell me, shall I be able to recognize you as the believer, when all that has been said votes the opposite? And why do I say the believer? I cannot clearly learn even whether you are a man. For when you kick like an ass, leap like a bull, neigh after women like a horse, are gluttonous like a bear, fatten your flesh like a mule, bear grudges like a camel, seize like a wolf, rage like a snake, sting like a scorpion, are crafty like a fox, keep the venom of wickedness like an asp and a viper, and war against your brothers like that wicked demon, how shall I be able to count you among men, when I do not see in you the marks of such a nature? For seeking the difference between a catechumen and a believer, I am in danger of not finding even the difference between a man and a beast. For what shall I call you? A beast? But the beasts are held by one of these faults; you, gathering them all together, go further than their irrationality. Shall I call you a demon? But a demon is neither a slave to the tyranny of the belly nor a lover of money. When, then, you have more faults than beasts and demons, how shall we call you a man, tell me? And if it is not possible to call you a man, how shall we address you as a believer?

And what is worse, being in so bad a state, we do not even consider the ugliness of our soul, nor notice its deformity. But sitting in a barber's shop and having your hair cut, you take the mirror and examine carefully the arrangement of your hair, and ask those standing by, and the barber himself, whether he has arranged the hair over the forehead well; and often, though an old man, you are not ashamed to be mad after youthful fancies; but of our soul, not only ugly but beast-shaped, become a kind of Scylla or Chimaera, as in the pagan fable, we do not perceive anything at all. And yet here too there is a spiritual mirror, far better and more useful than that; for it not only shows the ugliness but also changes it into unspeakable beauty, if we wish. This is the memory of good men, the story of their blessed life, the reading of the Scriptures, the laws given by God. If you are willing to look only once at the images of those saints, you will see the ugliness of your own mind, and having seen it, you will need nothing else to be rid of this shame. For the mirror is useful to us for this, and makes the change easy. Let no one, then, remain in the form of the irrational creatures. For if the slave does not enter the house of the father, when you become even a beast, how will you be able to set foot on that threshold? And why do I say a beast? Such a man is worse than any beast. For those, though fierce by nature, often become tame when they enjoy human skill; but you, who change their natural fierceness into a tameness beyond nature, what defense will you have, when you lead out your own natural gentleness into a fierceness beyond nature, showing what is wild by nature to be tame, while setting yourself, tame by nature, beyond nature as wild; taming the lion and making it gentle to the hand, while making your own anger fiercer than a lion? And yet there are two obstacles in that case: the beast lacks reason, and it is the most passionate of all; yet by the abundance of the wisdom given you by God you master even nature. You, then, who conquer even nature in the case of beasts, how do you betray in your own case, along with nature, the good of your free choice? If I were ordering you to make another man gentle, not even so would I seem to command impossibilities; but you could plead that you were not master of the other's will, and that it did not all lie with you. But as it is, it is your own beast, and one of which you are entirely master. What

defense then do you have, what plausible excuse will you be able to put forward, when you make a lion a man, but look on while you yourself become a lion from a man? when you bestow on it things beyond nature, but do not even keep for yourself the things according to nature? when you strive to bring the wild beasts up to our nobility, but throw yourself down from the throne of the kingdom and drive yourself into their madness? Consider anger, if you will, to be a beast, and show as much zeal about yourself as others show about lions, and make such a temper tame and gentle. For it too has cruel teeth and claws, and if you do not tame it, it will destroy everything. For neither lion nor viper can tear the entrails as anger does, continually doing this with iron claws. For it not only ruins the body but also destroys the very health of the soul, devouring, tearing, and lacerating all its power, and making it useless for everything. For if one who breeds worms in his bowels cannot even breathe, since everything within him is being consumed, how shall we, who have so great a serpent devouring everything within, I mean anger, be able to bring forth anything noble? How then shall we be freed from this ruin? If we drink a draught that can kill the worms and serpents within. “And what draught,” someone says, “has this power?” The precious blood of Christ, if it is received with confidence (for this will be able to quench every disease), and along with it the careful hearing of the divine Scriptures, and almsgiving added to the hearing; for through all these the passions that ruin our soul can be put to death. And then only shall we live; for now at least we are in no better state than the dead; since it is not possible for us to live while they live, but we must perish. And unless we first kill them here, they will certainly kill us there; or rather, even before that death they will exact the utmost penalty from us here as well. For each of such passions is cruel and tyrannical and insatiable, and devouring us every day, it never stops. “For their teeth are the teeth of a lion,” or rather much worse. For the lion, as soon as it is full, leaves the body that has fallen in its way; but these passions are neither filled nor leave off until they set the man they have captured near the devil. For their power is so great that the slavery which Paul showed toward Christ, despising both hell and the kingdom for his sake, they demand the same from those they have captured. For if anyone falls into love of bodies, or of money, or of glory, he then laughs at hell and despises the kingdom so as to do their will. Let us not, then, disbelieve Paul when he says that he loved Christ so. For when some are found serving their passions so, how will that seem incredible any longer? For this is why longing for Christ is weaker, because all our strength is spent on this love; and we seize, we grasp for more, we serve vainglory, than which what could be meaner? For even if you become ten thousand times renowned, you will be no better than the dishonored, but for this very reason even more dishonored. For when those who wish to glorify you and show you illustrious laugh at you for this very thing, that you desire glory from them, how will the results of such zeal not be turned against you,

since the thing belongs to what is blamed? For just as, if someone praises and flatters one who desires to commit adultery or fornication, he becomes rather the accuser than the praiser of the one who desires such things, so too with one who desires glory: when we all praise him, we are rather the accusers than the praisers of those who wish to be glorified. Why then do you pursue the thing, from which the opposite usually happens to you? For if you wish to be glorified, despise glory, and you will be more illustrious than all. Why do you suffer what Nebuchadnezzar suffered? For he too set up an image, thinking to provide himself with an addition of praise from the wood and the senseless form, and the living man wished to appear more illustrious through the lifeless. Do you see the excess of madness? Thinking to honor himself, he rather insulted himself. For when he is seen to trust the soulless thing more than himself and the living soul in him, and for this reason brings the wood to such preeminence, how would he not deserve laughter, hastening to adorn himself not from his character but from planks? It is as if someone should think to pride himself on the pavement of his house and its fine staircase, rather than on being a man. Many among us now imitate him. For as he took glory from the image, so others from clothes, others from a house, others from mules and carriages, and from the columns in their houses they expect to be admired. For since they have lost being men, they go about gathering for themselves from elsewhere a glory full of much ridicule.

But the noble and great servants of God did not shine from these things, but from those from which they above all ought to shine. For though captives and slaves, young and strangers, and bereft of everything at home, they then appeared far more majestic than the one clothed with all these things. And for Nebuchadnezzar neither so great an image, nor satraps, nor generals, nor countless armies, nor a mass of gold, nor any other display sufficed for his desire to show himself great; but for these men, stripped of all these, philosophy alone sufficed, and it showed those who possessed none of these things more illustrious than the one who had the diadem and the purple and was clothed with such things, as much as the sun is brighter than a pearl. For they were led into the midst of the whole world, being young and captives and slaves, and as soon as they appeared the king breathed fire from his eyes; and generals, governors, and local rulers, and the whole theater of the devil stood around; and the sound of pipes and trumpets and every kind of music, borne from every side to heaven, rang in their ears; and the furnace was kindled to an immense height, and its flame touched the very clouds, and all was full of fear and terror. But none of these things terrified them; but laughing at them as at children playing, they showed their courage and their gentleness, and uttering a voice brighter than those trumpets, they said: “Be it known to you, O king.” For they did not wish to insult the tyrant even by a word, but only to show their godliness. That is why they did not stretch out long speeches, but showed everything briefly: “For there is a God in heaven,” it says, “able to deliver us.” Why do you show me the multitude? Why the furnace? Why the sharpened swords? Why the fearful guards? Our Master is higher and mightier than all these. Then, considering that it might happen that God would will to allow them to be burned, so that if this happened they might not seem to have spoken falsely, they add this too, saying, “But if not, be it known to you that we do not serve your gods.”

For if they had said that it was for their sins that he does not deliver them, and he had not delivered them, they would not have been believed. That is why here they keep silent about this; but they say it in the furnace, putting forward their sins again and again. But before the king they say nothing of the kind, but only that even if they are about to be burned, they will not betray their godliness. For they did what they did not for rewards and recompense, but from love alone; and that although they were in captivity and slavery and had enjoyed nothing good. For they had lost country and freedom and all they had. And do not tell me of the honors in the royal courts. For being holy and righteous, they would have chosen ten thousand times to beg at home and enjoy the good things in the temple. “For I have chosen,” it says, “to be cast aside in the house of God rather than to dwell in the tents of sinners,” and, “Better is one day in your courts than thousands.” They would have chosen ten thousand times to be cast aside at home rather than to reign in Babylon. And this is clear from what they show even in the furnace, weighed down by their stay there. For though they themselves enjoyed much honor, seeing the misfortunes of the others they were bitterly stung; which is above all the mark of the saints, to prefer neither glory, nor honor, nor anything else to the salvation of their neighbor. See, at any rate, how while in the furnace they made supplication for the whole people. But we, even in ease, do not remember our brothers. And when they sought the dreams, they did not look to their own interest but to that of the many; for that they despised death they showed through many things afterward. And everywhere they throw themselves forward, wishing to move God. Then, since they did not think even themselves sufficient, they take refuge in the fathers; and they said that they themselves brought nothing more than a broken spirit.

Let us too emulate them. For now too a golden image stands, the tyranny of mammon. But let us not attend to the drums, nor the pipes, nor the harps, nor the rest of the pageant of wealth; but even if we must fall into the furnace of poverty, let us choose it, rather than worship that image, and there will be a dew whistling in the midst. Let us not, then, shudder on hearing of the furnace of poverty. For then too those who fell into the furnace were shown more illustrious, while those who worshiped were destroyed. But then everything happened together; now some things will be here, others there, and others both here and on the day to come. For those who have chosen poverty rather than worship mammon will be more illustrious both here and then; but those who are rich here unjustly will then pay the utmost penalty. From this furnace Lazarus too came out, no less illustrious than those children; but the rich man, in the rank of those who worshiped the image, was condemned in hell. For what was said is a type of those things. As, then, here those who fell in suffered nothing, while those sitting outside were seized with great violence, so it will be then: the saints, passing through the river of fire, will suffer nothing unpleasant, but will even appear radiant; but those who worshiped the image will see the fire leaping upon them more fiercely than any beast and dragging them inside. So if anyone disbelieves in hell, seeing this furnace, let him believe what is to come from what is present, and let him not fear the furnace of poverty, but the furnace of sin. For this is flame and pain, but that is dew and refreshment; and by that furnace stands the devil, but by this angels, shaking off the flame.

Let the rich hear this, who kindle the furnace of poverty. For they will do no harm to those men, since the dew comes to them; but they will make themselves easy prey to the flame that they kindled with their own hands. Then, an angel came down with those children; now let us go down with those who are in the furnace of poverty, and by almsgiving make dew and shake off the flame, so that we may become sharers in their crowns too; so that the voice of Christ may scatter the flame of hell for us, saying: “You saw me hungry and fed me.” For that voice will then stand by us in place of dew, whistling through the midst of the flame. Let us go down, then, with almsgiving into the furnace of poverty. Let us see those who live in philosophy walking in it and treading on the coals; let us see the new and marvelous wonder, a man singing psalms in a furnace, a man giving thanks in the fire, bound to the utmost poverty and offering great praise to Christ. For those who bear poverty with thanksgiving become equal to those children. For poverty is more fearful than fire and burns more fiercely. But it did not burn those children; but when they confessed their thanks to the Master, their bonds too were at once loosed. So too now: if, having fallen into poverty, you give thanks, both the bonds are loosed and the flame is quenched; and even if it is not quenched, what is much more wonderful, instead of a flame it becomes a spring; which is what happened then too, and in the midst of the furnace they enjoyed pure dew. For it did not quench the fire, but prevented those cast in from being burned. This one can see also with those who live in philosophy; for in poverty they are more fearless than the rich. Let us not, then, sit outside the furnace, being pitiless toward the poor, lest we suffer what those men suffered then. For if you go down to them and stand with the children, the fire will no longer do you any harm; but if you sit above and overlook them in the flame of poverty, the flame will burn you up. Go down, then, into the fire, that you may not be burned up by the fire; do not sit outside the fire, lest the flame seize you. For if it sees you with the poor, it will depart from you; but if it sees you estranged from them, it will quickly run upon you and seize you. Do not, then, stand apart from them when they are cast in; but when the devil orders those who did not worship gold to be cast into the furnace of poverty, be not among those who cast in but among those who are cast in, that you may be among those who are saved and not among those who are burned. For the greatest dew is not to be held by desire for wealth, and to keep company with the poor. These are richer than all, who have trampled on the desire for wealth. For those men too, despising the king then, became more illustrious than the king. And you too, if you look down on the things in the world, will be more precious than the whole world, like those saints, “of whom the world was not worthy.” That you may become worthy of heavenly things, then, laugh at present things. For so you will be more illustrious here too, and will enjoy the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Now all this took place, that what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet might be fulfilled, saying: Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel.”

I hear many saying that while we are present and enjoying the hearing, we are humbled; but when we have gone out, we become different men again, quenching the fire of our zeal. What then could be done so that this does not happen? Let us consider where it comes from. Where, then, does so great a change in us come from? From spending our time in unfitting ways and from the company of wicked men. For when we leave the assembly we ought not to throw ourselves into affairs unfitting for the assembly, but go home at once, take the book in hand, call wife and children to share in recalling what was said, and then take up the affairs of life. For if after the bath you would not choose to plunge into the marketplace, so as not to spoil the refreshment from there with the business of the marketplace, much more ought we to do this after the assembly. But as it is we do the opposite, and that is why we lose everything. For before the benefit of what was said has become firmly fixed, the great rush of things from outside falling upon us sweeps everything away and is gone. So that this may not happen, when you leave the assembly, count nothing more necessary than recalling what was said. For it would be the height of ingratitude to give five and six days to the affairs of life, and to spiritual things not even one day, or rather not even a small part of a day. Do you not see that our children practice the lessons they receive throughout the whole day? Let us too do this; otherwise we shall have nothing more from coming here, drawing water every day into a pierced jar, and not giving even as much care to keeping what is said as we show for gold and silver. For someone who receives a few denarii puts them in a purse and sets a seal on it; but we, receiving oracles more precious than gold and costly stones, and taking in the treasures of the Spirit, do not store them in the storerooms of the soul, but let them flow out of our minds idly and at random. Who then will pity us any longer, plotting against ourselves and casting ourselves into such poverty? So that this may not happen, let us write for ourselves an unshakable law, and for our wives and children, to devote one day of the week wholly to hearing and to recalling what has been heard. For so we shall come more ready to learn what is to be said, the labor will be less for us and the gain greater for you, when you hear what follows bearing in memory what was said before. For this too contributes not a little to understanding what is said, to know exactly the sequence of the thoughts we weave for you. For since it is not possible to lay everything down in one day, make what is laid up for you over many days into a kind of chain by continual remembering, and so put it around your soul, so that the body of the Scriptures may appear whole. Having reminded ourselves, then, of what was said lately, let us go on to what lies before us today.

What, then, lies before us today? “Now all this took place, that what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet might be fulfilled, saying.” He cried out worthily of the wonder, as far as was possible for him, saying, “Now all this took place.” For when he saw the sea and the abyss of God's lovingkindness, and what had never been hoped for come to pass, the laws of nature undone, reconciliation made, the one higher than all coming down to the one lower than all, the dividing walls broken down, the obstacles removed, and many more things than these happening, he set forth the wonder in one phrase, saying, “Now all this took place, that what was spoken by the Lord might be fulfilled.” For do not think, he says, that these things were decided now; they were foreshadowed long ago. Paul too was eager to show this everywhere. And the angel refers Joseph to Isaiah at last, so that even if on waking he should forget the angel's words, as just spoken, he might, remembering the prophetic words with which he had always lived, hold fast to what had been said by him too. And to the woman he said none of this, since she was a girl and unacquainted with these things; but to the husband, a righteous man who studied the prophets, he speaks from this source. And before this he says, “Mary your wife”; but here, when he has brought the prophet into the midst, then he entrusts to him the name of virginity. For he would not have remained so undisturbed on hearing “virgin” from the angel, had he not heard it first from Isaiah too. For he was going to hear from the prophet nothing strange, but the familiar thing he had studied for a long time. That is why the angel, making what he said easy to receive, brings Isaiah forward. And he does not stop even here, but ties the saying to God; for he says that the saying is not Isaiah's but that of the God of all. That is why he did not say, “that what was spoken by Isaiah might be fulfilled,” but “what was spoken by the Lord.” For the mouth was Isaiah's, but the oracle was borne from above.

What then does this oracle say? “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel.” “How then,” someone says, “was his name not called Emmanuel, but Jesus Christ?” Because he did not say “you shall call,” but “they shall call,” that is, the crowds, and the outcome of events. For here he gives the event as a name; and this is the custom of Scripture, to give the events that happen in place of names. So “they shall call him Emmanuel” shows nothing other than that they will see God with men; for he was always with men, but never so clearly. And if the Jews are shameless, we shall ask them: When was the child called “Quickly spoil, speedily plunder”? They could not say. How then did the prophet say, “Call his name Quickly spoil”? Because when he was born, there was taking and dividing of spoils; that is why he gives the event that happened in his time as his name. And “the city,” he says, “shall be called a city of righteousness, the faithful mother-city Zion”; and nowhere do we find that the city was called “righteousness,” but it remained called Jerusalem; but since this came to pass when it changed for the better, he said it would be so called. For when something happens that makes known the one who accomplishes it, or enjoys it, more clearly than a name, Scripture says that the reality of the thing is his name.

But if, stopped here, they seek another point, about what was said of virginity, and put forward other translators to us, saying that they did not say “virgin” but “young woman,” first we shall say this: that the Seventy would justly have more credibility than all the others. For those others translated after the coming of Christ, remaining Jews, and might justly be suspected of speaking rather from hostility and of deliberately obscuring the prophecies; but the Seventy, having come to this work a hundred or more years before the coming of Christ, and being so many, are free from all such suspicion, and because of the time, the number, and their agreement would rather deserve to be believed.

And even if they bring forward the testimony of those translators, the victory is ours this way too. For Scripture is accustomed to use the word “youth” of virginity, not only of women but also of men: “young men,” it says, “and virgins, old men with younger.” And again, speaking of a girl who is assaulted, “if the young woman cries out,” it says, that is, the virgin. And what is said before establishes this sense. For he did not say simply, “Behold, the virgin shall conceive,” but having first said, “Behold, the Lord himself will give you a sign,” then he added, “Behold, the virgin shall conceive.” Yet if the one who was to conceive were not a virgin, but this happened by the law of marriage, what sign would the event be? For a sign must surpass the ordinary course of things, and be strange and extraordinary; otherwise how would it be a sign?

“And Joseph, rising from sleep, did as the angel of the Lord commanded him.” Do you see obedience and a submissive mind? Do you see a soul awake and impartial in everything? For neither, when he suspected something unpleasant and wrong, did he consent to keep the virgin, nor, when he was freed from this suspicion, did he bear to cast her out; but he keeps her and serves the whole dispensation. “And he took Mary his wife.” Do you see how the evangelist keeps using this name, not wishing that mystery to be revealed for a time, and removing that evil suspicion? “And having taken her, he did not know her until she had borne her firstborn son.” He said “until” here, not so that you may suspect that he knew her afterward, but so that you may learn that before the birth the virgin was entirely untouched. “Why then,” someone says, “did he put ‘until’?” Because Scripture often does this, and uses this expression without setting limits of time. For of the ark too it says, “The raven did not return until the earth was dried,” and yet it did not return even afterward. And speaking of God it says, “From age to age you are,” not setting limits here; and again, announcing good news and saying, “In his days righteousness shall spring up, and abundance of peace, until the moon is taken away,” it does not set an end to this fair element. So too here it said “until,” securing what was before the birth, and leaving to you to reason about what came after. For what you had to learn from him, this he himself said, that the virgin was untouched until the birth; but what appeared to follow from what was said and was agreed, this he leaves to you to see: namely, that not even afterward would that righteous man have borne to know her who had become a mother in this way and had been counted worthy of new birth pangs and a strange childbearing. For if he had known her and kept her in the rank of a wife, how is it that Christ commits her to the disciple as unprotected and having no one, and bids him take her to his own home?

“How then,” someone says, “are James and his companions called his brothers?” In the same way that Joseph himself was thought to be Mary's husband. For there were many veils, so that such a birth might be concealed for a time. That is why John too called them so, saying, “For not even his brothers believed in him.” Yet those who did not believe at first became wonderful and illustrious later. When Paul and his companions went up to Jerusalem about doctrine, they went in to him at once. For he was so wonderful that he was the first to be entrusted with the episcopate. And they say that he gave himself to such austerity that all his limbs were deadened, and that from continual prayer and constant contact with the ground his forehead had become so hardened that, because of this callousness, it was no better than a camel's knees. He too later instructed Paul when he went up again to Jerusalem, saying, “You see, brother, how many myriads there are of those who have come together.” So great was his understanding and his zeal; or rather, so great is the power of Christ. For those who mocked him while living were so amazed after his death that they even died for him with great eagerness, which shows above all the strength of the resurrection. For that is why the more splendid things were kept for later, so that this proof might become indisputable. For if we forget even those admired among us in their lifetime once they have departed, how did those who mocked him while living think him God afterward, if he were one of the many? And how

would they have consented even to be slain for him, if they had not received clear proof of the resurrection? We say these things not only that you may hear, but that you may also imitate their courage, their boldness, and all their righteousness; so that no one may despair of himself, even if he was careless before; so that he may put his hopes in nothing else, after the mercy of God, but in his own virtue. For if these men gained nothing from such kinship, though of the same house and family as Christ, until they showed virtue, what pardon shall we be able to obtain, putting forward righteous kinsmen and brothers, unless we are very upright and have lived in virtue? For the prophet too, hinting at this very thing, said: “A brother does not redeem; shall a man redeem?” Even if it be Moses, even if Samuel, even if Jeremiah. Hear, at any rate, what God says to him: “Do not pray for this people, for I will not hear you.” And why do you wonder if I do not hear you? “Even Moses himself,” he says, “and Samuel, if they were present, I would not accept their supplication for them.” Even if it be Ezekiel who entreats, he will hear: “Though Noah, Job, and Daniel stand, they shall not deliver their sons and daughters.” Even if it be the patriarch Abraham entreating for those who are incurably sick and do not change, God will depart, leaving him, so as not to receive his voice for them. Even if it be Samuel again who does this, he will say to him, “Do not mourn for Saul.” Even if one entreats unfittingly for a sister, he will hear again what Moses heard: “If her father had spat in her face.” Let us not, then, gape toward others. For the prayers of the saints have the very greatest power, but only when we too repent and become better. For Moses too, who snatched his own brother and six hundred thousand from the wrath sent by God at that time, could not deliver his sister; and yet the sin was not equal; for she had insulted Moses, while there what was dared was ungodliness.

But this question I leave to you; the one harder than this I shall try to solve. For why speak of the sister? He who had led so great a people could not suffice for himself; but after countless labors and hardships, and his attendance for forty years, he was prevented from setting foot on the land about which there were so many promises and pledges. What, then, was the cause? This favor would not have been profitable, but would have done much harm, and would have tripped up many of the Jews. For if, when they had only been freed from Egypt, they abandoned God and sought Moses and ascribed everything to him, how far into ungodliness would they not have run aground, had they seen him bring them into the land of promise? That is why not even his tomb was made known. And Samuel could not free Saul from the wrath from above, but he often saved the Israelites. And Jeremiah did not avail for the Jews, but he sheltered someone else in his prophecy. And Daniel rescued the barbarians from being slain, but did not rescue the Jews from being taken captive. And in the Gospels too we shall see both these things happening, not with different people, but with the same: the same man now sufficing for himself, now betrayed. For the one who owed the ten thousand talents rescued himself from the danger by entreaty, and again could not; while another, conversely, first betrayed himself, but later was able to help himself greatly. Who is this? The one who devoured his father's property. So if we are careless, we shall not be able to be saved even through others; but if we are sober, we shall be able to do this even through ourselves, and through ourselves rather than through others. For God wishes to give the grace to us rather than to others on our behalf, so that we may enjoy confidence and become better by striving ourselves to undo his wrath. So the Canaanite woman …

And I say this not that we should not entreat the saints, but that we should not be careless, nor, lying back and sleeping ourselves, entrust our affairs to others alone. For when he said, “Make friends for yourselves,” he did not stop there only, but added, “by the mammon of unrighteousness,” so that the good deed may again be yours; for he hinted at nothing else here than almsgiving. And what is wonderful, he does not even deal strictly with us, if we depart from unrighteousness. For what he says is this: Have you acquired wrongly? Spend well. Have you gathered unjustly? Scatter justly. And yet what virtue is it to give from such things? But God, being a lover of mankind, condescends even to this; and if we do so, he promises us many good things. But we have come to such insensibility that we do not give even from what is unjust; but seizing countless things, if we put down the smallest part, we think we have fulfilled everything. Have you not heard Paul saying, “He who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly”? Why then do you spare? Is the thing an expense? Is it an outlay? It is revenue and trade. Where there is trade, there is also increase; where there is sowing, there is also harvest. But you, if you were going to farm rich and deep land that could receive much seed, would have thrown in what you had and borrowed from others, thinking sparing a loss in such things; but when you are about to farm heaven, which is subject to no unevenness of weather, but will surely return what is sown with greater increase, you hesitate and draw back, and do not consider that it is possible by sparing to lose, and by not sparing to gain. Scatter, then, that you may not lose; do not keep back, that you may keep; throw out, that you may preserve; spend, that you may gain. And if they must be guarded, do not you guard them, for you will certainly lose them; but entrust them to God; for no one can snatch from there. Do not you do the trading, for you do not even know how to make a profit; but lend to the one who gives interest greater than the principal. Lend where there is no envy, no accusation, no plotting, no fear. Lend to the one who needs nothing, and yet has need because of you; to the one who feeds all and is hungry, that you may not starve; to the one who is poor, that you may be rich. Lend where it is possible to reap not death but life instead of death. For the one kind of interest procures the kingdom, the other hell; the one comes from love of money, the other from love of wisdom; the one from cruelty, the other from lovingkindness. What defense, then, shall we have, when, though it is possible to receive more, and with security, at the fitting time, in great freedom, without mockery and fears and dangers, we let go these gains and pursue those shameful, mean, unsafe, and perishing ones, which procure for us a great furnace? For there is nothing, nothing more shameful than the interest of this world, nothing more cruel. For such a man makes merchandise of other people's misfortunes, makes another's bad day his revenue, and demands a wage for lovingkindness, as though afraid of appearing merciful; and under the pretense of lovingkindness he digs the pit deeper, crushing poverty while he helps, and pushing down while he stretches out his hand; receiving the man as into a harbor, but casting him into shipwreck as on a rock and a reef and a hidden crag.

“But what do you order?” someone says. “That I give the money I have gathered, useful to me too, to another for his business, and demand no wage?” Far from it; I do not say this; on the contrary, I greatly wish you to receive a wage, not a mean and small one, but a far greater one; for instead of gold I wish you to receive heaven as interest. Why then do you shut yourself into poverty, dragging along the ground and demanding small things instead of great? For this belongs to one who does not know how to be rich. For when God promises you the good things in heaven in return for a little money, and you say, “Do not give me heaven, but instead of heaven this perishing gold,” this belongs to one who wishes to remain in poverty. For one who desires wealth and plenty will choose what abides before what perishes, what cannot be spent before what is used up, the many before the few, the incorruptible before the corruptible; for so those others will follow too. For one who seeks earth before heaven will certainly lose earth too; but one who prefers heaven to earth will enjoy both in great abundance. That this may happen with us too, let us despise all things here and choose the good things to come. For so we shall obtain both these and those, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, magi from the east came to Jerusalem, saying: Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east and have come to worship him.”

We need much wakefulness and many prayers to be able to go through the present passage and learn who these magi are, where they came from and how, who persuaded them, and what the star is. Or rather, if you wish, let us first bring forward what the enemies of the truth say. For the devil has breathed so hard against them that they try to arm themselves even from here against the words of truth. What then do they say? “See,” they say, “when Christ was born too a star appeared, which is a sign that astrology is reliable.” How then, if he was born according to that law, did he undo astrology, abolish fate, stop the mouths of demons, drive out error, and overturn all such sorcery? And what do the magi learn from the star itself? That he was king of the Jews? Yet he was not king of this kingdom, as he said to Pilate too: “My kingdom is not of this world.” At any rate he displayed nothing of the kind; for he had no spearmen, nor shield-bearers, nor horses, nor team of mules, nor anything else of the kind about him; but he pursued this mean and poor life, taking twelve mean men about with him. And even if they knew that he was a king, why do they come? For it is not the work of astrology to know from the stars those who are being born, but to foretell from the hour of birth what will happen, as they say. But these men were neither present with the mother in labor, nor did they know the time at which he was born, nor did they start from there and calculate from the movement of the stars what would happen; but the reverse: having seen a star appear in their own country long before, they come to see the one who was born; which itself would be far more puzzling than the former. For what reason persuaded them, what hope of good things, to worship a king from so great a distance? If he were going to reign over them, not even so would the thing make much sense. For if he had been born in royal courts, with his father the king present, one might reasonably have said that they, wishing to court the father, worshiped the child that was born, and so laid up for themselves great ground for goodwill. But as it is, not expecting that he would be their king, but king of a strange nation far from their own country, and not seeing him already grown to manhood, why do they set out on so long a journey and bring gifts? And that when they were going to do it all at their peril? For Herod, on hearing, was troubled, and the whole people was in turmoil, hearing these things from them. “But they did not foresee this.” That makes no sense. For however foolish they were, they would not have been ignorant that, coming into a city under a king, proclaiming such things and pointing to another king besides the one then reigning, they would draw countless deaths upon themselves. And why did they worship one in swaddling clothes at all? For if he had been a man, one could have said that, expecting help from him, they threw themselves into open danger; which itself was the height of unreason, that a Persian, a barbarian, with nothing in common with the nation of the Jews, should wish to leave his home, abandon country, kin, and household, and put himself under another kingdom.

And if this is foolish, what follows is far more foolish. What is that? That having come so long a journey, and having worshiped, and having troubled everyone, they went away at once. And what sign of kingship did they see at all, seeing a hut and a manger, a child in swaddling clothes, and a poor mother? And to whom did they offer the gifts, and why? Was it a law and custom to court in this way kings born anywhere, and did they always go round the whole world worshiping those whom they knew would be kings, from small and mean beginnings, before they ascended the royal throne? No one could say this. And why did they worship? If for present things, what did they expect to receive from a child and a poor mother? If for future things, how did they know that the child worshiped in swaddling clothes would remember what was then done? And if the mother was going to remind him, not even so did they deserve honor, but punishment, for casting him into open danger. At least from this Herod was troubled, and sought, and inquired, and undertook to kill him. And everywhere, one who makes known the one who is to reign, while he is still a private person from his earliest age, does nothing other than hand him over to slaughter and kindle countless enemies against him. Do you see how many absurdities appear if we examine these things by human sequence and common custom? And not only these, but more than these could be mentioned, raising more questions than those stated. But so as not to make you dizzy by joining difficulties to difficulties, come, let us go at last to the solution of the questions, making the beginning of the solution from the star itself.

For if we learn what the star was, and of what kind, and whether it was one of the many or strange beside the others, and whether a star by nature or a star in appearance only, we shall easily know all the rest too. Where then will these things become clear? From what is written itself. That this star was not one of the many, or rather not even a star, as it seems to me, but some invisible power transformed into this appearance, is clear first from its course. For there is not, there is not any star that travels this road. But whether you speak of the sun, or the moon, or all the other stars, we see them going from east to west; but this one was carried from north to south, for that is how Palestine lies relative to Persia. Second, one can see this also from the time. For it appears not at night, but in the middle of the day, while the sun is shining; which is not in the power of a star, nor even of the moon; for the moon, which so far surpasses all, hides at once and vanishes when the sun's ray has appeared. But this one, by the excess of its own brightness, overcame even the sun's rays, appearing brighter than they, and shining more in so great a light. Third, from its appearing and hiding again. For on the road as far as Palestine it appeared, leading them by the hand; but when they set foot in Jerusalem, it hid itself; then again, when they had left Herod, having told him why they had come, and were about to depart, it shows itself; which is not the motion of a star, but of some very rational power. For it did not even have its own course, but when they had to travel, it traveled, and when they had to stop, it stopped, arranging everything as needed, like the pillar of cloud, making the camp of the Jews halt and rise up when it was necessary. Fourth, one could learn this clearly from the manner of its pointing out. For it did not point out the place while staying above; for it would not have been possible for them to learn it so; but it did this by coming down below. For you know that a place so small, as much as a hut would occupy, or rather as much as the body of a little child would occupy, cannot be marked out by a star. For since its height is immense, it could not mark out and make known so narrow a place to those wishing to see. One could see this from the moon too, which, though so far above the stars, seems near to all who dwell in the world and are spread over so wide an expanse of earth. How then, tell me, did the star point out so narrow a place as a manger and a hut, unless it left that height, came down below, and stood over the very head of the child? This is what the evangelist hints at when he says, “Behold, the star went before them, until it came and stood over where the child was.” Do you see by how many proofs it is shown that this star was not one of the many, and did not show itself according to the order of outward creation?

And why did it appear? To get at the insensibility of the Jews and shut off from them every pretext for defense in their ingratitude. For since the one who was coming was going to bring the old way of life to rest, and to call the world to his worship, and to be worshiped on every land and sea, from the very start he opens the door to the nations, wishing to teach his own through strangers. For since they did not pay much attention, though continually hearing the prophets speak of his coming, he made barbarians too come from a distant land seeking the king among them; and they learn from a Persian voice first what they would not bear to learn from the prophets; so that, if they were well disposed, they might have the greatest reason to be persuaded, but if they were contentious, they might be deprived of every defense thereafter. For what could they say, not having received Christ after so many prophets, when they see magi receiving him from the sight of a single star and worshiping the one who had appeared? What he did with the Ninevites, then, sending Jonah, and what he did with the Samaritan woman and the Canaanite woman, this he did also with the magi. That is why he said: “The men of Nineveh will rise up and condemn,” and, “The queen of the south will rise up and condemn this generation”; because they believed the lesser, but these did not believe even the greater.

“And why,” someone says, “did he draw them by such a sight?” Well, how should he have done it? Send prophets? But the magi would not have accepted prophets. Send forth a voice from above? But they would not have paid attention. Send an angel? But they would have passed him by too. That is why God, leaving all those, calls them through what was familiar to them, condescending greatly, and shows a great and extraordinary star, so as to amaze them by the greatness and beauty of the sight, and by the manner of its course. Imitating this, Paul too speaks to the Greeks from an altar and brings forward testimonies of poets; to the Jews he preaches with circumcision; and with those who live under the law he makes the beginning of his teaching from sacrifices. For since to each person what is familiar is dear, both God and the men sent by him handle matters so for the salvation of the world. Do not, then, think it unworthy of him to call them through a star; for so you will slander all the Jewish things too, the sacrifices, the purifications, the new moons, the ark, and the temple itself. For these took their beginning from Greek grossness. But God, for the salvation of those who had gone astray, consented to be served through the very things by which those outside served demons, changing them slightly, so as to draw them away little by little from their custom and lead them to the lofty philosophy. This he did with the magi too, consenting to call them through the sight of a star, so as to make them loftier thereafter. When, then, he had brought them and led them by the hand and set them at the manger, he no longer speaks to them through a star but through an angel; so little by little they became better.

This he did also with the people of Ascalon and Gaza. For those five cities, when they were struck a mortal blow at the coming of the ark and found no release from the evils pressing on them, called their diviners, gathered an assembly, and sought to find a release from that God-sent blow. Then the diviners said that untamed heifers that had borne their first calves must be yoked to the ark and let go with no one leading them; for so it would be made plain whether the blow was sent by God or the disease came by some chance. “For if,” they say, “they break the yoke through inexperience, or turn back toward their lowing calves, what happened is chance; but if they go straight, and are neither affected by the lowing of the young, nor lose their way through ignorance of the road, it is clear that it is the hand of God that has touched these cities.” Since, then, when the diviners had said this, the inhabitants of those cities were persuaded and did as they were bidden, God too followed the diviners' judgment, condescending again, and did not think it unworthy of himself to bring the diviners' prediction to effect and make them seem trustworthy in what they then said. For the achievement was greater, in that the very opponents bore witness to God's power and their own teachers pronounced the verdict about him. And one could see God arranging many other such things. For the case of the woman with a familiar spirit too resembles this manner of dispensation, which you will now be able to solve yourselves from what has been said. About the star, then, this is what we have said; but more could be said by you; for “give occasion to a wise man,” it says, “and he will be wiser.”

But now we must go to the beginning of what was read. What is the beginning? “Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, magi from the east come to Jerusalem.” Magi followed when a star led; these did not believe even when prophets sounded in their ears. And why does he tell us both the time and the place, saying “in Bethlehem” and “in the days of Herod the king”? And why does he add the rank? The rank, since there was another Herod too, the one who killed John; but that one was a tetrarch, this one a king. And he puts the place and the time to remind us of ancient prophecies: one of them Micah prophesied, saying, “And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah”; the other the patriarch Jacob, marking the time for us exactly and setting a great sign of his coming: “A ruler shall not fail from Judah,” he says, “nor a leader from his loins, until he comes for whom it is laid up, and he is the expectation of the nations.” It is worth asking also from where they came to such a thought, and who roused them to it. For it seems to me that it was not the work of the star alone, but also of God, who moved their soul; as he did with Cyrus, preparing him to let the Jews go. Yet he did not do this so as to ruin their free will; for when he called Paul too from above by a voice, he made plain both his own grace and Paul's obedience. “And why,” someone says, “did he not reveal this to all the magi?” Because not all were going to believe, but these were more fit than the others; for countless nations too perished, and the prophet was sent to the Ninevites alone; and there were two robbers on the cross, and only one was saved. See, then, the virtue of these men, not only from their coming, but also from their boldness. For lest they seem to be impostors, they tell who guided them and the length of the road, and having come they show their boldness: “For we have come,” they say, “to worship him”; and they feared neither the anger of the people nor the tyranny of the king. That is why it seems to me that these men became teachers at home too; for if they spoke boldly here, much more did they speak boldly in their own country, having received the oracle from the angel and the testimony from the prophet.

“And when Herod heard,” it says, “he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.” Herod, with reason, since he was king and feared for himself and his children; but Jerusalem, why? And yet the prophets had foretold him long before as Savior, benefactor, and liberator. Why then were they troubled? From the same disposition from which earlier too they turned away from God when he did them good, and remembered the meat of Egypt while enjoying so great a freedom. But consider the exactness of the prophets. For the prophet foretold this very thing long before, saying: “They will wish that they had been burned with fire; for to us a child is born, and a son is given to us.” Yet though troubled, they do not seek to see what happened, nor follow the magi and inquire; so contentious and careless together were they, above all. For they ought to have prided themselves that the king was born among them and had drawn the land of the Persians, and that they would have all under their hand, since affairs had advanced for the better and the rule had begun from so bright an opening; but they did not become better even so. And yet they had just been freed from the captivity there; and it was likely that they would think, even if they knew nothing of the secret and lofty things, but only reasoned from present facts: If they so tremble at our king when he is born, much more will they fear and obey him when he is grown, and our affairs will be more splendid than the barbarians'. But nothing of this rouses them; so great was their sluggishness, and with it their envy. Both of these we must banish from our mind with all care, and one who is to stand in such a battle must be hotter than fire. That is why he said, “I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled.” And for this reason the Spirit appears in fire.

But we have become colder than ashes and deader than the dead; and that while we see Paul soaring above heaven, and the heaven of heaven, and, more vehement than any flame, conquering and surpassing all things, things below, things above, things present, things to come, things that are, things that are not. And if that example is too great for you, this very saying is above all a sign of sluggishness. For what did Paul have more than you, that you say it is impossible for you to attain zeal like his? But so as not to be contentious, let us leave Paul and consider the first believers, who cast away money and possessions and all worldly care and occupation, and dedicated themselves wholly to God, attending night and day to the teaching of the word. For such is the spiritual fire: it lets us have no desire for things here, but transfers us to another love. That is why one who loves such things, even if he must give up what he has, even if he must laugh at luxury and glory, even if he must surrender life itself, does all these things with all ease. For the heat of that fire, entering the soul, casts out all sluggishness and makes the one it has seized lighter than a feather; and looking down on all visible things thereafter, such a man remains in continual compunction, pouring out continual springs of tears, and reaping great pleasure from them. For nothing so cements us and unites us to God as such tears. Such a man, even if he lives in the midst of cities, spends his time as in a desert, in mountains and glens, seeing none of those present, and never having his fill of such lamentations, whether he weeps for himself or for the offenses committed by others. That is why God called these blessed before the others, saying, “Blessed are those who mourn.” And how does Paul say, “Rejoice in the Lord always”? Meaning the pleasure that comes from these tears. For as the joy of the world has grief allotted to it, so tears according to God make joy spring up, continual and unfading. So the harlot too became more honorable than virgins, seized by this fire. For when she had been warmed through by repentance, she was thereafter carried away with longing for Christ, loosing her hair, wetting his holy feet with her tears, wiping them with her own locks, and emptying out the ointment. And all these things were done outwardly; but what was being accomplished in her mind was far warmer than these, which God alone saw. That is why everyone who hears rejoices with her, delights in her good deeds, and acquits her of all charges. And if we, who are wicked, pass this verdict, consider what she enjoyed from the God who loves mankind, and how many good things, even before God's gifts, she reaped from repentance. For as after a violent downpour of rain the sky becomes clear, so too when tears pour down there is calm and fair weather, and the darkness from sins is wiped away. And as by water and the Spirit, so by tears and confession we are cleansed again, provided we do not do this for display and ostentation. For a woman who weeps so I would say deserves to be accused more than one who adorns herself with eye paint and rouge. For I seek those tears that are shed not for display but for compunction: those shed secretly, in inner rooms, with no one seeing, falling gently and noiselessly; those from the depth of the mind, in affliction and pain, shed for God alone, such as Hannah's were: “For her lips moved,” it says, “and her voice was not heard”; but her tears alone sent forth a voice clearer than a trumpet. That is why God opened her womb and made the hard rock a soft field.

If you too weep so, you have become an imitator of your Master. For he too wept, both over Lazarus and over the city, and he was troubled over Judas. And this one can see him doing often, but laughing nowhere, nor even smiling gently; at least none of the evangelists has said so. That is why with Paul too, that he wept, and did this night and day for three years, both he himself says of himself and others say of him; but that he laughed, neither he himself has said anywhere, nor any other of the saints, either of himself or of anyone else of the kind; but it is said only of Sarah, when she was rebuked, and of the son of Noah, when he became a slave instead of free. And I say this not to cut off laughter, but to take away dissipation. For why, tell me, do you live softly and run to looseness, when you are still liable to so many accounts and are about to stand before a fearful tribunal and give an exact account of everything done here? For we shall give account both of what we sinned willingly and of what we sinned unwillingly: “For whoever denies me,” he says, “before men, I also will deny him before my Father”; and yet such denial is unwilling, but nevertheless it does not escape punishment, but we pay the penalty for this too; and both of what we know and of what we do not know: “For I am not aware of anything against myself,” he says, “but I am not thereby justified”; and of what is done in ignorance and of what is done with knowledge: “For I bear them witness,” he says, “that they have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge”; yet this does not suffice for their defense. And writing to the Corinthians he said, “I fear lest, as the serpent deceived Eve by his cunning, your minds be corrupted from the simplicity that is toward Christ.” Being about to give so many accounts, then, do you sit laughing and joking and giving yourself to luxury? “But if I do not do these things,” someone says, “but mourn, what is the profit?” The very greatest, and so great that it cannot even be set forth in words. For in the courts outside, however much you weep, you will not escape punishment after the sentence; but here, if you only look downcast, you have annulled the verdict and obtained pardon. That is why Christ speaks to us much about mourning, and calls the mourners blessed and the laughers wretched. For this is not a theater for laughter, nor have we come together for this, to guffaw, but to groan, and by this groaning to inherit a kingdom. But you, standing before a king, cannot bear even to smile at all; and having the Master of the angels dwelling in you, you do not stand with trembling and fitting self-control, but laugh, though he is often angry? And you do not consider that by this you provoke him more than by your sins? For God is not accustomed to turn away from sinners so much as from those who are not humbled after the sin.

Yet some are so insensibly disposed that even after these words they say: “But may I never weep; may God grant me to laugh and play all my life.” And what could be more childish than this thought? For it is not God who grants play, but the devil. Hear, at any rate, what those who played suffered: “The people sat down,” it says, “to eat and drink, and rose up to play.” Such were those in Sodom, such were those at the flood. For of those too it says that “in pride, and in plenty, and in fullness of bread they lived in luxury.” And those in Noah's time, seeing the ark being built for so many years, made merry without feeling, foreseeing nothing of what was to come. That is why the flood came and swept them all away, and wrought at that time the common shipwreck of the world. Do not, then, ask from God what you receive from the devil. For it is God's part to give a heart broken and humbled, sober, chaste, and composed, repentant and pierced with compunction. These are his gifts, since we need these above all. For a hard contest stands before us, and our wrestling is against the invisible powers, our battle against the spiritual hosts of wickedness, our war against the principalities, against the authorities; and we must be content if, striving, sober, and awake, we can withstand that savage battle line. But if we laugh and play and are always careless, we shall fall through our own carelessness even before the engagement. It is not ours, then, to laugh continually and live softly and in luxury, but belongs to those on the stage, to the harlot women, to the men shaven for this, to parasites and flatterers; not to those called to heaven, not to those enrolled in the city above, not to those who bear spiritual arms, but to those who are initiated to the devil.

For it is he, it is he who made the thing an art, to unnerve the soldiers of Christ and slacken the sinews of their zeal. That is why he built theaters in the cities, and having trained those buffoons, through their ruin he hurls such a pestilence upon the whole city, persuading men to pursue what Paul ordered them to flee, foolish talk and coarse jesting. And what is worse than these is the subject of the laughter. For when the mimes of those buffoons say something blasphemous or shameful, then many of the more foolish laugh and delight, applauding for the very things for which they ought to stone them, and drawing down upon their own head by this pleasure the furnace of fire. For those who praise those who say such things are the very ones who above all persuade them to say them; that is why they would more justly be liable to the punishment laid down for these things. For if there were no one to watch such things, neither would there be one to perform them; but when they see you leaving workshops and crafts and the revenue from them, and simply everything, for the time spent there, they receive greater eagerness and give more zeal to these things. And I say this not to free them from the charges, but that you may learn that it is you above all who provide the beginning and root of such lawlessness, you who spend the whole day on these things and parade the solemn things of marriage and make a public show of the great mystery. For the one who acts these things is not so much the offender as you before him, who order them to be done, or rather not only order them but are eager, and delight, and laugh, and praise what is done, and in every way support such workshops of demons. With what eyes, then, tell me, will you look at your wife at home after this, having seen her insulted there? How do you not blush, remembering your partner, when you see her very nature made a public example?

For do not tell me that what is done is acting. For this acting has made many adulterers and overturned many households. And I groan above all for this, that what is done does not even seem to be wicked, but there is applause and shouting and much laughter while so great an adultery is being dared. What are you saying? That what is done is acting? For this very reason they would deserve countless deaths, that what all the laws command us to flee, these men have been eager to imitate. For if the thing itself is evil, the imitation of it too is evil. And I do not yet say how many adulterers are made by those who act such dramas of adultery, how bold and shameless they make those who watch such things; for nothing is more lewd and bold than an eye that bears to look at such things. In the marketplace you would not choose to see a woman stripped, nor even at home, but you call the thing an insult; yet you go up to the theater to insult the common race of men and women and to shame your own eyes? For do not tell me that the one stripped is a harlot; for the nature is the same and the body the same, of the harlot and of the free woman. For if this is nothing improper, why, if you see it done in the marketplace, do you leap away yourself and drive off the woman behaving indecently? Or is such a thing improper when we are apart, but when we are gathered and all sitting together, no longer equally shameful? But these things are a laughingstock and a disgrace, the words of utter madness; and it would be better to smear the whole face with clay and mud than to watch such lawlessness. For mud does not so harm the eye as an unchaste look and the sight of a woman stripped. Hear, at any rate, what produced nakedness at the beginning, and fear the cause of such indecency. What then produced nakedness? Disobedience and the devil's counsel. So from the beginning and from the first this practice was his. But they were ashamed when they were naked; while you even pride yourselves, according to that apostolic saying, “having your glory in your shame.” How then will your wife look at you after this, when you come back from such lawlessness? How will she receive you? How will she address you, when you have so dishonorably made a public show of the common nature of women and have become a captive of such a sight and a slave of the harlot? And if you are pained hearing these things, I am very grateful to you: “For who is it that makes me glad but the one who is pained by me?” Never cease, then, groaning over these things and being stung; for the pain from such things will be for you the beginning of the change for the better. That is why I too made the discourse sharper, so that by making a deeper incision I might free you from the rottenness of those who intoxicate you, and bring you back to pure health of soul; which may we all enjoy through everything, and obtain the prizes laid up for these achievements, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And gathering all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. And they said to him: In Bethlehem of Judea.”

Do you see everything turning into a refutation of the Jews? For as long as they did not see him, and were not seized by envy, they declared the testimonies truthfully; but when they saw the glory arising from the miracles, seized by envy they betrayed the truth thereafter. But the truth was exalted through everything, and was established all the more by its enemies. See, at any rate, how wonderful and marvelous things are arranged here too. For at once both the barbarians and the Jews learn something more from each other and teach each other. For the Jews heard from the magi that a star had proclaimed him in the land of the Persians; and the magi learned from the Jews that the one whom the star proclaimed, the prophets too had declared long ages before; and the occasion of the question became for both a demonstration of clearer and more exact teaching; and the enemies of the truth are compelled, even against their will, to read the writings that speak for the truth and to interpret the prophecy, though not all of it. For having named Bethlehem, and that from it would come forth the one who shepherds Israel, they did not add what follows, flattering the king. And what was this? “That his goings forth are from the beginning, from the days of eternity.”

“And why,” someone says, “if he was to come from there, did he live in Nazareth after the birth, and veil the prophecy?” But he did not veil it; rather he revealed it more. For to be born there, when his mother always lived elsewhere, shows that the thing happened by dispensation. That is why he did not leave there at once after being born, but spent forty days, allowing those who wished to inquire to examine everything exactly. For there were many things to move them to such an inquiry, if they had wished to pay attention. For when the magi came, the whole city was stirred up, and with the city the king; the prophet was brought into the midst, and a very great court was convened; and many other things happened there, which Luke relates exactly: what concerns Anna, and Simeon, and Zechariah, and the angels, and the shepherds; all of which were enough to give those who paid attention grounds for finding out what had happened. For if the magi, coming from Persia, were not ignorant of the place, much more could those who lived there learn these things. He showed himself, then, at the beginning by many wonders; but since they would not see, he hid himself for the time between, and revealed himself again from another, more splendid beginning. For it was no longer the magi, nor the star, but the Father from above who proclaimed him at the streams of the Jordan; and the Spirit came upon him, drawing that voice to the head of the one being baptized; and John cried out with all boldness everywhere in Judea, filling the inhabited and the uninhabited world with such teaching; and the testimony of the miracles, and earth and sea and the whole creation uttered a clear voice on his behalf. But at the time of the birth there happened as many things as were fit to show quietly the one who had come. For lest the Jews say, “We do not know when he was born, nor in what place,” all that concerned the magi was arranged, and the other things we have mentioned; so that they could have no excuse to give for not seeking what had happened.

And consider the exactness of the prophecy. For it did not say that he would remain in Bethlehem, but that he would come forth. So this too was part of the prophecy, that he would only be born there. But some of them say shamelessly that these things were said of Zerubbabel. And how could that make sense? For his goings forth were not “from the beginning, from the days of eternity.” And how would what was said at the start, “From you shall come forth,” fit him? For he was born not in Judea but in Babylon; whence he was even called Zerubbabel, because he was sown there. And those who know the Syrian language know what is meant. Besides what has been said, all the time since is enough to establish the testimony. For what does it say? “You are by no means least among the rulers of Judah”; and it adds the reason for its fame, saying, “For from you shall come forth.” But no one else made that place splendid and famous except he alone. At any rate, after that birth, people come from the ends of the earth to see the manger and the site of the hut; which the prophet foretold long before, saying, “You are by no means least among the rulers of Judah,” that is, among the heads of tribes. And in saying this he included Jerusalem too. Yet not even so did they pay attention, although the benefit was passing to them. For this is why the prophets nowhere at the beginning speak so much of his dignity as of the benefit he brought them. For when the virgin was giving birth, “You shall call his name Jesus,” he says, and adds, “for he will save his people from their sins.” And the magi did not say, “Where is the Son of God?” but “he who has been born king of the Jews.” And here again it did not say, “From you shall come forth the Son of God,” but “a leader who will shepherd my people Israel.” For it was necessary at the beginning to speak with more condescension, so that they might not be offended, and to proclaim what concerned their salvation, so that they might be drawn in more by this. At any rate, all the testimonies brought first, whose time was immediately at the birth, say nothing great or lofty about him, unlike those after the display of the signs; for those speak more plainly of his dignity. When, at any rate, after many miracles children sang hymns to him, hear what the prophet says: “Out of the mouth of infants and nurslings you have perfected praise”; and again, “For I will behold your heavens, the works of your fingers,” which shows him to be the Maker of the universe. And the testimony brought after the ascension shows his equality of honor with the Father; for it says, “The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand.” And Isaiah says, “He who rises to rule the nations; in him shall the nations hope.” But how does it say that Bethlehem is not least among the rulers of Judah? For the village became renowned not only in Palestine but in the whole world. But for the present the discourse is to the Jews; that is why he added, “He will shepherd my people Israel,” although he shepherded the whole world; but, as I said, he does not wish for the present to give offense by revealing what concerns the nations. “And how,” someone says, “did he not shepherd the Jewish people?” Above all this too happened; for in saying Israel here he hinted at those of the Jews who believed in him. And Paul, interpreting this, said, “For not all who are from Israel are Israel,” but those who were born through faith and promise. And if he did not shepherd all, this is their own charge and accusation. For they ought to have worshiped with the magi and glorified God that such a time had come, undoing all their sins (for there is nothing about courts or accounts, but about a gentle and meek shepherd); but they do the opposite: they are troubled, they are in turmoil, and afterward they contrive countless plots.

“Then Herod, having secretly called the magi, learned exactly from them the time of the star's appearing,” undertaking to kill the child, which was not only madness but the height of folly. For what had been said and what had happened were enough to turn him from every such undertaking. For what happened was not according to man. That a star from above should call the magi, that barbarian men should set out on so long a journey to worship one lying in swaddling clothes and a manger, that prophets long before should foretell all these things, and all the rest, were greater than human; yet none of these restrained him. For such is wickedness: it trips itself up, and always attempts what cannot be accomplished. If he believed the prophecy and thought it unshakable, clearly he was attempting the impossible; if again he disbelieved and did not expect what was said to come to pass, he had no need to fear and be afraid, nor to plot for this reason; so that on either side his cunning was superfluous. And this too was the height of folly, to think that the magi would prefer him to the child for whose sake they had come so long a journey. For if before seeing him they were so on fire with longing, after beholding him and being assured by the prophecy, how did he hope to persuade them to betray the child to him? Yet though so many things turned him from it, he attempted it, and having called the magi secretly, he inquired of them. For he thought that the Jews cared for the child, and would not have expected them to slide into such madness as to wish to hand over to their enemies the protector and savior who had come for the freedom of the nation. That is why he calls them secretly, and seeks the time, not of the child but of the star, setting his snare with great excess. For it seems to me that the star appeared long before. For since the magi were going to spend much time on the journey, so that they might arrive at once upon the child's birth (for he had to be worshiped in his very swaddling clothes, so that the wonderful and marvelous character of the thing might appear), the star shows itself long before. For if it had appeared to them in the east when he was born in Palestine, they would have spent much time on the journey and on arriving would not have seen him in swaddling clothes. And if he kills from two years old and under, let us not wonder; for his anger and fear, for greater security, added more time too, so that none might escape.

Having called them, then, he says: “Go and search carefully for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him.” Do you see the folly? If you say this in truth, why do you ask secretly? But if you wish to plot, how did you not see that from being questioned secretly the magi would be able to perceive the deceit? But, as I said, a soul captured by wickedness becomes the most foolish of all. And he did not say, “Go and learn about the king,” but “about the child”; for he could not bear even to call him by the name of the office. But the magi, perceiving none of this because of their great piety (for they would not have expected that he would go so far in wickedness and attempt to plot against so wonderful a dispensation), depart, suspecting none of it, but judging all others' affairs from their own.

“And behold, the star which they had seen in the east went before them.” For this is why it was hidden, so that, having lost their guide, they might be compelled to ask the Jews, and the matter might become known to all. For when they had asked and had their enemies for teachers, it appears to them again. And consider the excellent order of events. From the star the people of the Jews and the king receive them, and they bring in the prophet to teach what had appeared; from the prophet again an angel took them over and taught them everything; but for the present they travel from Jerusalem to Bethlehem by the star; for the star again went with them from there, so that you may learn from this too that it was not one of the many; for no star at all has this nature. And it did not simply travel, but went before them, drawing them and leading them by the hand in the middle of the day.

“And what need was there of this star,” someone says, “once the place was known?” So that the child too might be seen. For there was nothing to point him out, since neither was the house conspicuous nor the mother splendid and distinguished. There was need, then, of the star to set them at the place. That is why it appears to them when they have left Jerusalem, and does not stop until it reached the manger. And wonder was joined to wonder; for both were marvelous, that magi should worship and that the star should go before, and enough to draw in even the very stony-hearted. For if the magi had said that they heard prophets saying these things, or that angels had spoken to them privately, they might have been disbelieved; but as it was, with the sight of the star appearing from above, even the very shameless were silenced. Then, when it reached the child, the star stopped again; which itself was the work of a power greater than a star's, now to hide, now to appear, and having appeared to stand still. From this they too received an increase of faith. That is why they rejoiced, because they had found what they sought, because they had become messengers of truth, because they had not come so long a road in vain; so great was the longing they had for Christ. For coming, it stood over the very head, showing that what was born was divine; and standing, it leads to worship, not simply barbarians, but the wisest among them. Do you see that a star appeared with good reason? For even after the prophecy, and after the explanation of the chief priests and scribes, they still attended to it.

Let Marcion be ashamed, let Paul of Samosata be ashamed, who would not see what the magi saw, the forefathers of the church; for I am not ashamed to call them so. Let Marcion be ashamed, seeing God worshiped in the flesh. Let Paul be ashamed, seeing him worshiped not as a mere man. That he was in the flesh, the swaddling clothes and the manger show; that they did not worship him as a mere man, they make plain by offering at so untimely an age such gifts as it was fitting to offer to God. Let the Jews too be ashamed with them, seeing barbarians and magi going ahead of them, while they would not even come after them. For what happened then was a type of what was to come, and it was shown from the very opening that the nations would go ahead of their people. “And how,” someone says, “did he not say from the beginning, but afterward, ‘Go and make disciples of all nations’?” Because what happened was, as I said, a type and a kind of forecast of what was to come. For the natural order was that the Jews should come first; but since they willingly betrayed their own benefit, the order was reversed. For it was not fitting that the magi should come first, nor that those from so great a distance should get ahead of those sitting by the very city, nor that those who had heard nothing should get ahead of those brought up on so many prophecies. But since they were exceedingly ignorant of their own good things, those from Persia get ahead of those in Jerusalem. This is what Paul too says: “It was necessary that the word of the Lord should be spoken first to you; but since you judge yourselves unworthy, behold, we turn to the nations.” For even if they had not been persuaded before, at least on hearing from the magi they ought to have run; but they would not; that is why, while they sleep, these men

run on ahead. Let us too, then, follow the magi; let us be freed from barbarian custom and make the distance great, that we may see Christ; for they too, had they not gone far from their own country, would not have seen him. Let us depart from earthly things. For the magi, while they were in Persia, saw the star; but when they had departed from Persia, they beheld the Sun of righteousness; or rather they would not even have seen the star, had they not eagerly set out from there. Let us too, then, rise up; even if all are troubled, let us run to the house of the child; even if kings, even if peoples, even if tyrants cut off this road, let us not give up our longing. For so we shall repel all the dangers that press on us. For they too, had they not seen the child, would not have escaped the danger from the king. Before seeing the child, fears and dangers and turmoil pressed on them from every side; but after the worship, calm and safety; and no longer a star but an angel receives them, since they had become priests through the worship; for they also offered gifts.

So you too, leaving the Jewish people, the troubled city, the murderous tyrant, the pomp of this life, hasten to Bethlehem, where the house of the spiritual bread is. For even if you are a shepherd and come here, you will see the child in the inn. Even if you are a king and do not come, your purple is of no use to you; even if you are a magus, this will not hinder you, only if you come to honor and worship, and not to trample on the Son of God; if you do this with trembling and joy; for both of these can go together. But see that you do not become like Herod and say, “that I may come and worship him,” and having come, wish to kill him. For those who partake of the mysteries unworthily are like him. “For such a one,” it says, “will be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord.” For they have within themselves the tyrant who is pained at the kingdom of Christ, more lawless than that Herod, mammon. For he wishes to rule, and sends his own people to worship in appearance, but to slay in the very act of worshiping. Let us fear, then, lest we have the appearance of suppliants and worshipers, but show the opposite in deed. And let us throw everything from our hands when we are about to worship. If we have gold, let us offer it to him, and not bury it. For if those barbarians then offered it for honor, what will you be, not giving even to the one in need? If they came so long a road to see him newborn, what defense will you have, not going even one alley's distance to visit him sick and bound? And yet we pity even our enemies when they are sick and bound; but you do not pity even your benefactor and Master. And they offered gold; you scarcely give bread. They saw the star and rejoiced; you, seeing Christ himself a stranger and naked, are not moved. For which of you, who have received countless benefits, has made so long a journey for Christ as those barbarians did, or rather those who were wiser than the philosophers? And why do I say so long a road? Many of our women are so soft that they will not cross even one street to see him in the spiritual manger, unless they get hold of mules. Others, though able to walk, prefer, some the crowd of worldly business, others the theaters, to coming here. And the barbarians, before seeing him, accomplished so long a road for him; but you, even after seeing him, do not emulate them, but leaving him after seeing him, you run to see the mime (for I am touching again on the same things as before), and seeing Christ lying in the manger, you abandon him to see women on the stage. What thunderbolts do these things not deserve?

For tell me, if someone promised to take you into a palace and show you the king seated, would you choose to see the theater instead? And yet there was nothing to gain even from that. But here a spiritual spring of fire wells up from this table; and you, leaving it, run down to the theater to see women swimming and nature exposed to shame, leaving Christ sitting by the spring? For now too he sits by the spring, speaking not to a Samaritan woman but to a whole city; or perhaps even now to the Samaritan woman alone. For no one is with him even now; but some are present in body only, and others not even in body. Yet he does not withdraw, but remains, and asks us for a drink, not water but holiness; for he gives holy things to the holy. For neither does he give us water from this spring, but living blood; and though it is a symbol of death, it has become the cause of life. But you, leaving the spring of blood, the awesome cup, go off to a devilish spring to see a harlot swimming and to suffer shipwreck of the soul. For that water is a sea of licentiousness, not sinking bodies, but working shipwreck of souls. She swims with her body stripped, but you, watching, are sunk into the depth of licentiousness. For such is the devil's net: it does not make those who go down into the water itself, but those sitting above, more submerged than those rolling about there, and it chokes them more cruelly than Pharaoh, who was drowned then with his horses and chariots. And if it were possible to see souls, I would show you many floating on these waters, as the bodies of the Egyptians did then. But what is worse is this, that they even call such utter destruction delight, and name the sea of perdition a channel of pleasure. And yet one could more easily sail the Aegean and Tyrrhenian seas in safety than this spectacle. For first the devil takes possession of their souls the whole night beforehand with expectation; then, having shown what was expected, he binds them at once and makes them captives. For do not think, because you did not have intercourse with the harlot, that you are clean of the sin; for by your eagerness you completed the whole. For if you are held by desire, you have kindled a greater flame; and if you are unaffected by what you see, you deserve a greater charge, becoming a stumbling block to others by encouraging these spectacles, and shaming your own eyes, and with your eyes your soul.

But so that we may not only rebuke, come, let us devise a way of correction too. What, then, will the way be? I wish to hand you over to your own wives, so that they may teach you. For according to Paul's law you ought to be the teachers; but since the order has been reversed by sin, and the body has come to be above and the head below, let us take even this road. And if you are ashamed to have a woman as teacher, flee sin, and you will quickly be able to go up to the throne given you by God. For as long as you offend, Scripture sends you not only to a woman but even to irrational creatures more lowly, and is not ashamed to send the one honored with reason as a disciple to the ant. For this is not a charge against Scripture, but against those who so betray their own nobility. This we too shall do; and now we shall hand you over to your wife; but if you despise her, we shall send you to the school of the irrational creatures, and show how many birds, how many fish, how many four-footed beasts and reptiles appear more dignified and chaste than you. And if you are ashamed of the comparison and blush, go up to your own nobility, and flee the sea of hell and the river of fire, the swimming pool in the theater. For this pool procures that sea and kindles that abyss of flame.

For if “whoever looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery,” how does the one compelled to see her naked not become ten thousand times a captive? The flood in Noah's time did not so destroy the human race as these swimming women drown everyone there with great shame. For that rain, though it worked the death of the body, cut short the wickedness of the soul; but this does the opposite: while the bodies remain, it destroys the soul. And you, when there is talk of precedence, claim to preside over the whole world, because our city was the first to crown itself with the name of Christians; but in the contest of chastity you are not ashamed to fall behind even the more rustic cities? “Yes,” someone says, “and what do you order us to do? Take to the mountains and become monks?” This is why I groan, that you think decorum and chastity befit them alone; and yet Christ laid down the laws in common. For when he says, “If anyone looks at a woman to desire her,” he does not say it to the monk, but also to the one who has a wife; for that mountain then was full of all such people. Consider, then, that theater, and hate this devilish one; and do not condemn the severity of the discourse. For I do not forbid marrying, nor hinder enjoyment; but I wish this to be done with chastity, not with shame and accusation and countless charges. I do not legislate that you take to the mountains and deserts, but that you be good and gentle and chaste while living in the midst of the city. For all the laws are common to us and the monks, except marriage; or rather even in this Paul commands us to be equal to them in everything, saying: “For the form of this world is passing away, so that those who have wives should be as though they had none.” So, he says, I do not command you to take to the tops of the mountains. I would wish it, since the cities imitate what happened in Sodom; yet I do not compel this. Remain having a house and children and a wife; but do not insult your wife, nor shame your children, nor bring the ruin from the theaters into your house. Do you not hear Paul saying, “The husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife,” and laying down laws common to both? But you, if your wife goes often to church, become a harsh accuser; but spending whole days at the theaters yourself, you do not think yourself deserving of accusation; you are so exact about your wife's chastity as to be excessive and immoderate, not even allowing her necessary outings, while you think everything lawful for yourself. But Paul does not permit you, who gives the same authority to the wife too; for “let the husband,” he says, “render to the wife the honor due.” What honor is this, then, when you insult her in the most vital matters and give her body to harlots (for your body is hers), when you bring turmoil and wars into the house, when you do such things in the marketplace that by telling them at home you shame the wife who hears, shame the daughter who is present, and before them yourself? For you must either be silent or behave so indecently that even servants would deserve a whipping for it. What defense, then, tell me, will you have, watching with great eagerness things that it is not even decent to mention, and putting before everything things that are not even bearable to relate?

For the present, then, so as not to be too burdensome, I shall end the discourse here. But if you persist in the same things, I shall make the knife sharper and give a deeper incision; and I shall not stop until I have scattered the devil's theater and made the assembly of the church pure. For so we shall both be freed from present shame and reap the life to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And going into the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother.”

How then does Luke say that he was lying in the manger? Because when she had given birth she at once laid him there (for since many had gathered for the census, it was not possible to find a house, which Luke too indicates when he says that she laid him there “because there was no place”); but afterward she took him up and held him on her knees. For as soon as she arrived at Bethlehem, she was delivered, so that you may learn from this too the whole dispensation, and that these things did not happen idly or at random, but were all fulfilled according to a divine providence and the sequence of prophecy. But what persuaded them to worship? For neither was the virgin distinguished, nor the house conspicuous, nor anything else of what was seen able to amaze and attract them. Yet they not only worship, but “opening their treasures,” they bring gifts, and gifts not as to a man but as to God; for the frankincense and the myrrh were a symbol of this. What then persuaded them? What had prepared them to set out from home and come so long a road; and this was both the star and the illumination given by God to their mind, leading them little by little to more perfect knowledge. For otherwise, since all that appeared was mean, they would not have shown such honor. That is why nothing of the things of sense is great there, but a manger, a hut, and a poor mother, so that you may see clearly the philosophy of the magi and learn that they came to him not as to a mere man but as to God and benefactor. Therefore they were offended by nothing of what was seen outwardly, but both worshiped and brought gifts, free from Jewish grossness (for they did not sacrifice sheep and calves), but close to the philosophy of the church; for they brought him knowledge, obedience, and love.

“And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.” See their faith from this too: how they were not offended, but are tractable and well disposed, and are not troubled nor reason with themselves, saying: “And yet if this child is great and has some power, what need of flight and secret withdrawal? And why, when we came openly and boldly, and stood up to so great a people and to a king's madness, does the angel send us out of the city like runaways and fugitives?” But they neither said nor thought any of this. For this above all belongs to faith, not to demand accounts of what is commanded, but only to obey what is enjoined.

“Now when they had departed, behold, an angel appears to Joseph in a dream, saying: Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee into Egypt.” Here it is worth raising a difficulty both about the magi and about the child. For even if they were not troubled but received everything with faith, it is worth our asking why they and the child are not saved while staying where they are, but the magi flee to Persia and the child to Egypt with his mother. But what? Should he have fallen into Herod's hands, and having fallen into them not have been slain? But then he would not have been thought to have taken flesh; the greatness of the dispensation would not have been believed. For if, while these things were happening and much was being arranged in a human way, some dared to say that the taking of flesh was a fable, how far into ungodliness would they not have fallen if he had done everything in a way befitting God and according to his power? But he sends the magi away quickly, at once sending teachers to the land of the Persians and cutting short the tyrant's madness, so that he might learn that he was attempting impossibilities, and quench his anger, and withdraw himself from this vain labor. For not only to overcome enemies openly, but also to deceive them with ease, is worthy of his power. So, at any rate, he deceived the Egyptians in the case of the Jews too; and though able to transfer their wealth openly into the hands of the Hebrews, he orders this to be done secretly and by deceit; which made him no less fearful to his opponents than the other signs.

The people of Ascalon, at any rate, and all the rest, when they had taken the ark and been struck, and then were advising their own people not to make war nor to stand against him, brought forward this too among the other wonders, saying: “Why do you harden your hearts, as Egypt and Pharaoh hardened theirs? Was it not when he had mocked them that he sent his people away, and they departed?” They said this, thinking this no less than the other signs that had happened openly a proof of his power and greatness. Which happened here too, enough to amaze the tyrant. For consider what Herod was likely to feel, and how he must have choked, deceived by the magi and so laughed at. What then, if he did not become better? It is not the fault of the one who arranged these things, but the excess of his madness, who did not yield even to what could have consoled him and turned him from wickedness, but went further, so as to receive a heavier penalty for such folly.

“And why,” someone says, “is the child sent to Egypt?” The evangelist above all has given the reason: “that it might be fulfilled,” he says, “Out of Egypt I called my Son.” At the same time the beginnings of good hopes were proclaimed beforehand to the world. For since Babylon and Egypt, above all the earth, were burning with the flame of ungodliness, showing from the start that he would correct both and make them better, and persuading us by this to expect good things for the whole world too, to the one he sent the magi, and the other he himself visited with his mother. Besides what has been said, we are taught something else from this, contributing not a little to our philosophy. What is this? To expect temptations and plots from the start. See, at any rate, this happening right from the swaddling clothes. For when he is born, the tyrant rages, and there is flight and removal abroad, and his mother, who had done no wrong, flees into the land of the barbarians; so that you, hearing these things, when you are counted worthy to serve some spiritual matter, and then see yourself suffering incurable things and enduring countless dangers, may not be thrown into confusion nor say: “What is this? I ought to have been crowned and proclaimed, and to be splendid and renowned, fulfilling the Master's command”; but having this example, may bear everything nobly, knowing that this above all is the order of spiritual things, to have temptations allotted to them everywhere. See, at any rate, this happening not only with the mother and the child, but with those barbarians too. For they too withdraw secretly in the rank of fugitives; and she again, who had never gone beyond her house, is ordered to endure so long and toilsome a journey because of this wonderful childbirth and the spiritual birth pangs. And see the marvel again. Palestine plots against him, and Egypt receives and saves the one plotted against. For types happened not only in the case of the patriarch's sons, but also in the case of the Master himself. Many of the things that happened later were proclaimed beforehand through what he did then, as happened with the ass and the colt.

The angel, then, appearing, speaks not to Mary but to Joseph; and what does he say? “Rise, take the child and his mother.” Here he no longer says “your wife,” but “his mother.” For since the birth had taken place, the suspicion had been resolved, and the husband had been assured, the angel now speaks with boldness, calling neither the child nor the wife his, but “the child and his mother, and flee into Egypt”; and he states the reason for the flight: “For Herod,” he says, “is about to seek the child's life.” Hearing this, Joseph was not offended, nor did he say: “The thing is a riddle. Did you not say the other day that he would save his people? And now he does not even save himself, but we need flight and a journey abroad and a long removal; what happens is contrary to the promise.” But he says none of this, for the man was faithful; nor does he pry into the time of the return, although the angel had set it indefinitely: “For remain there until I tell you.” Yet not even at this did he grow sluggish, but he obeys and is persuaded, enduring all the temptations with joy. For God, who loves mankind, mixed pleasant things with these toils too; which he does with all the saints, making neither the dangers nor the respites continuous, but weaving the life of the righteous from both. This he did here too; for consider. He saw the virgin pregnant; this threw him into confusion and the utmost distress, for he suspected the maiden of adultery; but at once the angel came, both resolving the suspicion and removing this fear; and seeing the child born, he reaped the greatest joy. Again, no small danger succeeds this joy, as the city is troubled, and the king rages and seeks the newborn. But this distress was succeeded again by another joy, the star and the worship of the magi. Again, after this pleasure, fear and danger: “For Herod,” he says, “seeks the child's life,” and he must flee and remove in a human way; for it was not yet time to work miracles. For if he had displayed miracles from his earliest age, he would not even have been thought to be a man. That is why the temple is not simply fashioned, but there is a conception, a time of nine months, birth pangs, childbirth, nursing at the breast, quiet through the whole period, and he waits for the age fitting for men; so that through all things the mystery of the dispensation might be readily accepted. “Why then,” someone says, “did these signs happen at the beginning?” For his mother, for Joseph, for Simeon who was soon to depart, for the shepherds, for the magi, for the Jews. For if they had been willing to attend carefully to what was happening, they would have reaped no small benefit from this too for what was to come. And if the prophets do not speak of the magi, do not be troubled; for they neither foretold everything nor kept silent about everything. For as seeing events come about without having heard anything would have caused great amazement and disturbance, so learning everything would have made the hearer sleep and left the evangelists nothing more to do.

And if the Jews dispute about the prophecy, saying that “Out of Egypt I called my Son” was said of them, we would say to them that this too is a law of prophecy, that many things are often said of some but fulfilled in others; as for instance what was said of Simeon and Levi: “I will divide them in Jacob,” he says, “and scatter them in Israel”; and yet this did not happen with them, but with their descendants. And what was said by Noah about Canaan came to pass in the Gibeonites, Canaan's descendants. And one could see the same with Jacob; for those blessings that say, “Be lord of your brother, and let your father's sons bow down to you,” were not fulfilled in him (how could they be, when he feared and trembled and bowed down to his brother countless times?), but in his descendants. So one might say here too. For who would more truly be called son of God:

the one who worshiped a calf, was initiated to Baal of Peor, and sacrificed his sons to demons, or the one who is Son by nature and honors the one who begot him? So if he had not come, the prophecy would not have received its fitting fulfillment. See, at any rate, how the evangelist hints at this, saying “that it might be fulfilled,” showing that it would not have been fulfilled had he not come. And this also makes the virgin splendid and renowned, not by chance. For what the whole people held as a ground of praise, this she too could now have. For since they were proud of coming up out of Egypt and boasted of it (which the prophet also hinted at, saying, “Did I not bring up the foreigners from Cappadocia, and the Assyrians from the pit?”), he makes this the virgin's prerogative too. Or rather, the people and the patriarch, going down there and coming up from there, were fulfilling the type of this return. For they went down fleeing death by famine, and he death by plotting. But they, going down, were then freed from the famine; while he, going down, sanctified the whole land by his visit.

See, at any rate, how amid the lowly things the things of the Godhead too are revealed. For the angel, saying, “Flee into Egypt,” did not promise to travel with them, either going down or coming up, hinting that they had a great fellow traveler, the newborn child, who changed all things as soon as he appeared and made his enemies render much service to this dispensation. For magi and barbarians, leaving their ancestral superstition, come to worship; and Augustus serves the birth in Bethlehem through the decree of the census; Egypt receives and saves him as he flees and is plotted against, and receives a ground of kinship with him, so that when it is about to hear him proclaimed by the apostles, it may pride itself on this too, as having received him first. And yet this was the prerogative of Palestine alone; but Egypt became warmer than Palestine. And now, if you go to the desert of Egypt, you will see this desert become better than any paradise, and countless choirs of angels in human forms, and peoples of martyrs, and companies of virgins; and the whole tyranny of the devil undone, and the kingdom of Christ shining forth. And the mother of poets and sages and magicians, she who invented every kind of sorcery and handed it on to others, you will see now priding herself on the fishermen, despising all those, and carrying everywhere the tax collector and the tentmaker, and holding up the cross before her. And these good things are not only in the cities, but in the deserts even more than in the cities. For one can see everywhere in that land the army of Christ, the royal flock, and the way of life of the powers above; and one would find these prevailing not only among men but also in the nature of women. For they too practice philosophy no less than men, not taking up the shield and mounting the horse, as the venerable lawgivers and philosophers of the Greeks order, but undertaking another, far harder battle. For the war against the devil and the powers is common to them and to men, and nowhere does the softness of their nature become a hindrance in such encounters; for these contests are judged not by the nature of bodies but by the choice of the soul. That is why women have often contended more than men and set up more splendid trophies. Heaven with its varied choir of stars is not so bright as the desert of Egypt, showing us on every side the cells of the monks.

If anyone knows that old Egypt, the God-fighting and raving, the slave of cats, which feared and trembled at onions, he will know well the strength of Christ. Or rather, we have no further need of old stories; for even now remnants of that folly remain as proof of the former madness. Yet these men, who of old had all broken away into such madness, now practice philosophy about heaven and the things above heaven, laugh at their ancestral customs, count their forefathers wretched, and make no account of the philosophers. For they have learned from the facts themselves that the philosophers' teachings are the inventions of drunken old women, but that the true philosophy, worthy of heaven, is this one proclaimed to them by the fishermen. That is why, with such exactness of doctrines, they show also great zeal in their life. For having stripped off all they had, and been crucified to the whole world, they drive further still, using the labor of the body to feed those in need. For they do not think that, because they fast and keep vigil, they may be idle by day; but they spend the nights in sacred hymns and vigils, and the days in prayers together with the work of their hands, imitating the apostolic zeal. For if he, when the whole world was looking to him, took to a workshop and handled a trade so as to feed those in need, and did not even sleep at night while doing so, much more, they say, is it right for us, who have taken to the desert and have nothing in common with the turmoil of the cities, to use the leisure of our quiet for spiritual work.

Let us all be ashamed, then, both rich and poor, when they, having nothing at all but a body and hands, strive and compete to find from them revenue for those in need, while we, with countless things stored within, do not touch even our superfluities for this. What defense, then, shall we have, tell me? What pardon? And yet consider how of old these men were lovers of money and gluttons, besides their other evils. For there were the fleshpots that the Jews remember; there the great tyranny of the belly. Yet when they willed, they changed, and receiving the fire of Christ, they sailed over all at once to heaven; and though hotter than others and more headlong toward anger and bodily pleasure, they imitate the bodiless powers in gentleness and in the rest of philosophy's freedom from passion. And anyone who has been in that country knows what I am saying. But if anyone has never set foot in those cells, let him consider the man who until now is on everyone's lips, whom Egypt bore after the apostles, the blessed and great Antony, and let him reckon that he too was born in that land in which Pharaoh was; yet he took no harm, but was even counted worthy of a divine vision, and displayed such a life as the laws of Christ require. And one will know this exactly by reading the book that contains the story of his life, in which he will see much prophecy too. For he foretold concerning those sick with the disease of Arius, and spoke of the harm that would come from them, God showing it to him then and sketching all that was to come before his eyes; which above all, along with the rest, is a proof of the truth, that none of the heresies outside has such a man. But so that you may not hear these things from us, bend over the writings of the book and you will learn everything exactly, and be trained in much philosophy from it.

And I urge this, not that we may merely go through what is written, but that we may also emulate it, and not plead country, or upbringing, or the wickedness of ancestors. For if we are willing to attend to ourselves, none of these will be a hindrance to us. For Abraham too had an ungodly father, but did not inherit his wickedness; and Hezekiah had Ahaz, yet he became a friend of God; and Joseph, in the midst of Egypt then, wore the crowns of chastity; and the three children, in the midst of Babylon and in the midst of a house where a Sybaritic table was set before them, showed the highest philosophy; and Moses in Egypt, and Paul in the world; and nothing became a hindrance to any of them in the race of virtue. Considering all these things, then, let us put out of the way these superfluous excuses and pretexts, and take up the sweat of virtue. For so we shall draw God to greater goodwill, and persuade him to contend with us in our contests, and shall enjoy the eternal good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages.

“Then Herod, seeing that he had been mocked by the magi, was exceedingly angry.” And yet he ought not to have been angry, but to have feared and drawn back, and seen that he was attempting impossibilities. But he is not restrained. For when the soul is ungrateful and incurable, it yields to none of the remedies given by God. See, at any rate, how this man too vies with his former deeds, joining murders to murder, and rushing everywhere over the precipice. For as if driven wild by some demon of this anger and envy, he takes account of nothing, but rages even against nature itself; and the anger he had against the magi who mocked him he lets loose against the children who had done no wrong, daring in Palestine then a drama akin to what happened in Egypt. “For sending,” it says, “he killed all the children in Bethlehem and in all its borders, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had learned exactly from the magi.”

Here attend to me carefully. For many talk much nonsense about these children, charging injustice in what happened; and some raise the difficulty about them more reasonably, others more boldly and madly. So that we may free the latter from their madness and the former from their difficulty, bear with us a little while we discuss this subject. For if they charge this, that the children were allowed to be killed, they will charge also the slaughter of the soldiers who guarded Peter. For as here, when the child fled, other children are slaughtered in place of the one sought, so then too, when the angel had freed Peter from the prison and the chains, someone of the same name and character as this tyrant, having sought him and not found him, killed the soldiers who guarded him in his place. “And what of it?” someone says. “This is not a solution, but an addition to the question.” I know it too, and that is why I bring all such things into the midst, so as to bring one solution to all. What then is their solution? And what plausible account could we give? That it was not Christ who was the cause of their slaughter, but the cruelty of the king; as neither was Peter the cause for those men, but the folly of Herod. For if he had seen a wall dug through or doors broken down, he might perhaps have been able to charge the guards with carelessness; but as it was, when the guards remained in their posts, the doors were shut, and the chains were attached to the hands of the guards (for they were bound to him), he could have reasoned from these things, had he judged the events rightly, that what happened was not the work of human power nor of wrongdoing, but of some divine and wonder-working power, and could have worshiped the one who did these things instead of making war on the guards. For God did all he did in such a way as not only not to betray the guards, but also to lead their king by the hand to the truth. And if he proved ungrateful, what has the disorder of the patient to do with the wise physician who does everything for his benefit? The same can be said here too. Why were you angry, Herod, at being mocked by the magi? Did you not know that the birth was divine? Did you not call the chief priests? Did you not gather the scribes? Did they not, when called, bring the prophet with them into your court, foretelling these things long ago? Did you not see the old agreeing with the new? Did you not hear that a star too served these things? Did you not respect the zeal of the barbarians? Did you not marvel at their boldness? Did you not shudder at the truth of the prophet? Did you not understand the last things from the first? Why did you not reason with yourself from all these things that what happened was not the deceit of the magi, but the work of a divine power arranging everything as it should be? And even if you were deceived by the magi, what had that to do with the children who had done no wrong?

“Yes,” someone says, “you have rightly deprived Herod of defense and shown him a murderer; but you have not yet resolved the question of the injustice of what happened. For even if he acted unjustly, why did God allow it?” What then shall we say to this? What I never cease saying always, in church, in the marketplace, and everywhere; and I wish you to keep it carefully; for it is a rule fitting every such difficulty for us. What then is the rule, and what is the saying? That those who do wrong are many, but the one wronged is no one. And so that the riddle may not trouble you longer, I bring the solution quickly too. For whatever we suffer unjustly from anyone, God reckons that injustice to us either for the remission of sins or for the recompense of rewards. And so that what is said may become clearer, let us bring the discourse to an example. Let us suppose a servant who owes his master much money; then that this servant is abused by unjust men and robbed of some of his goods. If, then, the master, who could have prevented the robber and the grasping man, does not restore that money, but reckons what was taken against what the slave owes him, has the servant been wronged? Not at all. And what if he gives back even more? Has he not gained even more? It is clear to everyone. Let us reckon this, then, in what we suffer too. For that for whatever we suffer badly we either have our sins remitted or receive brighter crowns, if we do not have so many sins, hear Paul saying of the man who had committed sexual immorality: “Deliver such a one to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that the spirit may be saved.” “And what of this?” someone says. “For the discussion was about those wronged by others, not about those corrected by their teachers.” Above all there is no difference; for the question was whether suffering badly is not an injury to the one who suffers. But so as to bring the discourse closer to the question, remember David, who, seeing Shimei then pressing on him and trampling on his misfortune and washing him with countless reproaches, when his generals wished to kill him, prevented them, saying: “Let him curse, so that the Lord may see my humiliation and repay me good for this cursing on this day.” And in the psalms he sang: “See my enemies, how they have multiplied, and hated me with unjust hatred; and forgive all my sins.” And Lazarus too enjoyed refreshment for this reason, because he suffered countless evils in this life. Those who are wronged, then, are not wronged, if they bear nobly all that they suffer; but they gain even more, whether they are struck by God or scourged by the devil.

“And what sin did the children have,” someone says, “that they should have it remitted? For one might reasonably say this of those who have come to maturity and offended much; but those who endured so untimely a death, what sins did they put off through their sufferings?” Did you not hear me say that even if there are no sins, there is a recompense of rewards there for those who suffer badly here? What harm, then, did the children suffer, slain on such a ground, and quickly carried away to the harbor without waves? “Because,” someone says, “they would often have achieved many great things, had they lived.” But for this reason no small reward is laid up for them, that they ended their life on such a ground. Otherwise he would not have allowed them to be snatched away beforehand, if the children were going to become great men. For if he bears with such great patience those who are going to live continually in wickedness, much more would he not have allowed these to be carried off so, had he foreknown that they would accomplish great things. These are the reasons we can give; not all of them, though; there are others too, more secret than these, which the one who arranges these things knows exactly. Leaving to him, then, the more exact understanding of this, let us keep to what follows, and be trained by the misfortunes of others to bear everything nobly. For no small tragedy seized Bethlehem then, when the children were snatched from their mothers' breasts and led to this unjust slaughter. And if you are still faint-hearted and too weak for the philosophy needed here, learn the end of the one who dared these things, and breathe again a little. For very quickly the penalty for these things overtook him, and he paid the fitting punishment for this pollution, ending his life by a cruel death, more pitiable than what he had dared now, and suffering countless other evils; which you will know if you go through Josephus's account of them; which, so as not to make the discourse long and break its continuity, we have not thought it necessary to insert in the present.

“Then was fulfilled what was spoken through Jeremiah the prophet, saying: A voice was heard in Ramah, Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be comforted, because they are not.” For since he had filled the hearer with horror by telling these things, the violent, unjust, most cruel, lawless slaughter, he comforts him again, saying that these things happened not because God was unable to prevent them, nor because he did not know, but when the prophet had even foreknown and proclaimed them. Do not, then, be troubled nor cast down, looking to his unspeakable providence, which one can see above all both through what he works and through what he allows; which he hinted at elsewhere too, speaking to the disciples. For since he was proclaiming to them beforehand the courts, the arrests, the wars of the world, and the truceless battle, upholding their soul and comforting them he says: “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father who is in heaven.” He said this, showing that nothing happens without his knowledge, but while he knows all things, he does not work all things. Do not, then, he says, be disturbed or troubled. For he who knows what you suffer and is able to prevent it clearly does not prevent it because he provides for you and cares for you. This we must consider in our own temptations too, and we shall receive sufficient comfort from it. “And what has Rachel,” someone might perhaps say, “to do with Bethlehem? For it says, ‘Rachel weeping for her children’; and what has Ramah to do with Rachel?” Rachel was the mother of Benjamin, and when she died they buried her in the racecourse near this place. Since, then, the tomb was near, and the portion was her child Benjamin's (for Ramah belonged to the tribe of Benjamin), from the head of the tribe and from the place of burial he rightly calls the slaughtered children hers. Then, showing that the wound that came was incurable and cruel, he says: “She would not be comforted, because they are not.” Again we are taught from this what I said before, never to be troubled when what happens is contrary to God's promise. See, at any rate, when he had come for the salvation of the people, or rather for the salvation of the world, what the beginnings were. His mother is in flight, his homeland falls into incurable calamities, a murder most bitter of all murders is dared, and there is lamentation and much wailing and groans everywhere. But do not be troubled; for he is always accustomed to fulfill his dispensations through their opposites, providing us with the greatest proof of his power from this. So he led his own disciples too and prepared them to accomplish everything, arranging opposite things through their opposites, so that the wonder might become greater. At any rate they too, scourged and driven out and suffering countless terrors, so prevailed over those who scourged and drove them out.

“But when Herod died, behold, an angel of the Lord appears in a dream to Joseph, saying: Rise, take the child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel.” He no longer says “flee,” but “go.” Do you see again

the respite after the temptation, and then again danger after the respite? For he was released from exile and returned to his own country, and saw the murderer of the children slain; but setting foot in his own land, he again finds remnants of the former dangers: the tyrant's son living and reigning. And how did Archelaus reign over Judea, when Pontius Pilate was governor? Herod's death had just happened, and the kingdom had not yet been divided into many parts; but as he had just died, his son held the rule for the time “in place of his father Herod”; for his brother too had this name; that is why the evangelist added, “in place of his father Herod.” “But if he feared to go into Judea because of Archelaus,” someone says, “he should have feared Galilee too because of Herod.” But by changing the place, the matter was thereafter obscured; for the whole attack had been against Bethlehem and its borders. When the slaughter had taken place, then, the young Archelaus thought that the whole business was finished, and that the one sought had been killed among the many. Besides, seeing his father end his life in that way, he became more cautious about going further and vying in lawlessness. Joseph comes, then, to Nazareth, both fleeing the danger and fond of his home country. So that he might take more courage, he receives a divine instruction from the angel about this too. And yet Luke does not say that he went there by divine instruction, but that when they had fulfilled the purification, they returned to Nazareth. What then is to be said? That Luke says this narrating the time before the going down into Egypt. For he would not have taken them down there before the purification, so that nothing unlawful might happen; but he waited for the purification and went to Nazareth, and then went down into Egypt. Then, after the return, the angel bids them go to Nazareth. Before this they had not been instructed to go there, but did it of their own accord, being fond of their home country. For since they had gone up for nothing other than the census, and had no place to stay, when they had fulfilled what they went up for, they went down to Nazareth. That is why the angel too, giving them rest at last, restores them to their home; and not even this idly, but this too with prophecy: “that it might be fulfilled,” he says, “what was spoken by the prophets, that he shall be called a Nazarene.”

“And which prophet said this?” Do not be overcurious nor busy yourself. For many of the prophetic books have disappeared; and one can see this from the history of the Chronicles. For being careless and continually falling into ungodliness, they let some be lost, and others they themselves burned and cut up. The one Jeremiah relates, the other the compiler of the fourth book of Kingdoms, saying that after a long time Deuteronomy was barely found, buried somewhere and lost. And if, when there was no barbarian, they so betrayed the books, much more when the barbarians came. For that the prophets foretold it, the apostles too often call him a Nazarene. “Did this, then, obscure the prophecy about Bethlehem?” someone says. Not at all; rather this very thing above all stirred them and roused them to search out what was said about him. So, at any rate, Nathanael too comes to the inquiry about him, saying, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” For the place was mean; or rather not the place only, but the whole region of Galilee. That is why the Pharisees said, “Search and see, for no prophet has arisen out of Galilee.” Yet he is not ashamed to be named even from there, showing that he needs nothing human; and he chooses his disciples from Galilee, everywhere cutting off the excuses of those who wish to be careless, and showing that we need nothing outward if we practice virtue. That is why he does not even choose a house; “for the Son of Man,” he says, “has nowhere to lay his head”; and when Herod plots he flees, and born in a manger he is laid there, and he stays in an inn, and takes a poor mother; teaching us to think nothing of this kind shameful, trampling from the start on human pride, and bidding us hold to virtue alone.

For why are you proud of your country, he says, when I bid you be a stranger to the whole world, when you can become such that the whole world is not worthy of you? For these things are so contemptible that not even among the philosophers of the Greeks are they thought worthy of any account, but are called external goods and hold the last place. “And yet Paul admits it,” someone says, speaking thus: “But as regards election, they are beloved for the sake of the fathers.” But tell me when, and about whom, and to whom he was speaking. For it was to those from the Gentiles who were greatly puffed up over their faith and rose up against the Jews, and so broke them off still more; humbling the pride of the former and drawing the latter on, and rousing them to the same zeal. For when he speaks of those noble and great men, hear how he speaks: “For those who say such things make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. And if they had been thinking of that from which they had come out, they would have had opportunity to return; but as it is they desire a better.” And again: “These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them from afar and greeted them.” And John said to those who came to him, “Do not presume to say, We have Abraham as our father.” And Paul again: “For not all who are from Israel are Israel, nor are the children of the flesh children of God.” For what did the sons of Samuel gain, tell me, from their father's nobility, when they did not become heirs of their father's virtue? And what did the sons of Moses gain, not emulating his strictness? Therefore they did not succeed to his office either; but while they inscribed him as their father, the office passed to another, the one who became his son by virtue. And what harm did Timothy suffer, having a Greek father? And what again did Noah's son gain from his father's virtue, becoming a slave instead of free? Do you see how a father's nobility is not enough to protect the children? For wickedness of choice overcame the laws of nature, and cast him out not only of the nobility of his relation to his father but also of freedom. And what of Esau, was he not Isaac's son, and did he not have his father as his protector? For his father was eager and desired that he share in the blessings, and he himself did all that was ordered for this. Yet since he was perverse, none of these benefited him; but though first by nature, and having his father with him doing everything for this, since he did not have God with him, he fell from everything.

And why do I speak of men? The Jews became sons of God, and gained nothing from this nobility. And if one who has become a son of God, unless he shows virtue worthy of this nobility, is even punished more, why do you bring forward to me the nobility of ancestors and grandfathers? For one would find this prevailing not only in the Old Testament but in the New as well. “For as many as received him,” it says, “to them he gave authority to become children of God.” Yet Paul said that many of these children gained nothing from the Father: “For if you are circumcised,” he says, “Christ will profit you nothing.” And if Christ profits nothing those who will not attend to themselves, how will a man protect them? Let us not, then, be proud either of noble birth or of wealth, but even despise those so disposed; nor let us be cast down by poverty; but let us seek that wealth which is in good works, and flee that poverty which sets us in wickedness, through which that rich man too was poor; that is why he did not become master even of a drop, though he made much supplication. And yet who among us could become so poor as not to be able to enjoy water to the full? Even those wasting away can enjoy a drop, and not a drop only but much greater comfort. But that rich man was poor even to this point; and what is worse, he could not find consolation for his poverty anywhere. Why then do we gape after money, when it does not bring us into heaven? For tell me, if one of the kings on earth said that it was impossible for the rich man to shine in the palace or enjoy any honor, would you not all have despised money and thrown it away? Then, if it casts us out of honor in the palaces below, it will be contemptible; but when the King of heaven every day cries aloud and says that it is hard to set foot with it on that sacred threshold, shall we not give up everything and stand away from our possessions, so as to enter the kingdom with boldness?

And what pardon do we deserve, surrounding ourselves with great zeal with what walls off the road there, and hiding them not only in chests but even in the earth, when it is possible to hand them over to the keeping of heaven? As it is, you do the same as if a farmer, taking wheat to sow a rich field, should leave the field and bury all the wheat in a pit, so that neither he himself might enjoy it, and the wheat might rot and perish. But what is their great argument when we charge them with this? “It brings no small comfort,” someone says, “to know that everything is stored safely within.” Rather, not to know that it is stored is comfort. For even if you do not fear famine, you must fear other worse things because of this storehouse: deaths, wars, plots. If famine should ever seize the city, the people again, compelled by the belly, arm their right hand against your house. Or rather, when you do this, you bring famine into the cities, and prepare for your house this pit worse than famine. For I do not know of any who have quickly died by the compulsion of famine; for it is possible to devise many things from many sources for comfort in this evil; but I can show many killed for money and wealth and such affairs, some secretly, some publicly. The roads are full of many such examples, and the courts and the marketplaces. And why do I speak of the roads and the courts and the marketplaces? You will see the sea itself filled with blood. For this tyranny did not rule the land only, but reveled into the sea too with great drunken insolence. One sails for gold, and another is slaughtered for this same thing again; and the same tyranny made one a merchant and the other a murderer. What then could be more faithless than mammon, when for its sake men travel abroad and run risks and are slaughtered? “But who will pity a snake charmer bitten by a serpent?” it says. For knowing the cruel tyranny, they ought to flee the slavery and undo the cruel love. “And how is this possible?” someone says. If you bring in another love, the love of heaven. For one who desires the kingdom will laugh at greed; one who has become a slave of Christ is not a slave of mammon, but even its master; for it is accustomed to pursue the one who flees it and to flee the one who pursues it. It does not so honor the one who pursues it as the one who despises it; it laughs at no one so much as at those who desire it; and not only laughs, but surrounds them with countless bonds.

Let us at last, then, loose these cruel chains. Why do you enslave the rational soul to irrational matter, the mother of countless evils? O what absurdity! We make war on it with words, but it makes war on us with deeds, and leads us about and carries us everywhere, dishonoring us like slaves bought with money and fit for the whip. What could be more shameful and dishonorable than this? For if we do not overcome senseless matter, how shall we overcome the bodiless powers? If we do not despise mean earth and stones thrown away, how shall we subdue the principalities and the authorities? How shall we practice chastity? For if silver shining on us amazes us, when shall we be able to pass by beauty of face? For some are so given over to this tyranny that they are affected even by the very sight of the gold, and say in jest that even the eyes are benefited by a gold coin appearing. But do not jest so, man; for nothing so injures the eyes, both those of the body and those of the soul, as the desire for these things. This cruel love, at any rate, quenched the lamps of those virgins and cast them out of the bridal chamber. This sight, which benefits the eyes, as you said, did not let the wretched Judas hear the Master's voice, but led him to the noose, made him burst asunder in the middle, and after all that sent him to hell. What then could be more lawless than this, what more dreadful? I mean not the material of money, but the untimely and mad desire for it. For it drips with human blood, and looks murder, and is harsher than any beast, tearing to pieces those who fall into it; and what is much worse, it does not let them feel these tearings. For those who suffer such things ought to stretch out their hands to those passing by and call them to their aid; but they are even grateful for these lacerations; what could be more wretched than this? Considering all these things, then, let us flee the incurable disease, heal its bites, and depart far from such ruin, so that we may both live a safe and untroubled life here and obtain the treasures to come, which may we all obtain, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“In those days John the Baptist comes, preaching in the wilderness of Judea and saying: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has drawn near.”

In what days? For it was not then, when he was a child and came to Nazareth, but after thirty years that John comes, as Luke too testifies. How then does he say, “in those days”? It is always the custom of Scripture to use this manner of speech, not only when it speaks of what happens in the time immediately following, but also of what will come to pass many years later. So, at any rate, when the disciples came to him as he sat on the Mount of Olives and sought to learn about his coming and the capture of Jerusalem (and yet you know how great the interval between the two times is), having spoken of the destruction of the mother-city and completed his discourse about it, and being about to pass to the discourse about the consummation, he added, “Then shall these things also be,” not joining the times by saying “then,” but only indicating the time in which these things were to happen. This he does now too, saying, “in those days.” For he did not put this to indicate the days immediately following, but those in which the things he was preparing to relate were to happen.

“And why,” someone says, “did Jesus come to baptism after thirty years?” After this baptism he was going to abolish the law; that is why until this age, which admits all sins, he remains fulfilling it all, so that no one might say that he abolished it because he could not fulfill it. For the passions do not all attack us always; but in the first age there is much folly and pettiness, in the one after it pleasure is more violent, and after this again the desire for money. That is why, having waited through every age and fulfilled the law through all of it, he comes to baptism, adding it last after fulfilling the other commandments. For that this was his last achievement among the legal observances, hear what he says: “For thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” What he says is this: We have performed all the requirements of the law, we have transgressed not one commandment. Since then this alone remains, this too must be added, and so we shall fulfill all righteousness. For here he calls righteousness the fulfillment of all the commandments. That Christ came to baptism for this reason, then, is clear from this. But why was this baptism devised? For that the son of Zechariah came to this not of himself, but because God moved him, Luke too makes plain, saying, “The word of the Lord came upon him,” that is, a command. And he himself says, “He who sent me to baptize with water said to me: On whomever you see the Spirit descending like a dove and remaining on him, this is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.” Why then was he sent to baptize? Again the Baptist makes this plain to us, saying, “I did not know him; but so that he might be revealed to Israel, for this reason I came baptizing with water.” And if this was the only reason, how does Luke say that he came into all the region of the Jordan, “preaching a baptism of repentance for the remission of sins”? And yet it did not have remission; this was the gift of the baptism given afterward. For in that baptism we were buried with him, and our old man was then crucified with him; and before the cross remission nowhere appears, for everywhere it is ascribed to his blood. And Paul says, “But you were washed, you were sanctified,” not by the baptism of John, “but in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.” And elsewhere he says, “John preached a baptism of repentance” (and he does not say, of remission) “so that they might believe in the one coming after him.” For when the sacrifice had not yet been offered, nor the Spirit come down, nor sin undone, nor the enmity removed, nor the curse wiped out, how was remission to take place? What then is the meaning of …? The Jews never perceived their own sins, but though liable for the worst evils, they justified themselves in everything; which above all destroyed them and led them away from the faith. Paul too charged them with this, saying that “being ignorant of the righteousness of God and seeking to establish their own, they did not submit to the righteousness of God.” And again: “What then shall we say? That the Gentiles, who did not pursue righteousness, attained righteousness; but Israel, pursuing a law of righteousness, did not reach the law of righteousness. Why? Because not from faith, but as from works.” Since, then, this was the cause of the evils, John comes, doing nothing else than bringing them to a consciousness of their own sins. His very dress showed this, being that of repentance and confession; and his preaching showed it; for he said nothing else but, “Bear fruits worthy of repentance.” Since, then, not condemning their own sins made them spring away from Christ, as Paul too showed, while coming to a consciousness of them would set them longing to seek the Redeemer and to desire remission, John came to prepare this, and to persuade them to repent, not so that they might be punished, but so that, made more humble by repentance and condemning themselves, they might run to receive the remission. See, at any rate, how exactly he put it. For having said that he came preaching a baptism of repentance in the wilderness of Judea, he added, “for remission,” as if to say: he persuaded them to confess and repent of their sins for this reason, not so that they might be punished, but so that they might more easily receive the remission afterward. For had they not condemned themselves, they would not have asked for the grace; and not seeking it, they would not have obtained the remission. So this baptism prepared the way for that one; that is why he said, “so that they might believe in the one coming after him,” giving this as another reason for the baptism besides the one stated. For it was not the same thing to go round the houses, leading Christ about by the hand, and say, “Believe in this man,” as for that blessed voice to be uttered and all the rest to be accomplished while everyone was present and seeing. That is why he comes to the baptism. For both the reputation of the baptizer and the nature of the thing drew the whole city and called it to the Jordan, and it became a great spectacle. That is why he also humbles them when they come, and persuades them to imagine nothing great about themselves, showing that they are liable to the worst evils unless they repent, and, leaving their ancestors and their pride in them, receive the one who is coming. For what concerned Christ had been veiled for a time, and many thought he had died because of the slaughter at Bethlehem. For even if he showed himself at twelve years old, he quickly veiled himself again; that is why there was need of a splendid opening and a loftier beginning. That is why then, for the first time, he proclaims with a clear voice what the Jews had never heard, neither from prophets nor from any others, mentioning heaven and the kingdom there, and saying nothing more about the earth. And here he calls the kingdom his coming, both the first and the last. “And what is this to the Jews?” someone says, “for they do not know what you are saying.” For this very reason I speak so, he says, so that, roused by the obscurity of what is said, they may come to seek the one proclaimed. So, at any rate, he lifted them up with good hopes when they came, so that even tax collectors and many soldiers asked what they should do and how they should order their lives; which was a sign that they were now freed from worldly affairs, looked to other, greater things, and dreamed of what was to come. For everything, both what was seen and what was said, led them to a lofty frame of mind.

Consider, at any rate, what a thing it was to see a man coming down from the wilderness after thirty years, the son of a high priest, who had never needed any human thing, venerable on every side, and having Isaiah with him. For he too was present, proclaiming him and saying: This is the one whom I said would come crying, and preaching everything with a clear voice in the wilderness. For the prophets had such zeal about these matters that they proclaimed long beforehand not only their own Master, but also the one who was to serve him; and not only named him, but also the place where he was to stay, the manner of preaching he was to have when he came, and the achievement that would come from him. See, at any rate, how the prophet and the Baptist come to the same thoughts, though not to the same words. For the prophet says that he will come saying, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight”; and he himself, when he came, said, “Bear fruits worthy of repentance,” which is the same as “Prepare the way of the Lord.” Do you see that both by what the prophet said and by what he himself preached one thing alone is shown, that he came preparing the way and making ready, not bestowing the gift, which was the remission, but preparing beforehand the souls of those who were to receive the God of all? But Luke says something more; for he did not stop after saying the opening, but sets down the whole prophecy: “Every valley,” it says, “shall be filled, and every mountain and hill brought low; and the crooked shall become straight, and the rough places smooth ways; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.” Do you see how the prophet said everything beforehand, the concourse of the people, the change of affairs for the better, the ease of the preaching, and the cause of all that happened, even though he put these things rather figuratively? For what was said was prophecy. For when he says, “Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill brought low, and the rough places shall become smooth ways,” he shows the lowly being exalted and the arrogant humbled, and the difficulty of the law changed into the ease of faith. For no longer sweat and toil, he says, but grace and forgiveness of sins, giving great ease of salvation. Then he gives the cause of these things, saying, “All flesh shall see the salvation of God,” no longer Jews and proselytes only, but all land and sea and the whole nature of men. For by “the crooked” he hinted at every corrupt life, tax collectors, harlots, robbers, magicians, who, though perverted before, afterward walked the straight road; which he himself also said: “The tax collectors and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you, because they believed.” And the prophet showed the same thing again in other words, saying, “Then wolves and lambs shall feed together.” For as here by the hills and valleys he said that uneven character would be blended into one level of philosophy, so there too, showing the different ways of men by the characters of the irrational creatures, he said again that they would be joined into one harmony of godliness; and there too he gives the cause. This is it: “For there shall be,” he says, “the one who rises to rule the nations; in him shall the nations hope”; which he said here too: “All flesh shall see the salvation of God,” showing everywhere that the power and knowledge of these gospels would be poured out to the ends of the world, changing the human race from a beastlike way and hardness of will to great gentleness and softness.

“And John himself had his garment of camel's hair, and a leather belt around his waist.” Do you see how the prophets foretold some things and left others to the evangelists? That is why Matthew both sets down the prophecies and adds what is his own, not thinking it a side issue to speak of the righteous man's dress.

For it was wonderful and marvelous to see such endurance in a human body; which drew the Jews all the more, seeing in him the great Elijah, and being led by what they then saw to the memory of that blessed man; or rather, to even greater amazement. For that man was brought up in cities and houses, but this one lived wholly in the wilderness from his very swaddling clothes. For the forerunner of the one who was to undo all the old things, such as the toil, the curse, the grief, the sweat, had to have himself some tokens of such a gift and be above that condemnation at once. At any rate he neither plowed land nor cut a furrow, nor ate bread by the sweat of his face; but his table was ready-made, his clothing easier than his table, and his dwelling less troublesome than his clothing. For he needed neither roof, nor bed, nor table, nor any other of these things, but displayed a kind of angelic life in this flesh. That is why he had a garment of hair, so that by his dress he might teach men to stand apart from human things and have nothing in common with the earth, but run back to the former nobility in which Adam was before he needed garments and clothing. So that dress was a token both of the kingdom and of repentance. And do not say to me: Where did he get a hair garment and a belt, living in the wilderness? For if you are going to raise this difficulty, you will ask many other things too: how he lived in the wilderness in the winters and in the heats, and that in a tender body and at an untimely age; how the nature of a child's flesh was equal to so great an unevenness of weather, and a table so unusual, and the other hardship of the wilderness. Where now are the philosophers of the Greeks, who idly and in vain emulated the shamelessness of the Cynics? (For what is the use of being shut up in a jar and afterward behaving so licentiously?) Who surrounded themselves with rings and cups and men servants and maid servants and much other pomp, falling into excess on either side? But this man was not such; but he lived in the wilderness as in heaven, displaying all exact philosophy, and from there he came down into the cities like an angel from heaven, an athlete of godliness, a crowned victor of the world, a philosopher of a philosophy worthy of heaven. And this was so while sin was not yet undone, the law not yet ended, death not yet bound, the gates of brass not yet broken, but the old way of life still prevailing. Such is a noble and wakeful soul: it leaps forward everywhere and passes beyond the marks set, as Paul too did under the new way of life.

“And why,” someone says, “did he use a belt with his garment?” This was the custom of the ancients, before they passed to this soft and loose style of dress. So, at any rate, Peter too appears girded, and Paul: “The man,” it says, “whose belt this is.” And Elijah too was so dressed, and each of the saints, because they were continually at work, either on journeys or toiling and busy about some other necessary thing; and not only for this, but also to trample on all adornment and practice all hardihood. Which Christ too says is the greatest praise of virtue, speaking thus: “What did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft clothing? Behold, those who wear soft things are in kings' houses.”

And if that pure man, brighter than heaven, above all the prophets, than whom no one greater was born, and having such boldness, so disciplined himself, despising soft luxury with great abundance and leading himself to this hard life, what defense shall we have, who after so great a benefit and countless burdens of sins show not the smallest part of his confession, but get drunk and gorge ourselves and smell of perfumes, and are in no better state than the harlot women on the stage, and in every way make ourselves soft and easy prey for the devil?

“Then Jerusalem went out to him, and all Judea, and all the region around the Jordan, and they were baptized by him, confessing their sins.” Do you see how much the coming of the prophet availed? How it gave wings to the whole people? How it led them to a consciousness of their own sins? For it was worth wondering at to see him displaying such things in human form, using such boldness, rising up against all as against children, and having much grace shining from his face. The appearing of a prophet after a long time also contributed to the amazement; for the gift had failed them and had returned to them after a long time. And the manner of the preaching too was strange and unusual. For they heard none of the usual things, such as wars and battles and victories here below, famines and plagues, Babylonians and Persians, the capture of the city, and the other usual things; but heaven and the kingdom there, and the punishment in hell. That is why, although all the rebels in the wilderness, those with Judas and Theudas, had been slain not long before, they did not become more reluctant to go out there. For he did not call them for the same things, such as tyranny, rebellion, and revolution, but so as to be led by the hand to the kingdom above. That is why he did not keep them with him in the wilderness, carrying them about, but baptizing them and teaching them the words about philosophy he dismissed them, teaching them through everything to look down on all things on earth, to be lifted up toward what is to come, and to press on every day.

Let us too emulate him, and, leaving luxury and drunkenness, change to the composed life. For it is the time for confession both for the uninitiated and for the baptized; for the former, so that by repenting they may obtain the sacred mysteries; for the latter, so that by washing off the stain after baptism they may approach the table with a pure conscience. Let us stand away, then, from this soft and dissolute life. For it is not possible, it is not possible, both to confess and to live in luxury. Let John teach you this, by his clothing, by his food, by his dwelling. “What then?” someone says. “Do you bid us be so austere?” I do not bid, but advise and exhort. And if this is not possible for you, at least let us show repentance while living in the cities; for the judgment is at the door. And even if it were farther off, not even so ought we to be confident; for the end of each person's life has the force of the consummation for the one who is called. And that it is at the door, hear Paul saying: “The night is far gone, and the day has drawn near”; and again: “For the one who is coming will come and will not delay.” For the signs that summon that day have now been completed: “For this gospel of the kingdom,” he says, “will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all the nations, and then the end will come.”

Attend carefully to what is said. He did not say, “when it has been believed by all men,” but “when it has been preached to all.” That is why he also said, “as a testimony to the nations,” showing that he does not wait for all to believe and then come. For “as a testimony” means for accusation, for refutation, for condemnation of those who have not believed. But we, hearing and seeing these things, sleep and see dreams, stupefied as in the deepest night. For present things are no better than dreams, whether pleasant or painful. That is why I urge you now to wake up and look to the Sun of righteousness. For no one who sleeps can see the sun or delight his eyes with the beauty of its ray; but whatever he sees, he sees as in a dream. That is why we need much confession and many tears, both because we are insensible when we offend, and because our sins are great and beyond pardon. And that I do not lie, most of those who hear are witnesses. Yet even if they are beyond pardon, let us repent, and we shall enjoy crowns. And by repentance I mean not only departing from former evils, but also showing greater good. “For bear fruits,” he says, “worthy of repentance.” How shall we bear them? If we do the opposite. For example: Have you seized what belongs to others? Give even what is yours from now on. Have you committed sexual immorality for a long time? Abstain even from your own wife for certain days; practice self-control. Have you insulted and struck passers-by? Bless from now on those who insult you, and do good to those who strike you. For it is not enough for our health to draw out the arrow; we must also apply remedies to the wound. Have you lived in luxury and been drunk in time past? Fast and keep to drinking water, so as to remove the ruin that has come from that. Have you looked with unchaste eyes on another's beauty? Do not look at a woman at all from now on, so that you may stand in greater safety. “For turn away from evil,” it says, “and do good”; and again, “Keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit.” But tell me the good also. “Seek peace and pursue it”; I mean not only peace with men, but also peace with God. And he said well, “pursue”; for it has been driven away and cast out, and leaving the earth it has gone off to heaven. But we shall be able to bring it back again, if we wish, casting out arrogance and boastfulness and all its hindrances, and pursuing this chaste and simple life. For nothing is worse than anger and rashness. This makes men both puffed up and servile, making them ridiculous by the one and hateful by the other, and bringing in opposite vices together, arrogance and flattery. But if we cut off the excess of the passion, we shall be both exactly humble and safely lofty. For in our bodies too disorders come from excess; and when the elements leave their proper bounds and pass into immoderation, then countless diseases and cruel deaths are born; which one could see happening with the soul too.

Let us cut off, then, the immoderation, and drinking the saving medicine of moderation, let us remain in the fitting good balance, and attend carefully to our prayers. And if we do not receive, let us persevere, so that we may receive; and if we receive, because we have received. For he himself does not wish to delay the giving, but by the delay he contrives our perseverance. That is why he puts off the request, and often allows temptation to come upon us, so that we may continually flee to him and, having fled, remain. So too do affectionate fathers and mothers who love their children: when they see the children leaving their company and playing with those of their own age, they arrange for the servants to put on many frightening appearances, so that, compelled by fear, they may flee to their mother's bosom. So God too often holds out a threat, not to carry it out, but to draw us to himself. When, at any rate, we return to him, he at once looses the fear; for if we were the same in temptations and in ease, there would be no need of temptations. And why do I speak of us? For those saints too had much correction from this. That is why the prophet says, “It is good for me that you humbled me.” And he himself said to the apostles, “In the world you will have tribulation.” And Paul hints at this very thing when he says, “There was given me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to buffet me.” That is why, though he asked to be freed from the temptation, he did not obtain it, because great benefit came from it. And if we go through the whole life of David, we shall find him more splendid in dangers, both he and all the others of his kind. For Job too shone more then, and Joseph in this way became more renowned, and Jacob, and his father, and his father's father, and all who have ever bound on brighter crowns were crowned and proclaimed from tribulations and temptations.

Knowing all these things, then, according to the wise saying, “let us not be hasty in the time of trouble,” but let us train ourselves in one thing only, to bear everything nobly, and not to busy ourselves or pry into what happens. For to know when the afflictions must be loosed belongs to God, who allows them to come; but to bear them, once brought, with all thanksgiving is now the work of our good disposition; and if this happens, all good things will follow. That these may follow, then, and that we may become more approved here and more splendid there, let us accept whatever is brought upon us, giving thanks for everything to the one who knows our good better than we do and loves us more ardently than our parents; and singing both these thoughts to ourselves in each of our troubles, let us calm our despondency, and glorify in all things the God who does and arranges everything for us. For so we shall easily repel the plots and obtain the incorruptible crowns, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father be glory, might, honor, with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“But seeing many of the Sadducees and Pharisees coming to his baptism, he said to them: Brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”

How then does Christ say that they did not believe John? Because it was not believing him, not to receive the one he proclaimed. For they seemed to attend to the prophets and the lawgiver too; yet he said they had not attended to them, since they did not receive the one prophesied by them. “For if you believed Moses,” he says, “you would believe me.” And afterward, when asked by Christ, “The baptism of John, where is it from?”, they said: “If we say, from men, we fear the crowd; if we say, from heaven, he will say to us, Why then did you not believe him?” So from all this it is clear that they came and were baptized, but did not remain in the faith of the preaching. For John too shows their wickedness by the people they sent to the Baptist, saying, “Are you Elijah? Are you the Christ?” That is why he added, “And those who had been sent were from the Pharisees.” “What then? Did not the crowds too think the same?” someone says. But the crowds suspected this from a guileless mind; the Pharisees, wishing to catch him. For since it was agreed that the Christ would come from the village of David, and he was of the tribe of Levi, they laid a trap by the question, so that if he said anything of the kind they might quickly attack him. This, at any rate, he showed by what follows too; for when he confessed nothing of what they expected, they attack him even so, saying, “Why then do you baptize, if you are not the Christ?” And that you may learn that the Pharisees came with one intention and the people with another, hear how the evangelist made this plain too: of the people he says that they came and were baptized by him, confessing their sins; but of the Pharisees no longer the same, but that, “seeing many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming, he said: Brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”

O what greatness of mind! How he speaks to men always thirsting for the blood of the prophets and no better disposed than snakes; how he reproaches both them and their fathers with great boldness! “Yes,” someone says, “the boldness is great; but the question is whether this boldness has any reason. For he did not see them sinning, but changing; that is why he ought not to have accused them, but even to have praised and welcomed them, because, leaving city and houses, they ran to hear the preaching.” What then shall we say? That he did not attend to what was present nor to what was happening, but knew the secrets of their mind, God revealing this to him. Since, then, they were proud of their ancestors, and this became the cause of their destruction and threw them into carelessness, he cuts off the root of their arrogance. That is why Isaiah too calls them rulers of Sodom and people of Gomorrah, and another prophet says, “Are you not like the sons of the Ethiopians?”; and all lead them away from this notion, emptying their pride, which became for them the cause of countless evils. “But the prophets did so with reason,” someone says, “for they saw them sinning; but here, why and for what reason does he do this, seeing them obeying him?” So as to make them softer. And if one attends carefully to what is said, he mixed praise with the rebuke. For he said these things marveling at them, that at long last they had been able to do what seemed almost impossible for them. So the rebuke belongs rather to one drawing them on and preparing them to come to their senses. For when he appears astonished, he shows both that their former wickedness was great and that their change was wonderful and marvelous. For what has happened, he says, that, being children of those men and so badly brought up, they repented? Where has so great a change come from? Who has softened the roughness of their mind? Who has corrected what was incurable? And see how he amazed them right from the opening, throwing in first the words about hell. For he did not say the usual things: Who warned you to flee wars, the attacks of barbarians, captivities, famines, plagues? But he struck first upon another punishment never made plain to them, saying: “Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”

And he rightly called them a brood of vipers. For that creature is said to come into the light by destroying the one in labor and gnawing through her womb; which these men also did, becoming murderers of father and mother and destroying their teachers with their own hands. But he does not stop at the rebuke; he also brings in counsel: “Bear fruit,” he says, “worthy of repentance.” For it is not enough to flee wickedness; one must also show much virtue. Do not give me the opposite and the usual thing, that being humbled for a short time you return to the same wickedness. For we have not come on the same terms as the prophets before. For present things are changed and loftier, since the Judge himself is coming at last, the Master of the kingdom himself, leading to a greater philosophy, calling to heaven, and drawing us up to the life there. That is why I reveal the discourse about hell too; for both the good things and the painful are immortal. Do not, then, remain in the same things, nor put forward the usual excuses, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, the nobility of your ancestors. He said this not forbidding them to say that they were from those saints, but forbidding them to trust in this while neglecting virtue of soul; and he brought into the open what was in their mind, and prophesied what was to come. For afterward they are seen saying, “We have Abraham as our father, and have never been slaves to anyone.” Since, then, this was what above all lifted them to arrogance and destroyed them, he first humbles it. And see how he makes the correction with honor toward the patriarch. For having said, “Do not presume to say, We have Abraham as our father,” he did not say, “For the patriarch will be able to profit you nothing,” but hinted at this very thing more gently and kindly, saying: “For God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”

Some say that he says this of the Gentiles, calling them stones metaphorically; but I say that what was said has another sense as well. What is it? Do not think, he says, that if you perish you will make the patriarch childless. It is not so, it is not so. For God can give him men even from stones and bring them into that kinship; since from the beginning too it happened so. For the coming of a child from that barren womb was like men coming from stones. This is what the prophet hinted at, saying: “Look to the solid rock from which you were hewn, and to the hollow of the pit from which you were dug; look to Abraham your father, and to Sarah who bore you.” He reminds them of this prophecy, then, showing that if from the beginning he made him a father so wonderfully, as if he made him one even from stones, this can happen now too. And see how he both frightens and cuts away. For he did not say that he had already raised them up, lest they despair of themselves, but that he is able to raise them up. And he did not say that he can make men from stones, but what was much greater, kinsmen and children of Abraham. Do you see how he has for the present drawn them away from the bodily notion and from taking refuge in their ancestors, so that they might have the hope of salvation in their own repentance and self-control? Do you see how, casting out kinship of the flesh, he brings in kinship from faith?

Consider, then, how by what follows he increases their fear and heightens the anxiety. For having said, “God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham,” he added: “And already the axe is laid at the root of the trees,” making the discourse fearful through everything. For he himself had great boldness from his life, and they needed sharp rebuke, having long since become waste land. For why do I say, he says, that you are about to fall from your kinship with the patriarch and see others, from stones, brought into your precedence? Not even so far does your punishment go; the punishment will go further still. “For already,” he says, “the axe is laid at the root of the trees.” Nothing is more fearful than this figure of speech. For it is no longer a flying sickle, nor the pulling down of a fence, nor the trampling of the vineyard, but an axe sharpened to the utmost, and what is worse, that it is at the doors. For since, disbelieving the prophets continually, they said, “Where is the day of the Lord?” and, “Let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel come, that we may know it,” because what was said often came to pass after many years, leading them away from this comfort too, he sets the terrors near them. And he showed this by saying “already,” and by bringing it to the root. For there is nothing between now, he says; it lies at the very root. And he did not say, at the branches, nor at the fruits, but at the root; showing them that if they were careless they would suffer incurable terrors and would not even have hope of healing. For the one who has come is not a servant as those before, but the Master of all himself, bringing a severe and most powerful punishment. Yet having frightened them again, he does not let them fall into despair; but as above he did not say that he had raised up, but that he is able to raise up children to Abraham, frightening and comforting at once, so here too he did not say that it has touched the root, but that it lies at the root and is in contact with it, and shows no delay. Yet having brought it so near, he makes you masters of the cutting. For if you change and become better, this axe will go away having done nothing; but if you remain in the same things, it will tear the tree up by the roots. For this reason it neither stands away from the root, nor, lying there, cuts: the one so that you may not grow slack, the other so that you may learn that it is possible, changing even in a short time, to be saved. That is why he increases the fear from every side, rousing them and pushing them toward repentance. For to fall from their ancestors, and others to be brought in in their place, and the terrors to be at the doors, and to suffer incurable things, which he showed by both the root and the axe, were enough to rouse even those very slack and make them anxious. This Paul too showed, saying, “For the Lord will make a short work upon the whole world.”

But do not be afraid; or rather, be afraid, but do not despair. For you have hope of change; for the sentence is not final, nor has the axe come to cut (for what prevented it from cutting, being in contact with the root?), but to make you better by this fear and prepare you to bear fruit. That is why he added: “Every tree, then, that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” And when he says “every,” he casts out again the precedence from noble birth. For even if you are a descendant of Abraham himself, he says, even if you can count countless patriarchs, you will undergo a double punishment if you remain fruitless. By these words he frightened tax collectors too and shook the soldiers' minds, neither throwing them into despair, and freeing them from all carelessness. For with the fear what was said has much encouragement too. For by saying, “that does not bear good fruit,” he showed that the tree that bears fruit is freed from all punishment. “And how,” someone says, “shall we be able to bear fruit, when the cutting is near, the time so short, and the term cut short?” You will be able, he says; for this fruit is not like that of trees, which waits a long time, is a slave to the necessities of the seasons, and needs much other labor; but it is enough to will, and the tree has at once put forth shoots. For not only the nature of the root, but also the skill of the farmer contributes greatly to such fruit-bearing. For this reason, so that they might not say, “You disturb us, you hurry us, you choke us, putting the axe to us and threatening cutting, and asking for revenues in a time of punishment,” he added, showing the ease of fruit-bearing: “I baptize you with water; but he who comes after me is mightier than I, whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire”; showing by these words that what is needed is only will and faith, not toil and sweat; and as it is easy to be baptized, so it is easy to change and become better.

Having shaken their mind, then, by the fear of the judgment, by the expectation of punishment, by the name of the axe, by the loss of their ancestors, by the bringing in of other children, and by the double punishment of cutting down and burning, and having softened their hardness on every side and set them longing to be freed from such evils, then he brings in the discourse about Christ; and not simply, but with great preeminence. Then, setting out the difference between himself and him, lest he seem to say this as a favor, he establishes it by comparing what each gives. For he did not say at once, “I am not worthy to untie the strap of his sandal,” but first set down the meanness of his own baptism, and showed that it has nothing more than to lead them to repentance (for he did not say, “with water of remission,” but “of repentance”), and then he sets down Christ's, full of the unspeakable gift. For lest, hearing, he says, that he comes after me, you despise him as having come later, learn the power of his gift, and you will know clearly that I have said nothing worthy or great in saying, “I am not worthy to untie the strap of his sandal.” So when you hear, “He is mightier than I,” do not think I said this by way of comparison. For I am not worthy to be ranked even among his servants, not even among the last servants, nor to undertake the meanest part of the service. That is why he did not simply say “the sandals,” but “not even the strap,” which seemed the last of all. Then, so that you may not think what was said belongs to humility, he adds the proof from the facts too: “For he,” he says, “will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” Do you see how great the wisdom of the Baptist is? When he himself preaches, he says all the fearful things that cause anxiety; but when he sends them to Christ, the good things able to restore them. For he does not bring into the midst the axe, nor the tree cut down and burned and thrown into the fire, nor the wrath to come, but remission of sins, removal of punishment, righteousness, sanctification, redemption, adoption, brotherhood, a share in the inheritance, and an abundant supply of the Holy Spirit. For he hinted at all these things by saying, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit,” showing by the very metaphor of the word the abundance of the grace (for he did not say, “He will give you the Holy Spirit,” but “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit”); and again by the addition of “fire” showing the vehemence and irresistibility of the grace.

Consider, then, how the hearers were likely to feel, reckoning that they would suddenly become like the prophets and like those great men. For this is why he mentioned fire too, to bring them to the memory of those men. For almost all the visions that appeared to them, most appeared through fire: so God spoke to Moses in the bush; so to the whole people on Mount Sinai; so to Ezekiel on the cherubim. And consider how he rouses the hearer, setting first what was to happen after everything. For the Lamb had to be slain, sin wiped out, the enmity undone, the burial and the resurrection take place, and then the Spirit come. But for the present he says none of these, but first the last thing, for whose sake all those things happened, and which above all could proclaim his dignity; so that when the hearer hears that he will receive so great a Spirit, he may ask himself how and in what way this will be, while sin so prevails; so that, taking him thoughtful and prepared to listen, he might bring in the discourse about the passion, no one being offended any longer, in the expectation of such a gift. That is why he cried out again, saying, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” He did not say, “who forgives,” but what was of greater care, “who takes away.” For it is not the same thing simply to forgive and to take it up oneself. For the one was done without danger, the other with death. And again he said that he is the Son of God. But not even this made his dignity plain to the hearers (for they did not yet know how to think of him as the genuine Son); but from so great a giving of the Spirit this too was established. That is why the Father too, in sending John, gave him this as the first sign of the dignity of the one who was coming, saying: “On whomever you see the Spirit descending and remaining, this is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.” That is why he himself also says, “I have seen and have borne witness that this is the Son of God,” as though that too was clearly established from this.

Then, since he had spoken the good things, and had relaxed and loosened the hearer, he tightens him again, so that he may not become careless. For such was the Jewish race: by good things they were easily slackened and became worse. That is why he brings in the fearful things again, saying, “whose winnowing fork is in his hand.” For above he spoke of the punishment; but here he shows the judge too and brings in the immortal punishment: “For he will burn up the chaff,” he says, “with unquenchable fire.” Do you see him as the Lord of all things, and himself the farmer, even if elsewhere he says this of the Father? “For my Father,” he says, “is the farmer.” For since he had said “axe,” lest you think the matter needed toil and was hard to sort out, he brings in its ease too by another example, showing that the whole world is his; for he would not have punished those who were not his. Now, then, all things are mixed together; for even if the wheat appears shining, it lies with the chaff as on a threshing floor, not as in a granary; but then there will be a great separation.

Where now are those who disbelieve in hell? For he set down two things: that he will baptize with the Holy Spirit, and that he will burn up the disobedient. If, then, that is credible, this certainly is too. For this is why he set the two predictions side by side, so that from the one already fulfilled he might confirm the one not yet come to pass. For Christ too does this in many places, often about the same things and often about opposite things, setting down two prophecies, and fulfilling one here and promising the other in the future, so that from the one already fulfilled the more contentious may believe the one not yet fulfilled. For to those who strip themselves of all their possessions for him he promised to give a hundredfold in the present life and eternal life in the future, making the future things credible from what had already been given. This John too has done here, setting down two things: that he will baptize with the Holy Spirit, and that he will burn up with unquenchable fire.

If, then, he had not baptized the apostles with the Spirit, and every day all who wish, you might doubt those things too; but if what seems greater and harder and surpassing all reason both has happened and happens every day, how do you say that what is easy and happens according to reason is not true? For since he said that he will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire, and promised great good things from this, lest you grow slack, released from all former sins, he added the winnowing fork and the judgment shown by it. For do not think, he says, that baptism is enough, if you become wicked afterward; for we need virtue and much philosophy. That is why he pushes them toward the grace and the washing by the axe, and after the grace by the winnowing fork and the unquenchable fire. And of those before baptism he makes no distinction, but simply, “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down,” he says, punishing all the unbelievers; but after baptism he makes a separation, since many of those who believed were going to show a life unworthy of the faith. Let no one, then, become chaff; let no one be easily blown about, nor lie open to wicked desires, easily fanned up by them everywhere. For if you remain wheat, even if temptation comes, you will suffer nothing terrible; for on the threshing floor the saw-toothed wheels of the cart do not cut the wheat; but if you fall into the weakness of chaff, you will both suffer incurable things here, cut by everyone, and undergo the immortal punishment there. For all such people, even before the furnace there, become food here for irrational passions, as chaff for irrational animals, and there again material and food for the fire. Now to say outright that he will judge what is done would not have made the discourse so easy to receive; but mixing in the parable and establishing the whole by it persuaded more and drew the hearer with greater comfort. That is why Christ too speaks to them mostly in this way, mixing into his words threshing floor and harvest, vineyard and winepress, field and net and fishing, and all the familiar things among which they lived. This the Baptist has done here too, and he has provided the greatest proof of what he said, the giving of the Spirit. For the one able to do such great things as to forgive sins and give the Spirit will be much more able to do these things too, he says. Do you see how he already laid down beforehand, in due order, the mystery of the resurrection and the judgment?

“And why,” someone says, “did he not speak of the signs and wonders that were soon to come from him?” Because this was greater than all, and for its sake all those things happened. For by setting down the chief point he included everything: the undoing of death, the removal of sins, the wiping out of the curse, release from the long wars, entry into paradise, ascent to heaven, citizenship with angels, sharing in the good things to come; for this is a pledge of those. Having said this, then, he spoke also of the resurrection of bodies, the display of signs here, the sharing in the kingdom, and the good things “which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man”; for he provided all these to us through that gift. It was superfluous, then, to speak of the signs that were soon to come and would be judged by sight; but he had to speak of the things they doubted: that he is the Son of God, that he surpasses John beyond comparison, that he takes away the sin of the world, that he will exact a penalty for what has been done, that our affairs do not end with the present, but there each will undergo the punishment he deserves. For these things could not for the present be shown to sight.

Knowing these things, then, let us use great zeal while we are on the threshing floor; for it is possible, while we are here, to change from chaff to wheat, just as many have become chaff from wheat. Let us not, then, grow slack, nor be carried about by every wind, nor split off from our brothers, even if they seem small and mean; for the wheat too is less in size than the chaff, but better in nature. Do not look at outward displays, for they are prepared for the fire; but at humility according to God, this firm and indissoluble thing, which cannot be cut and is not burned by the fire. For it is for their sake that he bears with the chaff too, so that from their company they may become better. That is why there is not yet judgment, so that we may all be crowned together, so that many may change from wickedness to virtue. Let us shudder, then, hearing this parable. For that fire is unquenchable. “And how,” someone says, “unquenchable?” Do you not see this sun always burning and never quenched? Did you not see the bush burning and not consumed? If, then, you too wish to escape the flame, lay up almsgiving beforehand, and so you will not even get a taste of that fire. For if you believe what is said here, you will not even see this furnace when you go there; but if you disbelieve it now, you will know it well there by experience, when it is no longer possible to escape. For the punishment is inexorable for those who have not shown an upright life. For it is not enough only to believe, since the demons too shudder at God, and yet they will be punished. That is why we need much care for our life.

For this is why we gather you here continually, not only that you may come in, but that you may also reap something from your time here. But if you always come but go away reaping nothing from it, there will be no gain from your coming here and your attendance. For if, sending children to teachers, we see them gaining nothing from there, we become vehement accusers of the teachers and often move them to others, what defense shall we have, giving to virtue not even as much zeal as to these earthly things, but always carrying our tablets home empty? And yet here the teachers are more and greater. For we set over you as teachers at every assembly prophets, apostles, patriarchs, and all the righteous. And not even so is there any gain; but if you sing two or three psalms and say the usual prayers idly and at random and then are dismissed, you think this enough for your salvation. Have you not heard the prophet saying, or rather God through the prophet, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me”? So that this may not happen with us too, wipe out the letters, or rather the marks, that the devil has stamped on your soul, and bring me a heart freed from worldly turmoil, so that I may write in it freely what I wish. For as it is, there is nothing else to recognize but his letters: robberies, greed, envy, jealousy. That is why, when I take your tablets, I cannot even read them. For I do not find the letters that we write in you and leave each Lord's day, but others in their place, illegible and distorted. Then, when we have wiped them out and written the things of the Spirit, you go away, give your hearts to the workings of the devil, and allow him again to write his own over them. What then the end of these things will be, even if I do not say it, each one's conscience knows. For I shall not cease doing my part and writing the right letters. But if you spoil our zeal, our wage remains unshaken, but your danger is not small. But I do not wish to say anything burdensome;

but again I beg and urge you, at least imitate the zeal of little children in these things. For they first learn the shapes of the letters; then they practice recognizing them when mixed up; and then they walk on the road of reading by means of them. So let us too do: dividing virtue up, let us first learn not to swear, nor to perjure ourselves, nor to speak evil; then, coming to another line, not to envy, nor to love bodies, not to be gluttons, not to be drunk, not to be cruel, not to be sluggish; so that from these we may pass again to spiritual things and practice self-control, contempt of the belly, chastity, righteousness, being above glory, gentle, broken in mind; and let us join these to one another and write them on our soul. And let us exercise all these things at home, with our friends, with our wife, with our children. And for the present let us begin from the first and easier things, for instance from not swearing; and let us continually practice this letter at home. For there are many at home who hinder this practice: a servant provokes, a wife throws one into anger by grieving one, a child that is slow to learn and disorderly drives one to threats and oaths. If, then, continually irritated by these at home, you succeed in not being swept into oaths, you will easily be able to remain uncaptured in the marketplace too. And indeed you will succeed also in not insulting, neither insulting your wife, nor your servant, nor any other in the house. For often a wife, praising so-and-so and calling herself wretched, kindles one to speak ill of him. But do not you be driven to speak evil of the one praised, but bear everything nobly; and if you see the servants praising other masters, do not be troubled, but stand nobly. Let the house be a contest and wrestling school of virtue, so that, well exercised there, you may engage those in the marketplace with great skill. Do this with vainglory too. For if you practice not being vainglorious before your wife and servants, you will not easily be captured by this passion before anyone else. For everywhere this disease is cruel and tyrannical, but above all when a wife is present. If, then, we undo its strength there, we shall easily overcome it in other things too. Let us do the same thing with the other passions too, exercising against them at home and anointing ourselves every day. And so that the exercise may be easier for us, let us also pronounce a penalty against ourselves whenever we transgress any of what lies before us. And let the penalty again be not a loss, but one that has a reward and procures the greatest gain; that is, condemning ourselves to intensified fasts, sleeping on the ground, and other such hardship. For so many gains will come to us from every side, and we shall live here the sweet life of virtue, obtain the good things to come, and be friends of God continually.

But lest the same things happen again, and having admired what was said here, you go away and throw down the tablet of your mind idly and at random, and allow the devil to wipe it out, let each one, going home, call his wife and tell her these things and take her as a helper, and from this very day enter this fine wrestling school, using the supply of the Spirit as oil. And if you fall once, or twice, or many times while exercising, do not despair, but stand again and wrestle, and do not leave off until you have bound on a splendid crown against the devil and stored up the possession of virtue in an inviolable treasury. For if you set yourself in the habit of this fine philosophy, you will no longer be able, even when careless, to transgress any of the commandments, since habit imitates the firmness of nature. For as it is easy to sleep, eat, drink, and breathe, so the things of virtue too will be easy for us, and we shall reap pure pleasure, sitting in a harbor without waves and enjoying continual calm, and bringing our ship with much cargo into that city on that day, and we shall obtain the incorruptible crowns; which may we all obtain, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“… Jesus from Galilee to the Jordan.”

With the servants the Master, with the guilty the Judge comes to be baptized. But do not be troubled; for in these lowly things above all his loftiness shines forth. For he who consented to be carried so long a time in a virgin's womb, to come forth from there with our nature, to be struck, to be crucified, and to suffer the other things he suffered, why do you wonder if he consented also to be baptized and to come with the others to the servant? For that was the astonishing thing, that being God he willed to become man; the rest follows thereafter in due course. That is why John too said beforehand what he said, that he was not worthy to untie the strap of his sandal, … that he renders to each according to his desert, and will provide the Spirit abundantly to all; so that when you see him coming to baptism you may suspect nothing lowly. That is why he also tries to prevent him when he is present, saying: “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” For since the baptism was one of repentance and led to the accusation of offenses, lest anyone think that he too comes to the Jordan with such a mind, he corrects this beforehand by calling him the Lamb and the Redeemer of all the sin in the world. For he who could take away the sins of the whole human race was much more himself without sin. That is why he did not say, “Behold the sinless one,” but what was much more, “who takes away the sin of the world,” so that along with this you may receive that too with all assurance, and having received it, may see that he comes to baptism to arrange some other things. That is why, when he came, he said to him: “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” And he did not say, “And are you baptized by me?”, for he feared to say even this; but what? “And do you come to me?” What then does Christ do? What he did later with Peter, this he did then too. For Peter too tried to prevent him from washing his feet; but when he heard, “What I do you do not know now, but you will know afterward,” and, “You have no part with me,” he quickly gave up his vehemence and changed to the opposite. And this man likewise again, on hearing, “Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness,” at once obeyed. For they were not immoderately contentious, but showed both love and obedience, and were careful to obey the Master in everything.

And see how he leads him on from the very point he most suspected; for he did not say, “Thus it is just,” but “Thus it is fitting.” For since he thought this most unworthy of him, to be baptized by the servant, he set down above all what was opposed to that, as if to say: Is it not as unfitting that you flee and prevent this? For this very reason let it be, because it is above all fitting. And he did not simply say, “Let it be,” but added “now.” For it will not always be so, he says, but you will see me in the things you desire; for now, however, bear with this. Then he shows also how this is fitting. How then is it fitting? Because we are fulfilling the whole law; which he showed by saying “all righteousness.” For righteousness is the fulfillment of the commandments. Since, then, we have performed all the other commandments, he says, and this alone remains, this too must be added. For I came to undo the curse laid upon the transgression of the law. I must, then, myself first fulfill everything, and having delivered you from the condemnation, so bring it to rest. It is fitting, then, for me to fulfill the whole law, since it is also fitting to undo the curse written against you in the law. For this is why I took flesh and came. “Then he allows him. And when Jesus was baptized, he went up at once from the water; and behold, the heavens were opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him.” For since

many thought John greater than he, because the one had been brought up in the wilderness all his time, was the son of a high priest, wore such a garment, called everyone to baptism, and was born of a barren woman; while Jesus was from a poor girl (for the virgin birth was not yet plain to all), was brought up in a house, associated with everyone, and wore this common dress; they suspected that he was less than John, knowing nothing yet of those secret things (and it also happened that he was baptized by John, which confirmed this suspicion more, even if none of the former things had been so; for they thought: This man is one of the many; for if he were not one of the many, he would not have come to baptism with the many; but that man is greater than he and much more wonderful). So that this opinion might not prevail among the many, the heavens too are opened when he is baptized, the Spirit comes down, and a voice with the Spirit proclaims the dignity of the Only-begotten. For since the voice that said, “This is my beloved Son,” seemed to the many to fit John rather (for it did not add, “this one who is being baptized,” but simply “this one”), and each of the hearers supposed it said of the baptizer rather than of the baptized, both because of the Baptist's rank and because of all that had been said, the Spirit came in the form of a dove, drawing the voice to Jesus and making plain to all that “this one” was said not of John the baptizer but of Jesus the baptized.

“And how,” someone says, “did they not believe when these things happened?” Because in Moses' time too many wonders happened, though not such as these; and after all those, the voices, the trumpets, the lightnings, they both cast a calf and were initiated to Baal of Peor. And these very men who were then present, and saw Lazarus risen, were so far from believing in the one who did these things that they even tried many times to kill him. If, then, seeing the resurrection of the dead before their eyes they were so wicked, why do you wonder if they did not receive a voice borne from above? For when a soul is ungrateful and perverted and held by the disease of envy, it yields to none of these; as, when it is well disposed, it receives everything with faith and does not much need these. Do not, then, say that they did not believe; but ask whether everything did not happen from which they ought to have believed. For through the prophet too God frames this manner of defense for all his own dealings. For since the Jews were going to perish and be handed over to the utmost punishment, lest anyone slander his providence from their wickedness, he says: “What ought I to have done for this vineyard that I have not done?” Consider this here too: what ought to have happened that did not happen? And if ever there are discussions about God's providence, use this manner of defense against those who try to slander it from the wickedness of the many. See, at any rate, what marvels happen, and what beginnings of things to come; for it is no longer paradise but heaven that is opened. But let the discourse against the Jews be put off for us to another time; and now, with God working with us, let us bring the discourse to what lies before us.

“And when Jesus was baptized, he went up at once from the water; and behold, the heavens were opened to him.” Why were the heavens opened? So that you may learn that this happens when you too are baptized, God calling you to the homeland above and persuading you to have nothing in common with the earth. And if you do not see it, do not disbelieve. For at the beginnings of marvelous and spiritual things, visible sights and such signs always appear for the sake of those more foolishly disposed, who need a sensible sight and can form no idea of a bodiless nature, but are excited only by visible things; so that even if afterward these things do not happen, you may accept by faith what was once shown by them at the beginning. For in the case of the apostles too there was a sound of a violent wind, and sights of fiery tongues appeared; but not for the apostles' sake, but for the sake of the Jews then present. Yet even if sensible signs do not happen, we accept what was once shown by them. For the dove too appeared then for this reason, so that, as if with a finger, it might point out the Son of God to those present and to John. And not only for this, but so that you too may learn that the Spirit comes upon you also when you are baptized. Thereafter

we have no need of a sensible sight, since faith suffices instead of everything; “for signs are not for those who believe, but for unbelievers.” And why in the form of a dove? The creature is gentle and pure. Since, then, the Spirit too is a Spirit of meekness, it appears in this form. And besides, it reminds us of an ancient story. For once, when a common shipwreck had seized the whole world and our race was in danger of being wiped out, this creature appeared and showed the end of the storm, and carrying an olive branch, it brought the good news of the common calm of the world; all of which was a type of things to come. For then too men's affairs were in a much worse state, and they deserved much greater punishment. So that you may not despair, then, it reminds you of that story. For then too, when things were despaired of, there came a release and correction; but then through punishment, now through grace and an unspeakable gift. That is why the dove appears, not carrying an olive branch, but pointing out to us the deliverer from all evils and holding out good hopes. For it does not lead one man out of an ark, but having appeared it leads the whole world up to heaven, and instead of an olive shoot it brings adoption to the common race of the world.

Considering, then, the greatness of the gift, do not think that its dignity is less because it appeared in such a form. For I hear some saying that as great as the difference is between a man and a dove, so great is the difference between Christ and the Spirit, since the one appeared in our nature and the other in the form of a dove. What then is to be said to this? That the Son of God took the nature of man, but the Spirit did not take the nature of a dove. That is why the evangelist did not say “in the nature of a dove,” but “in the form of a dove”; and so it was not seen in this shape afterward either, but only then. And if for this reason you say its dignity is less, the cherubim too will be found by this argument much better, as much as an eagle is better than a dove; for they too were shaped into that appearance; and the angels again better, for they often appeared in the form of men. But it is not so, it is not so. For the truth of the dispensation is one thing, and the condescension of a temporary appearance another.

Do not, then, be ungrateful toward your benefactor, nor repay with the opposite the one who gave you the fountain of blessedness. For where there is the dignity of adoption, there is also the removal of evils and the giving of all good things. That is why the Jewish baptism ceases and ours takes its beginning. And what happened with the Passover happens also with baptism. For there too, taking up both, he ended the one and gave beginning to the other; and here, having fulfilled the Jewish baptism, he at once opens the doors of the church's too; as at one table then, so in one river now, both sketching the shadow and adding the truth. For this baptism alone has the grace of the Spirit; John's was empty of this gift. That is why with the others who were baptized nothing of the kind happened, but only with him who was to hand this down; so that besides what has been said you may learn this too, that it was not the purity of the baptizer but the power of the one baptized that did this. Then, at any rate, the heavens were opened and the Spirit came upon him. For he leads us from the old to the new way of life, opening the gates above to us and sending the Spirit from there, calling us to the homeland there; and not simply calling, but with the greatest dignity. For he did not make us angels and archangels, but making us sons of God and beloved, so he draws us to that lot.

Considering all these things, then, the love of the one who calls, the citizenship there, and the honor given, show a life worthy of them, crucified to the world and crucifying it to yourself; live the citizenship of heaven with all exactness; and do not think, because your body has not been moved to heaven, that you have anything in common with the earth; for you have your head seated above. And that is why the Master first came here and brought the angels, and then, taking you up, went away there, so that even before your going up there you may learn that it is possible for you to dwell on earth as in heaven. Let us remain, then, keeping the nobility we received from the beginning, and let us seek the palace there every day, and think all things here shadow and a dream. For if one of the kings on earth took you, poor and begging, and suddenly made you his son, you would not think of your hut and the meanness of your hut; and yet there the difference is not great. Do not, then, here either reckon anything of former things; for you have been called to far greater things. For the one who calls is the Lord of the angels, and the good things given surpass all speech and understanding. For he does not move you from earth to earth, as the king does, but from earth to heaven, and from a mortal nature to immortality and unspeakable glory, which can be well shown only when we enjoy it. Being about, then, to share in such good things, do you remind me of money and cling to the pomp here? And do you not think all visible things meaner than a beggar's rags? And how will you appear worthy of this honor? What defense will you have to give, or rather, what penalty will you not pay, if after so great a gift you run back to your former vomit? For you are no longer punished as a mere man when you sin, but as a son of God; and the greatness of the honor becomes for you provision for a greater punishment. For we too do not punish alike slaves who sin and sons who commit the same offense, especially when they happen to have received great benefits from us. For if the one who obtained paradise underwent such terrors after the honor for one disobedience, what pardon shall we have, who have received heaven and become joint heirs with the Only-begotten, if we run to the serpent after the dove? For we shall no longer hear, “Earth you are, and to earth you will go,” and, “You will work the earth,” and those former things, but things much harsher than these: the outer darkness, the bonds that cannot be loosed, the venomous worm, the gnashing of teeth; and with good reason. For one who does not become better even by so great a benefit would justly pay the last and harshest penalty.

Elijah once opened and shut heaven, but so as to bring down rain and to hold it back; but for you heaven is not opened so, but so that you may go up there; and what is greater, not only to go up, but also to bring others up, if you wish; so great a confidence and authority has he given you in all his things. Since, then, our house is there, let us store everything there and leave nothing here, so that we may not lose it. For here, even if you put on a key, even doors and bars, even if you set countless servants on guard and get the better of all wrongdoers, even if you escape the eyes of the envious, and the moths, and the destruction that comes with time, which is impossible, you will never escape death at least, but you will be robbed of all those things in one turn of time; and not only robbed, but you will often pass them on into the hands of your enemies. But if you send them on to that house, you will be above all things. For there is no need to put on a key, or doors and bars; such is the power of that city, so inviolable the place, and inaccessible to all corruption and wickedness.

How then is it not the height of folly to heap up everything where what is stored perishes and is destroyed, but not to store even the smallest part where it remains untouched and increases, and that when we are going to live all our time there? That is why the Greeks too disbelieve what we say; for they wish to take the proof from what we do, not from what we say; and when they see us building splendid houses, laying out gardens and baths, and buying fields, they will not believe that we are preparing for a journey to another city. For if this were so, they say, they would have turned everything here into money and stored it there beforehand; and they guess this from what happens here. For we see the very rich buying houses and fields and all the rest above all in those cities in which they are going to live. But we do the opposite; and the earth, which we are going to leave a little later, we acquire with great zeal, giving up not only money but even blood itself for a few acres and dwellings; but to buy heaven we cannot bear to give even what is beyond our need, and that when we are going to buy it at a small price and have it forever, if we buy it. That is why we shall pay the utmost penalty, going there naked and poor; or rather, we shall undergo incurable calamities not only for our own poverty but also for making others such. For when the Greeks see those who have enjoyed such mysteries eager for these things, they will cling much more to present things themselves. From this too we heap much fire on our own head. For when we, who ought to teach them to look down on all visible things, above all others cast them into the desire for these, when shall we be able to be saved, liable for the destruction of others? Do you not hear Christ saying that he left us in this world as salt and lamps, so that we might brace those dissolved by luxury and enlighten those darkened by the care of money? When, then, we throw them into greater darkness and make them more slack, what hope of salvation will there be for us? There is none; but wailing and gnashing our teeth, bound hand and foot, we shall go off into the fire of hell, after being well worked over by the cares of wealth. Considering all these things, then, let us loose the bonds of such deceit, so that we may not fall into those things that hand us over to the unquenchable fire. For one who is a slave to money will be liable both to the chains here and to those there continually; but one who has been freed from this desire will obtain both freedoms; which that we too may obtain, let us break the cruel yoke of love of money and give ourselves wings toward heaven, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“[Then was] Jesus [led up] into the wilderness by the Spirit, to be tempted by the devil.” Then: when? After the descent of the Spirit, after the voice that was borne from above and said, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” And what is truly marvelous is that it was by the Holy Spirit; for it is he, the evangelist says, who led him up there. Since everything he did and endured was for our instruction, he submits to being led up there and to wrestling with the devil, so that each of the baptized, if after baptism he should endure greater temptations, may not be troubled, as though the thing were happening contrary to expectation, but may stand firm nobly through it all, as though it were happening in the natural course of things. For this is why you received weapons: not to be idle, but to [fight]. For this reason God does not hinder the temptations when they come upon you: first, that you may learn that you have become much stronger; then, that you may remain modest and not be puffed up by the greatness of the gifts, since the temptations are able to humble you; besides this, that that wicked demon, who until then was in doubt about your desertion of him, may be fully assured by the test of temptations that you have left him and departed completely; fourth, that by this means you may be made stronger and tougher than any iron; fifth, that you may receive clear proof of the treasures entrusted to you. For the devil would not have attacked you, had he not seen you raised to greater honor. Thus from the beginning he rose up against Adam, because he saw him enjoying great dignity. For this reason he arrayed himself against Job, because he saw him crowned and proclaimed by the God of all things.

How then does he say, “Pray that you enter not into temptation”? It is for this reason that he does not show you Jesus simply going up, but being led up, in accordance with the plan of the incarnation, hinting by this that we must not leap upon temptations ourselves, but when we are dragged into them, stand nobly. And see where the Spirit took him and led him up: not into a city and a marketplace, but into the wilderness. Since he wished to draw the devil on, he gives him a handle not only through hunger but also through the place. For the devil attacks most of all when he sees people isolated and by themselves. So too he attacked the woman at the beginning, catching her alone and finding her apart from her husband. When he sees people with others and banded together, he is not so bold, nor does he attack. For this reason above all we must flock together with one another continually, so as not to be easily overpowered by the devil. Having found him, then, in the wilderness, and in a pathless wilderness (for that the wilderness was such, Mark showed by saying that “he was with the wild beasts”), see with how much villainy and malice he approaches, and what an occasion he watches for. For he approaches him not while fasting but while hungry, so that you may learn how great a good fasting is, and how it is the mightiest weapon against the devil, and that after the washing we must devote ourselves not to luxury and drunkenness and a loaded table, but to fasting. For this reason he himself also fasted, not because he needed it, but to teach us. Since the sins committed before the washing had brought in slavery to the belly, then, just as someone who has made a sick man well would order him not to do the things from which the sickness came, so here also he himself after the washing brought in fasting. For it was incontinence of the belly that cast Adam out of paradise, that brought about the flood in Noah’s time, and that brought down the thunderbolts on Sodom. For even if the charge was one of sexual immorality, still the root of each punishment grew from here; which Ezekiel too was hinting at when he said, “But this was the iniquity of Sodom, that in pride and fullness of bread and in abundance they lived wantonly.” So too the Jews committed the greatest evils, running aground from drunkenness and luxury into lawlessness.

For this reason he himself also fasts forty days, showing us the medicines of salvation; and he does not go further, lest by the excess of the miracle the truth of the incarnation should in turn be disbelieved. As it was, this could not happen, since Moses and Elijah before him had been able, strengthened by the power of God, to reach so great a length. But if he had gone further, to many even on this account the assumption of the flesh would have seemed incredible. Having fasted, then, forty days and as many nights, he afterward was hungry, giving him a handle for approaching him, so that by grappling with him he might show how we must prevail and conquer. So also athletes do: when teaching their pupils how to prevail and conquer, they willingly grapple with others in the wrestling schools, giving the pupils the chance to observe in the bodies of their opponents, and to be trained in, the method of victory. This is just what happened then too. Since he wished to draw him on to this, he both made his hunger plain and received him when he approached, and having received him, he dashed him to the ground once, twice, and three times, with the ease that befitted him. But lest by running past these victories we spoil the benefit for you, let us begin from the first assault and examine each with precision.

When he was hungry, it says, the tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become loaves.” For since he had heard the voice borne from above that said, “This is my beloved Son,” and had heard John bearing such great testimony about him, and then saw him hungry, he was at a loss: he could neither believe that he was a mere man, because of what had been said about him, nor again accept that he was the Son of God, because he saw him hungry. Being at a loss, therefore, he utters ambiguous words. And just as when he approached Adam at the beginning he made up what was not, in order to learn what was, so here too, not knowing clearly the ineffable mystery of the incarnation and who in the world the one before him was, he tries to weave other nets, by which he thought he would learn what was hidden and obscure. And what does he say? “If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become loaves.” He did not say, “Since you are hungry,” but, “If you are the Son of God,” thinking to steal upon him by his praises. That is why he kept silent about the hunger, lest he seem to throw it in his face and reproach him with it. For not knowing the greatness of what was being dispensed, he thought this was shameful to him. That is why, flattering him craftily, he mentions only his dignity. What then does Christ do? Pulling down his conceit, and showing that what had happened was not worthy of shame nor unworthy of his wisdom, he himself brings out into the open and sets forth the very thing that the other, in flattering him, had passed over in silence, saying, “Man shall not live by bread alone.”

[So he begins from the necessity of the belly.] But consider, I beg you, the villainy of that wicked demon: where he begins his wrestling, and how he does not forget his own craft. For by the very means by which he cast out the first man and entangled him in countless other evils, by these he weaves his snare here too: I mean incontinence of the belly. Even now one can hear many foolish people saying that the belly causes countless evils. But Christ, showing that not even this tyranny compels the virtuous man to do anything unfitting, is hungry and does not obey the command, teaching us to obey the devil in nothing. For since the first man by this means offended God and transgressed the law, he teaches you, going beyond what was needed, not to obey even so, even if what he commands is not a transgression. And why do I say transgression? Even if the demons say something useful, he says, do not even so pay attention to them. Thus he silenced those demons who were proclaiming him the Son of God. And Paul too in turn rebuked them when they cried out this very thing, although what was said was useful; but, going beyond what was needed, he dishonored them and walled off their plotting against us, and drove them away even when they were proclaiming saving doctrines, stopping their mouths and ordering them to be silent. And for this reason here too he did not assent to what was said, but what does he say? “Man shall not live by bread alone.” What he means is this: that God is able to feed the hungry man even by a word, bringing him testimony from the old Scripture, and teaching us that even if we are starving, even if we suffer anything whatever, we must never depart from the Master.

But if someone should say, “Yet surely he ought to have displayed his power,” I would ask him: for what reason, and why? For the devil was not saying these things in order to believe, but in order, as he thought, to convict him of unbelief. For he deceived the first people too in this way and convicted them of not trusting God very firmly. By promising them the opposite of what God had said, puffing them up with empty hopes and casting them into unbelief, he thus cast them out also from the good things they had. But Christ shows that he did not assent either to him then, or later to the Jews who shared his mind and asked for signs, everywhere teaching us that even if we are able to do something, we should do nothing rashly and in vain, nor obey the devil even when necessity presses.

What then does this foul one do? Defeated, and unable to persuade him to do what he commanded, and that with such hunger pressing on him, he proceeds to another temptation, saying, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He shall give his angels charge concerning you, and on their hands they shall bear you up.’” Why ever does he add this, “If you are the Son of God,” at each attempt? What he did in the case of the first parents, he does now too. Just as then he slandered God, saying, “In the day you eat, your eyes shall be opened,” wishing to show by this that they had been deceived and cheated and had received no benefit, so here too he hints the same thing, saying: he called you Son for nothing and deceived you with the gift; for if this is not so, give us proof that you are of that power. Then, since Christ had reasoned with him from the Scriptures, he too brings forward the testimony of the prophet. How then does Christ respond? He was not indignant, he was not provoked, but with great gentleness he again reasons with him from the Scriptures, saying, “You shall not tempt the Lord your God,” teaching us that we must overcome the devil not by signs but by forbearance and long-suffering, and do nothing at all for display and ambition.

But consider his folly also from the very testimony he brought forward. For the testimonies brought forward by the Lord were both spoken very aptly; but those from him at random and as chance would have it, and not even fittingly did he bring in what suited the matter at hand. For the fact that it is written, “He shall give his angels charge concerning you,” does not advise one to throw oneself down and hurl oneself off a cliff; and besides, this was not even said about the Lord. But for the time being he did not refute this, although the devil had used the word insolently and quite contrary to its sense. For no one asks these things of the Son of God; rather, to throw oneself down belongs to the devil and the demons, while it belongs to God to raise up even those who are fallen. For if he had to display his power, it would be not by throwing himself down and hurling himself rashly off a cliff, but by saving others. To throw themselves into ravines and over cliffs belongs to the devil’s band. That, at any rate, is what the deceiver among them does everywhere. But Christ, even when these things had been said, does not yet reveal himself, but for the time being reasons with him as a man. For to say, “Man shall not live by bread alone,” and, “You shall not tempt the Lord your God,” was not the speech of one revealing himself very much, but of one showing himself to be one of the many. Do not be surprised if, while reasoning with Christ, he is often thrown into confusion. For just as boxers, when they receive mortal blows, reel about streaming with much blood and with their sight darkened, so he too, darkened by the first and the second blow, utters at random whatever comes to him and proceeds to the third assault.

“And taking him up onto a high mountain, he shows him all the kingdoms, and says, ‘All these things I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.’ Then he says to him, ‘Get behind me, Satan; for it is written, You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve.’” For since he was now sinning against the Father, saying that all that is his was his own, and was striving to declare himself God, as creator of the universe, then he rebuked him; and not even then vehemently, but simply, “Get away, Satan,” which was rather a command than a rebuke. For at the same moment he said to him, “Get away,” he made him flee; for he did not bring on any further temptations.

How then does Luke say that “he ended every temptation”? It seems to me that, having named the chief heads of the temptations, he has spoken of all, since the others are comprised in these. For the things that hold together the countless evils are these: to be a slave to the belly, to do something for vainglory, to be in subjection to the madness for money. This, then, is what that foul one perceived, and he placed last the strongest of all, the desire for more: from the first and from the beginning he was in travail to come to this, but he kept it for last as more powerful than the rest. For this is the law of his wrestling: to bring on last the things that seem better able to trip us up. This he did in the case of Job as well. So here too, beginning from what seemed cheaper and weaker, he proceeds to the stronger.

How then must we overcome him? As Christ taught us: by fleeing to God for refuge, and neither being cast down in famine, trusting in him who is able to feed us even by a word, nor tempting the giver amid whatever good things we receive, but being content with the glory from above, making no account of human glory, and everywhere despising what goes beyond our need. For nothing makes us fall under the devil so much as to long for more and to love covetousness. And one can see this even from what happens now. For even now there are those who say, “All these things we will give you, if you will fall down and worship,” men by nature, but become his instruments. For then too he approached him not by himself only but also through others. Luke showed this when he said that “he departed from him for a season,” showing that afterward he approached him through his own instruments.

“And behold, angels came and ministered to him.” For while the assault was going on, he did not allow them to appear, so as not to scare off the prey by this; but when he had refuted him in everything and made him flee, then they appear, so that you too may learn that after victories like his, angels will receive you too, applauding and escorting you in everything. So, at any rate, angels took Lazarus away after the furnace of poverty and hunger and every distress. For, as I said before, Christ displays now many things which we too are to enjoy. Since, then, all these things were done for your sake, emulate and imitate the victory. And if one of the servants of that demon, one who shares his mind, comes to you taunting you and saying, “If you are wonderful and great, move the mountain,” do not be troubled or disturbed, but answer with gentleness and say what you heard your Master say: “You shall not tempt the Lord your God.” And if he holds out glory and power and a boundless amount of money and bids you worship, stand firm nobly again. For the devil did this not only in the case of the common Master of us all, but every day he brings these devices to bear on each of his servants, not only on mountains and in deserts, nor by himself, but also in cities and in marketplaces and in law courts, and through men who are our own kin.

What then must we do? Disbelieve him altogether, stop our ears, hate him when he flatters, and when he promises greater things, then turn away from him the more. For with Eve too, it was when he had most lifted her up with hopes that he cast her down and worked the greatest evils. For he is an implacable enemy and has undertaken an undeclared war against us. And we are not so zealous for our own salvation as he is for our destruction. Let us therefore turn away from him, not with words only but with deeds, not in mind only but in actions, and do none of the things he approves; for in this way we shall do all the things that God approves. For he also promises much, not to give but to take. He promises from robbery, in order to take away the kingdom and righteousness; and he sets treasures on earth like snares and traps, so as to rob us both of these and of the treasures in heaven; and he wants us to be rich here so that we may not be rich there. And if he cannot cast us out of our inheritance there by means of wealth, he comes by the other road, that of poverty, as he did with Job. For when he saw that wealth had not harmed him at all, he weaves his nets through poverty, expecting to get the better of him from that side. What could be more foolish than this? For he who has been able to bear wealth soberly will much more bear poverty nobly; and he who does not desire money when it is present will not seek it when it is absent. So indeed that blessed man did not then, but from his poverty became more illustrious again. That wicked demon was able to take away his money, but his love for God he not only could not take away, but even made stronger; and having stripped him of everything, he made him flourish with more good things. That is why he was at a loss. For the more blows he inflicted, the more powerful he saw him become. Therefore, having tried everything and tested him thoroughly, since he accomplished nothing more, he ran to his old weapon, the woman; he puts on a mask of concern, recites his misfortunes most piteously like a tragedy, and pretends to bring in that ruinous counsel for his release from his evils. But not even so did he prevail; for that wonderful man saw through his bait, and with great understanding stopped the mouth of the woman who spoke from him.

This is what we too must do: even if he slips into a brother, or a true friend, or a wife, or any one at all of those closest to us, and utters something unfitting, we must not accept the counsel because of the person of the one who speaks, but because of the ruinous counsel turn away from the one who speaks. For even now he does many such things; he puts forward a mask of sympathy, and seems to be well disposed, but he injects ruinous words, more dangerous than poisons. For to flatter to our harm is his work; to discipline for our good is God’s. Let us not, then, deceive ourselves, nor seek by every means the easy life. “For whom the Lord loves he disciplines,” it says. So when we enjoy prosperity while living in wickedness, then above all let us grieve. For we must always be afraid when we sin, but most of all when we suffer nothing terrible. For when God exacts the penalties little by little, he makes our payment for them light; but when he is long-suffering toward each of our offenses, he is storing up a great penalty for us if we persist in such things. For if affliction is necessary for those who do right, much more for those who sin. See, at any rate, how much long-suffering Pharaoh enjoyed, and afterward paid the utmost penalty for everything; how much … offended, and at the end paid off the whole. And the rich man, because he suffered nothing terrible here, became wretched precisely for this reason, that having lived in luxury in this present life, he went away there to pay the penalty for all these things, where it was not even possible to find consolation for his misery.

But still there are some so cold and senseless as always to seek only the things here, and to say those ridiculous words: “Let me enjoy all present things for the time being, and then I will consider the uncertain things; I will gratify the belly, I will be a slave to pleasures, I will make full use of the present life; give me today, and take tomorrow.” O excess of folly! In what do those who say these things differ from goats and swine? For if the prophet does not allow those who neigh after their neighbor’s wife to be considered men, who will blame us for calling these goats and swine and more senseless than asses, who think these things uncertain which are plainer than the things we see? For if you believe nothing else, stand by the demons as they are scourged, the demons who have made it their study to say and do everything to our harm. You will surely not contradict this, that they do everything to increase our indolence and to dissolve the fear of hell, and to make the courts there disbelieved. Yet nevertheless those who wish this, crying out and wailing, often proclaim the torments there. Why then do they say these things, and utter the opposite of what they wish? From no other source than from being under a greater compulsion. For they would not willingly have chosen to confess either that they are tormented by dead men, or that they suffer anything terrible at all. Why have I said these things? Because the demons, who want hell to be disbelieved, confess hell; but you, who enjoy so great an honor and have shared in ineffable mysteries, do not even imitate them, but have become more unfeeling than they.

“And who,” someone says, “has come from those in Hades and reported these things?” And who has come from heaven and said that it is God who created all things? And how is it clear that we have a soul? For if you are going to believe only the things that are seen, you will doubt about God and about angels and about mind and about soul, and so all the doctrines of truth will be gone for you. And yet, if you want to believe what is plain, you ought to believe the invisible things more than the things seen. Even if what has been said is paradoxical, it is nevertheless true, and fully agreed upon among those who have understanding. For the eyes are often deceived, not only in invisible things (for those they do not even know), but even in the very things they think they see, distance, air, the mind turned elsewhere, anger, anxiety, and countless other things hindering their accuracy; but the reasoning of the soul, if it receives the light of the divine Scriptures, will be a more accurate and undeceivable criterion of what is. Let us not, then, deceive ourselves in vain, nor, besides the indolence of life that is born of such doctrines, heap up for ourselves a more grievous fire on account of the doctrines themselves. For if there is no judgment, and we shall not give account of what we have done, neither shall we receive rewards for our labors. Consider where your blasphemies lead, when you say that the just God, who loves mankind and is gentle, overlooks such great labors and sweat. And how could this be reasonable? If from nothing else, reason this out at least from what happens in your own household, and then you will see the absurdity. For even if you were ten thousand times cruel and inhuman and fiercer than wild beasts, you would not choose, when dying, to leave unhonored the servant who had been loyal to you, but you repay him with freedom and a gift of money; and since, being about to depart, you can do him no more good yourself, you charge those who are to inherit your property about him, begging, entreating, doing everything so that he may not remain without reward. And then you, who are wicked, become so kind and humane toward your servant; and will the infinite goodness, God, the unspeakable love of mankind, the boundless kindness, overlook his own servants, Peter and Paul and James and John, who every day for his sake went hungry, were bound, scourged, drowned, given to wild beasts, put to death, who suffered more than can even be counted, and leave them uncrowned? The president of the games proclaims and crowns the Olympic victor, the master the servant, the king the soldier, and in a word everyone repays the one who has served him with what good things he can; and shall God alone, after such great sweat and labors, give them back no good thing, small or great, but shall those righteous and godly men, who went through every virtue, lie in the same state as adulterers and parricides and murderers and grave robbers? And how could this be reasonable? For if there is nothing after our departure from here, but our affairs extend only to the present, then those men are in the same state as these; or rather, not even in the same. For even if afterward, by your account, they are in the same state, yet here these were at ease, while those were in punishment their whole life long. What tyrant, what cruel and harsh man, ever made such a plan for his own servants and subjects? Do you see the excess of the absurdity, and where this argument ends? So, if you will be persuaded by nothing else, be taught by these reasonings, rid yourself of this wicked suspicion, flee vice, cling to the labors of virtue, and then you will know clearly that our affairs do not stop at the present life.

And if someone asks you, “Who has come from there and reported the things there?” say to him: of men, not one; for he would often have been disbelieved, as one boasting and exaggerating the matter; but the Master of the angels has reported all those things with precision. What need have we then of a man, when he who is to demand account of us cries out every day that he has prepared both hell and a kingdom, and has given us clear proofs of these things? For if he were not going to judge, he would not have exacted penalties here either. And indeed how could this itself be reasonable, that of the wicked some are punished and some are not? For if God is no respecter of persons, as indeed he is not, why ever did he exact a penalty from one and let another go away unpunished? This is in turn more perplexing than the former point. But if you are willing to listen to what is said with good will, we shall solve this difficulty too. What then is the solution? He neither exacts the penalty from all here, so that you may not despair of the resurrection and give up hope of the judgment, as if all were giving account here; nor does he let all go away unpunished, so that you may not think in turn that all things are without providence; but he both punishes and does not punish: by those he punishes, showing that there too he will demand account from those not punished here; and by those he does not punish, preparing you to believe that there is a fearful court after our departure from here. But if he had no care at all for things past, he would neither have punished some here, nor done good to them. But now you see him for your sake stretching out the heaven, kindling the sun, founding the earth, pouring out the sea, spreading out the air, appointing courses for the moon, setting unchangeable laws for the seasons of the year, and all other things accomplishing their own course with precision at his nod. For our nature and that of the irrational creatures, of those that creep, that walk, that fly, that swim, of those in marshes, in springs, in rivers, in mountains, in glens, in houses, in the air, in the plains, and plants and seeds and trees, wild and cultivated, fruitful and unfruitful, and in a word all things moved by that untiring hand, serve our life, providing us their service not only for need but also for lavish enjoyment.

Seeing, then, so great an order (and yet we have not told even the smallest part), do you dare to say that he who has wrought so many and such great things for your sake will overlook you at the decisive moment, and will let you, when you die, lie with the asses and swine, and that having honored you with so great a gift, that of godliness, by which he made you equal even to the angels, he will overlook you after your countless labors and sweat? And how could this be reasonable? Even if we are silent, the stones will cry out these things, so plain and clear they are, and brighter than the sunbeam itself. Having considered all these things, then, and persuaded our souls that after our departure from here we shall stand before a fearful judgment seat, and give account of all that we have done, and undergo examination, and suffer punishment if we persist in offending, and enjoy crowns and ineffable good things if we are willing to pay a little attention to ourselves, let us both silence those who speak against these things and ourselves choose the road of virtue, so that, departing to that court with the boldness that befits us, we may obtain the good things promised us, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“[Now when] Jesus [heard] that John had been delivered up, he withdrew into Galilee.” Why does he withdraw? Again to teach us not to go out to meet temptations, but to give way and retire. For it is no fault not to throw oneself into danger; the fault is, having fallen into it, not to stand nobly. Teaching this, then, and soothing the envy of the Jews, he withdraws to Capernaum, at once fulfilling the prophecy and hastening to catch the teachers of the world, since they were living there and plying their trade. But consider, I beg you, how everywhere, when he is about to go to the Gentiles, he takes the occasion from the Jews. For here, having plotted against the forerunner and cast him into prison, they drive him into Galilee of the Gentiles. And to show that the prophet is neither speaking of the Jewish nation in part, nor hinting at all the tribes, see how he marks off that region, speaking thus: “Land of Naphtali, the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles: the people that sat in darkness saw a great light”; here calling darkness not the darkness of sense but error and ungodliness. That is why he added, “To those who sat in the region and shadow of death, light has dawned upon them.” For that you may learn that he is speaking neither of sensible light nor of sensible darkness, when discoursing of the light he did not simply call it light, but “a great light,” which elsewhere he calls “true”; and in describing the darkness he named it “the shadow of death.” Then, showing that they did not find it by seeking, but God appeared to them from above, he says, “light has dawned upon them,” that is, the light itself dawned and shone; they did not first run to the light. For human affairs were at their last extremity before the coming of Christ. For they were not walking in darkness but sitting in darkness, which was a sign that they did not even hope to be delivered; for as though not even knowing where they ought to go, so, overtaken by the darkness, they sat, no longer able even to stand.

“From that time Jesus began to preach and to say, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has drawn near.’” From that time: when? From the time John was cast into prison. And why did he not preach to them from the beginning? And what need was there of John at all, when the witness of the works was proclaiming him? So that from this too you may learn his dignity: that like the Father, he too has prophets; which Zechariah also said: “And you, child, shall be called a prophet of the Most High”; and so as to leave no excuse to the shameless Jews, which he himself also set down, saying, “John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Behold, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ And wisdom is justified by her children.” Besides, it was necessary for the things about him to be spoken first by another and not by himself. For if even after so many and so great testimonies and proofs they said, “You bear witness about yourself; your witness is not true,” if, when John had said nothing, he had come forward among them and been the first to bear witness himself, what would they not have said? That is why he neither preached before him nor worked miracles until John had fallen into prison, so that the multitude might not be divided in this way. That is why John did no sign either, so that by this too he might hand the multitude over to Jesus, as the miracles drew them to him. For if, even when so much had been arranged, both before the imprisonment and after it, John’s disciples were jealous toward him, and the many suspected not him but John to be the Christ, what would not have happened if none of these things had taken place? That is why Matthew notes that “from that time he began to preach”; and in beginning his preaching he too taught what John had preached, and says nothing yet about himself, but the preaching that John preached. For even this was for the time being something to be content with if it were received, since they did not yet have the proper opinion about him.

That is why at the beginning he sets forth nothing burdensome or oppressive, as John did, mentioning the axe and the tree being cut down, the winnowing fan and the threshing floor and the unquenchable fire; but he begins with kindly words, bringing his hearers the good news of the heavens and the kingdom there.

“And walking by the sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. And he says to them, ‘Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.’ And they left their nets and followed him.” And yet John says that they were called in another way. From this it is clear that this was a second call; and one could see this from many things. For there it says that they came to him when John had not yet been cast into prison; but here, after he had fallen into it. There Andrew calls Peter; here Jesus calls them both. And John says that Jesus, seeing Simon coming, says, “You are Simon the son of Jonah; you shall be called Cephas, which is interpreted Peter.” But Matthew says that he had already been called by this name; for “seeing,” it says, “Simon who is called Peter.” And from the place where they were called, and from many other things, one could see this, both from their obeying readily and from their leaving everything; for they had already been well instructed beforehand. For there Andrew is seen coming into the house and hearing much; but here, hearing a bare word, they followed at once. For it is likely that they had followed him from the beginning and then left him again, and when they saw John fallen into prison and Jesus himself withdrawing, had gone back again to their own trade. So, at any rate, he finds them fishing. But he neither hindered them at the first when they wished to withdraw, nor let them go altogether when they had withdrawn; but having given way when they sprang off, he comes again to win them back, which is the greatest kind of fishing.

But consider both their faith and their obedience. For though they were in the midst of their work (and you know how greedy a thing fishing is), when they heard him command, they did not delay, they did not put it off, they did not say, “Let us go home and talk with our relatives,” but leaving everything they followed, as Elisha also did with Elijah. For such is the obedience Christ seeks from us, that we should not delay even for an instant, even if something of the most necessary kind presses us hard. That is why, when another came to him and asked to bury his own father, he did not let him do even this, showing that we must prefer following him to everything. But if you should say that the promise was very great, it is for this very reason that I most admire them, that having as yet seen no sign at all, they believed so great a promise and put everything second to following him. For they believed that by the very words by which they had been caught they too would be able to catch others. To these, then, he made this promise; but to James and John he says nothing of the kind. For the obedience of those who had gone before had by now prepared the way for them. Besides, they too had already heard much about him before.

And see how precisely he hints to us their poverty as well. For he found them mending their nets. So great was the extremity of their poverty that they repaired what was worn out, not being able to buy others. And this too is meanwhile no small proof of virtue: to bear poverty easily, to be fed from honest labor, to be bound to one another by the power of love, to have their father with them and to care for him. When, then, he had caught them, he begins to work miracles in their presence, by which he confirms what John had said about him. And he continually frequented the synagogues, teaching them by this too that he was not some rival of God and a deceiver, but had come in agreement with the Father. And in frequenting them he did not only preach, but also displayed signs.

For everywhere, whenever anything new and unexpected happens, and the introduction of some way of life, God is accustomed to work signs, giving pledges of his power to those who are going to receive the laws. Thus, when he was about to make man, he created the whole world, and then gave him that law in paradise. And when he was about to give laws to Noah, again he displayed great wonders, by which he dissolved the whole creation into its elements and made that fearful sea stretch over a whole year, and by which he saved that righteous man in so great a storm. And in Abraham’s time too he provided many signs: for example, the victory in the war, the plague upon Pharaoh, the deliverance from dangers. And when he was about to give laws to the Jews, he displayed those marvelous and great wonders, and then gave the law. So here too, being about to bring in a lofty way of life and to say to them what they had never heard, he confirms what is said by the display of miracles. For since the kingdom being preached was not visible, he makes the unseen manifest from the things that are seen.

And consider the economy of words of the evangelist: how he does not relate to us each of those who were healed one by one, but in a few words runs over a snowstorm of signs. “For they brought to him,” it says, “all who were sick with various diseases and gripped by torments, and demoniacs and lunatics and paralytics, and he healed them.” But the question is this: why ever did he not require faith from any of them? For he did not say what he is later seen saying, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” Because he had not yet given proof of his power. Besides, the very act of coming and bringing the sick showed no ordinary faith. For they brought them from far away, and would not have brought them unless they had persuaded themselves of great things about him.

Let us too, then, follow him; for we too have many diseases of the soul, and these above all he wishes to heal. For it is for this reason that he corrects those others too, so that he may banish these from our soul. Let us, then, come to him and ask for nothing worldly, but for forgiveness of sins; for he gives it even now, if we are earnest. For then his fame went out into Syria, but now into the whole world. And they, hearing that he had healed demoniacs, ran together; but you, who have had a far greater and fuller experience of his power, do you not rise up and run? They left country and friends and relatives; but you do not bear to leave even your house in order to come to him and obtain much greater things? Or rather, we do not ask even this of you; only leave your evil habit, and staying at home with your own people you will be able to be saved easily. But as it is, if we have some bodily ailment, we do everything and take every trouble to be rid of what pains us; but when our soul is in a bad state, we delay and hang back. That is why we are not rid of the others either: since what is necessary becomes secondary to us, and what is secondary necessary; and leaving the spring of the evils, we want to clean out the streams. For that wickedness of soul is the cause of the evils in the body, the man paralyzed thirty-eight years showed, and the one let down through the roof, and before them Cain; and one could see this from many other places too. Let us, then, remove the spring of the evils, and all the streams of the diseases will stop. For not only paralysis is a disease, but sin too, and this more than that, as much as the soul is better than the body. Let us come to him, then, even now; let us entreat him to brace our paralyzed soul, and, leaving all worldly things, let us take account only of the spiritual. And if you hold on to those as well, take care of them after these. And do not make light of sinning because you feel no pain; rather groan most of all for this very reason, that you do not feel the pain of your offenses. For this does not come from sin not biting, but from the offending soul being without feeling. Think, at any rate, of those who feel their own sins: how they wail more bitterly than those being cut and cauterized, how much they do, how much they suffer, how much they mourn and lament, to be rid of an evil conscience; which they would not have done unless they were in great pain in their soul.

The best, then, is not to sin at all; the next after that is, when we sin, to feel it and to set ourselves right. But if we do not have this, how shall we pray to God and ask forgiveness of sins, we who take no account of them? For when you yourself, the offender, do not wish to know even this, that you have sinned, for what offenses will you entreat God? For those you do not know? And how will you know the greatness of the benefit? Tell, then, your offenses one by one, so that you may learn for what you are receiving pardon, so that in this way you may become grateful toward your benefactor. When you have provoked a man, you entreat friends and neighbors and doorkeepers, you spend money, you waste many days going to him and begging; and if the offended man repulses you once, twice, ten thousand times, you do not lose heart, but becoming more anxious you make your supplication all the greater. But when the God of all is provoked, we yawn and lose heart, we live in luxury and get drunk and do everything as usual. And when shall we be able to make him gracious? How shall we not by this very thing provoke him the more? For more than sinning, not even being pained when we sin makes him indignant and angry. Therefore it would be right for us to sink into the very earth, and not see this sun, nor breathe at all, because having so easily reconciled a Master, we both provoke him, and in provoking him do not even repent. And yet he himself, even when he is angry, does not do this hating us and turning away from us, but so that in this way he may draw us to himself. For if he kept on doing good while continually insulted, you would despise him the more. So that this may not happen, he turns away for a little, so as to have you with him forever.

Let us take courage, then, in his love for mankind, and show a careful repentance before that day comes which will not let us gain anything from it. For now everything lies in our power; but then the judge alone becomes master of the verdict. “Let us come before his face, then, with confession”; let us weep, let us lament. For if we can entreat the judge to forgive us our sins before the appointed day, there is no further need even of a hearing; just as, if this does not happen, he will hear us publicly, with the world present, and there will be no hope of pardon for us any more. For none of those who have not dissolved their sins here will, on going there, be able to escape the accounts for them; but just as those from the prisons here are brought to court with their chains, so all souls, when they depart from here, are led to the fearful judgment seat wearing the various chains of their sins. For the present life is in no better condition than a prison; but just as, when we enter that dwelling, we see all wearing chains, so now too, if we withdraw from outward show and enter into each one’s life, into each one’s soul, we shall see it wearing bonds more grievous than iron; and above all if you enter into the souls of the rich. For the more possessions they have around them, the more they are bound. Just as, then, when you see a prisoner with iron on his back and on his hands, and often on his feet too, you pity him above all for this, so also with the rich man: when you see him surrounded with countless affairs, do not think him rich for this reason, but for these very things wretched. For besides these bonds he has a harsh jailer, the wicked love of money, which does not allow him to pass beyond this prison, but prepares for him countless fetters and guards and doors and bars, and having cast him into the inner prison, persuades him even to take pleasure in these bonds, so that he may not find any hope of release from the evils that lie upon him. And if in thought you lay bare his soul, you will see it not only bound but also squalid and filthy and full of lice. For the pleasures of luxury are no better than those lice, but even more loathsome, and they ruin their body more, together with the soul, and bring countless blows of disease on both this and that. For all these reasons, then, let us entreat the redeemer of our souls to break the bonds, to remove this harsh jailer of ours, and, freeing us from the burden of those iron chains, to make our mind lighter than a feather. And while entreating him, let us also bring our own part: zeal, purpose, and good will. For so we shall be able, even in a short time, to be rid of the evils that hold us, and to learn in what state we were before, and to lay hold of the freedom that befits us; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And seeing the crowds, Jesus went up onto the mountain; and when he had sat down, his disciples came to him. And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying.” [See] his freedom from ambition and boasting. For he did not lead them about with him; but when he had to heal, he himself went about everywhere, visiting cities and countryside; and when a great crowd had gathered, he sits down in one place, and not in a city and the middle of the marketplace, but on a mountain and in a solitary place, teaching us to do nothing for display, and to get away from the bustle of the crowd, especially when we must practice philosophy and discuss necessary matters.

When he had gone up and sat down, the disciples came to him. Do you see their progress in virtue, and how suddenly they became better? For the many were spectators of the miracles; but these now desired also to hear something great and lofty. And this is what moved him to teach and made him begin these discourses. For he did not only heal bodies, but also set souls right, and again passed from caring for these to the healing of those, at once varying the benefit and mingling with the teaching of words the demonstration from deeds, and stopping the shameless mouths of the heretics, since by these means he cared for each of the two substances, showing that he himself is the creator of the whole living being. That is why he bestowed much providence on each nature, now setting right the one, now the other. This, then, is what he was doing then too. For “opening his mouth,” it says, “he taught them.” And why is “opening his mouth” added? So that you may learn that he taught even when silent, not only when he spoke; but now he opened his mouth, now he sent forth the voice that comes from deeds. And when you hear that he taught them, do not think that he was speaking to the disciples alone, but through them to all. For since the multitude was of the common sort, and moreover of those who still crawl along the ground, he set the band of the disciples before him and directs his discourse to them, contriving that in his conversation with them the teaching of philosophy should be unburdensome also to all the rest, who fell far short of what was said. Luke too hinted at this when he said that he turned his discourse to them; and Matthew too, showing this very thing, wrote that his disciples came to him and he taught them. For in this way the rest too would attend more eagerly than if he had addressed himself to all.

Where, then, does he begin, and what foundations of the new way of life does he lay for us? Let us hear what is said with precision; for it was spoken to them, but written also for the sake of all who came after. For this reason, though he directed his discourse to the disciples, he does not confine what is said to them, but brings forward all the beatitudes without restriction. For he did not say, “Blessed are you, if you become poor,” but, “Blessed are the poor.” And yet even if he had spoken to them, the counsel would have been common. For when he says, “Behold, I am with you all the days until the end of the age,” he is not speaking to them alone, but through them to the whole world; and when he calls them blessed when persecuted and driven out and suffering incurable things, he weaves the crown not for them alone, but also for all who do the same. However, so that this may become clearer, and you may learn that what is said has much in common with you, and with the whole of human nature, if one is willing to attend, hear how he begins these wonderful words. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” What is “the poor in spirit”? The humble and contrite in mind. For here he has called the soul and the will “spirit.” For since there are many humble, not willingly but forced by the necessity of their circumstances, he passes over them (for that would be no praise) and first calls blessed those who of their own choice humble and abase themselves. And why did he not say “the humble,” but “the poor”? Because this is more than that. For here he speaks of those who cower and tremble at God’s commands, whom God, greatly approving them through Isaiah the prophet too, said, “On whom will I look, but on the meek and quiet, and on him who trembles at my words?”

For there are many kinds of humility: one man is humble in moderation, another with every excess. This is the humility that the blessed prophet too praises, sketching for us not a mind simply subdued but one thoroughly crushed, when he says, “The sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit; a contrite and humbled heart God will not despise.” And the three youths too offer this to God instead of a great sacrifice, saying, “But with a contrite soul and a spirit of humility may we be accepted.” This is what Christ now calls blessed. For since the greatest evils, those that have ravaged the whole world, came in from pride (for the devil, not being such before this, became the devil in this way, as Paul too showed when he said, “lest being puffed up he fall into the condemnation of the devil”; and the first man, puffed up with these hopes by the devil, was thrown headlong and became mortal, for expecting to become a god, he lost even what he had, which is what God too, reproaching him and mocking his folly, said: “Behold, Adam has become like one of us”; and each of those who came after ran aground from here into ungodliness, imagining equality with God), since, then, this was the citadel of evils and the root and spring of all wickedness, preparing the remedy suited to the disease, he laid down this law first, like a strong and secure foundation. For when this is laid beneath, the builder sets all the rest on it in safety; but when it has been removed, even if a man’s conduct reaches up to the heavens, it is all easily undermined and comes to a grievous end. Though you gather fasting, though prayer, though almsgiving, though chastity, though any other good thing whatever, without humility all of it flows away and perishes. This is what happened in the case of the Pharisee. For after reaching the very summit, he went down having lost everything, because he did not have the mother of good things. For as pride is the spring of all wickedness, so humility is the beginning of all philosophy. That is why he begins from here, pulling up arrogance by the roots from the soul of his hearers.

“And what has this to do with the disciples,” someone says, “who were humble on every count? For they had no occasion for pride, being fishermen and poor and obscure and unlearned.” Even if these words were not for the disciples, they were at least for those present then, and for those who were to receive them afterward, so that they might not despise them on this account; or rather, they were for the disciples too. For even if not then, later they were to need this help, after the signs and miracles and the honor of the world and their boldness before God. For neither wealth nor power, not even kingship itself, was able to lift men up as much as all that belonged to them. Besides, it was likely that even then, before the signs, they would be lifted up, seeing the multitude and that theater standing around their teacher, and would feel something human. That is why he at once subdues their pride. And he does not bring in what he says in the form of exhortations and commands, but in the form of a beatitude, making his word less burdensome and opening the arena of his teaching to all. For he did not say, “this man and that man,” but “those who do these things are all blessed.” So that even if you are a slave, even if poor, even if destitute, even if a stranger, even if unlearned, nothing hinders you from being blessed, if you emulate this virtue.

Having begun, then, from where he most needed to, he proceeds to another commandment, which seems to be contrary to the vote of the world. For while all think those who rejoice enviable, and those in dejection and poverty and mourning wretched, he calls the latter blessed instead of the former, saying thus: “Blessed are those who mourn,” although everyone pities them. That is why he worked the signs beforehand, so that in making such laws he might be trustworthy. And here again he has not put simply those who mourn, but those who do this for sins; since the other kind, mourning over some worldly thing, is strictly forbidden. Paul too showed this when he said, “The sorrow of the world works death, but godly sorrow works repentance to salvation, not to be regretted.” These, then, he too here calls blessed, those who grieve in this way; and he has not put simply those who grieve, but those who grieve intensely. That is why he did not say “those who grieve” but “those who mourn.” For this commandment in turn is a teacher of all philosophy. For if those who mourn children or a wife or some other relative who has departed do not, in that season of grief, love money or bodies, do not seek glory, are not provoked by insults, are not caught by envy, are not besieged by any other passion, being given over to mourning alone, much more will those who mourn their own sins, as they deserve to be mourned, show a greater philosophy than this.

Then what is their prize? “For they shall be comforted,” he says. Where shall they be comforted, tell me? Both here and there. For since the command was very burdensome and oppressive, he promised to give what would most of all make it light. So if you want to be comforted, mourn. And do not think that what is said is a riddle. For when God comforts, even if ten thousand snowstorms of sorrows come upon you, you will be above them all. For God always gives rewards much greater than the labors; and this he has done here too, declaring those who mourn blessed, not according to the worth of the thing, but according to his own love for mankind. For those who mourn are mourning offenses, and for such it is enough to enjoy pardon and obtain acquittal. But since he is exceedingly loving toward mankind, he does not stop his recompense at the removal of punishments or at release from sins, but even makes them blessed and gives them much comfort. And he bids us mourn not only for our own offenses but also for those of others. Such were the souls of the saints; such was that of Moses, such that of Paul, such that of David; for all these often mourned the evils of others.

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” What earth, tell me? Some say a spiritual one. But this is not so; for nowhere do we find a spiritual earth in Scripture. But what then is meant? He sets forth a sensible prize, as Paul does too. For having said, “Honor your father and your mother,” he added, “for so you shall be long-lived on the earth.” And he himself again says to the thief, “Today you shall be with me in paradise.” For he exhorts not only from the good things to come, but also from the present ones, for the sake of the duller of his hearers, who seek those before the things to come. For this reason, at any rate, as he went on he said, “Be well disposed toward your adversary.” Then he sets the prize of such philosophy, and says, “lest your adversary hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the officer.” Do you see from where he made them afraid? From what happens close at hand. And again: “Whoever says to his brother, ‘Raca,’ shall be liable to the council.” And Paul too is often found setting sensible prizes and exhorting from present things, as when he speaks of virginity; for having said nothing there about the heavens, for the time being he urges from present things, saying, “because of the present distress,” and “I would spare you,” and “I want you to be free from care.” So too Christ mixed sensible things with spiritual. For since the meek man is thought to lose all that is his, he promises the opposite, saying: rather, it is he who possesses his goods in safety, the man who is not rash or boastful; while the other kind will often lose even his patrimony, and his very soul. Besides, since in the Old Testament the prophet continually said, “The meek shall inherit the earth,” he weaves his discourse from words familiar to them, so as not to speak in a strange tongue everywhere. And he says these things not limiting the rewards to the present, but bestowing those as well as these. For whether he says something spiritual, he does not take away the things of the present life; or whether in turn he promises something of this life, he does not stop his promise there. “For seek,” he says, “the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you”; and again, “Whoever has left houses or brothers shall receive a hundredfold in this age, and in the age to come shall inherit eternal life.”

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.” What righteousness? He means either virtue in general, or this particular righteousness that stands opposed to covetousness. For since he is about to give commands about almsgiving, showing how we must show mercy, namely not from robbery nor from covetousness, he calls blessed those who lay hold of righteousness.

And see with what intensity he puts it. For he did not say, “Blessed are those who hold to righteousness,” but, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,” so that we may pursue it not casually but with all desire. For since this is most characteristic of covetousness, and we do not love food and drink as much as acquiring and gathering more, he bade us transfer this desire to not being covetous. Then again he fixes a sensible prize, saying, “for they shall be filled.” For since covetousness is thought to make most people rich, he says that on the contrary it is righteousness that does this. So when you do what is just, do not fear poverty, nor tremble at famine. For it is those who seize that most of all lose everything; while he who loves righteousness possesses the goods of all in safety. And if those who do not covet others’ goods enjoy such abundance, much more those who give up their own.

“Blessed are the merciful.” Here he seems to me to speak not only of those who show mercy with money, but also of those who show it with deeds. For the manner of almsgiving is varied, and this commandment is broad. What then is its prize? “For they shall obtain mercy.” And it seems to be an equal recompense, but it is much greater than the good deed. For they show mercy as men, but they obtain mercy from the God of all. And human and divine mercy are not equal; but as great as the distance between wickedness and goodness, so far is the one removed from the other.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” See, again the prize is spiritual. By the pure he here means either those who have acquired virtue in general and are conscious of nothing evil in themselves, or those who live in chastity; for we need nothing so much in order to see God as this virtue. That is why Paul too said, “Pursue peace with all, and holiness, without which no one will see the Lord.” He speaks here of such sight as it is possible for man to have. For since many show mercy, and do not seize nor covet, but commit sexual immorality and live in licentiousness, showing that the former is not enough, he added this too. This is what Paul testified of the Macedonians, writing to the Corinthians, that they were rich not only in almsgiving but in the rest of virtue as well; for after speaking of their generosity with money, he says that “they gave themselves to the Lord and to us.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers.” Here he not only does away with our quarreling and hating one another ourselves, but seeks something more besides: that we should also bring together others who are quarreling. And again he adds a spiritual prize. What is it? “For they shall be called sons of God.” For this became the work of the Only-begotten: to bring together what was divided and to reconcile what was at war. Then, so that you may not think that peace is good everywhere, he added, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,” that is, for virtue’s sake, for the protection of others, for godliness. For he is accustomed always to call the whole philosophy of the soul righteousness.

“Blessed are you when they revile you and persecute you and say every evil word against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be glad.” As if to say: even if they call you sorcerers, even if deceivers, even if corrupters, even if anything else, “blessed are you,” he says. What could be more novel than these commands, when he says that what others shun is to be desired: I mean being poor, mourning, being persecuted, being ill spoken of? But nevertheless he both said it and persuaded, not two or ten or twenty or a hundred or a thousand men, but the whole world. And hearing what was burdensome and oppressive and contrary to the habit of the many, the crowds were astonished. So great was the power of the speaker.

However, so that you may not think that being ill spoken of simply makes men blessed, he has set two conditions: when it is for his sake, and when what is said is false. For if these are not present, the one ill spoken of is not only not blessed but even wretched. Then see the prize again: “for your reward is great in heaven.” And if you do not hear the kingdom bestowed in each of the beatitudes, do not lose heart. For even if he names the rewards differently, he brings all into the kingdom. For when he says that those who mourn shall be comforted, and the merciful shall obtain mercy, and the pure in heart shall see God, and the peacemakers shall be called sons of God, through all these he hints at nothing else than the kingdom; for those who enjoy these will certainly attain that. Do not think, then, that the prize belongs only to the poor in spirit, but also to those who hunger for righteousness, and to the meek, and to all the others without exception. For this is why he set the beatitude on all, so that you may expect nothing sensible. For he would not be blessed who is crowned with things that are dissolved with the present life and pass by quicker than a shadow.

And having said, “your reward is great,” he added another consolation too, saying, “For so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” For since that, the kingdom, was in the future and lay in hope, he provides them consolation from this, from fellowship with those who suffered ill before them. “For do not think,” he says, “that you suffer these things because you are saying and legislating something contrary, or that you are going to be driven out by them as teachers of wicked doctrines. For the plots and dangers come not from the wickedness of what is said, but from the malice of those who hear it. That is why they do not slander you who suffer ill, but those who do the ill. And all past time bears witness to this. For they did not charge the prophets with lawlessness and a mind opposed to God when they stoned some, drove out others, and entangled others in countless other evils. Do not let this disturb you, then; for they do all the present things too from the same mind.” Do you see how he raised up their spirits, setting them near Moses and Elijah? So too Paul, writing to the Thessalonians, says, “For you became imitators of the churches of God that are in Judea; for you too suffered the same things from your own countrymen as they did from the Jews, who killed both the Lord Jesus and their own prophets, and drove us out, and do not please God, and are contrary to all men.” This is what Christ too established here. And in the other beatitudes he said, “Blessed are the poor,” and “the merciful”; but here he has not put it without restriction, but turns his discourse to them, saying, “Blessed are you when they revile you and persecute you and say every evil word,” showing that this is especially their special lot, and above all other teachers this is peculiar to them. At the same time he hints here at his own dignity too, and his equality of honor with the one who begot him. “For as they suffered for the Father’s sake,” he says, “so you too will suffer these things for mine.” And when he says, “the prophets who were before you,” he shows that they too have already become prophets. Then, showing that this most of all benefits them and makes them illustrious, he did not say, “They will speak ill of you and persecute you, but I will prevent it.” For he wants their safety to lie not in not being ill spoken of, but in bearing it nobly when they are ill spoken of, and in refuting them by their deeds; for this is much greater than that, just as to suffer no harm when struck is much greater than not to be struck.

Here, then, he says, “your reward is great in heaven”; but Luke says that he said this more intensely and with more consolation. For he not only calls blessed those who are ill spoken of for God’s sake, but also calls wretched those who are well spoken of by all. “For woe to you,” he says, “when all men speak well of you.” And yet people spoke well of the apostles too, but not all. That is why he did not say, “when men speak well of you,” but “when all do.” For it is not possible for those who live in virtue to be well spoken of by all. And again he says, “When they cast out your name as evil, rejoice and leap for joy.” For he appoints a great recompense not only for the dangers they endured but also for the slander. That is why he did not say, “when they drive you out and kill you,” but “when they revile you and say every evil thing.” For slanders bite more grievously than the deeds themselves. For in dangers there are many things that lighten the toil: for example, to be anointed by all, to have many applauding and crowning and proclaiming one; but here, in slander, even this consolation is taken away. For the achievement does not seem to be anything great, and it bites the combatant more than dangers. Many, at any rate, have even gone to the noose, unable to bear an evil reputation. And why wonder at others? For that traitor, the shameless and foul man who had simply lost all shame before anything, was driven to rush to the noose most of all by this. And Job too, the adamant, firmer than rock, when he had been robbed of his money and suffered incurable calamities, and suddenly became childless, and saw his body bubbling up a spring of worms, and his wife pressing on him, repelled it all with ease; but when he saw his friends reproaching him and trampling on him, and holding an evil opinion of him, and saying that he suffered these things for his sins and was paying the penalty for wickedness, then he was disturbed, then he was troubled, that noble and great man.

And David too, passing over everything he suffered, sought a reward from God for the slander alone. “Let him curse,” he says, “for the Lord has commanded him, so that the Lord may see my humiliation and repay me for the cursing of this day.” And Paul too proclaims not only those in danger, nor only those robbed of their possessions, but these as well, speaking thus: “Remember the former days, in which, after you were enlightened, you endured a great contest of sufferings, partly being made a spectacle by reproaches and afflictions.” For this reason Christ too has set the reward as great. Then, so that no one may say, “Here you do not defend us, nor sew up their mouths, and there you give a reward?” he has set before them the prophets, showing that not even in their case did God take vengeance. And if, where the recompenses were close at hand, he anointed them for the contest from the things to come, much more now, when this hope has become clearer and the philosophy greater.

And see after how many commandments he has put this one. For he did not do it at random, but showing that it is not possible for one who has not been prepared and trained by all those to go out to these contests. That is why, always paving the way from the former commandment to the one that follows, he has woven for us a kind of golden chain. For the humble man will certainly also mourn his own sins; he who mourns will also be meek and righteous and merciful; he who is merciful and righteous and pricked to the heart will certainly also be pure in heart; and such a man will also be a peacemaker. And he who has achieved all these will also be arrayed against dangers, and will not be troubled when he is ill spoken of and suffers countless terrible things.

Having given them, then, the exhortations they needed, he again refreshes them with praises. For since the commands were lofty and much greater than those in the Old Testament, so that they might not be alarmed and troubled and say, “How shall we be able to achieve these things?” hear what he says: “You are the salt of the earth,” showing that he gives these commands of necessity. “For not for your own life,” he says, “but for the whole world will the account be required of you. For I am not sending you to two cities, or ten, or twenty, nor to one nation, as I sent the prophets, but to land and sea and the whole world, and that in a bad state.” For by saying, “You are the salt of the earth,” he showed that the whole of human nature had lost its savor and had rotted under sins. That is why he seeks from them these virtues, which are most necessary and useful for the care of the many. For the meek and gentle and merciful and righteous man does not shut up his good deeds in himself alone, but makes these good springs overflow for the benefit of others too. Again, the one who is pure in heart and a peacemaker and persecuted for the truth orders his life toward the common good. “Do not think, then,” he says, “that you are being drawn into ordinary contests, nor that the account you must give concerns small matters: you are the salt of the earth.”

What then? Did they set right what was rotten? Not at all. For it is not possible to benefit things already corrupted by sprinkling salt on them. This was not what they did; but things first renewed and handed over to them, and freed from that stench, they then salted, keeping and preserving them in the freshness they had received from the Master. For to be freed from the rot of sins was the achievement of Christ; but not to return to it again was the work of their zeal and toil. Do you see how little by little he shows them to be better even than the prophets? For he says that they are teachers not of Palestine but of the whole earth; and not simply teachers, but formidable ones. For the wonderful thing is this, that not by flattering nor by courting, but by stinging like salt, they became beloved of all. “Do not wonder, then,” he says, “if I leave the others and speak to you, and drag you into such great dangers. For consider over how many cities and peoples and nations I am going to send you as overseers. That is why I want you not only to be wise yourselves, but also to make others such. And such men must be very discerning, in whose hands the salvation of others is at stake, and must have such an abundance of virtue as to share the benefit with others as well. For if you do not become such, you will not suffice even for yourselves.”

“Do not be vexed, then, as though what is said were burdensome. For when others have lost their savor, it is possible for them to return through you; but you, if you should suffer this, will destroy others as well as yourselves. So the greater the matters entrusted to you, the greater the zeal you need.” That is why he says, “But if the salt has lost its savor, with what shall it be salted? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.” For others, falling ten thousand times, can obtain pardon; but the teacher, if he suffers this, is deprived of every defense and will pay the utmost penalty. For so that, hearing “when they revile you and persecute you and say every evil word against you,” they might not be afraid to come forward into the open, he says: “Unless you are arrayed against these things, you have been chosen in vain.” For it is not being ill spoken of that you must fear, but being seen to join in the hypocrisy; for then you will lose your savor and be trampled on. But if you keep stinging them and then are ill spoken of, rejoice. For this is the work of salt: to bite and pain the slack. So slander necessarily follows, doing you no harm, but even bearing witness to your firmness. But if, fearing it, you betray the vehemence that befits you, you will suffer much more grievously, being both ill spoken of and despised by all. For this is what being trampled on means.

Then he leads them to another, loftier example: “You are the light of the world.” Again, “of the world,” not of one nation nor of twenty cities, but of the whole world; and a spiritual light, much better than this sunbeam, just as the salt too is spiritual. And first salt, and then light, so that you may learn how great is the gain of stinging words and the benefit of a severe teaching. For it binds and does not let men run loose, and makes them see clearly, leading them by the hand to virtue. “A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor do they light a lamp and put it under the bushel.” Again by these words he leads them to strictness of life, teaching them to be watchful, as men lying under the eyes of all and contending in the middle of the theater of the world. “Do not look at this,” he says, “that we are sitting here now and are in a small corner; for you will be as conspicuous to all as a city set on the top of a mountain, as a lamp shining in a house on the lampstand.” Where now are those who disbelieve the power of Christ? Let them hear these things, and, astonished at the power of the prophecy, let them worship his might. For consider how great were the things he promised to men who were not known even in their own country: that land and sea would know them, and that they would reach the ends of the world by their fame; or rather not by fame only, but by the working of their beneficence. For it was not fame carrying them everywhere that made them known, but the very demonstration given by their works. For as though they had become winged, they ran over the whole earth more swiftly than the sunbeam, sowing the light of godliness.

But here he seems to me to be anointing them for boldness as well. For to say, “A city set on a hill cannot be hidden,” is the speech of one displaying his own power; for just as it is impossible for that city to be hidden, so it is impossible for the preaching to be silenced and to lie concealed. For since he had spoken of persecutions and slanders and plots and wars, so that they might not think that these would be able to stop their mouths, he encourages them and says that it will not only not lie hidden, but will shine upon the whole world; and for this very reason they will be illustrious and conspicuous. By this, then, he displays his own power; and by what follows he demands boldness from them, speaking thus: “Nor do they light a lamp and put it under the bushel, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. So let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” “For I have lit the light,” he says; “but that it remain burning, let that be the work of your zeal, not for your own sakes only, but for the sake of those who are to enjoy this brightness and be led by the hand to the truth. For slanders will not be able to overshadow your brightness, if you live with strictness, and as men who are going to convert the whole world. Show, then, a life worthy of the grace, so that as that is proclaimed everywhere, so this too may run along with it.” Then he sets down another gain too, besides the salvation of men, sufficient to make them watchful and to lead them to every effort. “For you will not only set the world right,” he says, “by living rightly, but will also cause God to be glorified; just as by doing the opposite you will both destroy men and cause the name of God to be blasphemed.”

“And how,” someone says, “will God be glorified through us, if men are going to slander us?” But not all will; and even those who do this out of envy will in their conscience admire you and approve you, just as those who openly flatter men living in wickedness accuse them in their minds. “What then? Do you bid us live for display and ambition?” Away with it! That is not what I mean. For I did not say, “Be eager to bring your good deeds into the open,” nor did I say, “Show them,” but, “Let your light shine”; that is, let your virtue be great, and the fire abundant, and the light unspeakable. For when virtue is so great, it is impossible for it to lie hidden, even if the one who pursues it should try ten thousand times to overshadow it. Offer them a blameless life, and let them have no true occasion for accusation; and even if your accusers are ten thousand, no one will be able to overshadow you. And he rightly said “light.” For nothing makes a man so conspicuous, even if he wishes ten thousand times to lie hidden, as the display of virtue. For as though he were clothed with the sunbeam itself, so he shines more brightly than it, sending his rays not onto the earth only but passing beyond heaven itself. From here too he comforts them the more. “For even if you are pained,” he says, “at being blasphemed, you will have many who admire God because of you.” And on both sides the reward is gathered for you, both when God is glorified through you and when you are blasphemed for God’s sake. For so that we might not make a practice of being ill spoken of, having learned that the thing has a reward, he did not put that simply either, but with two conditions: namely, when false things are said, and when it is for God’s sake. And he shows that not only that, but also being well spoken of brings great gain, since the glory passes on to God; and he holds out kind hopes to them. “For the slander of the wicked,” he says, “is not so strong as to darken the others’ eyes so that they cannot see your light. For only when you have lost your savor will they trample on you, not when you are slandered for doing what is right. For then there will be many who admire, not you only, but through you your Father too.” And he did not say “God” but “the Father,” already laying down beforehand the seeds of the nobility that was to be given them. Then, showing his equality of honor, above he said, “Do not grieve when you are ill spoken of; it is enough for you to hear these things for my sake”; but here he puts the Father, everywhere showing the equality.

Knowing, then, the gain from this zeal and the danger of indolence (for it is much worse than our own destruction that our Master should be blasphemed because of us), let us give no offense to Jews or to Greeks or to the church of God, offering a life brighter than the sun; and if anyone wishes to slander us, let us not grieve at being ill spoken of, but at being justly ill spoken of. For if we live in wickedness, even if there is no one to slander us, we are the most wretched of all; but if we take care of virtue, even if the whole world speaks ill of us, then we shall be the most enviable of all, and shall draw to us all who choose to be saved; for they will attend not to the slander of the wicked but to the virtue of our life. For the demonstration given by works is clearer than any trumpet, and a pure life is brighter than light itself, even if those who slander are ten thousand. [For if] we have all the things mentioned before, and are meek and humble and merciful, and pure and peacemakers, and when ill spoken of do not insult in return but even rejoice, we shall draw those who behold us no less than by signs; and all will be well disposed toward us, even if one is a wild beast, even if a demon, even if anything whatever. And if there should be some who slander, do not be troubled at all by this, nor look at the fact that they insult you in public, but examine their conscience, and you will see them applauding you and admiring you and reckoning up ten thousand praises. See, at any rate, how Nebuchadnezzar praises the youths in the furnace, although he was an enemy and a foe; but when he saw them standing nobly, he proclaims and crowns them, for no other reason than that they disobeyed him and obeyed the law of God. For the devil, when he sees himself accomplishing nothing, at last departs, afraid of becoming the cause of more crowns for us; and when he has departed, even if someone is foul and corrupted, he will recognize virtue, once that mist has been removed. And if men too should reason amiss, you will have the praise from God, and the admiration will be greater.

Do not grieve, then, nor lose heart; for the apostles too were to some the savor of death, and to others the savor of life. For if you give no handle, you are free from all the charges, or rather you have become more blessed. Shine, then, in your life, and take no account of those who slander. For it is not possible, it is not possible, for one who cares for virtue not to have many enemies. But this is nothing to the virtuous man; for through such things he will be the more illustrious. Considering these things, then, let us look to one thing only, to order our own life with strictness; for so we shall also lead by the hand to the life there those who sit in darkness. For such is the power of this light, that it shines not only here, but also leads those who follow it there. For when they see us despising all present things and preparing for what is to come, they will be persuaded by our deeds before any word. For who is so senseless as, seeing the man who yesterday and the day before was living in luxury and wealth now stripping himself of everything and taking wing, and arrayed against hunger and poverty and every hardship, against dangers and blood and slaughter and all that seems terrible, not to receive from this a clear proof of the things to come? But if we entangle ourselves in present things and push ourselves further into them, how will they be able to be persuaded that we are hastening to another journey? And what defense will we have any longer, when the fear of God does not have as much power with us as human glory had with the philosophers of the Greeks? For some of them both stripped themselves of money and despised death, in order to make a display before men; that is why their hopes too have become empty. What argument, then, will rescue us, when, with so much set before us and so great a philosophy opened to us, we cannot do even as much as they, but destroy both ourselves and others besides? For a Greek doing lawless things does not do as much harm as a Christian doing them; and very naturally. For their reputation is ruined, but ours, by the grace of God, is revered and illustrious even among the ungodly. That is why, when they most want to reproach us and to magnify the accusation, they add this: “and a Christian!”, which they would not say unless they had a great opinion of our doctrine.

Have you not heard how many and how great are the things Christ commanded? When, then, will you be able to accomplish one of those commandments, when you leave everything and go about collecting interest, stitching loans together, arranging business deals, buying herds of slaves, making silver vessels, buying fields and houses and countless furnishings? And would that it were only this! But when to these untimely pursuits you add injustice too, cutting off land, tearing away houses, grinding down poverty, increasing hunger, when will you be able to set foot on these thresholds? “But sometimes I also show mercy to the poor.” I know it too; but there again there is great damage. For you do this either with conceit or with vainglory, so as not to profit even from your good deeds. What could be more wretched than this, when you are shipwrecked even in the harbor? So that this may not happen, when you have done some good thing, do not seek thanks from me, so that you may have God as your debtor. “For lend,” he says, “to those from whom you do not expect to receive.” You have a debtor; why do you leave him and demand payment from me, a poor and miserable man? Is the debtor annoyed when payment is demanded? Is he poor? Is he unwilling to pay? Do you not see his unspeakable treasures? Do you not see his indescribable generosity? Lay hold of him, then, and demand payment; for so he rejoices when payment is demanded of him. But if he sees another asked to pay for what he owes, he will be disposed as one insulted, and will no longer repay you, but will even justly accuse you. “For what ingratitude,” he says, “have you found in me? What poverty do you know in me, that you pass me by and go to another? You lent to one, and you demand payment from another?” For even if a man received it, it was God who bade you pay it out, and he wishes to be himself both the original debtor and the surety, giving you countless occasions to demand payment of him from every side. Do not, then, leave such ease and abundance and seek to receive from me who have nothing. For why do you display to me that you have shown mercy to a poor man? Did I say to you, “Give”? Did you hear it from me, that you should demand payment from me? He himself said, “He who has mercy on the poor lends to God.” You lent to God; put it to his account. “But he does not repay all of it now.” This too he does for your sake. For such is this debtor: not as many are, eager only to repay what was lent, but he does and arranges everything so that what was given may also be laid up in safety. That is why he pays down part here and stores up part there.

Knowing these things, then, let us show great mercy and much love for mankind, both with money and with deeds. And if we see someone suffering ill and being beaten in the marketplace, if it is possible to pay down money, let us do it; if it is possible to settle it with words, let us not hesitate. For there is a reward even for a word, or rather even for groans. And this is what the blessed Job said: “I wept for every one in distress, and I groaned when I saw a man in necessities.” And if there is a reward for tears and groans, how much more when there are both words and effort? For we too were enemies to God, and the Only-begotten reconciled us, casting himself into the middle, receiving blows for us, and enduring death for us. Let us, then, also be eager to deliver those who fall into countless evils; and not, as we do now, when we see people clashing and tearing at one another, stand there delighting in others’ disgrace, and forming a theater around them that belongs to the devil. What could be more cruel than this? You see people insulted, tearing themselves, ripping their clothes, beating their faces, and you bear to stand by quietly? Is the man fighting a bear? A wild beast? A serpent? He is a man who shares everything with you; he is a brother, he is a member. Do not watch, but separate them; do not take pleasure, but set them right; do not stir up others to the disgrace, but scare off and disperse those who have gathered too. For to rejoice at such misfortunes belongs to the shameless and to house-born slaves, to the scum and to senseless asses. You see a man disgracing himself, and do you not think that you yourself are disgraced? Do you not go into the middle and scatter the devil’s battle line and break up human evils? “So that I may receive blows myself?” you say; “do you bid me do this?” Most likely you will not even suffer this; but if you do suffer it, the thing is a martyrdom for you, for you suffered for God’s sake. And if you shrink from receiving blows, consider that your Master did not shrink from enduring the cross for you. For they are drunk and in darkness, with anger tyrannizing over them and commanding them, and they need someone in his senses to help them, both the one doing wrong and the one wronged: the one, to be freed from suffering ill; the other, to stop doing ill. Go up, then, and stretch out your hand, you who are sober, to the drunken man. For there is a drunkenness of anger too, and it is more grievous than that from wine.

Do you not see the sailors, who, when they see some men caught in a shipwreck, spread their sails and go off with great haste to snatch their fellow craftsmen from the waves? And if partners in a craft show such protection, how much more is it right to do all these things for partners in nature! For here too there is a shipwreck more grievous than that. For either a man blasphemed when abused, and emptied out everything; or, tyrannized by anger, he swore falsely and again fell into hell; or he deals a blow and commits murder, and again suffers this same shipwreck. Go, then, and stop the evil, and pull up those who are drowning, going down into the very sea of the storm; and having broken up the devil’s theater and taken each aside by himself, exhort him to quell the flame and to lull the waves to sleep. And if the blaze is greater and the furnace becomes fiercer, do not be afraid; for you have many who will lend a hand and stretch out a hand, if only you make a beginning, and above all the God of peace. And if you are the first to shake off the flame, many others will follow too, and you yourself will receive the reward for what they achieve.

Hear what Christ commanded the Jews, who crawled on the ground: “If you see the beast of burden of your enemy fallen down,” he says, “do not pass by, but raise it up.” And yet to separate and reconcile men who are fighting is much easier than to raise a fallen beast of burden. And if we must raise up the ass of our enemies, much more must we help raise the souls of our friends, and above all when the fall is more grievous; for these fall not into mud but into the fire of hell, not bearing the burden of anger. But you, seeing your brother lying under his load, and the devil standing over him and kindling the blaze, pass by cruelly and pitilessly, which it is not safe to do even in the case of a dumb animal. And the Samaritan, seeing a wounded man unknown to him and in no way related to him, both stopped and set him on his beast and brought him to the inn and hired a physician, and gave part of the money and promised the rest. But you, seeing a man fallen not among robbers but among a battle line of demons and under the siege of anger, not in a desert but in the middle of the marketplace, when you are not going to spend money, nor hire a beast, nor accompany him a long way, but only to speak words, do you hesitate and hang back and pass by cruelly and pitilessly? And how do you expect ever to have God gracious to you when you call on him?

But let me speak also to you who disgrace yourselves in public, to the one who abuses and does wrong. Do you lay on blows, tell me, and kick and bite? Have you become a wild boar and a wild ass? And are you not ashamed, do you not blush, to turn into a wild beast and betray your own nobility? For even if you are poor, you are free; even if you are a craftsman, you are a Christian. For this very reason, that you are poor, you must keep quiet. For fighting belongs to the rich, not to the poor; to the rich, who have many causes of wars. But you, without having the pleasure of wealth, go about gathering for yourself the evils of wealth, enmities and quarrels and fights, and you choke your brother and throttle him and throw him down in public with everyone watching; and do you not think rather that you yourself are disgraced, imitating the impulses of irrational animals, or rather becoming worse even than they? For with them all things are common, and they flock together and go about with one another; but with us nothing is common, but everything is upside down: fights, quarrels, abuse, hatreds, and insults. And we revere neither heaven, to which we have all been called in common, nor the earth, which he has given up to all in common, nor nature itself; but anger and the love of money have swept everything away. Did you not see that man who owed the ten thousand talents, and then, after their remission, was choking his own fellow servant for a hundred denarii, what evils he underwent and how he was handed over to deathless punishment? Do you not dread the example? Are you not afraid that you too may suffer the same? For we too owe the Master many and great debts; but nevertheless he bears with us and is long-suffering, and neither presses upon us, as we do upon our fellow servants, nor throttles and chokes us; and yet if he had chosen to demand even the smallest part of them from us, we should have perished long ago.

Considering these things, then, beloved, let us be humbled, and let us be grateful to those who owe to us; for they become for us an occasion of the greatest pardon, and by giving a little we shall receive much. Why, then, do you demand payment with violence, when you ought, even if he were willing to pay, to forgive him, so that you may receive the whole from God? But as it is, you do everything, using force and contention, so that nothing of yours may be forgiven; and you think you are injuring your neighbor, but you are driving the sword against yourself, increasing your punishment in hell; whereas if you practice a little philosophy here, you make your accounts gentle for yourself. For God wants us to begin such generosity for this reason, so that he may have an occasion to give us more in return. As many debtors, then, as you have, of money and of sins, set them all free and demand of God the reward for such magnanimity. For as long as they remain your debtors, you will not have God as your debtor; but if you release them, you will be able to lay hold of God and demand, with great munificence, the reward for so great a philosophy. For if a man came by and, seeing you holding someone liable, bade you release him and look to himself for the account owed on his behalf, he would not choose to be ungrateful after the release, since he had transferred the whole to himself; how will God not repay many times and ten thousand times over, when at his command we let those liable to us go away free of liability, bringing no charge against them, small or great? Let us not, then, consider the momentary pleasure that comes to us from exacting payment from those who are liable, but the loss we shall endure from it in the future, harming ourselves in what is deathless. Rising above all things, then, let us forgive both money and offenses to those liable to us, so that we may make our own accounts gentle; and what we were not able to achieve by the rest of virtue, obtaining this by not bearing grudges against our neighbors, may we enjoy the eternal good things, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Do not think that I came to destroy the law [or] the prophets.” [Who] suspected this, or who accused him, that he should make a reply to it? For no such suspicion arose from what had been said; for to bid men be meek and gentle and merciful and pure in heart, and to strive for righteousness, showed nothing of the kind, but quite the opposite. Why ever, then, did he say this? Not at random or idly; but since he was about to legislate commandments greater than the old ones, saying, “You have heard that it was said to the ancients, ‘You shall not kill’; but I say to you, do not even be angry,” and to cut the road of a divine and heavenly way of life, so that the novelty might not trouble the souls of the hearers and make them rebel against what was said, he uses this correction in advance. For even if they did not fulfill the law, still they were held by a great scrupulousness toward it; and though in deeds they were breaking it every day, they wanted the letters to remain unmoved and no one to add anything more to them; or rather, they put up with their rulers adding to them, not for the better but for the worse. For they were in this way undoing the honor due to parents by their own additions, and they were loosening many other things in the law by these untimely excesses. Since, then, Christ was neither of the priestly tribe, and what he was about to introduce was a kind of addition, not lessening but heightening virtue, foreseeing that both these things would trouble them, before writing those wonderful laws he casts out what was about to lurk in their minds. And what was it that lurked and stood in the way? They thought that in saying these things he was acting to abolish the old ordinances. He heals this suspicion, then. And he does this not only here but elsewhere too. For since they thought him to be opposed to God for this reason too, because he did not keep the sabbath, healing this suspicion of theirs he again offers defenses there as well: some befitting himself, as when he says, “My Father is working, and I am working”; others with much condescension, as when he brings forward a sheep perishing on the sabbath and shows the law set aside for its safety, and mentions circumcision, which again does this same thing. That is why he often speaks humbler words too, so as to remove the impression of being opposed to God. That is why he who had raised countless dead by a word alone, when he was calling Lazarus, added a prayer too; then, so that this might not show him less than the one who begot him, correcting the suspicion, he added, “I said these things because of the crowd standing around, that they may believe that you sent me.” And he neither does everything as one with authority, so as to correct their weakness, nor does he do everything with prayer, so as not to leave to those who came after a ground for wicked suspicion, as though he were weak and powerless; but he mixes these with those, and those with these. And even this he does not do at random, but with the wisdom that befits him. For doing the greater things with authority, in the lesser he looks up to heaven. For in forgiving sins, revealing hidden things, opening paradise, driving out demons, cleansing lepers, bridling death, and raising the dead by the thousand, he did everything by command; but when he was making many loaves spring from a few, which was much less than these, then he looked up to heaven, showing that he does not do this from weakness. For how would he who was able to do the greater things with authority have needed prayer in the lesser? But, as I said, he does this to stop the mouths of their shamelessness. Reason the same way, then, in regard to his words too, when you hear him speaking humble things. For there are reasons for such words and deeds: for example, that he might not be thought alien to God; that he was instructing and healing all; that he was teaching humility; that he was clothed with flesh; that the Jews could not hear everything at once; that he was teaching us to say nothing great about ourselves. That is why, having often said many humble things about himself, he leaves the great things to others to say.

For he himself, when conversing with the Jews, said, “Before Abraham came to be, I am”; but his disciple not so, but, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Again, that he himself made heaven and earth and sea and all things visible and invisible, he himself nowhere said plainly; but the disciple, with great boldness and holding nothing back, says this once and twice and many times, writing, “All things came to be through him, and without him not one thing came to be,” and, “He was in the world, and the world came to be through him.” And why do you wonder if others have said greater things about him than he said himself, when many things that he displayed by deeds he did not say plainly in words? For that he himself made man, he showed plainly also through the blind man; but when his discourse was about the first fashioning, he did not say, “I made them,” but, “He who made them made them male and female.” Again, that he created the world and the things in it, he demonstrated through the fishes, through the wine, through the loaves, through the calm on the sea, through the sunbeam he turned back at the cross, and through many other things; but in words he nowhere said this plainly, while the disciples continually utter it, John and Paul and Peter. For if they, who heard him conversing night and day, and saw him working miracles, to whom he explained many things in private, and to whom he gave so great power as even to raise the dead, and whom he made so perfect that they left everything for him, after so great virtue and philosophy were not able to bear everything before the bestowal of the Spirit, how would the Jewish people, devoid of understanding, falling far short of such virtue, and coming to what was done and said only by chance, ever have been persuaded that he was not alien to the God of all, had he not used such great condescension in everything? That is why, when he was setting the sabbath aside too, he did not introduce such legislation directly, but puts together many and various defenses. And if, when about to set aside one commandment, he uses so careful an arrangement of words so as not to shock his hearers, much more, when adding a whole other legislation to the whole law, did he need much preparation and care, so as not to alarm those who were then listening. That is why he is not seen everywhere teaching plainly about his own divinity either. For if the addition to the law so alarmed them, much more would his declaring himself God. That is why he utters many things far below his own dignity; and here, being about to go on to the addition to the law, he uses much advance correction. For he did not say once, “I do not destroy the law,” but took it up again a second time and added something else greater. For having said, “Do not think that I came to destroy,” he added, “I did not come to destroy, but to fulfill.”

And this not only stops the shamelessness of the Jews, but also sews up the mouths of the heretics who say that the Old Testament is from the devil. For if Christ had come to destroy the devil’s tyranny, how is it that he not only does not destroy it but even fulfills it? For he did not only say, “I do not destroy,” though that would have been enough, but also, “I fulfill,” which belongs not only to one who is not opposed to it, but to one who even confirms it. “And how,” someone says, “did he not destroy it? And how did he fulfill either the law or the prophets?” The prophets, by confirming in his deeds all that had been said about him; that is why the evangelist said in each case, “that what was spoken by the prophet might be fulfilled,” both when he was born, and when the children sang that wonderful hymn to him, and when he sat on the ass; and in many other cases he fulfilled this same thing, all of which would have remained unfulfilled if he had not come. And the law he fulfilled not in one way only, but in a second and a third. In one way, by transgressing none of the ordinances. For [that] he fulfilled all of it, hear what he says to John: “For thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” And to the Jews he said, “Which of you convicts me of sin?” And to the disciples again: “The ruler of this world is coming, and he finds nothing in me.” And the prophet too had said long before that “he committed no sin.” In one way, then, he fulfilled it in this manner; and in another, by doing this through us as well. For the wonderful thing is this, that not only did he himself fulfill it, but he also granted this to us. Paul too showed this when he said that “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes.” And he said that he condemned sin in the flesh, “so that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh.” And again: “Do we then abolish the law through faith? By no means! On the contrary, we establish the law.” For since the law was striving for this, to make man righteous, but was too weak, he came himself and, bringing in the way of righteousness that is through faith, established the purpose of the law; and what the law could not do by letters, he accomplished by faith. That is why he says, “I did not come to destroy the law.”

And if one examines it precisely, he will find another, third way in which this came about. What is it? That of the legislation to come, which he was about to deliver. For what was said was not an abolition of the former things but an intensification and fulfillment. For not being angry is not an abolition of not killing, but its fulfillment and greater security; and so with all the others. That is why, having laid down the seeds of these beforehand without arousing suspicion, at the point where, from the setting of the old and new ordinances side by side, he was going to be more clearly suspected of opposing them, he uses the correction in advance. For he had already laid them down in a veiled way through what had been said. For “Blessed are the poor” is the same as not being angry; and “Blessed are the pure in heart” the same as not looking at a woman to lust; and not laying up treasures on earth agrees with “Blessed are the merciful”; and mourning, being persecuted, and being reviled are equal to entering by the narrow gate; and hungering and thirsting for righteousness is nothing other than what he says later: “Whatever you wish that men should do to you, do so to them.” And having called the peacemaker blessed, he said almost the same thing again when he bade us leave the gift and hasten to be reconciled with the one we had pained, and to be well disposed toward our adversary. But there he set the prizes of those who do right, here the punishments of those who do not. That is why there he said, “The meek shall inherit the earth,” but here, “Whoever calls his brother a fool shall be liable to the hell of fire”; and there, “The pure in heart shall see God,” but here, that the man who looks licentiously is a complete adulterer; and having there called the peacemakers sons of God, here he makes them afraid from the other side, saying, “Lest your adversary hand you over to the judge.” So too, having called blessed those who mourn and those who are persecuted in the earlier part, in what follows, establishing this same thing, he threatens destruction to those who do not walk this way; “for those who walk by the broad way,” he says, “end up there.” And “You cannot serve God and mammon” seems to me to be equal to “Blessed are the merciful” and “those who hunger for righteousness.” But, as I said, since he was going to say these things more clearly, and not only more clearly but to add more than had been said (for he no longer seeks merely a merciful man, but bids him give up even his tunic; nor simply a meek man, but one who turns the other cheek to the one who wants to strike him), he first removes the apparent contradiction.

For this reason, as I said before, he said this not once but twice. For having said, “Do not think that I came to destroy,” he added, “I did not come to destroy, but to fulfill. For truly I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, one iota or one stroke shall not pass from the law, until all things come to pass.” What he means is this: it is impossible for it to remain unaccomplished, but even its smallest part must be fulfilled. And this he himself did, completing it with all precision. And here he hints to us that the whole world too is being transformed. And he did not put this at random, but to raise up the hearer and to show that he was justly bringing in another way of life, if indeed all things in creation were to be transformed, and the human race called to another country and a loftier way of living.

“Whoever then breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven.” For when he had freed himself from the evil suspicion and stopped the mouths of those who wished to contradict, then at last he also makes them afraid and sets the greatest threat on behalf of the legislation to come. For that he said this not on behalf of the old laws but on behalf of those he himself was about to legislate, hear what follows: “For I say to you,” he says, “unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” But if he were threatening on behalf of the old laws, how could he say, “unless it exceeds”? For those who did the same things they did could not exceed them in the measure of righteousness. But what was the excess? Not being angry, not even looking at a woman licentiously. Why then did he call them least, though they are so great and lofty? Because he himself was about to introduce the legislation. For as he humbled himself and speaks of himself modestly in many places, so too about his own legislation, teaching us in this too to be modest everywhere. Besides, since there was some suspicion of innovation, for the time being he uses restrained language. And when you hear “least in the kingdom of heaven,” suspect nothing other than hell and punishment. For he is accustomed to call “kingdom” not only the enjoyment, but also the time of the resurrection and that fearful coming. For how would it be reasonable that the man who calls his brother a fool and transgresses one commandment should fall into hell, while the one who breaks whole commandments and leads others to do so should be in the kingdom? This, then, is not what he says, but that at that time he will be least, cast away, last; and the last will certainly fall into hell then. For being God, he foreknew the indolence of the many, and that some would think that what was said was merely hyperbole, and would reason about the laws and say, “If someone calls another a fool, is he punished? If someone simply looks, does he become an adulterer?” That is why, removing this negligence beforehand, he set the greatest threat for both, both for those who transgress and for those who lead others to do so. Knowing the threat, then, let us neither transgress ourselves nor weaken those who wish to keep these things.

“But whoever does and teaches them,” he says, “shall be called great.” For we must be useful not only to ourselves, but to others too. For the reward is not equal for the one who sets himself right and for the one who brings another with him. For as teaching without doing condemns the teacher (“you who teach another,” it says, “do you not teach yourself?”), so doing but not guiding others lessens the reward. We must, then, be outstanding in both, and having first set ourselves right, so go on to the care of others. For this is why he himself put doing before teaching, showing that in this way most of all a man will be able to teach, and otherwise not at all. For he will hear, “Physician, heal yourself.” For he who cannot teach himself and tries to set others right will have many mocking him; or rather such a man will not even be able to teach, since his deeds speak against him. But if he is perfect on both sides, he “shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.”

“For I say to you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” Here he calls the whole of virtue righteousness, just as in speaking of Job too it says, “And he was a blameless man, righteous.” In this sense Paul too called that man righteous for whom he said no law is laid down: “For the law is not laid down for the righteous,” he says. And in many other places one could find this name used of virtue in general. But consider, I beg you, the increase of grace, where he will have the newly come disciples be better than the teachers in the Old Testament. For here he did not speak of scribes and Pharisees who were lawless, but of those who did right; for if they had not done right, he would not have said that they had righteousness, nor would he have compared what did not exist with what did. And see here too how he commends the Old Testament by making a comparison of it with the new; which shows that it is of the same kind and akin; for the more and the less belong to the same kind. He does not, then, disparage the Old Testament, but wants it intensified. But if it were wicked, he would not have sought the more, nor have set it right, but would have cast it out. “And how,” someone says, “if it is such, does it not bring into the kingdom?” It does not now bring in those who live after the coming of Christ, since they have enjoyed greater power and ought to strive for greater things; for its own nurslings it does bring in, all of them. For “many,” he says, “shall come from east and west and shall recline in the bosoms of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.” And Lazarus too, enjoying the great prizes, is seen dwelling in his bosom. And all who shone exceedingly in the Old Testament all shone through it. And Christ, if it had been wicked and alien, would not have fulfilled the whole of it when he came. For if he did this only to draw the Jews, and not to show that it is akin to the new and in harmony with it, why did he not also fulfill the laws and customs of the Greeks, so as to draw the Greeks? So it is clear from every side that it does not bring in, not because it is wicked, but because it is the time of greater commandments. And if it is less perfect than the new, not even this shows it to be wicked; since in this respect the new too will suffer this same thing. For our knowledge too, compared with that which is to come, is partial and imperfect, and is done away when that comes: “for when the perfect comes,” it says, “then the partial will be done away”; just what the old suffered from the new. But we shall not disparage it for this reason, although it too gives way when we attain the kingdom (“for the partial will be done away,” it says); but nevertheless we say that it is great. Since, then, the prizes are greater and the power from the Spirit more abundant, he rightly demands greater things too, … the gifts. For it is no longer a land flowing with milk and honey, nor a rich old age, nor many children, nor grain and wine and flocks and herds; but heaven and the good things in the heavens, and adoption, and brotherhood with the Only-begotten, and a share in the inheritance, and being glorified and reigning together with him, and those countless prizes. And that we have enjoyed greater help, hear Paul saying: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life has set me free from the law of sin and death.”

Having, then, threatened the transgressors and set great prizes for those who do right, and having shown that he justly demands of us more than the former measures, he now begins the legislation, not simply, but by comparison with the old ordinances, wishing to show two things: that he legislates these things not in conflict with the former ones but in full agreement, and that he rightly and very opportunely adds the second to the first. And so that this may become clearer, let us listen to the very words of the lawgiver. What then does he say? “You have heard that it was said to the ancients, ‘You shall not kill.’” And yet it was he himself who gave those commandments too; but for the time being he puts them impersonally. For if he had said, “You have heard that I said to the ancients,” the word would have been hard to accept and would have offended all who heard; and if again, having said, “You have heard that it was said to the ancients by my Father,” he had added, “But I say,” the presumption would have seemed greater. That is why he put it simply, contriving only one thing by it: to show that he had come at the fitting time in saying these things. For by saying, “It was said to the ancients,” he indicated the long time since they had received this commandment. And he did this to shame the hearer who shrank from going on to the loftier commands, as if a teacher should say to a lazy child, “Do you not know how much time you have spent practicing syllables?” This, then, he hints at by the word “ancients,” and summons them at last to the greater teachings, as if he were saying, “You have had time enough practicing these, and now you must press on to things loftier than these.” And it is well too that he does not confuse the order of the commandments, but begins from the first, from which the law too began; for this too belongs to one showing their harmony.

“But I say to you that whoever is angry with his brother without cause shall be liable to the judgment.” Do you see authority complete? Do you see a bearing befitting a lawgiver? For which of the prophets ever spoke thus? Which of the righteous? Which of the patriarchs? None; but, “Thus says the Lord.” But not so the Son. For they announced the things of their Master, but he those of the Father. And when I say “those of the Father,” I mean his own; “for all mine,” he says, “are yours, and yours are mine.” And they legislated for their fellow servants, but he for his own servants. Let us ask, then, those who reject the law: is not being angry contrary to not killing, or is it rather its perfection and support? It is plain that this is its fulfillment, and greater on this account. For he who is not carried away into anger will much more abstain from murder; and he who bridles his temper will much more keep his hands to himself. For the root of murder is anger. He, then, who cuts out the root will much more remove the branches; or rather, will not let them grow at all.

So he legislated these things not to abolish the law, but for its greater safeguarding. For with what aim did the law give these commands? Was it not so that no one should kill his neighbor? So it would belong to one fighting the law to command [killing]; for killing is the opposite of not killing. But if he does not even allow anger, he establishes all the more what the law wanted. For the man who practices not killing will not abstain from murder as well as the one who has removed even anger; for the latter stands further off from the deed.

But so that we may refute them in another way too, let us bring into the open everything they say. What, then, do they say? They say that the God who made the world, who makes the sun rise on the evil and the good, who sends rain on the just and the unjust, is someone evil. The more moderate of them, forsooth, decline to say this, but while saying that he is just, they deprive him of being good; and they give Christ as Father another, who does not exist and made nothing of what exists. And they say that the one who is not good stays within his own and keeps what is his, while the good one covets what belongs to another, and suddenly wants to become the savior of things of which he was not the creator. Do you see the children of the devil, how they speak from the spring of their father, alienating creation from God, when John cries out that “he came to his own,” and that “the world came to be through him”? Then, examining the law in the Old Testament that commands taking an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, they immediately pounce, saying, “And how could he be good who says these things?” What then do we say to this? That it is the greatest kind of love for mankind. For he did not lay down this law so that we should knock out one another’s eyes, but so that, from fear of suffering at the hands of others, we might abstain from doing any such thing to others. Just as, then, he threatened the Ninevites with overthrow, not in order to destroy them (for if he had wanted that, he should have kept silent), but in order to make them better by fear and so stop his anger, so too for those who rashly attack the eyes of others he appointed a punishment, so that even if they would not abstain from cruelty from a good choice, they might be prevented by fear from injuring their neighbors’ sight. But if that is cruelty, so too is restraining the murderer and stopping the adulterer. But these are the words of fools and of those raving with the utmost madness. For I am so far from saying that these things belong to cruelty that I would say that the opposite of these would be against the law, by human reckoning. For you say that because he commanded taking an eye for an eye, he is therefore cruel; but I say that if he had not commanded this, then he would have seemed to most people to be what you say. For let us suppose for argument’s sake that the whole law has been dissolved, and that no one fears the punishment from it, but that all the wicked are free to follow their own way with complete impunity, adulterers and murderers and thieves and perjurers and parricides: would not everything have been turned upside down, and would not cities and marketplaces and houses and land and sea and the whole world have been filled with countless pollutions and murders? That is plain to everyone. For if, when there are laws and fear and threats, wicked purposes are restrained with difficulty, if even this safeguard had been removed, what would prevent men from choosing vice? And how great a ruin would not have rioted into human life? For it is not only cruel to allow the wicked to do what they want, but another thing, no less than this, is to overlook, without providing for him, the man who has done no wrong but suffers ill rashly and for nothing. For tell me: if someone gathered wicked men from every side, armed them with swords, and ordered them to go round the whole city and slaughter all they met, could anything be more savage than this? And what if someone else bound and imprisoned with all vigor those armed by that man, and snatched those about to be slaughtered from the hands of those lawless men: could anything be more humane than this? Transfer these examples, then, to the law as well. For he who commands digging out an eye for an eye has cast fear like a strong bond on the souls of the wicked, and resembles the one who imprisons those swordsmen; but he who sets them no punishment all but arms them with impunity, and imitates the one who put the swords in their hands and let them loose upon the whole city. Do you see how the commands belong not to cruelty but to great love for mankind?

But if for this reason you call the lawgiver harsh and burdensome, tell me, which is more toilsome and heavier: not to kill, or not even to be angry? Who is more severe: the one who exacts penalties for murder, or the one who does so even for anger? The one who subjects the adulterer to punishment after the deed, or the one who bids that a penalty be paid even for the desire itself, and a deathless penalty? Do you see that their argument has turned round to the opposite? And the God of the Old Testament, whom they call cruel, will be found gentle and mild; while the God of the New, whom they confess to be good, will be burdensome and heavy, according to their folly. For we say that there is one and the same lawgiver of both covenants, who ordered all things as was needful and fitted the difference of the two legislations to the difference of the times. So neither were those commands cruel, nor are these oppressive and burdensome, but all belong to one and the same care. For that he himself also gave the Old Testament, hear what the prophet says; or rather, why should I say “the prophet”? He and this one are the same: “I will make a covenant with you, not according to the covenant that I made with your fathers.” And if the one sick with the disease of the Manichees does not accept this, let him hear Paul saying the same thing again: “For Abraham had two sons, one by the slave woman and one by the free woman; and these are two covenants.” As, then, there the women are different, but the husband is one, so here too there are two covenants, but one lawgiver. And so that you may learn that it belonged to one and the same gentleness, there he says, “An eye for an eye,” but here, “If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.” For as there he chastens the wrongdoer by the fear of suffering, so here too. “And how,” someone says, “when he bids us offer him the other cheek too?” And what of that? For he did not give this command to dissolve the fear, but as bidding you offer him the chance to take his fill of the whole; nor did he say that the other remains unpunished, but, “Do not you punish him”; at once frightening the striker more if he persists, and consoling the one struck.

But these things have been said by us about all the commandments in passing, as one might say. We must now come to what is before us and keep to the sequence of what was said earlier. “Whoever is angry with his brother without cause shall be liable to the judgment,” he says. For he did not abolish the thing altogether: first, because it is not possible for one who is a man to be free of passions; it is possible to master them, but impossible to be entirely without them; then, because this passion is even useful, if we know how to use it at the fitting time. See, at any rate, how much good Paul’s anger against the Corinthians brought about then. For it freed them from great ruin; and it won back the nation of the Galatians, which had fallen away, and many others besides. What then is the fitting time for anger? When we are not avenging ourselves, but restraining others who are running wild and turning back the indolent. And what is the unfitting time? When we do this avenging ourselves. Paul too forbade this when he said, “Not avenging yourselves, beloved, but give place to wrath”; and when we fight about money; for he removed this too when he said, “Why not rather suffer wrong? Why not rather be defrauded?” For as this anger is superfluous, so that is necessary and profitable. But most people do the opposite, turning into wild beasts when they are wronged, but slack and soft when they see another abused; both of which are contrary to the laws of the Gospel. It is not, then, being angry that is against the law, but doing it out of season. That is why the prophet too said, “Be angry and do not sin.”

“Whoever says to his brother, ‘Raca,’ shall be liable to the council.” By “council” he here means the court of the Hebrews; and he has put it now so as not to seem everywhere to speak strangely and to innovate. And this “raca” is not a word of great insult, but rather of contempt and some slighting on the part of the speaker. For as we, when giving orders to servants or to some inferiors, say, “Go, you; tell so-and-so, you,” so those who use the Syrian tongue say “raca,” putting it instead of “you.” But God, who loves mankind, pulls up even the smallest things, bidding us treat one another fittingly and with due honor, so that through these the greater things too may be removed. “Whoever says, ‘Fool,’ shall be liable to the hell of fire.” To many this command seemed heavy and burdensome, if we are to pay so great a penalty for a bare word; and some say it was spoken rather hyperbolically. But I fear lest, having deceived ourselves here with words, we suffer the utmost punishment there in deeds.

For why, tell me, does the command seem to you burdensome? Do you not know that most punishments and sins have their beginning from words? For blasphemies come through words, and denials through words, and abuse and insults and perjuries and false witness and killing. Do not look, then, at the fact that it is a bare word, but examine whether it does not carry great danger. Or do you not know that in a time of enmity, when anger is ablaze and the soul on fire, even the smallest thing seems great, and what is not very insulting seems grievous? And often these small things have even given birth to murder and overthrown whole cities. For as, when there is friendship, even grievous things are light, so when enmity underlies, even small things appear unbearable; and even if something is said simply, it is thought to have been said with evil intent. And as with fire, if the spark is small, even if ten thousand logs lie beside it, it does not easily take hold of them; but if it becomes a fierce and high flame, it easily seizes not only wood but stones too and all material that falls into it, and is kindled the more by the very things by which it is usually quenched (for some say that then not only wood and tow and other combustibles but even water thrown on it fans its strength the more), so too with anger: whatever one says becomes at once food for this evil blaze. Restraining all these beforehand, Christ condemned to the judgment the one who is angry without cause (that is why he said, “He who is angry shall be liable to the judgment”), and the one who says “raca” to the council. But these are not yet great; for the punishments are here. That is why to the one who calls another a fool he added the fire of hell, now for the first time naming hell. For having spoken much about the kingdom before, then he mentioned this, showing that that is from his love for mankind and his will, but this from our indolence.

And see how he advances little by little in the punishments, all but defending himself to you and showing that he himself does not wish to threaten any such thing, but we drag him to such sentences. For consider: “I said,” he says, “‘Do not be angry for nothing, since you are liable to the judgment.’ You despised the first. See what anger gave birth to: it led you straight into insult; for you called your brother ‘raca.’ Again I set another punishment, the council. If you overlook this too and go on to something worse, I no longer punish you with these moderate penalties, but with the deathless punishment of hell, so that you may not at last leap into murder as well.” For there is nothing, there is nothing, more unbearable than insult, nothing that can bite a man’s soul more. And when the word of the insult itself is more stinging, the blaze becomes double. Do not think, then, that it is an ordinary thing to call someone a fool. For when you take away from your brother that by which we differ from irrational animals and by which above all we are men, mind and understanding, you have deprived him of all his nobility. Let us not, then, simply attend to the words, but entering into the things themselves and the passion, let us consider how great a wound this word inflicts and to how great an evil it leads. That is why Paul too excluded from the kingdom not only adulterers and the effeminate but also revilers; and very rightly. For the insulter ruins the good of love, entangles his neighbor in countless evils, produces continual enmities, tears apart the members of Christ, and drives away every day the peace that God longs for, giving the devil much room through his insults and making him stronger. That is why Christ too, cutting out the sinews of his power, brought in this law. For he takes great account of love. For it, the mother of all good things, the mark of the disciples, that which holds together all that concerns us, is this above all. Rightly, then, does he remove with great vehemence the roots and springs of the enmity that ruins it. Do not think, then, that what is said is a kind of hyperbole; but considering what is achieved by it, admire the gentleness of these laws. For nothing is so earnestly sought by God as that we be united and bound to one another. That is why, both by himself and through his disciples, both those in the New Testament and those in the Old, he takes great account of this commandment, and is a severe avenger and punisher of those who despise the matter. For nothing so brings in and roots all wickedness as the removal of love. That is why he said, “When lawlessness is multiplied, the love of the many will grow cold.” Thus Cain became a fratricide, thus Esau, thus the brothers of Joseph; thus countless evils rioted in when this was torn apart. That is why he himself also removes with great precision on every side the things that ruin it.

And he does not stop at what has been said, but adds still more besides, by which he shows how great an account he takes of love. For having threatened by the council and the judgment and hell, he added again other things in harmony with the former, speaking thus: “If you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go first and be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” O the goodness! O the surpassing love for mankind! He disregards the honor paid to himself for the sake of love toward one’s neighbor, showing that the former things too which he threatened he did not threaten out of any hatred or desire to punish, but out of great affection. For what could be gentler than these words? “Let my worship be interrupted,” he says, “so that your love may remain”; since this too is a sacrifice, reconciliation with one’s brother. For this reason he did not say, “after you have offered,” or “before you offer”; but while the gift itself is lying there and the sacrifice has begun, he sends him to be reconciled to his brother; and neither after clearing away what has been set out nor before setting it out, but while it lies in the middle, he bids him run there. For what reason does he bid him do this, and why? He hints at and establishes two things by this, as it seems to me: one, as I said, wishing to show that he greatly honors love and considers it the greatest sacrifice, and without it does not accept that one either; and the other, laying on him a necessity of reconciliation that cannot be refused. For the man who has been commanded not to offer until he has been reconciled, even if not out of love for his neighbor, at least so that his offering may not lie unfinished, will hasten to run to the one he has pained and dissolve the enmity. That is why he has said everything most vividly, frightening him and rousing him. For having said, “Leave your gift,” he did not stop there, but added, “before the altar,” throwing him into awe again by the place too, “and go.” And he did not simply say, “Go,” but added, “first, and then come and offer your gift,” showing by all these that this table does not receive those who are at enmity with one another. Let the initiated hear, as many as come with enmity; let the uninitiated hear too; for the word has something in common with them as well. For they too bring a gift and sacrifice; I mean prayer and almsgiving. For that this too is a sacrifice, hear what the prophet says: “A sacrifice of praise will glorify me”; and again, “Sacrifice to God a sacrifice of praise”; and, “The lifting up of my hands is an evening sacrifice.” So even if you are offering prayer with such a disposition, it is better to leave the prayer and go to be reconciled with your brother, and then to offer the prayer. For it is for this that everything was done; for this God too became man and wrought all those things, so that he might bring us together.

Here, then, he sends the wrongdoer to the one wronged; but in the prayer he leads the one wronged to the wrongdoer, and reconciles them. For there he says, “Forgive men their debts”; but here, “If he has something against you, go to him.” Or rather, here too he seems to me to be sending the one wronged; that is why he did not say, “Reconcile your brother to yourself,” but, “Be reconciled”; and what is said seems to be on behalf of the one who has caused pain, but the whole is on behalf of the one pained. “For if you are reconciled to him,” he says, “through your love toward him you will have me too gracious, and you will be able to offer the sacrifice with great boldness. And if you are still inflamed, consider that I too gladly bid my own things to be disregarded so that you may become friends; and let this be a consolation for your anger.” And he did not say, “When you have been greatly wronged, then be reconciled,” but, “even if he has anything at all against you.” And he did not add, “whether justly or unjustly,” but simply, “if he has something against you.” For even if it is justly, not even so [keep up] the enmity; since Christ too was justly angry with us, but nevertheless gave himself up to slaughter for us, not reckoning those trespasses. That is why Paul too, urging us to reconciliation in another way, said, “Let not the sun go down on your anger.” For as here Christ presses us to this very thing from the sacrifice, so there Paul does from the day. For he fears the night, lest, catching the one who has been struck alone, it make the wound worse. For in the day there are many who distract and draw him away; but at night, when he is alone and reckons things up by himself, the waves swell and the storm becomes greater. That is why Paul, forestalling this, wants to hand us over to the night [already reconciled], so that the devil may have no further occasion from the solitude to kindle the furnace of anger and make it fiercer. So too Christ does not allow even a little delay, lest when the sacrifice is completed such a man become more indolent, putting it off from day to day. For he knows that the passion needs great speed; and as a wise physician puts down not only preventives of diseases but also correctives, so does he. For forbidding to call someone a fool is a preventive of enmity; and bidding to be reconciled removes the diseases that come after enmity. And see how each is laid down with vehemence. For there he threatened hell; but here he does not accept the gift before the reconciliation, showing great anger, and by all these removing both the root and the fruit. And first he says, “Do not be angry”; and after this, “Do not revile.” For both of these grow by each other: from enmity reviling, from reviling enmity. That is why now he heals the root, now the fruit, preventing the evil from even growing at all at the beginning, and if it should sprout and bear its most wicked fruit, burning it out all the more from every side.

That is why, having spoken of the judgment and the council and hell, and having discoursed about his own sacrifice, he adds other things again, speaking thus: “Be well disposed toward your adversary quickly, while you are on the way with him.” For so that you may not say, “What then if I am wronged? What then if I am robbed and dragged into court?” he took away this occasion and excuse too; for he bids us not to be at enmity even so. Then, since this command was great, he makes his counsel from the present things, which are accustomed to restrain the duller sort more than the things to come. “For what do you say?” he says, “that he is more powerful and does wrong? Then he will wrong you more if you do not settle, but are forced to go to court. For then, by giving up money, you will have your body free; but once you have come under the judge’s verdict, you will be bound and will pay the utmost penalty. But if you avoid the fight there, you will reap two good things: both suffering nothing unpleasant, and the good deed becoming yours, and no longer the result of his violence. [But if] you are unwilling to be persuaded by what is said, you wrong not him so much as yourself.” And see here too how he urges him on. For having said, “Be well disposed toward your adversary,” he added, “quickly”; and he was not content with this, but sought another intensification of this speed, saying, “while you are on the way with him,” by these words pushing him and pressing him with great vehemence. For nothing so overturns our life as delaying and putting off in the doing of good. Often, at any rate, this has made us lose everything. As, then, Paul says, “Before the sun goes down, dissolve the enmity,” and he himself in what preceded, “Before the offering is completed, be reconciled,” so here too he says, “quickly, while you are on the way with him,” before you come to the doors of the court, before you stand at the judgment seat and come at last under the authority of the one judging. For before the entrance you are master of everything; but if you set foot on those thresholds, not even with great effort will you be able to arrange your affairs as you wish, having come under another’s necessity. And what is “to be well disposed”? He means this: either be willing rather to be wronged, or judge the case as though holding his place, so as not to corrupt justice by self-love, but deliberating about another’s matter as though it were your own, so that you may bring in this verdict. And if this is a great thing, do not wonder. For this is why he set all those beatitudes beforehand, so that, having smoothed and prepared the hearer’s soul beforehand, he might make it more fit for receiving all this legislation.

Some say that by the name of “adversary” he hints at the devil himself, and bids us have nothing of his, for this is what being well disposed toward him means, since it is not possible to settle after our departure from here, when inexorable punishment awaits us thereafter. But to me he seems to be speaking about the judges here, and the road to the court, and this prison. For since he had shamed them from the higher things and the things to come, he frightens them also from those in the present life. This is what Paul too does, leading on the hearer both from the things to come and from the present ones. For example, when turning men away from vice, he shows the evildoer the ruler armed, speaking thus: “But if you do evil, be afraid; for he does not bear the sword in vain; for he is God’s minister.” And again, bidding us be subject to him, he puts forward not only the fear of God but also that one’s threat and his care: “Therefore one must be subject, not only because of wrath but also because of conscience.” For, as I said before, the things that are visible and close at hand are accustomed to set right the more unreasoning sort. That is why Christ too mentioned not only hell but also the court and being led away and the prison and all the misery there, by all these removing the roots of murder. For he who neither reviles nor goes to law nor prolongs enmity, how will he ever commit murder? So it is clear from this too that our advantage lies in our neighbor’s advantage. For he who is well disposed toward his adversary will benefit himself much more, freeing himself from courts and prisons and the misery there.

Let us obey, then, what is said, and not resist nor contend in return; for above all, even before the prizes, these commands have pleasure and benefit in themselves. And if to the many they seem oppressive and to give much toil, consider that you do these things for Christ’s sake, and what is painful will be sweet. For if we keep this thought always, we shall experience nothing burdensome, but shall reap much pleasure from every side. For the toil will no longer appear toil, but the more it is intensified, the sweeter and more pleasant it becomes. When, then, the [habit] of evil things persists in bewitching you, and the desire for money, set against it that thought which says that we shall receive a great reward by despising momentary pleasure; and say to your soul: “Are you very dejected because I deprive you of pleasure? But rejoice, because I am procuring heaven for you. You do it not for man’s sake, but for God’s. Bear up, then, a little, and you will see how great the gain is. Endure in the present life, and you will receive unspeakable boldness.” For if we reason with it in this way, and do not consider only the burdensomeness of virtue but also reckon up its crown, we shall quickly draw it away from all vice. For if the devil, though he shows pleasure to be momentary and pain to be continual, nevertheless prevails and wins, when with us these things are the other way round, the toilsome momentary and the pleasant and profitable deathless, what excuse will we have if we do not pursue virtue after so much encouragement? For the purpose of our toils is enough for us in place of everything, and being clearly persuaded that we endure all these things for God’s sake. For if a man who has the king as his debtor thinks he has security enough for his whole life, consider how great will be the one who has made the God who loves mankind and lives forever his debtor for good deeds small and great. Do not, then, put forward to me toils and sweat. For God has made virtue light not only by the hope of things to come but also in another way, lending us a hand everywhere and helping us. And if only you are willing to bring a little zeal, everything else follows. For this reason … For as a king wants his own son to be present at the battle, and to shoot, and to be seen, so that the trophy may be reckoned to him, while he himself accomplishes the whole, so too God does in the war against the devil. For he asks one thing only of you, that you show genuine enmity toward him; and if you give him this, he himself accomplishes the whole war. Even if anger is blazing, even if the desire for money, even if any other tyrannical passion, he comes quickly, if only he sees you stripped for the contest against it and prepared; and he makes everything easy, and sets you above the flame, as he did those youths then in the Babylonian furnace; for they too brought nothing more than their resolve.

So that we too, then, quenching here every furnace of disorderly pleasure, may escape hell there, let us deliberate and take thought and act on these things every day, drawing God’s goodwill by our purpose toward the good and by frequent prayers. For so even the things that now seem unbearable will be very easy and light and lovely. For as long as we are in the passions, we think virtue rough and hard and uphill, and vice desirable and most pleasant; but if we stand back from them a little, then the latter will appear loathsome and ugly, and the former easy and smooth and desirable. And this can be clearly learned from those who have achieved it. Hear, at any rate, how Paul is ashamed of the former even after his release from them, saying, “For what fruit did you have then in the things of which you are now ashamed?”; while the latter he calls light even after the toil, calling the toilsome affliction momentary and light, and rejoicing in sufferings, and exulting in afflictions, and thinking highly of the marks borne for Christ. So that we too, then, may be established in this habit, ordering ourselves every day by what has been said, forgetting what lies behind and stretching forward to what lies ahead, let us press on toward the prize of the upward call; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“You have heard that it was said to the ancients, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Having completed the first commandment and stretched it to the height of philosophy, proceeding now by method and order, he goes on to the second, obeying the law here too. “And yet this is not the second,” someone says, “but the third. For the first is not ‘You shall not kill,’ but ‘The Lord your God is one Lord.’” So it is worth asking why he did not begin from there. Why, then? Because if he had begun from there, he would have had to heighten that one too and bring himself in along with it. But it was not yet the time to teach anything of the kind about himself. Besides, for the time being he was training them in moral teaching, wishing first by this and by the miracles to persuade his hearers that he was the Son of God. For to say at once, before saying or doing anything, “You have heard that it was said to the ancients, ‘I am the Lord your God, and besides me there is no other’; but I say to you, worship me too, as him,” would have made everyone attend to him as to a madman. For if even after his teaching and so many signs, when he was not yet saying this openly, they called him possessed by a demon, if before all these things he had attempted to say anything of the kind, what would they not have said, what would they not have thought? But by keeping the teaching about these things for the fitting time, he made the doctrine easy for the many to receive. That is why he now passed it by; and having established it everywhere from the signs and from his excellent teaching, later he revealed it in words too. For the present, by the display of the signs and by the very manner of his teaching, he opens it a little, gradually and gently. For to legislate and correct such things with authority led the attentive and sensible hearer little by little to the meaning of the doctrine. “For they were astonished at him,” it says, “because he did not teach as their scribes.”

For beginning from the most general of our passions, I mean anger and desire (for these above all are the tyrants in us, and more natural than the others), with great authority, and as much as befitted a lawgiver, he both corrected them and ordered them with all precision. For he did not say only that the adulterer is punished, but what he did in the case of the murderer he does here too, punishing even the licentious look, so that you may learn where he puts the “more” beyond the scribes. That is why he says, “He who looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery with her”; that is, he who makes it his business to pry into beautiful bodies, to hunt after comely faces, to feast his soul on the sight, and to nail his eyes on fair countenances. For he came to free not only the body from wicked deeds but, before it, the soul too. For since we receive the grace of the Spirit in the heart, he cleanses it first.

“And how is it possible,” someone says, “to be rid of desire?” First, if we are willing, it is possible for this too to be put to death and to remain inactive. Besides, here he does not simply remove desire, but the desire that comes from looking. For he who is eager to look at comely faces is the very one who most kindles the furnace of the passion, makes his soul captive, and soon comes to the act too. That is why he did not say, “whoever desires so as to commit adultery,” but “whoever looks so as to desire.” And in the case of anger he set a qualification, saying “without cause” and “for nothing”; but here not so, but he removed desire once for all. And yet both are implanted in us, and both lie in us usefully, anger and desire: the one so that we may punish the wicked and correct the disorderly; the other so that we may beget children and our race may be held together by such successions. Why then did he not set a qualification here too? Indeed, if you pay attention, you will see a very great qualification lying here too. For he did not simply say, “whoever desires” (since one can desire even while sitting on the mountains), but, “whoever looks so as to desire”; that is, he who gathers desire for himself, who with nothing compelling him brings the wild beast in upon a reasoning that is at rest. For this no longer comes from nature but from indolence. This the Old Testament too corrects long before, saying, “Do not gaze at another’s beauty.” Then, so that no one might say, “What then if I gaze and am not caught?” he punishes the look, lest, emboldened by this impunity, you should at some time fall into sin. “What then,” someone says, “if I look and desire, but do nothing wicked?” Even so you stand with the adulterers. For the lawgiver has pronounced, and there is no need to inquire further. For if you look in this way once, twice, three times, perhaps you will be able to master yourself; but if you do this continually and kindle the furnace, you will certainly be caught; for you do not stand outside human nature. As, then, if we see a child holding a knife, even if we do not see it struck, we beat it and forbid it ever to hold one, so God too removes the licentious look even before the deed, lest it should ever fall into the deed. For he who has once kindled the flame, even when the woman he saw is absent, continually fashions within himself images of shameful things, and from them often goes on to the deed. That is why Christ removes even the embrace in the heart.

What then would those say who have virgins living with them? For by the setting of this law they would be liable for countless adulteries, looking at them every day with desire. That is why the blessed [Job] too laid down this law for himself from the beginning, walling off from himself every such gazing. For the struggle is greater after seeing and not enjoying the beloved; and we do not reap as much pleasure from the sight as the ruin we endure from increasing the desire, making our adversary strong and giving the devil more room, and no longer able to repel him when we have let him into the innermost parts and thrown open our mind to him. Therefore do not commit adultery with your eyes, and you will not commit adultery in your mind. For there is another way of looking too, as the chaste look. That is why he did not simply remove looking, but looking with desire. If he had not meant this, he would have said, “He who looks at a woman,” simply; but as it is he did not speak so, but, “he who looks so as to desire,” he who looks so as to delight his sight. For God did not make your eyes for this, that you might bring in adultery through them, but that, seeing his creatures, you might admire the Creator. As, then, it is possible to be angry without cause, so it is possible to look without cause, when you do it for desire. For if you want to look and take delight, look at your own wife and love her always; no law forbids it. But if you are going to pry into others’ beauty, you wrong her by letting your eyes wander elsewhere, and you wrong the one you looked at by touching her unlawfully. For even if you did not touch her with your hand, you handled her with your eyes; that is why this too is reckoned adultery, and even before that punishment it brings on a punishment of no ordinary kind. For all within is filled with tumult and disturbance, the storm is great and the pain most grievous, and the man who suffers this will be in no better state than captives and prisoners. And often the woman who shot the arrow has flown away, but the wound remains even so. Or rather, it was not she who shot the arrow, but you who dealt yourself a mortal wound by looking licentiously.

And I say these things to free chaste women from the charge. For if a woman should adorn herself and call to herself the eyes of those she meets, even if she does not wound the one who comes upon her, she pays the utmost penalty. For she mixed the poison and prepared the hemlock, even if she did not offer the cup; or rather she even offered the cup, even if no one was found to drink. “Why then does he not speak to them too?” someone says. Because he lays down his laws everywhere in common, even if he seems to address men only; for in speaking to the head, he makes his exhortation common to the whole body as well. For he knows man and woman to be one living being, and nowhere divides the race.

And if you want to hear the rebuke directed specifically against them, hear Isaiah saying much addressed to them and mocking their bearing, their glance, their gait, their trailing tunics, their tripping feet, their bent necks. Hear after him the blessed Paul too, laying down many laws for them, about garments and gold and braiding of hair and luxury and other such things, and rebuking this sex sharply. And Christ too showed this very thing in a veiled way by what follows; for when he says, “Pluck out and cut off the one who causes you to stumble,” he speaks showing his anger against them. That is why he added, “If your right eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out and throw it from you.” For so that one might not say, “What then if she is a relative? What then if she is otherwise connected to me?” he gave these commands, not speaking about limbs, away with the thought! For nowhere does he say that the charges belong to the flesh, but everywhere the accusation is of the wicked will. For it is not the eye that sees, but the mind and the reasoning. Often, at any rate, when we are turned elsewhere, the eye does not see those present; so the whole is not of its working. For if he had been speaking about limbs, he would not have spoken about one eye, nor about the right one only, but about both. For he who is caused to stumble by the right one will clearly suffer the same from the left too. Why then did he put the right one, and add the hand? So that you may learn that the discourse is not about limbs but about those closely related to us. For “if you love someone so much,” he says, “as to have him in place of a right eye, or think him so useful as to hold the rank of a hand, and he harms your soul, cut these off too.” And see the emphasis. For he did not say, “Stand away,” but, showing the great separation, “pluck it out,” he says, “and throw it from you.” Then, since he had commanded severely, he shows the gain on both sides, both from the good things and from the evil, keeping to the metaphor: “For it is better for you,” he says, “that one of your members perish, than that your whole body be thrown into hell.” For when he neither saves himself and destroys you as well, what love for mankind is it for both to be drowned, when by separating at least one could be saved? “Why then did Paul choose to become accursed?” someone says. Not so as to gain nothing, but so that others might be saved. But here the harm comes to both; that is why he did not say only, “pluck it out,” but also, “throw it from you,” so as no longer to take it back, if he remains such. For in this way you will both free him from a greater charge and set yourself free from destruction. And so that you may see the gain of the law more clearly, let us, if you will, examine what was said in the case of the body, as a supposition. For if a choice were set before you, and it were necessary either to keep the eye and be thrown into a pit and perish, or to pluck it out and save the rest of the body, would you not accept the second? That is plain to everyone. For this would be the act not of one hating the eye but of one loving the rest of the body. Reason the same way in the case of men and women. For if the one who harms you by his friendship should remain incurable, being cut off in this way he will both free you from all ruin and himself be freed from the greater charges, no longer giving account for his own evils together with your destruction. Do you see how full of gentleness and care the law is, and how great a love for mankind what seems to the many to be severity displays? Let those who hasten to the theaters hear these things, who make themselves adulterers every day. For if the law bids us cut off one who is our own when he does harm, what defense could they have who every day draw to themselves, through their time spent there, people not yet even known to them, and prepare for themselves countless occasions of destruction? For he no longer allows even looking licentiously; but since he had shown the harm from the thing, he even intensifies the law as he goes on, bidding us cut off and sever and throw far away. And he who has spoken countless words about love lays down these laws, so that from both sides you may learn his providence, and how in every way he seeks what is good for you.

“It was said, ‘Whoever puts away his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that whoever puts away his wife, except for the cause of sexual immorality, makes her commit adultery; and whoever marries a woman who has been put away commits adultery.”

He does not go on to what lies ahead until he has cleaned out the former things well. For see, he shows us yet another kind of adultery. What is this? There was an old law laid down that the man who hated his own wife for any cause whatever was not prevented from casting her out and bringing in another in her place. Yet the law did not bid him do this simply, but by giving the woman a certificate of divorce, so that she would not be free to return to him again, so that at least the form of marriage might remain. For if it had not commanded this, but it had been allowed to cast her out and take another and then bring back the first, there would have been great confusion, with everyone continually taking one another’s wives, and the thing would then have been plain adultery. That is why he devised no small mitigation, the certificate of divorce. And these things came about because of another, much greater wickedness. For if he had compelled the man to keep her inside even when hated, the one who hated her would have slaughtered her; for such was the nation of the Jews. For those who did not spare children, who killed prophets and poured out blood like water, would much less have spared women. That is why he allowed the lesser, cutting out the greater. For that this law was not the primary intention, hear him saying, “Moses wrote these things because of your hardness of heart,” so that you might not slaughter them inside, but cast them out. But since he himself removed all anger, forbidding not only murder but even simply being enraged, he brings in this law too with ease. That is why he always reminds them of the former words, to show that what he says is not contrary to them but in agreement, intensifying them, not overturning them, and correcting, not dissolving.

And see him everywhere speaking to the man. For “he who puts away his wife,” he says, “makes her commit adultery; and he who marries a woman who has been put away commits adultery.” For the one, even if he does not take another, by this very act has made himself liable to the charge, having made her an adulteress; and the other, by taking another man’s wife, has in turn become an adulterer. For do not tell me that he cast her out; for even when cast out she remains the wife of the one who cast her out. Then, so that putting the whole on the one who casts her out might not make the woman more presumptuous, he also shut against her the doors of anyone who would receive her afterward, by saying, “Whoever marries a woman who has been put away commits adultery,” chastening the woman even against her will, walling off from her the entrance to all, and not allowing her to give occasions for pettiness. For she who learns that there is every necessity either to keep the husband allotted to her from the beginning, or, if she is put out of that house, to have no other refuge, was compelled even against her will to love her partner. And if he says nothing to her about these things, do not wonder; for woman is the weaker. That is why, leaving her aside, he corrects her indolence by the threat against the men. Just as if someone who had a prodigal son were to leave him aside and rebuke those who make him such, and forbid them to associate with him or come near him. And if this is burdensome, remember, I beg you, what was said before, for which he called his hearers blessed, and you will see that it is very possible and easy. For the meek man and the peacemaker and the poor in spirit and the merciful, how will he cast out his wife? He who reconciles others, how will he himself quarrel with his own? And not in this way only, but in another way too he made the law light. For he leaves him too one way of release, saying, “except for the cause of sexual immorality”; since otherwise it would come round again to the same thing. For [if] he had commanded him to keep inside even a woman who associates with many, he would again have turned the matter into adultery. Do you see how these things agree with the former ones? For he who does not look at another woman with licentious eyes will not commit sexual immorality; and not committing sexual immorality, he will not give her husband occasion to cast out his own wife. That is why he now builds up fear as a wall with full freedom, shaking before the husband the great danger if he should cast her out; for he makes himself liable for her adultery. For so that, hearing “pluck out the eye,” you might not think that these things are said about a wife too, he opportunely added this further correction, allowing her to be cast out in one way only, and in no other.

“Again, you have heard that it was said to the ancients, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but you shall render to the Lord your oaths.’ But I say to you, do not swear at all.” Why did he not go straight on to theft, but to false witness, passing over that commandment? Because the thief sometimes also swears; but he who knows neither how to swear nor how to lie will much less choose to steal. So by this he overturned that sin too; for falsehood comes from stealing. And what is “You shall render to the Lord your oaths”? That is, you shall tell the truth when you swear. “But I say to you, do not swear at all.”

Then, leading them further away from swearing by God, he says, “Neither by heaven, for it is the throne of God; nor by the earth, for it is the footstool of his feet; nor by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King,” still speaking from the prophetic writings and showing that he is not opposed to the ancient ones; for they had the custom of swearing by these, and he shows this custom toward the end of the Gospel. But see, I beg you, from what he exalts the elements: not from their own nature, but from God’s relation to them, which is spoken of by way of condescension. For since the tyranny of idolatry was great, so that the elements might not seem to be honorable in themselves, he set down the reason we have mentioned, which again passed over to the glory of God. For he did not say, “because heaven is beautiful and great,” nor, “because the earth is useful,” but, “because the one is the throne of God, and the other his footstool,” on every side pressing them toward the Master. “Nor by your head,” he says, “for you cannot make one hair white or black.” Here again it is not out of admiration for man that he led them away from swearing by the head (for then he himself would have been worshiped), but bringing the glory up to God and showing that you are not master even of yourself, and so not of oaths by your head either. For if no one would give his own child to another, much more will God not give up his own work to you. For even if the head is yours, it is the possession of another; and you are so far from being its master that you will not be able to do even the very least thing in it. For he did not say, “You cannot pull out a hair,” but, “you cannot even change its quality.”

“What then,” someone says, “if someone demands an oath and brings compulsion to bear?” Let the fear of God be stronger than the compulsion. For if you are going to put forward such excuses, you will keep none of the commands. For about the wife too you will say, “What then if she is quarrelsome and extravagant?” And about the right eye: “What then if I love it and am on fire?” And about the licentious look: “What then if I cannot help looking?” And about anger against a brother: “What then if I am rash and cannot control my tongue?” And so you will simply trample on everything that has been said. And yet in the case of human laws you nowhere dare to put this forward, nor to say, “What then if such and such?” but willingly or unwillingly you accept what is written. Besides, you will never even undergo compulsion. For he who has heard the beatitudes above and has made himself such as Christ commanded will undergo no such compulsion from anyone, being respected and revered by all.

“But let your yes be yes and your no no; what is more than these is from the evil one.” What then is what is more than yes and no? The oath, not perjury. For that is agreed upon, and no one needs to learn that it is from the evil one, and that it is not something more but something contrary; but “what is more” is the excess, what is added over and above, which is the oath. “What then,” someone says, “was it from the evil one? And if it was from the evil one, how was it law?” You will say this same thing about the wife too: how is what was formerly permitted now reckoned adultery? What then can one say to this? That the things said then belonged to the weakness of those who received the laws; since to be served with the savor of sacrifice is quite unworthy of God, just as lisping is unworthy of a philosopher. Such a thing, then, has now been reckoned adultery, and swearing from the evil one, now that the things of virtue have advanced. But if these had been laws of the devil from the beginning, they would not have achieved so much. For if those had not run on before, the present things would not have been received so easily. Do not, then, demand their excellence now, when their use has passed away, but then, when the time called for them; or rather, if you will, even now. For even now their excellence is shown, and especially by the very thing for which it is slandered by us. For that they appear such now is their greatest praise. For if it had not nourished us well and made us fit for the reception of greater things, they would not have appeared such. Just as the breast, when it has fulfilled its whole part and is sending the child on to a more perfect table, afterward appears useless; and the parents who formerly thought it necessary for the child slander it with countless jests; and many not only slander it with words but also smear it with bitter drugs, so that when words cannot remove the child’s untimely attachment to it, things may quench the longing;

so too Christ said that they are from the evil one, not to show that the Old Testament belongs to the devil, but so as to lead them away from the old meanness with great intensity. And this he says to them; but in the case of the senseless Jews who persisted in the same things, he smeared the city as it were with a kind of bitterness, the fear of captivity, and made it inaccessible. And since not even this was able to restrain them, but they again longed to see it, running like a child to the nipple, he hid it away completely, both destroying it and leading most of them far away from it; just as many people with cattle shut the calves away and by time persuade them to give up their old habit of milk. But if the Old Testament were the devil’s, it would not have led them away from idolatry, but on the contrary would have led them into it and thrown them into it; for this is what the devil wanted. But as it is, we see the opposite done by the Old Testament. And this very thing, the oath, was legislated in old times for this reason, that they might not swear by idols: “For you shall swear,” it says, “by the true God.” So the law achieved no small things but very great ones. For their coming to solid food was the work of its zeal.

“What then,” someone says, “is not swearing from the evil one?” Very much so indeed; but now, after so great a philosophy; but then not. “And how could the same thing be,” someone says, “now good, now not good?” But I say the opposite: how could it not be good and not good, when all things cry it out, the arts, the fruits, all the other things? See, at any rate, how this happens first of all in our own nature. For to be carried is good in the first stage of life, but afterward ruinous; to eat chewed food is good at the beginning of our life, but afterward full of disgust; to be fed on milk and to run to the nipple is useful and saving at the beginning, but afterward ruinous and harmful. Do you see how the same things appear good because of the times, and again not such? For to wear a child’s garment is good for a lad, but for one who has become a man, shameful. Do you want to learn from the opposite too how the things of a man are in turn unfitting for a child? Give the child a man’s garment, and there will be much laughter, and greater danger, since he will often trip as he walks. Give him public affairs to handle, and trade, and sowing, and reaping, and again there will be much laughter. And why do I say these things? For murder, which is agreed by all to be an invention of the evil one, when it seized the fitting occasion, caused Phinehas, who did it, to be honored with the priesthood. For that murder is that one’s work, hear what he says: “You want to do the works of your father; he was a murderer from the beginning.” But Phinehas became a slayer, and “it was reckoned to him as righteousness,” it says. And Abraham, becoming not only a slayer but a slayer of his child (which was much worse), was the more approved. And Peter too wrought a double slaying, but nevertheless what was done was spiritual. Let us not, then, examine things simply, but let us seek out with all precision the time, the cause, the intention, the difference of persons, and whatever else accompanies them; for there is no other way of reaching the truth.

And let us be eager, if we wish to attain the kingdom, to show something more than the old commands, since it is not possible to lay hold of heavenly things otherwise. For if we reach only the same measure as the ancients, we shall stand outside these doors. “For unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.” But nevertheless, even with so great a threat laid down, there are some who not only do not surpass that righteousness but even fall short of it. For they not only do not flee oaths but even swear falsely; they not only do not avoid the licentious look but even fall into the wicked deed itself, and they dare all the other forbidden things without feeling, waiting for one thing only, the day of punishment, when they will pay the utmost penalty for their offenses; which belongs only to those who have ended their life in wickedness. For of those one must despair, and expect nothing else but punishment from then on; but those who are still here will be able to fight again, and to conquer, and to be crowned easily.

Do not lose heart, then, O man, nor dissolve your good zeal; for the commands are not burdensome. What toil is it, tell me, to avoid an oath? Is it an expense of money? Is it sweat and hardship? It is enough only to will it, and the whole is done. And if you put forward habit to me, for this very reason above all I say that the achievement is easy. For if you set yourself in another habit, you have achieved the whole. Consider, at any rate, that among the Greeks many who stammered corrected their halting tongues by much practice, and others whose shoulders rose and moved in a disorderly way cured it by continually placing a sword over them. For since you are not persuaded by the Scriptures, I am compelled to shame you from those outside. This God too did with the Jews, saying, “Go to the isles of Kittim, and send to Kedar, and know whether nations will change their gods, and they are no gods.” And he often sends them to irrational creatures too, saying, “Go to the ant, O sluggard, and emulate its ways, and go to the bee.” This, then, I too now say to you: consider the philosophers of the Greeks, and then you will know how great a punishment we deserve who disobey the divine laws, when they have toiled countless times for human decorum, while you do not show the same zeal even for heavenly things. And if after this you should say that habit is terribly able to steal upon even the very zealous, I too agree with this; but I add this as well, that as it is terrible at deceiving, so it is easy to correct.

For if you set many guards over yourself at home, such as your servant, your wife, your friend, being easily pushed and driven by them all, you will give up the wicked habit. And if you achieve it for only ten days, you will need no further time, but the whole will lie secure for you, rooted again by the firmness of the best habit. When, then, you begin to correct this, even if you transgress the law once, even twice, even three times, even twenty times, do not despair; but rise up again, take hold of the same zeal, and you will certainly win. For perjury is no ordinary evil. And if swearing is from the evil one, how great a punishment will perjury bring?

Did you praise what was said? But I have no need of applause, nor of noise, nor of din. I want one thing only, that, listening with quiet and understanding, you do what is said. This is applause to me, this praise. But if you praise what is said and do not do what you praise, the punishment is greater, the accusation heavier, and for us shame and ridicule. For the present gathering is not a theater, nor are you sitting now watching tragic actors, only to applaud. This place is a spiritual school. That is why the one thing aimed at is to achieve what is said and to show obedience by deeds. For then we shall have gained everything; as it is, we have even given up hope at last. For I have not ceased exhorting these things both to those who meet me in private and to you when I speak in common, and I see nothing at all come of it, but you still holding to the first elements; which is enough to put great weariness into the teacher. See, at any rate, Paul too vexed for this reason, that his hearers were spending a long time on the first lessons. “For though by this time you ought to be teachers,” he says, “you need someone to teach you again the elements of the beginning of the oracles of God.” That is why we too lament and mourn. And if I see you persisting, I shall forbid you from now on to set foot on these sacred thresholds and to share in the deathless mysteries, as I forbid those who commit sexual immorality and adultery and those charged with murders. For it is better to offer the customary prayers with two or three who keep the laws of God than to drag along a multitude of lawbreakers who corrupt the others too.

Let no rich man puff himself up at me here, let no powerful man raise his eyebrows. All these things are to me a fable and a shadow and a dream. For none of those who are now rich will stand by me there, when I am accused and charged with not having vindicated the laws of God with the vehemence that befits me. For this, this destroyed that wonderful old man too, although he offered a blameless life; but nevertheless, because he overlooked the laws of God being trampled, he was punished together with his sons and paid the grievous penalty. And if, where the tyranny of nature was so great, he who did not treat his own sons with fitting courage paid so grievous a penalty, what pardon shall we have, who are free of that tyranny and corrupt everything by flattery? So that you may not destroy us as well as yourselves, then, be persuaded, I beg you; and setting over yourselves countless examiners and auditors, rid yourselves of the habit of oaths, so that, advancing from here by a road, you may achieve all the rest of virtue with ease, and enjoy the good things to come; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist the evil one; but whoever strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And to the one who wants to go to law with you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.” Do you see that what he said earlier was not about an eye, when he legislated plucking out the eye that causes stumbling, but about the one who harms us through friendship and throws us into the pit of destruction? For he who here uses such intensity, and does not allow us to pluck out another’s eye even when he is gouging out ours, how could he have legislated plucking out one’s own? And if anyone accuses the old law because it commands retaliation in this way, he seems to me to be quite ignorant of the wisdom that befits a lawgiver, and not to know the force of times and the gain of condescension. For if he considers who those were who heard these things, and in what state, and when they received this legislation, he will greatly approve the lawgiver’s wisdom, and will see that it is one and the same who legislated both those things and these, and wrote each very usefully and at the fitting time. For if at the beginning he had brought in these lofty and exceedingly great commands, they would have received neither these nor those; but as it is, by arranging each at the fitting time, he set the whole world right by both. Besides, he commanded this too not so that we should gouge out one another’s eyes, but so that we should keep our hands to ourselves. For the threat of suffering prevented the impulse to act.

And so he gently sows much philosophy, since he bids the one who has suffered to retaliate with what is equal; and yet the one who began this lawlessness deserved a greater punishment, and the principle of justice demands this. But since he wished to mingle love for mankind with justice, he condemns the one who has offended more gravely to a punishment less than he deserves, teaching us to show great gentleness even in suffering. Having stated, then, the old law, and recited it all, he shows again that it is not our brother who has done these things but the evil one. That is why he added, “But I say to you, do not resist the evil one.” He did not say, “Do not resist your brother,” but “the evil one,” showing that these things are dared at his prompting, and in this way slackening and cutting away the greater part of our anger toward the one who has done them, by transferring the blame to another. “What then?” someone says, “must we not resist the evil one?” We must, but not in this way, but as he himself commanded, by offering ourselves to suffer ill; for so you will overcome him. For fire is not quenched by fire, but fire by water. And so that you may learn that even in the old law the one who suffers rather prevails, and he is the one who is crowned, examine the event itself, and you will see that his precedence is great. For the one who began with unjust hands will himself have destroyed both eyes, his neighbor’s and his own. That is why he is justly hated by all and assailed with countless accusations. But the one wronged, even after retaliating with what is equal, will have done nothing terrible. That is why he has many who share his grief, since he is pure of this offense even after acting. And the misfortune is equal for both, but the glory is not equal, either with God or with men. So in the end not even the misfortune is equal. At the beginning, then, he said, “He who is angry with his brother without cause, and he who calls him a fool, shall be liable to the hell of fire”; but here he demands even greater philosophy, bidding the one who suffers ill not only to keep quiet but to respond with greater generosity, offering the other cheek. And he says this not only legislating about such a blow, but teaching us forbearance in all other things too.

For just as, when he says that he who calls his brother a fool shall be liable to hell, he speaks not only about this word but about all abuse, so here too he legislates not only that we should bear it nobly when struck, but that we should not be troubled whatever we suffer. That is why there he chose the extreme of insult, and here he has put the blow that seems most shameful, the one on the cheek, which carries much insult. And he commands this taking account both of the striker and of the one struck. For the one insulted will think he suffers nothing terrible, being so prepared in philosophy (for he will not even perceive the insult, as one rather contending than being beaten); and the abuser, put to shame, will not bring on a second blow, even if he is fiercer than any wild beast, but will condemn himself strongly even for the first. For nothing so restrains wrongdoers as the wronged bearing what happens with gentleness. And it not only restrains them from going further, but even makes them repent of what they have already done, and withdraw admiring the gentleness, and makes them more closely attached, and makes them not only friends but even servants in place of enemies and foes; just as retaliation does all the opposite. For it both shames both parties and makes them worse, and raises the anger into a greater flame, and often ends in death as the evil goes further. That is why he not only commanded the one struck not to be angry, but also bade him satisfy the other’s desire, so that you may not even seem to have endured the first unwillingly. For in this way you will be able to strike even a shameless man with a deadlier blow than if you had struck him with your hand, and you will make him gentler instead of more shameless.

“To the one who wants to go to law with you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.” For he wants such forbearance shown not only in the case of blows but also in that of money. That is why he again sets down the same intensity. For as there he bids us conquer by suffering, so here too by being robbed of more than the covetous man expected. However, he did not put it simply, but with an addition. For he did not say, “Give your cloak to the one who asks,” but, “to the one who wants to go to law with you,” that is, if he drags you into court and gives you trouble. And as, having said not to call anyone a fool nor to be angry without cause, as he went on he demanded more when he bade us offer the right cheek too, so here, having said to be well disposed toward the adversary, he again intensifies the command. For he bids us not only give what he wants to take, but show greater generosity besides. “What then,” someone says, “am I to go about naked?” We would not be naked if we obeyed these things with precision; rather, we would be clothed with much more than all. For first, no one would attack people so disposed; and second, even if someone were so savage and wild as to go so far, far more people would appear who would clothe the man who practices such philosophy, not only with garments but even with their own flesh, if it were possible.

[And if] one had to go about naked for such philosophy, not even so would it be shameful. For Adam too was naked in paradise and was not ashamed; and Isaiah was naked and barefoot, and more illustrious than all the Jews; and Joseph too shone most when he was stripped. For it is not being naked in this way that is evil, but being clothed as we now are with costly garments; this is both shameful and ridiculous. That is why God praised them, but accuses these, through prophets and apostles. Let us not, then, think the commands impossible. For together with their usefulness they are very easy, if we are sober; and they bring so great a gain as to benefit greatly not only us but also those who abuse us. And this is above all their special excellence, that in persuading us to suffer ill, by the same means they teach those who do it to practice philosophy too. For when he thinks it a great thing to take what belongs to others, and you show him that it is easy for you to give even what he does not ask, and bring in a generosity to counterbalance his poverty and a philosophy to counterbalance his covetousness, consider how great a lesson he will enjoy, taught not by words but by deeds themselves to despise vice and to long for virtue. For God wants us to be useful not to ourselves only, but to all our neighbors. If, then, you give and do not go to law, you have sought your own advantage only; but if you give another thing besides, you have sent him away better too. Such is the salt which he wants them to be; for it both holds itself together and preserves the other bodies with which it mingles. Such is the light; for it shines both for itself and for others. Since, then, he has set you in the rank of these, help the one who sits in darkness, and teach him that he did not take even the first thing by force; persuade him that he did not abuse you. For so you yourself too will be more respected and revered, if you show that you gave freely and were not robbed. Make his sin, then, your generosity by your gentleness.

And if you think this a great thing, wait, and you will see clearly that you have not yet reached perfection. For he who lays down the laws of forbearance does not stop for you here, but goes further, saying, “If anyone compels you to go one mile, go with him two.” Do you see the height of philosophy? After giving the tunic and the cloak, he says, not even if the enemy wants to use your naked body for hardships and toils should you hinder him even so. For he wants us to hold all things in common, both bodies and money, both with those in need and with those who insult us; for the one belongs to courage, the other to love for mankind. That is why he said, “If anyone compels you to go one mile, go with him two,” leading you again higher, and bidding you show the same generosity. For if what he said at the beginning, which is much less than these, has so many beatitudes, consider what kind of lot awaits those who achieve these things, and what they become even before the prizes, achieving complete freedom from passion in a human and passible body. For when they are bitten neither by insults and blows nor by being robbed of money, nor yield to anything else of the kind, but even give more lavishly to the suffering, consider what kind of soul is being formed in them. That is why what he commanded in the case of blows and of money, he commanded to be done here too. “For why do I speak,” he says, “of insult and money? Even if he wants to use your very body for toil and labor, and that unjustly, again conquer and surpass his unjust desire.” For “compelling” means this: dragging unjustly, without any reason, and by way of abuse. But nevertheless be prepared for this too, so as to suffer more than he wants to inflict.

“Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.” These things are less than those; but do not wonder, for he is accustomed always to do this, mingling small things with great. And if these are small compared with those, let those hear who take what belongs to others, who distribute their own to harlots and kindle a double fire for themselves, both by their unjust income and by their ruinous spending. By a loan he does not mean here the contract with interest, but simply the use. And elsewhere he even intensifies it, telling us to give to those from whom we do not expect to receive back.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who abuse you; bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, so that you may become like your Father who is in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.” See how he set the capstone of good things last. For this is why he teaches us not only to bear being struck but to offer the right cheek too, and not only to add the cloak to the tunic but also to go two miles with the one who compels us, so that we may accept with all ease what is much more than these. “And what is more than these?” someone says. That the one who does these things should not even be an enemy; or rather, something more than this. For he did not say, “Do not hate,” but “Love”; he did not say, “Do not wrong,” but “Do good.”

And if one examines it precisely, he will see another addition to these very things, much greater than they. For he did not simply command us to love, but also to pray. Do you see how many steps he has climbed, and how he has set us on the very summit of virtue? Consider, counting from below. The first step is not to begin wrongdoing; the second, after another has begun, to retaliate with what is equal; the third, not to do to the abuser what one has suffered, but to keep quiet; the fourth, even to offer oneself to suffer ill; the fifth, even to offer more than the one who did it wants; the sixth, not to hate the one who has done these things; the seventh, even to love him; the eighth, even to do him good; the ninth, even to entreat God for him. Do you see the height of philosophy? That is why it also has a splendid prize. For since the command was great and needed a youthful soul and much zeal, he sets for it such a reward as for none of the former. For here he does not mention the earth, as with the meek; nor comfort and mercy, as with those who mourn and the merciful; nor the kingdom of heaven; but what was more awesome than all these, to become like God, as far as it is possible for men to become so. “So that you may become,” he says, “like your Father in heaven.” But observe, I beg you, how neither here nor in what came before does he call him his own Father, but there “God” and “great King,” when he was speaking about oaths, and here “their Father.” And he does this keeping the words about these things for the fitting time. Then, bringing in the likeness, he says, “For he makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.” “For he himself,” he says, “not only does not hate but even does good to those who insult him.” And yet the case is nowhere equal, not only because of the excess of the benefit but also because of the superiority of dignity. For you are despised by a fellow servant, but he by a servant who has received countless benefits; and you bestow words when you pray for him, but he bestows things very great and wonderful, kindling the sun and giving the yearly rains. But nevertheless, even so I grant you to be equal, as far as it is possible for a man to be.

Do not, then, hate the one who does you ill, since he is the procurer of such good things for you and leads you to so great an honor. Do not curse the one who abuses you; for then you have undergone the toil but been deprived of the fruit; and you will bear the loss but lose the reward; which is the height of folly, having endured the harder thing, not to bear what is less than it. “And how is it possible,” someone says, “for this to happen?” When you have seen God become man, and descend so far, and suffer so much for your sake, do you still ask and doubt how it is possible to forgive your fellow servants their wrongs? Do you not hear him saying on the cross, “Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”? Do you not hear Paul saying that he who went up on high and sits at the right hand intercedes for us? Do you not see that even after the cross and after the ascension he sent the apostles to the Jews who had killed him, to bring them countless good things, and that when they were going to suffer countless terrible things from them? “But you have been greatly wronged.” And what have you suffered like your Master: bound, scourged, struck, spat upon by servants, enduring death, and the most shameful of all deaths, after countless benefits? And if you have been greatly wronged, for this very reason above all do good, so that you may make your crown more splendid and free your brother from the extreme of sickness. For physicians too, when they are kicked and insulted by madmen, then pity them most and prepare for their cure, knowing that the insult comes from the excess of the disease. You too, then, have this mind about those who plot against you, and treat those who wrong you so; for they are the ones who are sick and suffer all the violence. Free him, then, from this grievous abuse, and grant him to let go his anger, and set him free from a grievous demon, rage. For when we see demoniacs, we weep; we are not eager to be possessed ourselves. Let us do this now too in the case of those who are angry; for the enraged are like them, or rather more wretched than they, since they rave while in their senses. That is why their madness is beyond pardon. Do not, then, trample on one who is down, but even pity him. For if we see someone troubled by bile, dizzy and straining to vomit this evil humor, we stretch out a hand and hold him up as he retches, and even if we soil our garment, we do not turn away, but seek one thing only, how to free him from this grievous distress. Let us do this, then, in the case of these too; let us hold them up as they vomit and retch, and not let go of them until they have put away all their bitterness. And then he will be most grateful to you; when he has stopped, then he will know clearly from how great a disturbance you have freed him. And why do I speak of his gratitude? For God will crown you at once and repay you with countless good things, because you freed your brother from a grievous sickness; and he will honor you as a master, revering your gentleness forever. Do you not see women in labor, how they bite the women standing by, and these do not feel the pain, or rather they feel it but bear it nobly and share the suffering of those in pain and torn by the travail? Emulate these too, and do not be softer than women. For when these women have given birth (for they are more faint-hearted than women), then they will know you to be [a man] in comparison.

[And if] the commands are heavy, consider that it was for this that Christ came, to plant these things in our mind, so as to make us useful to both enemies and friends. That is why he bids us take care of both: of brothers, when he says, “If you are offering your gift”; and of enemies, when he says to love them and pray for them. And he leads us to this not only from the example of God, but also from the opposite. “For if you love those who love you,” he says, “what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?” Paul too says this: “You have not yet resisted to the point of blood in your struggle against sin.” If, then, you do these things, you stand with God; but if you abandon them, with the tax collectors. Do you see that the difference between the commandments is not so great as the difference between the persons? Let us not, then, reckon that the command is hard, but let us consider the prize too, and reckon whom we become like when we succeed, and whom we equal when we fail. To the brother, then, he bids us be reconciled, and not to leave off until we have removed the enmity; but when he speaks about all men, he no longer subjects us to this necessity, but demands only what is on our part, making the law easy in this way too. For since he had said that they persecuted the prophets who were before you, so that they might not on this account be ill disposed toward them, he bids them not only to bear those who do these things but even to love them.

Do you see how he pulls up by the roots anger and desire, desire for bodies, for money, for glory, for the present life? For this he did from the beginning, but much more now. For the poor in spirit, the meek, and the one who mourns empty out anger; the righteous and the merciful empty out the desire for money; the pure in heart has been freed from wicked desire; the one persecuted, bearing insults and ill spoken of, practices from then on complete disdain for present things, and is pure of conceit and [vainglory]. Having, then, freed the athlete from these bonds and anointed him for the contests, he again in another way pulls up these passions, and with greater precision. For beginning from anger, and cutting out the sinews of this passion on every side, and saying, “Let the one who is angry with his brother, and the one who calls him a fool, and the one who says ‘raca,’ be punished; and let the one offering his gift not approach the table until he has dissolved the enmity; and let the one who has an adversary make his enemy a friend before seeing the court,” he passes on again to desire, and says, “Let the one who looks with licentious eyes be punished as an adulterer; let the one caused to stumble by a licentious woman or man, or by any other of those close to him, cut them all off; let the one who holds a wife by the law of marriage never cast her out and look to another.” For by these he removed the roots of wicked desire. Then from here he restrains the love of money, bidding us neither swear nor lie, nor cling even to the tunic one happens to be wearing, but give up the cloak too to the one who wants it, and the use of the body, with great abundance removing the longing for money.

Then after all these he brings in the varied crown of these commands, saying, “Pray for those who abuse you,” leading us up to the very highest summit of philosophy. For as being struck is greater than being meek, and giving up the cloak with the tunic greater than being merciful, and bearing wrong greater than being just, and following when struck and compelled greater than being a peacemaker, so too blessing when persecuted is greater than being persecuted. Do you see how little by little he leads up to the very vaults of heaven? What then should we deserve, who are commanded to emulate God, and perhaps do not even equal the tax collectors? For if loving those who love belongs to tax collectors and sinners and Gentiles, when we do not even do this (for we do not, envying our brothers when they are well regarded), what penalty shall we not undergo, being commanded to surpass the scribes and standing lower than the Gentiles? How then shall we see the kingdom, tell me? How shall we set foot on those sacred thresholds, not becoming better even than the tax collectors? For this is what he hinted at when he said, “Do not even the tax collectors do the same?”

And this is above all to be admired in his teaching, that everywhere he sets the prizes of the contests with great abundance, such as seeing God, inheriting the kingdom of heaven, becoming sons of God and like God, obtaining mercy, being comforted, and the great reward; and if anywhere he must mention painful things, he does it with restraint. For he has put the name of hell once in so many words; and with others too he corrects the hearer in a restrained manner … , saying, “Do not even the tax collectors do the same?” and, “If the salt loses its savor,” and, “He shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven.” And there are places where he puts the sins themselves in place of punishment, giving the hearer to perceive the burden of the punishment, as when he says, “He has committed adultery with her in his heart,” and, “He who puts her away makes her commit adultery,” and, “What is more is from the evil one.” For to those who have understanding the greatness of the sin is enough for correction in place of the name of punishment. That is why here too he brings the Gentiles and the tax collectors into the middle, shaming the disciple by the quality of the persons. Paul too did this when he said, “Do not grieve as the rest who have no hope,” and, “as the Gentiles who do not know God.” And showing that he demands nothing excessive, but a little more than what is usual, he says, “Do not even the Gentiles do the same?” But nevertheless he does not stop his discourse here, but ends it in the prizes and the kind hopes, saying, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is.” And he scatters the name of the heavens abundantly everywhere, rousing their minds by the place too; for until then they were in a rather weak and dull state.

Considering, then, all that has been said, let us show great love toward our enemies too; and let us cast out that ridiculous custom which many of the more unreasoning observe, waiting for those they meet to greet them first, not emulating what has a great beatitude but pursuing what is ridiculous. Why will you not greet him first? “Because he is waiting for this,” he says. Then for this very reason above all you should have leapt to it, so that you may receive the crown. “No,” he says, “since he is eager for this.” And what could be worse than this unreason? “Since he is eager for this,” he says, “to become for me the procurer of a reward, I do not want to wait to be greeted, but to do this first ourselves and seize this occasion.” For if he greets you first, you gain nothing more even by greeting him in return; but if you leap first to the greeting, you have made a profit of his conceit and reaped an abundant fruit from his pride. How then is it not the height of folly, when we are going to reap so much from bare words, to betray the gain, and, while condemning him, to fall into the same things? For if you blame him for this, that he waits to be greeted first by another, why do you emulate what you accuse, and are eager to imitate as good what you said was wicked? Do you see that nothing is more senseless than a man who lives with vice? Therefore, I beg you, let us flee this wicked and ridiculous custom. For this sickness has overturned countless friendships and produced many enmities. That is why let us forestall them. For we who are commanded to be struck and compelled and stripped by enemies, and to bear it, what pardon should we deserve if we show such contentiousness over a bare greeting? “For we are despised,” he says, “and spat upon, when we grant him this.” And so that a man may not despise you, do you offend God? And so that your raving fellow servant may not despise you, do you despise the Master who has done you so much good? For if it is absurd that one of equal rank should despise you, much more that you should despise God who made you. And besides this consider this too, that when he despises you, then he becomes for you the procurer of a greater reward. For you endure these things for God’s sake, because you have listened to his laws. And what honor would this not be worth? How many diadems? May it be mine to be insulted and despised for God’s sake rather than to be honored by all kings; for nothing, nothing is equal to this glory. Let us pursue this, then, as he himself commanded, and, making no account of human things, but showing precise philosophy in everything, let us order our own life so. For we shall reap even from here and now the good things of the heavens and of the crowns there, walking among men as angels, going about on earth like the powers of the angels, and remaining outside all desire and all disturbance; and besides all these we shall receive the ineffable good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might and the worship, with the Father who is without beginning and the holy and good Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Take heed not to do your almsgiving before men, to be seen by them.” He now banishes the most tyrannical passion of all, the frenzy and madness for vainglory that arises in those who do right. For at the beginning he said nothing about it; for it was superfluous, before persuading men to do any of their duties, to teach how they must do and pursue them. But when he had led them into philosophy, then he also cleans out the ruin that springs up beside it. For this disease is not born at random, but when we have achieved many of the things commanded. So he had first to plant virtue, and then to remove the passion that injures its fruit. And see where he begins: from fasting and prayer and almsgiving. For in these good deeds above all it is accustomed to make its home. The Pharisee, at any rate, was puffed up from here, saying, “I fast twice a week, I give tithes of …” … making it a display. For since no one else was present, he displayed himself to the tax collector, saying, “I am not like the rest of men, nor like this tax collector.” And see how he began, as though speaking of some wild beast hard to detect and clever at stealing upon one who is not very wakeful: “For take heed,” he says, “of your almsgiving.” So Paul too says to the Philippians, “Beware of the dogs.” For the beast creeps in secretly and blows everything away without a sound, and carries off unperceived all that is within. Since, then, he had spoken much about almsgiving, and had brought God into the middle, who makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and had urged them to it on every side and persuaded them to flourish in the abundance of their giving, he now removes all that troubles this fair olive tree. That is why he says, “Take heed not to do your almsgiving before men.” For the almsgiving spoken of before is God’s. And having said, “not to do it before men,” he added, “to be seen by them.” And it seems that the same thing is said a second time; but if one attends precisely, it is not the same, but this is one thing and that another, and it has great safety and unspeakable care and forbearance. For it is possible for one who does it before men not to do it to be seen; and again for one who does not do it before them to do it to be seen. That is why he punishes and crowns not simply what is done, but the intention. For if this precision had not been added, it would have made many more hesitant about giving alms, because it is not always possible everywhere to do it unobserved. That is why, freeing you from this necessity, he defines both the loss and the reward not by the outcome of the thing but by the purpose of the doer. For so that you may not say, “What do I suffer if another sees?” he says, “It is not this I seek, but your mind and the manner of what is done.” For he wants to set the soul right and free it from every disease.

Having, then, forbidden doing it for display, and taught the loss that follows, doing it vainly and for nothing, he again raises their spirits by reminding them of the Father and of heaven, so as to strike them not only by the loss but also to shame them by the memory of the one who begot them. “For you have no reward,” he says, “with your Father who is in heaven.” And he did not stop here, but goes on further, producing great aversion by other means too. For as above he put the tax collectors and Gentiles, shaming the imitators by the quality of the persons, so here he puts the hypocrites. “When, then, you give alms,” he says, “do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do.” Not that they had trumpets; but he wants to show their great madness by the wording of this metaphor, mocking them and exposing them in this way. And he rightly called them hypocrites. For the mask was of almsgiving, but the mind of cruelty and inhumanity. For they do it not for the sake of showing mercy to their neighbors, but to enjoy glory themselves; which was the height of cruelty, when another is perishing of hunger, to seek honor and not relieve his misfortune. So it is not giving alms but giving it as one ought, and for this reason, that is sought.

Having, then, mocked them sufficiently and attacked them so as to put the hearer to shame too, he again corrects the mind sick with such things; and having said how one must not do it, he shows in turn how one must do it. How then must one do it? “Do not let your left hand know,” he says, “what your right hand is doing.” Here again he does not hint at hands, but has put it hyperbolically. “For if it is possible,” he says, “not to know even yourself, let this be your earnest aim, if it is possible to escape the notice even of the very hands that serve.” Not, as some say, that we must hide it from perverse men; for here he commanded that it escape the notice of all. Then consider too how great the reward is. For having spoken of the punishment from that source, he shows also the honor from this, pushing them from both sides and leading them to lofty teachings. For he persuades them to know that God is present everywhere, and that our affairs do not stop at the present life, but a more fearful court will receive us from here, and the accounts of all our deeds, and honors and punishments; and that no one doing anything, small or great, will escape notice, even if he seems to escape the notice of men. For all these things he hinted at when he said, “Your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly,” setting up for him a great and august theater, and granting him with great abundance the very thing he desires. “For what do you want?” he says. “Is it not to have some spectators of what is done? See, then, you have them: not angels nor archangels, but the God of all.” And if you desire to have men as spectators too, he does not deprive you of this desire either, at the fitting time, but grants it to you with even greater excess. For now, if you display yourself, you will be able to display yourself to ten or twenty or a hundred men only; but if you are eager now to escape notice, then God himself will proclaim you, with the whole world present. So above all, if you want men to see your good deeds, hide them now, so that then all may behold them with greater honor, God making them manifest and exalting them and proclaiming them before all. For now those who see you will even condemn you as vainglorious; but seeing you crowned, not only will they not condemn you, but all will even admire you. When, then, it is possible both to receive a reward and to reap greater admiration by waiting a little time, consider what folly it is to lose both of these, asking the reward from God, and, while God is watching, calling men to the display of what is done. For if one must make a display, one ought to make it to the Father before all; and especially when the Father is master both of crowning and of penalizing. And yet even if there were no penalty, the one who desires glory ought not to give up this theater and exchange it for that of men. For who is so wretched as, when the king is hastening to come to the spectacle of his good deeds, to let him go and fill his theater with the poor and the beggars? That is why he commands not only not to make a display, but even to be eager to escape notice. For it is not the same not to be eager to appear and to be eager to escape notice.

“And when you pray,” he says, “you shall not be like the hypocrites; for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and at the corners of the streets. Truly I say to you, they have their reward. But you, when you pray, go into your inner room, and having shut your door, pray to your Father who is in secret.” Again he calls these too hypocrites, and very rightly; because, pretending to pray to God, they look around at men, wearing the bearing not of suppliants but of ridiculous men. For the one who is going to make supplication, leaving all, looks to him alone who has the power to grant the request. But if you leave him and go about wandering and casting your eyes everywhere, you will go away with empty hands. For this is what you yourself wanted. That is why he did not say that such men will receive no reward, but that they “have” it; that is, that they will receive it, but from those from whom they themselves desire it. For God does not want this; he himself wished to give the recompense from himself; but they, seeking it from men, would no longer have a right to receive from him for whom they have done nothing. But consider, I beg you, God’s love for mankind, that he promises to give a reward even for the good things he asks of us. Having, then, discredited those who do not use the thing fittingly, both by the place and by the disposition, and having shown them to be very ridiculous, he brings in the best manner of prayer, and again gives the reward, saying, “Go into your inner room.”

“What then,” someone says, “must we not pray in church?” Very much so, but with such a mind. For everywhere God seeks the aim of what is done. For even if you go into your inner room and shut the door and do it for display, the doors are of no use to you. See, at any rate, how precise a qualification he has set here too, saying, “that they may be seen by men.” So even if you shut the doors, he wants you, before shutting the doors, to achieve this: to shut the doors of the mind too. For it is good to be free of vainglory everywhere, but above all in prayer. For if even without this we wander and are carried about, if we enter with this disease too, when shall we hear what we ourselves are saying? And if we who make the request and the entreaty do not hear, how do we expect God to hear? But nevertheless there are some who, after such and so many commands, behave so unseemly in prayer that, even when their body is hidden, they make themselves known to all by their voice, bawling like a rabble, and making themselves ridiculous by their bearing and their voice. Do you not see that in the marketplace too, if someone comes up doing such things and begging with shouting, he will scare off the one he is entreating; but if he comes quietly and with fitting bearing, then he draws the one who is able to grant the favor the more? Let us not, then, make our prayers by the posture of the body or the shouting of the voice, but by the eagerness of the mind; nor with noise and din and for display, so as even to drive away those near us, but with all gentleness and contrition of mind and inward tears. “But you are pained in soul, and cannot help crying out?” And yet it belongs to one greatly pained to pray and entreat in this way, as I said. For Moses too was pained, and prayed in this way, and was heard; that is why God said to him, “Why do you cry to me?” And Hannah again, though her voice was not heard, accomplished all she wished, because her heart was crying out. And Abel prayed not only when silent but even when dead, and his blood sent forth a voice clearer than a trumpet. Groan, then, you too, like that holy man; I do not forbid it. “Rend,” as the prophet commanded, “your heart, and not your garments.” Call on God from the depths; “for out of the depths,” it says, “I have cried to you, O Lord.” Draw up your voice from below, from the heart; make your prayer a mystery. Do you not see that in palaces too all tumult is out of the way, and great silence on every side? You too, then, entering as into a palace, not those on earth but those much more awesome than these, those in the heavens, show great decorum. For you are a fellow dancer with angels, a partner of archangels, and you sing with the seraphim. And all these companies show great good order, singing with great awe that mystical song and the sacred hymns to the King of all, God. Mingle yourself with them, then, when you pray, and emulate their mystical order. For you are not praying to men, but to God, who is present everywhere, who hears even before the voice, who knows the secrets of the mind. If you pray so, you will receive a great reward. “For your Father,” he says, “who sees in secret will reward you openly.” He did not say, “will give you as a favor,” but “will reward you.” For he has made himself your debtor, and has honored you with great honor from this too. For since he is invisible, he wants your prayer too to be such.

Then he tells the very words of the prayer as well. “And when you pray,” he says, “do not babble, as the Gentiles do.” For when he was speaking about almsgiving, he removed only the ruin from vainglory and added nothing more, nor did he say from what one must give alms, for example from just labors and not from robbery or covetousness; for this was fully agreed among all. And he had cleared this away beforehand above, when he called blessed those who hunger for righteousness. But in the case of prayer he adds something more, not babbling. And as there he mocks the hypocrites, so here the Gentiles, everywhere shaming the hearer above all by the meanness of the persons. For since this above all bites and touches most people, to seem to resemble outcast men, he turns them away from it from this side, calling babbling here idle talk; for example, when we ask God for unfitting things, power and glory and getting the better of enemies and abundance of money, and in a word things that do not concern us at all. “For he knows,” he says, “what you need.” Besides this he seems to me to be commanding here not to make our prayers long either; long not in time, but in the number and length of the words. For we must persevere asking for the same things; “continuing steadfastly in prayer,” it says. And he himself, through that example of the widow who bent the pitiless and cruel ruler by the continuance of her pleading, and that of the friend who came at an untimely hour of the night and raised the sleeper from his bed, not because of friendship but because of persistence, legislated nothing other than that all should plead with him continually; he does not, however, bid us come to him composing a prayer of countless lines and simply recite it. For this he hinted at when he said, “They think that they will be heard for their much speaking. For he knows,” he says, “what you need.”

“And if he knows,” someone says, “what we need, why must we pray?” Not to instruct him, but to bend him; to become familiar with him by the continuance of your pleading; to be humbled; to be reminded of [your sins]. “For your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” “Pray, then, like this,” he says: “Our Father who art in heaven.” See how at once he raised up the hearer and reminded him of all the benefit at the very beginning. For he who calls God Father has confessed by this one title forgiveness of sins, removal of punishment, righteousness, sanctification, redemption, adoption, inheritance, brotherhood with the Only-begotten, and the bestowal of the Spirit. For it is not possible to call God Father without having attained all those good things. Doubly, then, he rouses their spirit, both by the dignity of the one called upon and by the greatness of the benefits they have enjoyed. And when he says, “in heaven,” he says this not to shut God up there, but to lead the one who prays away from the earth and to fix him on the high places and the dwellings above. And he teaches us to make our prayer common on behalf of our brothers. For he does not say, “My Father who art in heaven,” but “Our Father,” offering the petitions on behalf of the common body, and nowhere looking to one’s own interest but everywhere to one’s neighbor’s. And by this he both removes enmity, and quells pride, and casts out envy, and brings in love, the mother of all good things, and banishes the inequality of human affairs, and shows great equality of honor between the king and the poor man, if indeed we all share in the greatest and most necessary things. For what harm comes from kinship below, when by that above we are all joined together, and no one has anything more than another, neither the rich than the poor, nor the master than the slave, nor the ruler than the ruled, nor the king than the soldier, nor the philosopher than the barbarian, nor the wise than the unlearned? For he has bestowed one nobility on all, deigning to be called Father of all alike.

Having, then, reminded us of this nobility and of the gift from above and of the equality of honor with our brothers and of love, and having drawn us away from the earth and fixed us on the heavens, let us see what he bids us ask next. Indeed the very word is enough to instill the teaching of all virtue. For he who has called God Father, and a common Father, would rightly show such a way of life as not to appear unworthy of this nobility, and would show zeal equal to the gift. However, he is not content with this, but adds another petition, saying, “Hallowed be thy name.” Worthy of one who calls God Father is the prayer to ask nothing before the Father’s glory, but to count all things second to his praise. For “hallowed be” means “glorified be.” For he has his own glory complete, and remaining always the same; but he bids the one who prays to ask that he be glorified through our life too. This is what he said earlier as well: “Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” For the seraphim too, glorifying him, said thus: “Holy, holy, holy.” So “hallowed be” means “glorified be.” “Grant us,” he says, “to live so purely that through us all may glorify you.” This again belongs to perfect philosophy, to offer to all so blameless a life that each of those who see it gives the praise for it to the Master.

“Thy kingdom come.” And this again is the word of a grateful son: not to be nailed to visible things, nor to think the present things anything great, but to hasten to the Father and to long for the things to come; which comes from a good conscience and a soul freed from earthly affairs. This at any rate Paul too longed for every day; that is why he said, “We ourselves too, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan, awaiting adoption, the redemption of our body.” For he who has this love can neither be puffed up by the good things of this life nor humbled by the painful ones, but, as one dwelling in heaven itself, he has been freed from both kinds of unevenness.

“Thy will be done, as in heaven, so on earth.” Do you see the excellent sequence? For he bade us long for the things to come and hasten to that departure; and until this happens, while we are living here, to be eager meanwhile to show the same way of life as those above. “For we must long for the heavens,” he says, “and the things in the heavens; however, even before heaven he bade us make the earth heaven, and while living on it, as though conducting ourselves there, to do and say everything so as to entreat the Master about these things too.” For nothing prevents you from [emulating] the precision of the powers above because you dwell on earth; but it is possible even while living here to do everything as one already above. What he means, then, is this: as there everything is done without hindrance, and the angels do not obey in some things and disobey in others, but in everything yield and are persuaded (“for they are mighty in strength,” it says, “doing his word”), so grant to us men too not to do your will by halves, but to fulfill everything as you will. Do you see how he taught us to be modest too, showing that virtue is not of our zeal only but also of the grace from above? And again he commanded each of us who pray to take upon himself the care of the whole world. For he did not say, “Thy will be done in me,” or “in us,” but everywhere on earth, so that error may be destroyed and truth planted, all vice cast out and virtue return, and heaven no longer differ from [earth] in this respect. “For if this should come about,” he says, “the things below will not differ from those above, even if they differ in nature, since the earth will show us other angels.”

“Give us this day our daily bread.” What is “daily bread”? That which is for the day. For since he said, “Thy will be done as in heaven, so on earth,” and he was speaking to men clothed with flesh and subject to the necessity of nature, and unable to have the same freedom from passion as the angels, he bids the commands to be performed by us as they too fulfill them, but he also condescends at last to the weakness of nature. “For I demand,” he says, “so great a precision of life, but not freedom from passion; for the tyranny of nature does not permit it, since it needs necessary food.” But see, I beg you, how even in bodily things there is much that is spiritual. For he bade us make our prayer not for money, nor for luxury, nor for costly garments, nor for anything else of the kind, but only for bread, and for bread for the day, so as not to be anxious about tomorrow. That is why he added, “daily bread,” that is, for the day. And he was not content even with this word, but added another after it, saying, “Give us this day,” so that we may not wear ourselves out further with the care of the following day. For why do you endure anxiety about a day whose span you do not know if you will see? This he commanded at more length as he went on, saying, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow.” And he wants us on every side to be unencumbered and winged, yielding to nature only as much as the necessity of need demands of us.

Then, since it happens that we sin even after the washing of regeneration, showing here too his great love for mankind, he bids us approach the God who loves mankind about the forgiveness of sins, and say thus: “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” Do you see the excess of love for mankind? After the removal of so many evils and the unspeakable greatness of the gift, he again deems those who sin worthy of pardon. For that this prayer belongs to the faithful, both the laws of the church teach and the opening of the prayer. For the uninitiated could not call God Father. If, then, the prayer belongs to the faithful, and they pray asking that their sins be forgiven them, it is clear that the gain of repentance has not been taken away even after the washing. For if he had not wanted to show this, he would not have legislated praying for it. And he who both reminds us of sins, and bids us ask forgiveness, and teaches how we may obtain forgiveness, and makes the road easy in this way, clearly knowing and showing that even after the washing it is possible to wash away our offenses, brought in this law of supplication: by reminding us of our sins persuading us to be modest; by bidding us forgive others freeing us from all grudge-bearing; and by promising in return for this to pardon us too, holding out kind hopes and teaching us to reflect on the unspeakable love of God for mankind.

But what we must above all observe is this: that in each of the words he mentioned virtue as a whole, and included in it not bearing grudges as well (for the hallowing of his name is the precision of a perfect way of life; and the doing of his will again shows this same thing; and being able to call God Father is a demonstration of a blameless way of life; and in all these is included the duty of letting go our anger against those who have offended); but nevertheless he was not content with these, but wishing to show how much zeal he has for the matter, he puts it separately too, and after the prayer mentions no other commandment than this, saying thus: “For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.” So the beginning is from us, and we ourselves are masters of the judgment upon us. For so that not even any of the senseless might be able to complain when he is judged, small or great, he makes you, the one accountable, master of the verdict; “and as you yourself have judged for yourself,” he says, “so I too judge for you. And if you forgive your fellow servant, you will obtain the same favor from me”; and yet this is not equal to that. For you forgive because you need it, but God needing nothing; you forgive a fellow servant, but God a servant; you, being accountable for countless evils, but God, being sinless. But nevertheless even so he shows his love for mankind. For he could have forgiven you all your offenses even without this; but he wants you to be benefited from this too, giving you on every side countless occasions of gentleness and love for mankind, casting out what is beastly in you, quenching your rage, and on every side gluing you to your own member. For what would you be able to say? That you have suffered some evil unjustly from your neighbor? For these are what sins are; since if it were justly, the thing is not even a sin. But you too are coming to receive forgiveness for such things, and for much greater ones. And even before the forgiveness you have enjoyed no small gift, being taught to have a humane soul and trained in all gentleness. And besides these a great reward will be laid up for you there: to be asked for an account of none of your offenses. What punishment, then, should we not deserve, when, having the power, we betray our own salvation? And how shall we deem ourselves worthy to be heard in other matters, when we are unwilling to spare ourselves in those of which we are masters?

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, to the ages. Amen.” Here he plainly teaches us our own meanness and quells our pride, teaching us to decline the contests and not leap into them. For so our victory will be more splendid and the devil’s defeat more ridiculous. For when dragged in we must stand nobly; but when not called, we must keep quiet and wait for the time of the contests, so that we may show both our freedom from vainglory and our nobility. And here he calls the devil “the evil one,” bidding us have a war against him that admits no truce, and showing that he is not such by nature. For wickedness is not among the things that come from nature, but among those that arise from choice. And he is called so by preeminence, because of the excess of his wickedness, and because, though wronged by us in nothing, he wages a war against us that admits no truce. That is why he did not say, “Deliver us from the wicked,” but, “from the evil one,” teaching us nowhere to be ill disposed toward our neighbors for what we suffer from them, but to transfer our enmity from them to him, as the cause of all evils. Having, then, made us watchful by the mention of the enemy, and cut out all our indolence, he again encourages us and raises our spirits, reminding us of the King under whom we are ranked, and showing that he is more powerful than all. “For thine,” he says, “is the kingdom and the power and the glory.” So if the kingdom is his, we need fear no one, since there is no one who opposes him and divides the rule with him. For when he says, “Thine is the kingdom,” he shows that even the one who wars against us is subject, even if he seems to oppose, God permitting it for the time. For he too is among all things, even if among those dishonored and those who have offended; and he would not dare to attack any of his fellow servants without first receiving the authority from above. And why do I speak of [fellow servants]? He did not even venture to attack swine until he himself permitted it, nor flocks nor herds until he received the authority from above. “And the power,” he says. So even if you are ten thousand times weak, you ought to be confident, having such a one as King, who is able to accomplish everything easily even through you. “And the glory to the ages. Amen.” For he not only frees you from the terrible things that come upon you, but is able to make you glorious and illustrious too. For as his power is great, so his glory is unspeakable, and all of them are boundless and have no end. Do you see how he has anointed the athlete on every side and made him confident?

Then, as I said before, wishing to show that he turns away from and hates grudge-bearing more than anything, and accepts above all the virtue opposite to this vice, he reminded us of this good deed again after the prayer too, leading the hearer to obedience to this commandment both from the punishment laid down and from the honor appointed. “For if you forgive men,” he says, “your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive, neither will he forgive you.” For this reason he again mentioned the heavens and the Father, so as to shame the hearer by this too, if, being of such a Father, he should turn into a wild beast, and, called to heaven, should have an earthly and worldly mind. For we must become sons not by grace only but also by works. And nothing makes us so like God as being forgiving to the wicked and to those who wrong us; as indeed he had already taught when he spoke of the sun rising on the evil and the good. For this reason too in each of the words he bids us make our prayers in common, saying, “Our Father,” and “Thy will be done, as in heaven, so on earth,” and “Give us bread,” and “Forgive us our debts,” and “Lead us not into temptation,” and “Deliver us,” everywhere bidding us use this plural word, so that we may not have even a trace of anger against our neighbor. What punishment, then, would they deserve who after all these things not only do not forgive themselves but even call on God to take vengeance on their enemies, transgressing this law as it were diametrically, and that while he does and arranges everything so that we may not quarrel with one another? For since love is the root of all good things, removing on every side what ruins it, he brings us together and glues us to one another. For there is not, there is not anyone, whether father or mother or friend or anyone else whatever, who has loved us as much as the God who made us. And this is clear above all both from the benefits he gives every day and from what he commands.

But if you tell me of the griefs and pains and evils of life, consider how many times you offend him every day, and you will no longer wonder even if more evils than these come upon you; but if you enjoy some good thing, then you will wonder and be amazed. But as it is, we look at the misfortunes that come upon us, but do not consider the offenses we commit every day; that is why we are distressed. For if we had reckoned up precisely the sins of only one day, then we would have known well of how many evils we are guilty. And to leave aside the other offenses each has committed privately, let me speak of those committed today. And yet I do not know what each of us has sinned; but nevertheless such is the abundance of offenses that even one who knows everything precisely could not take them all from these alone. Who of us was not indolent in praying? Who was not proud? Who did not seek vainglory? Who did not speak ill of his brother, or entertain wicked desire, or look with licentious eyes, or remember an enemy with passion and make his heart swell? But if, while in church and in a short time, we have become guilty of so many evils, what shall we be when we go out from here? If in the harbor the waves are so great, when we go out into the strait of evils, I mean the marketplace and public affairs and the cares of the household,

shall we be able to recognize ourselves at all? But nevertheless God has given us a short and easy road, free of all toil, for release from so many and such great sins. For what toil is it to forgive the one who has pained us? Rather, the toil is not to forgive, but to hold on to the enmity; since being freed from rage both produces great relief and is very easy for the one who is willing. For we need not cross a sea, nor travel a long road, nor climb over mountain peaks, nor spend money, nor strain the body; it is enough only to will, and all sins are loosed. But if you not only do not forgive yourself but even plead with God against him, what hope of salvation will you have left, when, at the very moment when you ought to propitiate him, you provoke him even then, wearing the bearing of a suppliant but uttering the cries of a wild beast, and hurling those darts of the evil one against yourself? That is why Paul too, when mentioning prayer, sought nothing so much as the keeping of this commandment: “lifting up holy hands,” he says, “without anger and disputing.” For if when you need mercy you do not let go your anger even then, but remember it vividly, and that knowing that you are driving the sword against yourself, when will you be able to become humane, and to spit out the poison of this wickedness of the evil one?

And if you have not yet seen the greatness of this absurdity, reckon it as happening among men, and then you will see the excess of the insult. For if someone came to you, a man, asking to be shown mercy, and then, in the middle of it, lying on the ground, saw an enemy and, leaving off entreating you, began to beat him, would you not make your anger greater? Reckon that this happens in the case of God too. For you too, while entreating God, leave off the supplication in the middle and beat your enemy with words, and insult the laws of God, calling on the one who legislated letting go all anger against those who have pained us, and asking him to do the opposite of his own commands. Is it not enough for your punishment that you transgress God’s law, but you even beg him to do this? Has he forgotten what he commanded? Is it a man who said these things? It is God, who knows all things and wants his own laws kept with all precision, and who is so far from doing what you ask that he turns away from you and hates you, who say these things, for the mere saying of them, and exacts the utmost penalty. How then do you ask to obtain from him the very things he bids you with great zeal to abstain from?

But there are some who have come to such a pitch of unreason that they not only pray against their enemies, but even curse their children, and would taste their very flesh if it were possible; or rather, they do taste it. For do not tell me that you did not fix your teeth in the body of the one who pained you; you have done something much worse, as far as it lay with you, asking that wrath be brought down from above upon him, that he be handed over to deathless punishment and overturned with his whole house. Than what bites are these not more grievous? Than what arrows not more bitter? This is not what Christ taught you; he did not bid you bloody your mouth so. For such tongues are more grievous than mouths bloodied with human flesh. How then will you kiss your brother? How will you touch the sacrifice? How will you taste the Master’s blood, with so much poison in your mind? For when you say, “Dash him down, overturn his house, destroy everything,” and pray countless ruins upon him, you are no different from a murderer, or rather from a man-eating wild beast. Let us cease, then, from this disease and madness, and let us show the kindness he commanded toward those who have pained us, so that we may become like our Father who is in heaven. And we shall cease if we remember our own sins, if we examine all our offenses precisely, those at home, those outside, those in the marketplace, those in church.

For if for nothing else, at least for our negligence here we deserve to undergo the utmost penalty. For while prophets are singing, and apostles hymning, and God speaking, we wander outside and bring in the tumult of worldly affairs; and we do not give the laws of God as much quiet as the spectators in the theaters give silence to the letters of the emperor. For there, when these letters are read, consuls and prefects and senate and people all stand upright, listening quietly to what is said; and if in the middle of that deepest silence someone suddenly leaps up and shouts, he pays the utmost penalty as one who has insulted the emperor; but here, when the letters from heaven are read, there is great tumult on every side. And yet the one who sent the letters is much greater than this emperor, and the theater more august; for it is not of men only but of angels too, and the victories which the letters announce are much more awesome than those on earth. That is why not men only, but angels and archangels and the companies of the heavens and all on earth are bidden to give praise: “Bless the Lord,” it says, “all his works.” For the achievements are not small, but surpass all human speech and mind and thought. And these the prophets proclaim every day, each in a different way announcing this splendid trophy. For one says, “You ascended on high, you led captivity captive, and received gifts among men,” and, “The Lord strong and mighty in battle.” Another says, “He shall divide the spoils of the strong.” For he came for this, to proclaim release to captives and recovery of sight to the blind. And raising the shout of victory over death, he said, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O Hades, is your sting?” Another again, announcing the deepest peace, said, “They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.” And one calls Jerusalem, saying, “Rejoice greatly, daughter of Zion, for behold, your King comes to you, meek, mounted on a beast of burden and a young colt.” Another proclaims his second coming too, saying, “The Lord whom you seek will come, and who will endure the day of his coming? Leap like calves let loose from bonds.” And another again, amazed at such things, said, “This is our God; no other shall be reckoned beside him.” But nevertheless, while these and many more things are being said, when we ought to shudder and not even think ourselves to be on earth, we make a din as in the middle of the marketplace, we cause disturbance, and talking of things that do not concern us at all, we spend the whole time of the assembly.

When, then, in small things and great, in hearing and in doing, outside and inside and in church, we are so indolent, and besides all these pray against our enemies too, from where shall we have hope of salvation, adding to so many sins another grievous one, equal to them all, this lawless prayer? Why, then, is it right to wonder if something unexpected and painful happens to us, when we ought to wonder when it does not happen? For that belongs to the natural sequence of things, but this is beyond all reason and expectation. For it is beyond reason that men who have become God’s enemies and provoke him enjoy sun and rain and all other things, men who surpass the cruelty of wild beasts, who rise up against one another and bloody their tongues by biting their neighbors, after the spiritual table and so many benefits and countless commands. Considering these things, then, let us vomit out the poison, dissolve our enmities, and make the prayers that befit us; instead of the beastliness of demons, let us take the gentleness of angels; and however much we have been wronged, considering our own sins and the reward laid up for us for this commandment, let us soften our anger, let us calm the waves, so that we may both pass through the present life untroubled, and, departing there, find the Master such as we have been toward our fellow servants. And if this is heavy and fearful, let us make it light and desirable, and let us open the splendid doors of boldness toward him; and what we could not accomplish by abstaining from sins, let us accomplish by having been gentle toward those who have sinned against us (for this is neither heavy nor burdensome); and by doing good to our enemies, let us store up for ourselves beforehand much mercy. For so in the present life too all will love us, and before all others God will love us and crown us and deem us worthy of all the good things to come; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And when you fast, do not be like the hypocrites, of a sad countenance; for they disfigure their faces, so that they may appear to men to be fasting.” It is well here to groan aloud and wail bitterly. For we not only imitate the hypocrites, but have even surpassed them. For I know, I know many who not only fast and make a display of it, but who do not fast and put on the masks of those who fast, and put forward an excuse worse than the sin. “I do this,” he says, “so as not to scandalize the many.” What are you saying? It is a divine law that commands these things, and you talk of scandal? And do you think that by keeping it you scandalize, and by transgressing it you free others from scandal? What could be worse than this unreason? Will you not stop becoming worse even than the hypocrites and working a double hypocrisy? And considering the great excess of this vice, will you not be ashamed at the force of this expression? For he did not say that they play the hypocrite only, but, wishing to strike at them more strongly, “for they disfigure their faces,” that is, they corrupt them, they destroy them. And if appearing pale for vainglory is disfigurement of the face, what should we say of the women who corrupt their faces with paints and pencilings to the ruin of licentious young men? For those harm only themselves, but these both themselves and those who see them. That is why we must flee both this ruin and that one with great abundance. For he bade us not only not to make a display, but even to be eager to escape notice; which he did earlier too.

And in the case of almsgiving he did not put it simply, but having said, “Take heed not to do it before men,” he added, “to be seen by them”; but in the case of fasting and prayer he made no such qualification. Why ever? Because it is altogether impossible for almsgiving, but possible for prayer and fasting [to be hidden]. As, then, when he said, “Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing,” he was not speaking about hands but about the need to escape the notice of all with precision; and when he bade us go into the inner room, he did not command us to pray there only, or primarily, but hinted at the same thing again; so here too, in bidding us anoint ourselves, he did not legislate that we should by all means anoint ourselves; since then we shall all be found transgressing this law, and above all those who have been most eager to keep it, the companies of the monks who have taken possession of the mountains. This, then, is not what he commanded; but since among the ancients it was the custom to anoint themselves continually when they were glad and rejoicing (and one could see this clearly from David and from Daniel), he said to anoint ourselves, not that we should by all means do this, but that we should be eager in every way to hide this possession with great precision. And so that you may learn that this is so, he himself, showing in deeds what he commanded in words, when he fasted forty days, and fasted while escaping notice, neither anointed himself nor washed; but nevertheless, though he did not do these things, he accomplished the whole entirely without vainglory. This, then, he commands us too, both bringing the hypocrites into the middle and turning his hearers away by a double precept.

And he hinted at something else too by this name, I mean that of the hypocrites. For he draws them away from the wicked desire not only because the thing is ridiculous, nor because it carries the utmost loss, but also by showing that such deceit is temporary. For the actor appears splendid only so long as the theater is seated; or rather, not even then to all. For most of the spectators know who he is and whom he is playing. But when the theater is dismissed, he is revealed more clearly to all. This, then, the vainglorious too must by all necessity undergo. For even here they are evident to most, that they are not what they appear but wear a mask; but much more will they be caught afterward, when all things appear naked and laid bare. And from another side too he draws them away from the hypocrites, by showing the command to be light. For he does not intensify the fasting, nor bid them show a greater one, but bids them not lose the crown that comes from it. So what seems burdensome is common to us and the hypocrites, for they too fast; but what is lightest, not losing the reward after toiling, this is what I command, he says; adding nothing to the toils, but gathering the rewards for us in all safety, and not letting us go away uncrowned as they do. And they will not even imitate those who wrestle in the Olympic games, who, though so great a people and so many rulers are seated there, wish to please one man, the one who awards them the victory, although he is much inferior. But you, who have a double reason for displaying your victory to him, both because he is himself the judge of the contest and because he incomparably surpasses all who sit in the theater, display yourself to others who not only do not benefit you at all, but even harm you greatly.

“However, I do not forbid even this,” he says. “If you want to display yourself to men too, wait, and I will grant you this too with greater abundance and much gain. For now this tears you away from the glory with me, just as despising these things glues you to it; but then you will enjoy everything in complete security, reaping no small fruit even here before those things: trampling on all human glory, being freed from the grievous slavery of men, and becoming a genuine worker of virtue.” For as it is, being so disposed, if you come into a desert you will be destitute of all virtue, not having anyone to watch. This belongs to one who insults virtue itself, if you are going to pursue it not for its own sake but for the rope maker and the coppersmith and the great crowd of the marketplace, so that the wicked and those far from it may admire you; and you call the enemies of virtue to the display and spectacle of it; as if someone should choose chastity not because of the beauty of chastity but to show himself to harlots. So you too would not have chosen virtue except for the sake of virtue’s enemies, when you ought to admire it for this very reason, that it has even its enemies as praisers; and to admire it, as one should, not for others’ sake but for itself. For we too, when we are loved not for ourselves but for others, think the thing an insult. Reckon this, then, in the case of virtue too; and neither pursue it for others’ sake, nor obey God for men’s sake, but obey men for God’s sake; since if you do the opposite, even if you seem to pursue virtue, you have provoked him equally with the one who does not pursue it. For as he disobeyed by not doing it, so you by doing it unlawfully.

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth.” For since he had cast out the disease of vainglory, he now opportunely brings in the discourse about poverty. For nothing so prepares men to love money as the love of glory. It is for this, at any rate, that men devise herds of slaves and swarms of eunuchs and horses with trappings of gold and silver tables and other things still more ridiculous: not to fill a need, nor to enjoy pleasure, but to display themselves to the many. Above, then, he said only that we must show mercy; but here he shows how much mercy we must show, saying, “Do not lay up treasures.” For since it was not possible at the beginning to bring in all at once the discourse about despising money, because of the tyranny of the passion, cutting it into parts little by little and setting them free, he instills it in the minds of his hearers so that it may be easily received. That is why first he said, “Blessed are the merciful”; and after this, “Be well disposed toward your adversary”; and after that again, “If anyone wants to go to law with you and take your tunic, give him your cloak too”; but here, what is much greater than all those. For there he said, “If you see a lawsuit pressing on you, do this; for it is better to be rid of the fight by not having than to fight while having.” But here, putting neither an adversary nor a litigant, nor mentioning anything else of the kind, he teaches contempt of money in itself, showing that he legislates these things not so much for the sake of those who receive mercy as for the sake of the giver; so that even if there is no one to wrong us and drag us into court, even so we should despise what we have, giving it to those in need. And not even here has he put the whole, but here too gently, although he had shown the contests about these things with great intensity in the desert. But nevertheless he does not put this forward, nor bring it into the open, for it was not yet the time to reveal it; but meanwhile he examines reasonings, keeping in his words about these things the rank of a counselor rather than of a lawgiver. For having said, “Do not lay up treasures on earth,” he added, “where moth and rust consume, and where thieves break in and steal.” Meanwhile he shows the harm of the treasure here and the benefit of the one there, both from the place and from the things that spoil it. And he does not stop here either, but brings another reasoning. And first he urges them from the very things they most fear. “For what do you fear?” he says. “That your money will be spent if you give alms? Then give alms, and then it will not be spent; and, what is greater, not only will it not be spent, but it will even receive a greater increase; for the things in heaven are added.” But for the time being he does not say these things, but puts it later. For the time being

he brings into the open what would most urge them on, that their treasure remains unspent, and he draws them from both sides. For he did not say only that if you give alms it is kept, but threatened the opposite too, that if you do not give, it perishes. And see the unspeakable wisdom. For he did not say, “You leave it to others” (since this too is pleasant to men); but nevertheless he frightens them from another side, showing that they do not attain even this; for even if men do not wrong them, there are those who will certainly wrong them, the moth and the rust. For even if this ruin seems very easily overcome, it is nevertheless invincible and not to be restrained; whatever you devise, you will not be able to check this harm. “What then, does the moth consume gold?” If not the moth, thieves. “What then, have all been robbed?” If not all, most. That is why, as I said before, he brings in another reasoning too, saying, “Where a man’s treasure is, there will his heart be also.” “For even if none of these things happens,” he says, “you will suffer no small harm, nailed to the things below, becoming a slave instead of a free man, falling away from heavenly things, and able to think of nothing lofty, but everything money and interest and loans and gains and slavish trading.” What could be more wretched than this? For such a man will be in a worse state than any slave, drawing upon himself a most grievous tyranny, and betraying the most vital thing of all, the nobility and freedom of man. For however much one talks to you, while your mind is nailed to money you will be able to hear nothing that concerns you; but like a dog tied to a tomb, by the tyranny of money, more grievous than any chain, barking at all who approach, you have this one continual work, to keep for others what lies there. What could be more wretched than this?

But nevertheless, since this was too lofty for the minds of his hearers, and neither its harm was easy for most to perceive nor its gain plain, but it needed a more philosophic mind to see both, he set it after those plain things, saying, “Where a man’s treasure is, there will his heart be also”; and he makes it clearer again, bringing the discourse from intelligible things to things of sense, and saying, “The lamp of the body is the eye.” What he means is this: do not bury gold in the earth, nor anything else of the kind; for you are gathering it for the moth and the rust and the thieves. And even if you escape these harms, you will not escape having your heart enslaved and nailed to all the things below; “for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” As, then, by storing it in heaven you reap not only this, obtaining the prizes for these things, but from here already you receive the reward of the heavens (for you receive a reward by moving your anchorage there, minding the things there, and caring for the things there; for where you have deposited your treasure, it is clear that you transfer your mind too), so if you do this on earth, you will suffer the opposite. And if what has been said is obscure to you, hear what follows: “The lamp of the body is the eye. If, then, your eye is single, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is evil, your whole body will be full of darkness. If, then, the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” He brings the discourse out to more sensible things. For since he had mentioned the mind as enslaved and taken captive, and this was not easy for many to perceive, he transfers the teaching to things outside and before the eyes, so that from these they may understand those too. “For if you do not know,” he says, “what harm of the mind is, learn it from bodily things; for what the eye is to the body, this the mind is to the soul. As, then, you would not choose to wear gold and be clothed with silk garments while your eyes are maimed, but think their health more desirable than all such abundance (for if you lose and destroy it, the rest of life is of no use to you; for as when the eyes are blinded, most of the activity of the other members is gone, their light quenched, so too when the mind is destroyed your life will be filled with countless evils); as, then, in the body we aim at this, to have the eye healthy, so in the soul, the mind. But if we maim this, which ought to provide light for the others too, from where shall we see clearly any longer? For as he who removes the spring has dried up the river, so he who has destroyed the mind has troubled all his activity in this life.” That is why he says, “If the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” For when the pilot is sunk, and the lamp quenched, and the general taken captive, what hope will there be for the subjects any longer?

That is why, leaving aside for now the plots that come through wealth, the fights, the lawsuits (for he hinted at these above, saying, “Your adversary will hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the officer”), he sets down what is more grievous than all these and certainly happens, and so draws them away from the wicked desire. For to have the mind enslaved to this disease is much more grievous than living in prison; and the latter does not always happen, but the former is allotted inseparably to the desire for money. That is why he sets it after that, as being more grievous and as certainly happening. “For God,” he says, “gave us a mind so that we may scatter ignorance and have a right judgment of things, and, using it like a weapon and a light against all that pains and harms, may remain in safety. But we betray the gift for superfluous and useless things.” For what use are soldiers with trappings of gold when the general is dragged away captive? What gain is there in a ship adorned when the pilot is sunk? And what more is a well-formed body when the eyes have had their sight cut out? As, then, if someone threw into sickness the physician who ought to be healthy in order to cure diseases, and bade him lie on a silver bed in a golden chamber, it would be of no use to the sick; so if, having destroyed the mind that can cure the passions, you set it down beside a treasure, you have not only profited nothing but have suffered the greatest loss and harmed the whole soul. Do you see how everywhere, by the very things through which men most desire wickedness, he draws them most away from it and leads them back to virtue? “For why do you desire money?” he says. “Is it not to enjoy pleasure and luxury? This, then, above all you will not have from it, but quite the opposite. For if, when our eyes are put out, we perceive nothing pleasant because of the misfortune from that, much more shall we suffer this in the perversion and maiming of the mind.” “And why do you bury it in the [earth]? So that it may be kept in safety? But here too again the opposite,” he says.

As, then, the one who fasts and shows mercy and prays for vainglory he drew away from vainglory by the very things he most desires (“For why do you pray and show mercy so?” he says. “From love of the glory that comes from men? Then do not pray so, and then you will obtain it on the day to come”), so the lover of money too he caught by the very things he is most eager for. “For what do you want?” he says. “That your money be kept and that you enjoy pleasure? Both of these I will grant you with great abundance, if you deposit the gold there where I bid you.” He showed more clearly later the harm to the mind that comes from this, when he mentioned the thorns; but meanwhile here too he hinted at this in no ordinary way, showing that the one mad about these things is darkened. And as those who are in darkness see nothing clearly, but if they see a rope they think it is a serpent, and if mountains and ravines, they are dead with fear, so these too have suspicions of things that are not fearful to those who see. For they tremble at poverty, or rather not at poverty only, but at any ordinary loss. For if they lose a little, they grieve and are cut to pieces more than those who lack necessary food. Many of the rich, at any rate, have even gone to the noose, unable to bear such ill fortune. And being insulted and abused seems to them so unbearable that for this reason again many have broken away from the present life. For wealth has made them soft toward everything except its own service. For when it bids them serve it, they dare even murders, and whips and reproaches and every shame. Which is the height of wretchedness: to be softer than all where they ought to practice philosophy, but more shameless and reckless where they ought to be more cautious. For the same thing happens to them as would happen to someone who had spent all he had on things that were not needed. For such a man, when the time of necessary expense comes, having nothing to give, suffers incurable evils, since all his goods have been badly spent beforehand.

And as those who know those wicked arts of the stage endure many astonishing and dangerous things in them, but in other useful and necessary matters are more ridiculous than all, so too are these. For those who walk on a stretched rope, displaying such courage, when some necessary matter demands daring and courage, cannot even conceive of anything of the kind nor bear it. So too the rich, daring everything for money, do not bear to endure anything of the kind, small or great, for the sake of philosophy. And as those handle a thing both dangerous and profitless, so these too endure many dangers and precipices, but reach no useful end, and endure a double darkness, maimed by the perversion of the mind and enduring a great mist from the deceit of their cares. That is why they cannot easily see clearly either. For the one who is in darkness is freed from the darkness as soon as the sun appears; but the one whose sight is maimed, not even when the sun appears; which is what these too have suffered. For not even when the Sun of righteousness has shone and exhorts them do they hear, since wealth has shut their eyes. That is why they endure a double darkness, one from themselves, the other from not attending to the teacher.

Let us attend to him, then, with precision, so that at last we may recover our sight. “And how is it possible to recover sight?” If you learn how you were blinded. How then were you blinded? From wicked desire. For like an evil humor flowing over a clear pupil, the love of money has made the cloud thick. But it is easy for this cloud to be scattered and broken, if we receive the ray of Christ’s teaching, if we hear him exhorting and saying, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth.” “And what more do I gain from hearing,” someone says, “when I am held by the desire?” First, continual hearing will be able to dissolve even the desire. And if you should persist in being held, consider that the thing is not even desire. For what desire is it to be a slave grievously, to be subject to a tyranny, to be bound on every side, to live in darkness, to be full of tumult, to endure profitless toils, and to keep money for others, often even for enemies? What desire are these things worthy of? What flight and running away are they not worthy of? What desire is it to deposit a treasure among thieves? For if you desire money at all, transfer it where it can remain safe and unmolested. For what you are doing now belongs not to one who desires money, but slavery and abuse and loss and continual pain. But you, if some man shows you a place on earth safe from molestation, even if he leads you out into the very desert, promising security in keeping your money, do not hesitate or hang back, but trust him and throw your money there; but when God, instead of men, promises you this, and sets before you not the desert but heaven, you accept the opposite. And yet even if it is ten thousand times in safety below, you will never be able to become free from anxiety. For even if you do not lose it, you will never be freed from anxiety lest you lose it. But there you will undergo none of these things; and what is more, you not only bury the gold but plant it. For the same thing is both a treasure and a seed, or rather more than both. For the seed does not remain forever, but this remains continually. Again, the treasure does not sprout, but this bears you deathless fruits. And if you speak to me of the time and the delay of the repayment, I too can show and tell you how much you receive even here; but apart from these things I will try to convict you from the very affairs of this life of making these excuses in vain.

For in the present life too you prepare many things which you yourself are not going to enjoy; and if someone accuses you, putting forward your children and their children, you think you have found sufficient consolation for your superfluous toils. For when, having reached extreme old age, you build splendid houses, which you will often leave before they are finished, and plant trees which will bear fruit after many years, and buy estates and inheritances of which you will receive possession after a long time, and labor at many other such things whose enjoyment you will not reap, do you do it for yourself or for those who come after? How then is it not the height of folly, here not to be troubled at all by the delay of time, and that when you are going to lose the reward of your toils because of all this delay, but there to grow numb because of the postponement, when it brings you more gain, and does not pass the good things on to others but brings the gifts to you yourself? Besides this, the postponement is not long either. For things are at the doors, and we do not know whether in our own generation all things concerning us will come to an end, and that fearful day will come, the awful and incorruptible court. For most of the signs have been completed, and the Gospel has now been preached everywhere in the world, and the things of wars and earthquakes and famines have come to pass, and the interval is not great. “But you do not see signs?” This very thing is the greatest sign. For neither did those in Noah’s time see the beginnings of that universal destruction, but while they were playing, eating, marrying, doing all their usual things, so they were overtaken by that fearful judgment. And those in Sodom likewise, living in luxury and suspecting none of what happened, were burned up by the thunderbolts that were then brought down. Considering all these things, then, let us turn ourselves to the preparation for our departure from here. For even if the common day of the consummation should never come, each one’s end is at the doors, whether one is old or young; and it is not possible for those who have departed from here either to buy oil any longer, or by asking to obtain pardon, even if it is Abraham who intercedes, or Noah, or Job, or Daniel. While, then, we have time, let us store up for ourselves beforehand great boldness, let us gather abundant oil, let us transfer everything into heaven, so that at the fitting time, when we most need them, we may enjoy them all, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will hold to one and despise the other.” Do you see how little by little he draws them away from possessions, and brings in at greater length the discourse about poverty, and casts down the tyranny of the love of money? For he was not content with what came before, many and great as it was, but adds other things too, more and more fearful. For what is more fearful than what is now said, if we are going to fall from the service of Christ because of money? And what more desirable, if by despising it we are going to have a precise goodwill and love toward him? For what I always say I will say now too, that he pushes the hearer to obedience to what is said by both means, both by the profitable and by the harmful, like an excellent physician, showing both the disease that comes from heedlessness and the health that comes from obedience. See, at any rate, what kind of gain he shows again, and how he establishes the advantage from release from the opposite. “For wealth harms you not only,” he says, “because it arms robbers against you, nor because it darkens the mind with all intensity, but because it casts you out of the service of God too, making you captives of lifeless money and harming you on both sides, both by making you slaves of what you ought to rule, and by casting you out of the service of God, whom above all you must serve.” For as there he showed a double harm, in laying up here where moth consumes and in not depositing there where the keeping is safe from loss, so here too he shows the loss as double, both in what draws us away from God and in what subjects us to mammon.

But he does not put it at once, but first establishes it from common reasonings, saying thus: “No one can serve two masters,” meaning here two who command opposite things; since if this were not so, they would not even be two. For “the heart and soul of the multitude of those who believed were one”; and yet they were divided into many bodies, but nevertheless their concord made the many one. Then, intensifying it, he says: not only will he not serve, but he will even hate and turn away. “For either he will hate the one,” he says, “and love the other, or he will hold to one and despise the other.” And it seems that the same thing is said a second time; yet he did not compose it so at random, but to show that the change for the better is easy. For so that one may not say, “I have been enslaved once, I have been tyrannized by money,” he shows that it is possible to change over, and as one went from there to this, so to go from here to that. Having, then, spoken indefinitely, so as to persuade the hearer to become an incorruptible judge of what is said and to give his verdict from the very nature of the things, when he had got him to agree, then he reveals himself too. He added, at any rate, “You cannot serve God and mammon.” Let us shudder when we consider what we have made Christ say, setting gold beside God. And if this is fearful, it is much more fearful that it should happen in deeds, and that the tyranny of gold should be preferred to the fear of God. “What then? In the case of the ancients was this not possible?” Not at all. “How then,” someone says, “did Abraham, how did Job win approval?” Do not tell me of those who were rich, but of those who served wealth. For Job too was rich; but he did not serve mammon, but possessed it and ruled it, and was master, not slave. As a steward of another’s money, so he possessed all those things, not only not seizing what belonged to others, but even giving up his own to those in need. And what is greater, he did not even rejoice in them when present, which he showed when he said, “If I rejoiced because my wealth was great”; that is why he did not grieve when it departed either. But such are not the rich now, but they are in a worse state than any slave, paying tribute as to some harsh tyrant. For as though it had seized their mind as a citadel, the love of money sends them from there every day commands full of every lawlessness, and no one disobeys.

Do not, then, philosophize superfluously. For God has pronounced once for all and said that it is impossible for this service and that to agree. Do not you, then, say that it is possible. For when the one commands robbery and the other giving up one’s possessions; the one chastity, the other sexual immorality; the one drunkenness and luxury, the other restraining the belly; the one despising possessions, the other being nailed to present things; the one admiring marbles and walls and ceilings, the other dishonoring these and honoring philosophy: how can these agree? And here he called mammon “master,” not because of its own nature but because of the wretchedness of those who bow down to it. So too he calls the belly a god, not from the dignity of the mistress but from the misery of those who serve; which is worse than any punishment, and enough even before the punishment to chastise the one caught. For than what condemned men would they not be more wretched, who, having God as Master, desert from that gentle kingdom to the harsh tyranny, and that when so great harm comes from the thing even here? For from it comes unspeakable loss, and lawsuits and abuse and contests and toils and maiming of the soul; and, what is most grievous of all, one falls from the highest goods, which is the service of God.

Having, then, taught by all means the advantage of despising money, both for the keeping of the money itself, and for the pleasure of the soul, and for the acquisition of philosophy, and for the safety of godliness, he now establishes that this exhortation is also possible. For this is above all the mark of excellent legislation, not only to command what is advantageous, but also to make it possible. That is why he goes on, saying, “Do not be anxious for your life, what you will eat.” For so that they might not say, “What then? If we throw away everything, how shall we be able to live?” he now very opportunely faces this objection. For as, if he had said at the beginning, “Do not be anxious,” the word would have seemed heavy, so, since he has shown the ruin that comes from the love of money, he now makes the exhortation easy to receive. That is why even now he did not simply say, “Do not be anxious,” but added the reason before giving this command. For after saying, “You cannot serve God and mammon,” he added, “Therefore I say to you, do not be anxious.” Therefore: why? Because of the unspeakable loss. For the harm to you is not in money only, but the blow is in the most vital things, and in the overthrow of your salvation; for [it casts you out from] him who made you, and … . [Therefore I say] to you, “Do not be anxious.” For since he had shown the harm to be unspeakable, he also intensifies the command. For he bids them not only throw away their possessions, but not even be anxious about necessary food, saying, “Do not be anxious for your life, what you will eat”; not because the soul needs food, for it is bodiless, but he spoke according to common usage. For even if it does not need food, it would not otherwise endure to remain in the body unless the body were fed. And having said this, he does not put it simply, but here too he stirs up reasonings, some from what has already been given us, others from other examples. From what has been given, saying thus: “Is not the life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” He, then, who gave the greater, how will he not give the less? He who formed the flesh that is fed, how will he not provide the food? That is why he did not simply say, “Do not be anxious what you will eat and what you will put on,” but “for the body” and “for the life,” since he was going to make his proofs from these, leading his discourse by comparison. But the soul he gave once, and it remains such; but the body grows every day. Showing both of these, the immortality of the one and the perishability of the other, he added, “Which of you can add one cubit to his stature?” And keeping silent about the soul, since it receives no increase, he spoke only of the body, showing by this that it is not food that makes it grow but the providence of God. Paul too showed this by other words when he said, “So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but God who gives the growth.”

From what has been given, then, he urged them thus; and from other examples, saying, “Look at the birds of the air.” For so that no one may say that we profit by being anxious, he turns them away both from the greater and from the less: from the greater, the soul and the body; from the less, the birds. “For if he takes so much account of things far inferior, how will he not give to you?” he says. And to them he spoke so, for the crowd was still of the common sort; but to the devil not so, but how? “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” But here he mentions the birds, and very shamingly; which has the greatest force for exhortation. But some of the ungodly have come to such a pitch of folly as even to attack the example. For he ought not, they say, when training the will, to lead men to this from natural advantages; for these things belong to the birds by nature. What then should we say to this? That even if it belongs to them by nature, it is possible for us too to have it by choice. For he did not say, “Look how the birds fly,” which was impossible for man, but that they are fed without anxiety, which is easy for us too to achieve if we will. And those who accomplished it by deeds have shown this. That is why the wisdom of the lawgiver is above all to be admired, that though he could have offered the example from men, and could have spoken of Elijah and Moses and John and others like them who were not anxious, in order to touch them he mentioned the irrational creatures. For if he had spoken of those righteous men, they could have said, “We have not yet become like them.” But as it is, by keeping silent about them and bringing forward the birds of heaven, he cut off every excuse, here too imitating the old law. For the Old Testament too sends us to the bee, and to the ant, and to the turtledove, and to the swallow. And this too is no small proof of honor, when what they have by nature we are able to achieve by choice. If, then, he takes such care of the things made for us, much more of us; if of the servants, much more of the master. That is why he said, “Look at the birds”; and he did not say that they do not trade or do business, for these things were strictly forbidden, but what? “They neither sow nor reap.” “What then? Must we not sow?” he says. He did not say that we must not sow, but that we must not be anxious; nor that we must not work, but that we must not be faint-hearted and wear ourselves out with cares. For he bade us …, but not be anxious. David too laid down this saying long before, saying in a veiled way, “You open your hand and fill every living thing with good pleasure”; and again, “To him who gives the beasts their food, and to the young ravens that call upon him.”

“Who then were not anxious?” someone says. Did you not hear how many of the righteous I brought forward? Do you not see with them Jacob going away from his father’s house stripped of everything? Do you not hear him praying and saying, “If the Lord gives me bread to eat and a garment to put on”? which was not the act of one anxious, but of one seeking everything from God. This the apostles too achieved, throwing away everything and not being anxious, and the five thousand and the three thousand. And if, hearing so many words, you do not bear to loose yourself from these grievous bonds, consider the uselessness of the thing and dissolve your anxiety. “For which of you,” he says, “by being anxious can add one cubit to his stature?” Do you see how from the plain he made the hidden clear too? “For as by being anxious you will not be able to add even a little to your body, so neither to gather food, even if you think so.” From this it is clear that it is not our zeal but the providence of God that accomplishes everything even in what we seem to be doing; so that if he forsakes us, no care, no anxiety, no toil, nor anything else of the kind will ever appear, but all will be gone.

Let us not, then, think the commands impossible; for there are many who achieve them even now. And if you do not know them, it is no wonder; for Elijah too thought he was alone, but he heard, “I have left for myself seven thousand men.” From this it is clear that even now there are many showing the apostolic life, like the three thousand and the five thousand then. And if we do not believe it, it is not because there are none who achieve it, but because we are far from the thing. As, then, the drunkard would not easily believe that there is a man who does not even taste water (and yet many monks in our time have achieved even this), nor the man who mingles with countless women that it is easy to live in virginity, nor the man who seizes what belongs to others that anyone would readily give up even his own, so neither would those who wear themselves out every day with countless cares easily accept this. That there are many who have achieved this, then, we could show from those who practice this philosophy even in our own generation. But for the time being it is enough for you to learn not to be covetous, and that almsgiving is good, and to know that we must share what we have. For if you achieve these things, beloved, you will quickly walk on to those too. For the time being, then, let us put away superfluous extravagance, and be content with moderation, and learn to acquire from just labors all that we are going to have; since the blessed John too, when he spoke to those occupied with tax collecting and to the soldiers, commanded them to be content with their wages. For he wanted to lead them to another, greater philosophy too; but since they were not yet fit for it, he tells them the lesser things; since if he had told them things loftier than these, they would neither have attended to those, and would have fallen from these. That is why we too exercise you in the lesser things. For we know for the time being that the burden of poverty is greater than you can bear, and that as far as heaven is from earth, so far is that philosophy from you. Let us, then, lay hold at least of the last of the commands; for this too is no small consolation. And yet among the Greeks some achieved even this, though not with the fitting purpose, and stripped themselves of all their possessions. But nevertheless we are content, in your case, with your giving abundant alms; for we shall quickly come to those things too if we advance in this way. But if we do not do even this, what pardon should we deserve, who are commanded to surpass those in the Old Testament, and appear inferior even to the philosophers among the Greeks? What shall we say, when, though we ought to be angels and sons of God, we do not even keep our being men? For robbing and covetousness belong not to the gentleness of men but to the cruelty of wild beasts; or rather, those who attack what belongs to others are worse even than they. For in them this is present by nature; but we, honored with reason and falling into this ignobility contrary to nature, what pardon shall we enjoy? Considering, then, the measures of the philosophy set before us, let us at least reach the middle, so that we may both be freed from the punishment to come, and, advancing step by step, come to the very summit of good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they do not toil, nor do they spin; yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed like one of these.” Having spoken about necessary food and shown that we must not be anxious even about this, he now passes to what is lighter; for clothing is not as necessary as food. Why then does he not use here too the same example, that of the birds, nor mention to us the peacock and the swan and the sheep? For there were many such examples to take from there. Because he wants to show the excess from both sides, both from the meanness of the things that share in such comeliness and from the lavishness of the adornment given to the lilies. That is why, when he has established them, he no longer even calls them lilies, but “the grass of the field.” And he is not content even with this name, but adds another meanness again, saying, “which is today.” And he did not say, “which is not tomorrow,” but what is much more inferior again, “is thrown into the oven.” And he did not say, “clothes,” but “so clothes.” Do you see everywhere the many excesses and intensifications? And he does this to touch them; that is why he added, “will he not much more clothe you?” For this too carries great emphasis. For “you” is nothing else than one hinting at the great value and the precious worth of the race; as though he said: you, to whom he gave a soul, for whom he fashioned a body, for whose sake he made all visible things, for whose sake he sent prophets and gave the law and wrought countless good things, for whose sake he gave up his only-begotten Son. And when he had proved it clearly, then he also rebukes them, saying, “O you of little faith.” For such is a counselor: he not only exhorts but also strikes, to rouse them more to be persuaded by what is said. By these words he teaches us not only not to be anxious, but not even to be excited by costly garments. For the comeliness of green growth and the beauty of grass, or rather the grass is even more precious than such a robe. Why then do you think highly of things in which the prizes of victory go to the plant with great abundance?

And see how from the beginning he shows the command to be light, again drawing them away from the opposite, and from the very things they fear. For having said, “Consider the lilies of the field,” he added, “they do not toil,” so that he gave these commands wishing to free us from toils. So it is not freedom from anxiety about these things that is toil, but anxiety. And as, when he said, “they do not sow,” he did not overturn sowing but care, so, when he said, “they do not toil nor spin,” he did not remove work but anxiety. And if Solomon was surpassed by their beauty, and not once or twice but through his whole reign (for one could not say that at one time he was clothed so and afterward no longer; rather not even on one day was he adorned so; for he showed this by saying, “in all his glory”), and he was not surpassed by this flower while he imitated another, but yielded to all together (that is why he said, “like one of these”; for as far as truth differs from falsehood, so far is the difference between those garments and these flowers); if, then, he confessed defeat, who was more splendid than all kings that ever were, when will you be able to win, or rather to come even a little near to such beauty? From this he teaches us not to long for such adornment at all. See, at any rate, its end too: after the victory it is thrown into the oven. And if God showed such providence for things mean and worth no account, which provide an ordinary use, how will he give up you, the most precious of all living creatures? Why then did he make them so beautiful? To display his wisdom and the abundance of his power, so that we may learn his glory from every side. For not only do the heavens declare the glory of God, but the earth too; and David showed this when he said, “Praise the Lord, fruitful trees and all cedars.” For some by their fruit, some by their size, some by their beauty send up praise to their maker. For this too is a sign of great abundance of wisdom, when he pours out so much beauty even on very mean things (for what is meaner than that which is today and tomorrow is not?). If, then, he gave the grass what is not for use (for what does its beauty contribute to feeding the fire?), how will he not give you what is for use? If he adorned the meanest of all things with abundance, and this doing not for use but for lavishness, much more will he honor you, the most precious of all, in what concerns your need.

Since, then, he had proved God’s providence to be great, and it was needful to rebuke them as well, here too he uses forbearance, charging them not with unbelief but with little faith. “For if God so clothes the grass of the field,” he says, “much more you, O you of little faith.” And yet he himself makes all these things; for “all things came to be through him, and without him not one thing came to be”; but nevertheless he nowhere mentions himself as yet. For it was enough for the time being, to show his authority, to say at each of the commandments, “You have heard that it was said to the ancients; but I say to you.” Do not wonder, then, when in what follows too he hides himself or says something humble about himself. For he was eager for one thing for the time being, that his word should be acceptable to them, and to show in every way that he was not some rival of God but of one mind and in agreement with the Father. This he does here too. For having spent so many words, he continually sets him in the middle, admiring his wisdom, his providence, his care through all things, both great and small. For when he spoke about Jerusalem, he called it the city of the great King; and when he mentioned heaven, he again named it the throne of God; and when he spoke about the ordering of the world, he again ascribes everything to him, saying that he makes his sun rise on the evil and the good and sends rain on the just and the unjust. And in the prayer too he taught us to say that his is the kingdom and the power and the glory. And here, speaking about his providence and showing how he is an excellent craftsman even in small things, he says that he clothes the grass of the field. And nowhere does he call him his own Father, but theirs, so as to touch them by the honor, and so that when he calls him his Father they may no longer be indignant.

And if we must not be anxious about bare necessities, what pardon would they deserve who are anxious about costly things? Or rather, what pardon would they deserve who do not even sleep, so as to take what belongs to others? “Do not, then, be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we put on?’ For the Gentiles of the world seek all these things.” Do you see how again he shamed them more, and indicated that he had commanded nothing burdensome or oppressive? As, then, when he said, “If you love those who love you, you do nothing great; for the Gentiles too do the same,” he roused them to the greater by the mention of the Gentiles, so now too he brings them into the middle, striking at them and showing that he demands from us a debt that is necessary. For if we must show more than the scribes and Pharisees, what should we deserve, who not only do not surpass them, but even remain in the meanness of the Gentiles and emulate their faint-heartedness? However, he did not stop at the rebuke, but having struck at them from here and roused them and shamed them with every intensity, he comforts them from another side too, saying, “For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.” He did not say, “God knows,” but “the Father knows,” so as to lead them to greater hope. For if he is a Father, and such a Father, he will not be able to overlook his sons when they are in the last extremity of evils, when not even men who are fathers endure this.

And after this he brings in another reasoning again. What is it? “That you need them.” What he means is this: Are these things superfluous, that he should despise them? And yet he did not despise even superfluous things, in the case of the grass; but as it is, these are even necessary. So what you think to be a cause of anxiety for you, this I say is enough to lead you away from this anxiety. For if you should say, “For this reason I must be anxious, because they are necessary,” I say the opposite: for this very reason do not be anxious, because they are [necessary]. For if they were superfluous, not even so ought you to despair, but to be confident about their supply; but since they are necessary, you must no longer doubt. For what father is there who endures not to provide even necessities for his children? So for this reason too God will certainly provide. For he himself is the creator of nature, and knows its need with precision. Nor could you say this, that he is a Father and what is sought is necessary, but he does not know that we are in need of it. For he who knows nature itself, and has become its creator, and formed it such, clearly knows its need better than you who are in need of these things. For it seemed good to him that it should be in such need. He will not, then, oppose his own will, establishing it under the necessity of so great a need, but again depriving it of the need and of necessities.

Let us not, then, be anxious; for we shall gain nothing more than wearing ourselves out. For when he provides whether we are anxious or not, and more when we are not, what more do you get from your anxiety than exacting a superfluous penalty from yourself? For no one who is going to an abundant meal will put up with being anxious about food; nor does one walking to a spring worry about drinking. Let not us, then, either, who have God’s providence as a supply more abundant than every spring and countless banquets prepared, be beggarly and faint-hearted. For besides what has been said he puts another reasoning again for our confidence about such things, saying, “Seek the kingdom of heaven, and all these things shall be added to you.” For when he had released the soul from anxiety, then he also mentioned the heavens. For he had come to dissolve the old things and to call us to a greater country. That is why he does everything to free us from superfluous things and from attachment to the earth. That is why he mentioned the Gentiles too, saying that the Gentiles seek these things, whose whole toil is for the present life, who have no account of things to come, nor any thought of the heavens. But for you these are not the primary things, but others. For we were not made for this, to eat and drink and be clothed, but to please God and attain the good things to come. As, then, in our effort these are secondary, so in our asking too let them be secondary. That is why he said, “Seek the kingdom of heaven, and all these things shall be added to you.” And he did not say, “shall be given,” but “shall be added,” so that you may learn that the present things are nothing great among the things given, compared with the greatness of those to come. That is why he does not even bid us ask for them, but ask for other things and be confident that these too are added to those. Seek, then, the things to come, and you will receive the present things too; do not seek the visible things, and you will certainly obtain them. For it is unworthy of you to approach the Master about such things. For you who ought to spend all your effort and care on those ineffable good things put yourself greatly to shame by spending it on the desire for things that flow away.

“How then?” someone says. “Did he not bid us ask for bread?” But he added “daily,” and to this again “today”; which he does here too. For he did not say, “Do not be anxious,” but, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow,” at once granting us freedom and nailing our soul to the more necessary things. For he bade us ask even for those things for this reason, not as though God needed reminding by us, but so that we may learn that whatever we achieve we achieve with his help, and that we may become familiar with him through continual asking about these things. Do you see how from this too he persuaded them that they will certainly receive the present things? For he who provides the greater will much more give the less. “For I did not say,” he says, “not to be anxious nor to ask for this reason, that you should suffer hardship and go about naked, but that you may have these things too in abundance”; which was above all able to draw them. As, then, in the case of almsgiving, turning them away from displaying themselves to men, he persuaded them above all by this, by promising to grant it to them with greater generosity (“for your Father,” he says, “who sees in secret will reward you openly”), so here too, drawing them away from seeking these things, he persuades them above all by this, by promising to provide them with greater abundance to those who do not seek. “For this is why I bid you not to seek,” he says, “not so that you may not receive, but so that you may receive abundantly; so that you may receive with the bearing that befits you, with the profit that suits you; so that, being anxious and divided by the care of these things, you may not make yourself unworthy both of these and of spiritual things; so that you may not endure superfluous hardship and again fall from what is set before you.”

“Do not, then, be anxious about tomorrow; for sufficient for the day is its own evil,” that is, its hardship and affliction. Is it not enough for you to eat your bread in the sweat of your face? Why do you add another hardship too, that from anxiety, when you are going at last to be released even from the former toils? And by “evil” here he means not wickedness, far from it, but hardship and toil and misfortunes; as elsewhere too he says, “Is there evil in a city which the Lord has not done?”, meaning not robberies nor covetousness nor anything else of the kind, but the blows brought from above. And again: “I am the one who makes peace and creates evils.” For here too he does not mean wickedness, but famines and plagues, the things that seem to the many to be evils. For it is the custom of the many to call these things evils. So, at any rate, the priests and diviners of those five satrapies, when they yoked the cows to the ark and let them walk without their calves, called those God-sent blows, and the dejection and pain that came upon them from them, “evil.” This, then, he shows here too, saying, “Sufficient for the day is its own evil.” For nothing so pains the soul as anxiety and care. So too Paul, leading men to virginity, counseled them, saying, “I want you to be free from care.” And when he says that “tomorrow will be anxious for itself,” he does not say this as though the day were anxious, of course not; but since his discourse was addressed to a less perfect people, wishing to make what was said more vivid, he personifies the time, speaking to them according to the usage of the many. And here he counsels; but as he goes on he even legislates it, saying, “Do not acquire gold nor silver nor a bag for the road.” For when he had shown these things by deeds, then at last he brings in the more vigorous legislation in words too, when his word had become easy to receive, being first confirmed by his own deeds. Where then did he show it by deeds? Hear him saying, “But the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” And he is not content with this alone, but gives proof of these things in his disciples too, forming them in this way and not letting them need anything.

But consider his care too, how it surpasses every father’s affection. “For I command this,” he says, “for no other reason than to free you from superfluous cares. For if today you are anxious about tomorrow, tomorrow you will again be anxious. What then is the superfluity? Why do you compel the day to receive more than the hardship allotted to it, and besides its own toils add to it also the burden of the next day, and that when you are not going to lighten the other at all by the addition, but only to show a greed for superfluous toils?” For in order to strike at them more, he all but gives life to the time itself and brings it in as one wronged and crying out against them for the superfluous abuse. “For you received the day so that you might care for its affairs. Why then do you add to it the affairs of the other? Has it not burden enough in its own care? Why then do you weigh it down more?” And when the lawgiver says these things, and the one who is going to judge us, consider what kind hopes he holds out to us, when he himself testifies that this life is full of hardship and toil, so that even the care of one day is enough to afflict and crush us. But nevertheless, though so many and such great things have been said, we are anxious about these things, and no longer about those in the heavens; but we have reversed the order, fighting against what is said on both sides. For consider: “Do not seek the present things at all,” he says; but we seek them continually. “Seek the heavenly things,” he says; but we do not seek those even for a short hour, but as much anxiety as we show for worldly things, so much negligence we have in spiritual things, or rather much more. “But these things do not always go forward, nor are they always possible.” Behold, we despise for ten days; behold, for twenty, behold, for a hundred; is it not altogether necessary to depart and fall into the hands of the one who judges? “But the delay has some consolation.” And what consolation is it to expect punishment and vengeance every day? For if you want to take some consolation from this delay, take the correction that comes from repentance. For if you think the postponement of the punishment to be some comfort, much more is it a gain not to fall into the punishment. Let us use this delay, then, to be rid altogether of the terrible things that lie upon us. For none of the commands is burdensome or oppressive; but [they are such that, if we bring a] genuine [purpose], we can accomplish all of them, even if we are guilty of countless offenses. For Manasseh had dared countless pollutions; for he stretched out his hands against the saints, brought the abominations into the temple, filled the city with murders, and did many other things beyond pardon; but nevertheless after such and so great lawlessness he washed all those things away. How, and in what way? By repentance and resolve.

For there is not, there is not any sin that does not yield and give way to the power of repentance, or rather to the grace of Christ. For if only we change, we have him helping us; and if you want to become good, no one hinders you; or rather there is one who hinders, the devil, but he has no power when you choose the best things and in this way draw God to your alliance. But if you yourself do not will it, but leap away, how will he protect you? For he wants us to be saved not by necessity and force but willingly. For if you yourself, having a servant who hated you and turned away from you and continually leapt away and fled, would not choose to keep him, and that though you needed his service, much more God, who does everything not for his own need but for your salvation, would not choose to keep you by force; just as, if only you show your choice, he would never choose to give you up, whatever the devil does. So we ourselves are the cause of our own destruction. For we do not come to him, nor plead, nor entreat as we ought; but even if we come, we do it not as those who are to receive, nor with fitting faith, nor as those who demand, but we do everything yawning and lolling back. And yet God wants payment to be demanded of him by us, and is very grateful to you for this. For he alone is the debtor who, when payment is demanded, is grateful, and gives what we did not lend. And if he sees the one who demands pressing vehemently, he pays down even what he did not receive from us; but if sluggishly, he too puts it off, not because he is unwilling to give, but because he is glad to have payment demanded of him by us. That is why he told you the example of that friend who came at night asking for bread, and of the judge who neither feared God nor respected men. And he did not stop at the examples, but showed it in the very deeds too, when he sent away that Phoenician woman filled with the great gift. For through her he showed that he gives even what does not belong to them to those who demand vehemently. For he said, “It is not good to take the children’s bread and give it to the dogs.” But nevertheless he gave it, because she demanded it vehemently. And through the Jews he showed that to the indolent he does not give even what is their own. So they received nothing, but lost what was theirs. And they, because they did not ask, did not receive even their own; but she, because she pressed vehemently, was able to claim even what belonged to others, and the dog received what belonged to the children. So great a good is persistence. For even if you are a dog, by persisting you will be preferred to the indolent child; for what friendship does not accomplish, persistence has accomplished.

Do not, then, say, “God is my enemy and will not hear.” He answers you at once if you trouble him continually; if not because you are a friend, yet because you persist; and neither enmity nor untimeliness nor anything else becomes a hindrance. Do not say, “I am not worthy, and I do not pray”; for the Syrophoenician woman too was such. Do not say, “I have sinned much, and I cannot entreat the one who is angry”; for God looks not at worth but at the will. For [if] the widow bent the ruler who did not fear God nor respect men, much more will continual pleading draw the Good One. So even if you are not a friend, even if you are not asking for what is owed, even if you have devoured your father’s goods and have been out of sight a long time, even if dishonored, even if last of all, even if you come to one who is angry and indignant, only will to pray and to return, and you will receive everything, and you will at once quench both the anger and the condemnation.

“But see, I pray,” someone says, “and nothing more happens.” For you do not pray as they did, I mean the Syrophoenician woman, and the friend who came at an untimely hour, and the widow who continually troubled the judge, and the son who spent his father’s goods. For if you prayed so, you would quickly obtain. For even if he has been insulted, he is a Father; and if he has been angered, he loves his children; and he seeks one thing only, not to exact a penalty for the insults, but to see you repenting and entreating.

Would that we too were so warmed as that heart is roused to love for us! But this fire seeks only an occasion; and if you give it even a little spark, you kindle a whole flame of beneficence. Nor is he indignant because he has been insulted, but because you are the one insulting, and becoming drunken with violence in this way. For if we, being evil, when our children insult us, grieve for them, much more God, who cannot even be insulted, is indignant for your sake who have insulted him. If we who love by nature, much more he who is affectionate beyond nature. “For even if a woman should forget the offspring of her womb,” he says, “yet I will not forget you.” Let us, then, come to him and say, “Yes, Lord; for even the dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Let us come in season and out of season; or rather it is never out of season to come; for it is out of season not to come continually. For to ask of one who desires to give is always in season. For as breathing is never out of season, so neither is asking, but not asking is out of season. For as we need this breath, so we need his help too; and if we will, we shall easily draw him. And the prophet, showing this and pointing out the constant readiness of his beneficence, said, “We shall find him ready as the dawn.” For as often as we come, we shall see him waiting for what is ours. But if we draw nothing from the spring of his goodness, the whole blame is ours. This at any rate he said in accusation of the Jews: “But my mercy is like a morning cloud and like the early dew that passes away.” What he means is this: “I provided everything on my part; but you, as the hot sun coming on drives off and hides both the cloud and the dew, so by your great wickedness you checked my unspeakable generosity.” And this again belongs to providence. For when he sees us unworthy of being well treated, he holds back his benefits, so as not to make us indolent. But if we change a little, even so much as to know that we have sinned, he gushes up beyond the springs, he pours out beyond the sea; and the more you receive, the more he rejoices, and is roused by this to give more again. For he counts our salvation his own wealth, and giving abundantly to those who ask; which Paul too showed when he said, “rich to all and upon all who call on him.” For when we do not ask, then he is angry; when we do not ask, then he turns away. For this he became poor, that he might make us rich; for this he underwent all those things, that he might call us out to ask. Let us not, then, despair; but having so many occasions and kind hopes, even if we sin every day, let us come entreating, begging, asking forgiveness of our offenses. For so we shall at last be slower to sin, and shall scare away the devil, and shall call forth the love of God for mankind, and shall obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Judge not, that you be not judged.” What then? Ought we not to reprove those who sin? For Paul too says this very thing, or rather Christ there, speaking through Paul: “Why do you judge your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother?” And, “Who are you that judge another’s servant?” And again, “Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord comes.” How then does he say elsewhere, “Reprove, rebuke, exhort,” and, “Those who sin, rebuke before all”? And Christ too said to Peter, “Go, reprove him between you and him alone; and if he does not listen, take another with you; and if not even so he yields, tell it also to the church.” And he set so many over him to rebuke him, and not only to rebuke but also to punish; for the one who listens to none of these he commanded to be as a Gentile and a tax collector. And how did he also give them the keys? For if they are not to judge, they will have authority over nothing, and they have received the power of binding and loosing in vain. And besides, if this were to prevail, everything would be ruined, both in the churches and in the cities and in the households. For if the master does not judge the servant, and the mistress the maidservant, and the father the son, and the friend his friend, wickedness will increase. And why do I say the friend his friend? If we do not judge our enemies, we shall never be able to put an end to enmity, but all things will be turned upside down. What then is it that has been said? Let us attend with care, so that no one may suppose that the remedies of salvation and the laws of peace are laws of overthrow and confusion. Above all, indeed, by what follows he has shown those who have understanding the excellence of this law, when he says, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the beam that is in your own eye?” But since to many of the more careless it still seems rather obscure, I will try to explain it from the beginning. Here, as it seems to me at least, he does not simply command us not to judge any sins at all, nor does he simply forbid doing such a thing, but he forbids it to those who are full of countless evils and trample on others for trifles. And it seems to me that he is also hinting here at the Jews, because, while they were bitter accusers of their neighbors for small and worthless things, they themselves were committing great sins without perceiving it. For this he reproached them toward the end as well, saying, “You bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, but you yourselves will not move them with a finger,” and, “You tithe mint and dill, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law, judgment and mercy and faith.” It seems, then, that he is aiming at them too, checking them in advance in the matters in which they were going to accuse the disciples. For even if the disciples had committed no such sin, nevertheless certain things were counted as offenses by those men, such as not keeping the sabbath, eating with unwashed hands, reclining at table with tax collectors; of which he says elsewhere too, “You who strain out the gnat and swallow the camel.” Yet he also lays down a general law about these things. And Paul too did not simply command the Corinthians not to judge, but not to judge those above themselves, and on a matter not admitted; not simply not to correct those who sin. Nor was he then rebuking all without distinction, but he was striking at disciples who did this to their teachers, and who, though liable for countless evils themselves, slander the blameless. This, then, is what Christ too hinted at here; and he did not simply hint at it, but also set over it great fear and a punishment that cannot be averted. “For with the judgment you judge,” he says, “you will be judged.” For it is not him you condemn, he says, but yourself, and you make the judgment seat fearful for yourself and the accounting strict. As, then, in the forgiveness of sins the beginning is from us, so also in this judgment the measures of condemnation are laid down by us. For we ought not to reproach or trample on another, but to admonish; not to revile, but to counsel; not to attack him with arrogance, but to correct him with tender affection. For it is not him but yourself that you hand over to the utmost punishment, if you do not spare him when you must give your verdict on his offenses.

Do you see how these two commands are both light and causes of great blessings to those who obey, as they are of evils to those who pay no heed? For the one who forgives his neighbor has freed himself from charges before the other, without any toil; and the one who examines with forbearance and pardon the offenses others have committed has laid up for himself beforehand, by his own verdict, a large contribution of pardon. “What then?” someone says. “If someone commits sexual immorality, am I not to say that sexual immorality is an evil, nor to correct the one who lives licentiously?” Correct him, yes, but not as a foe, nor as an enemy exacting a penalty, but as a physician preparing remedies. For he did not say, “Do not stop one who is sinning,” but, “Do not judge,” that is, do not be a harsh judge. And besides, as I said before, this was not said about great and forbidden things, but about things that do not even seem to be offenses. That is why he also said, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye?” For many do this now: if they see a monk who has a spare garment, they cite the Lord’s law against him, while they themselves seize countless things and take more than their share every day; and if they see him enjoying more plentiful food, they become bitter accusers, though they themselves are drunk and carousing every day, not knowing that, besides their own sins, they are gathering for themselves from this a greater fire and depriving themselves of every defense. For that your own affairs must be examined strictly, you yourself first laid down as law by judging your neighbor’s in this way. Do not then think it hard if you too are to undergo such an accounting. “You hypocrite, first cast out the beam from your own eye.” Here he wishes to show the great anger he has against those who do such things. For wherever he wishes to show that a sin is great, and the punishment and anger for it great, he begins with a reproach. As, then, in his indignation with the one who was exacting the hundred denarii he said, “You wicked servant, I forgave you all that debt,” so also here, “You hypocrite.” For such a verdict does not come from concern but from hatred of people; it puts forward a mask of kindness, but performs a work of the utmost wickedness, fastening needless reproaches and charges on one’s neighbors, and seizing the rank of teacher when one is not worthy to be even a disciple. That is why he called him a hypocrite. For you who are so harsh in the affairs of others as to see even small things, how have you become so careless in your own as to pass over even great ones? “First cast out the beam from your own eye.” Do you see that he does not forbid judging, but commands us first to cast out the beam from our own eye, and then to correct the faults of others? For each one knows his own affairs better than those of others, and sees greater things better than smaller, and loves himself more than his neighbor. So if you do it out of concern, be concerned first for yourself, where the sin is both plainer and greater. But if you neglect yourself, it is evident that you judge your brother too not out of concern but out of hatred, wishing to make a public show of him. For even if he ought to be judged, it should be by one who commits no such sin, not by you. For since he had set down great and lofty teachings of philosophy, so that no one might say that it is easy to philosophize about such things in words, he wished to show his own freedom of speech, and that he was liable for none of the things he had spoken of but had fulfilled them all; and so he spoke this parable. For he himself too was going to judge afterward, saying, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” But he was not liable for what he had said: he had neither a speck to cast out nor a beam in his eyes, but, being clean of all these, he thus corrected the offenses of all. For one must not, he says, judge others when one is liable for the same things. And why do you wonder that he laid down this law, when even the robber on the cross knew it, saying to the other robber, “Do you not even fear God, since we are in the same condemnation?”, speaking the same thoughts as Christ? But you not only do not cast out your own beam, you do not even see it; while you not only see another’s speck, but also judge it and try to cast it out; as if someone gripped by a severe dropsy, or some other incurable disease, should neglect it and accuse another who neglects a small swelling. And if it is an evil not to see one’s own sins, it is a double and triple evil to sit in judgment on others while carrying the beams about in one’s own eyes without feeling. For sin is heavier than a beam.

What, then, he commanded by these words is this: that one who is liable for countless evils should not be a harsh judge of the offenses of others, especially when these are small; he is not overthrowing reproof or correction, but forbidding men to neglect their own faults and to leap upon those of others. For this made men advance to great wickedness, bringing in a double evil. For the one who had practiced neglecting his own faults, though they were great, and examining harshly those of others, though small and trivial, was ruined in two ways: by despising his own, and by taking on enmity and hatred toward all, and being trained every day in the utmost cruelty and want of compassion. Having done away with all this, then, by this excellent legislation, he added another precept, saying, “Do not give what is holy to the dogs, nor throw your pearls before swine.” “And yet,” someone says, “as he went on he commanded, ‘What you have heard in the ear, proclaim on the housetops.’” But not even this is contrary to the former. For there too he did not command them simply to tell everyone, but to tell with boldness those to whom it should be told. By “dogs” here he hinted at those who live in incurable impiety and have no hope of a change for the better, and by “swine” those who spend their whole lives in licentiousness; all these he declared unworthy of such hearing. Paul too showed this when he said, “The natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit, for they are foolishness to him.” And in many other places he says that a corrupt life is the cause of not receiving the more perfect teachings. That is why he commands us not to throw open the doors to them; for they become more insolent once they have learned. For to the right-minded and those who have understanding, these things appear venerable when they are revealed, but to the senseless they appear so rather when they are unknown. Since, then, they cannot learn them from their own nature, “let them be kept hidden,” he says. For … the pig does not know what a pearl is. Since, then, it does not know, let it not even see it, lest it trample what it does not know. For nothing comes of it but greater harm to those who are so disposed and who hear. For the holy things are drunkenly insulted by them, since they do not know what they are; and they are puffed up the more and arm themselves against us. For this is the meaning of “lest they trample them, and turn and tear you.” “And yet,” someone says, “these things ought to be so strong as to remain unassailable even after being learned, and not to give others a handle against us.” But it is not they that give it; it is that these men are swine. Just so the pearl, when it is trampled, is trampled not because it is contemptible but because it has fallen among swine. And well did he say, “turn and tear.” For they pretend to be gentle in order to learn; then, when they have learned, they become different men from what they were, and they mock, they jeer, they laugh at us as people who have been deceived. That is why Paul too said to Timothy, “Beware of him yourself, for he strongly opposed our words”; and again elsewhere, “Turn away from such people”; and, “After a first and second admonition, have nothing more to do with a man who is a heretic.” So they are not armed by those things; rather, they themselves become foolish in this way, being filled with greater madness. That is why it is no small gain for them to remain in ignorance; for then they do not despise these things as much. But if they learn, the loss is double: they themselves will reap no fruit from it but will be harmed the more, and they will cause you countless troubles. Let those hear this who associate shamelessly with everyone and make venerable things contemptible. For it is for this reason that we celebrate the mysteries with the doors shut and keep out the uninitiated: not because we have judged the rites to be weak, but because the many are still rather imperfectly disposed toward them. For this reason he himself also spoke to the Jews in many parables, because seeing they did not see. For this reason Paul too commanded them to know how they ought to answer each one. “Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” For he had enjoined great and wonderful things, and had commanded them to be above all the passions, and had led them up to heaven itself, and had enjoined them to strive to become like, not angels or archangels, but the Lord of all himself, as far as is possible; and he had commanded the disciples not only to accomplish these things themselves but also to correct others, and to distinguish the wicked from those who are not, the dogs from those who are not dogs (and much in human beings is hidden). So that they might not say that these things are hard and unbearable (for in what follows Peter uttered something of the kind, saying, “Who then can be saved?”; and again, “If such is the case of the man with his wife, it is not expedient to marry”),

so that they might not say this now too (chiefly, indeed, he had already shown by what went before that these things are easy, setting down many arguments one after another, able to persuade), he now adds the crown of their ease as well, devising no ordinary consolation for the toils: the help that comes from persevering prayers. For we must not strive by ourselves alone, he says, but also call on the help from above; and it will surely come and be present, and will take part in our contests with us, and will make all things easy. That is why he both commanded us to ask and pledged himself to give. Yet he did not command us simply to ask, but with much persistence and intensity. For this is what “seek” means. For the one who seeks casts everything out of his mind, gives himself to the thing sought alone, and thinks of nothing that is around him. Those who have lost gold or servants and are searching for them know what I am saying. By “seek,” then, he showed this; and by “knock,” coming with vehemence and a fervent mind. Do not, then, lose heart, O man, nor show less zeal for virtue than desire for money. For those things you have often sought and not found; and yet, though you know this, that you will not certainly find them, you leave no means of search untried; but here, though you have the promise that you will certainly receive, you do not show even the smallest part of that zeal. And if you do not receive at once, do not despair even so. For this reason he said “knock,” to show that even if he does not open the door at once, we must remain there. And if you do not believe my declaration, at least believe the example. “For which of you,” he says, “whose son asks him for bread, will give him a stone?” For among men, if you do this continually, you seem troublesome and burdensome; but with God, it is when you do not do it that you provoke him more. And if you persist in asking, even if you do not receive at once, you will surely receive. For this reason the door is shut, that it may draw you to knock; for this reason he does not grant at once, that you may … ask. Continue, then, doing these things, and you will surely receive. For lest you say, “What then, if I ask and do not receive?”, he has fortified you with the parable, again setting down arguments and leading you from human affairs to confidence about these things, and showing by them that we must not only ask, but ask for what we ought. “For which of you is there, a father, whose son asks him for bread, will give him a stone?” So, if you do not receive, it is because you ask for a stone that you do not receive. For even if you are a son, this is not enough for receiving; rather this very thing hinders receiving: that, being a son, you ask for what is not good for you. You too, then, ask for nothing worldly, but for all things spiritual, and you will surely receive. For Solomon too, because he asked for what he ought to have asked, see how quickly he received. Two things, then, must belong to one who prays: to ask earnestly, and to ask for what one ought. For you too, he says, even though you are fathers, wait for your sons to ask; and if they ask you for something harmful, you withhold the gift; just as, if it is good for them, you consent and provide it. You too, then, considering these things, do not give up until you receive; do not withdraw until you find; do not relax your zeal until the door is opened. For if you come with this mind and say, “Unless I receive, I will not go away,” you will surely receive, if you ask for such things as are fitting for the one who is asked to give and good for you who ask. And what are these? To seek spiritual things in all; to come asking forgiveness having first forgiven those who have wronged us; to lift up holy hands without anger and disputing. If we ask in this way, we shall receive. As it is, our asking is a laughingstock, the asking of drunken men rather than of sober. “What then,” someone says, “when I ask for spiritual things too and do not receive?” Surely you did not knock with zeal; or you made yourself unworthy to receive; or you quickly gave up. “And why,” someone says, “did he not say what we ought to ask?” Yet he did say it all in what went before, and showed for what things we ought to come. Do not say, then, “I came and did not receive.” For it is never God’s doing that one does not receive, who loves us so much as to surpass fathers, and to surpass them as much as goodness surpasses this wickedness. “For if you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father.” He said this not to slander human nature, nor to condemn the race, but calling paternal affection wickedness by contrast with his own goodness: so great is the abundance of his love for humankind. Did you see an argument beyond words, able to raise even one who has utterly despaired to good hopes? Here, then, he shows his goodness from fathers; but in what went before, from the greater things he has given: from the soul, from the body. And nowhere does he set down the chief of blessings, nor bring forward his own coming; for he who so eagerly gave up his Son to slaughter, how will he not freely give us all things? For this had not yet come to pass. But Paul sets it down, saying, “He who did not spare his own Son, how will he not also with him freely give us all things?” But he himself still converses with them from human things. Then, showing that one must neither trust in prayer while neglecting one’s own part, nor, while striving, trust in one’s own zeal alone, but must both seek the help from above and contribute one’s own share, he sets down now this and now that, continually. For having given much counsel, he taught them to pray as well; and having taught them to pray, he came back to counsel about what must be done; then from that again to the need to pray continually, saying, “Ask, and seek, and knock”; and from there again to the need for them also to be earnest themselves: “For all things,” he says, “whatever you wish that people should do to you, do also to them,” summing up everything briefly and showing that virtue is concise and easy and known to all. And he did not simply say, “all things whatever you wish,” but, “all things therefore, whatever you wish.” For he did not add this “therefore” idly; he was hinting: If you wish to be heard, he says, do these things also, along with those I have spoken of. And what are these? “Whatever you wish that people should do to you.” Do you see how from here too he showed that, along with prayer, we need a strict way of life? And he did not say, “Whatever you wish to be done to you by God, do this to your neighbor,” lest you say, “And how is that possible? He is God, and I am a man”; but, “Whatever you wish to be done to you by your fellow servant, show this yourself toward your neighbor.” What is lighter than this? What more just? Then the praise too, before the rewards, is very great: “For this is the law and the prophets.” From this it is plain that virtue is natural to us, that from within ourselves we all know what we ought to do, and that it is never possible to take refuge in ignorance. “Enter through the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad the way that leads to destruction, and many are those who enter through it; and narrow is the gate and hard the way that leads to life, and few are those who find it.” And yet afterward he said, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light”; and in what was said just now he hinted at the same thing. How then does he say here that it is narrow and hard? Chiefly, if you attend, here too he shows that it is very light and easy and simple. “And how,” someone says, “is the narrow and hard way easy?” Because it is a way and a gate; just as the other too, though it is wide and broad, is itself also a way and a gate. And none of these things lasts, but all things pass by, both the painful and the pleasant things of life. And not only in this way are the things of virtue easy, but by their end they become easier still. For not only the fact that the toils and sweat pass, but also that they arrive at a good end (for it ends in life), is enough to console those who contend. So both the brevity of the toils, and the perpetuity of the crowns, and the fact that the one comes first and the other after, would be the greatest consolation for the toils. That is why Paul too called affliction light, not because of the nature of what happens, but because of the purpose of those who contend and their hope of what is to come. “For the lightness of affliction,” he says, “works an eternal weight of glory, while we look not at the things that are seen but at the things that are not seen.” For if waves and seas are light and bearable to sailors, and slaughter and wounds to soldiers, and storms and frosts to farmers, and sharp blows to boxers, because of the hope of rewards that are perishable and pass away, much more, when heaven is set before us, and the ineffable blessings and the immortal rewards, will one feel none of the present hardships.

But if some think it laborious even so, the impression comes only from their own sloth. See, at any rate, how from another side too he makes it easy, commanding them not to have dealings with the dogs, nor to give themselves over to the swine, and to beware of the false prophets, and in every way making them ready for the contest. And the very calling it narrow contributed greatly to making it easy, for it prepared them to be watchful. Just as Paul, when he says, “Our wrestling is not against flesh and blood,” does this not to cast down but to rouse the spirits of the soldiers, so he too, waking the travelers from sleep, called the way rough. And not only in this way did he prepare them to be watchful, but also by adding that it has many who trip us up; and, what is harder still, that they do not even attack openly, but hide themselves; for such is the race of the false prophets. But do not look at this, he says, that it is rough and narrow, but at where it ends; nor at this, that the opposite way is wide and broad, but at where it comes out. And he says all this to rouse our eagerness, as he said elsewhere too, that “the violent take it by force.” For the one who contends, when he sees clearly that the president of the games admires the laboriousness of the contests, becomes more eager. Let us not, then, be distressed when many painful things befall us from this. For the way is hard and the gate narrow, but not the city. That is why one must neither expect rest here nor look for anything painful there afterward. And by saying that few are those who find it, he again showed here the sloth of the many, and taught his hearers to attend not to the prosperity of the many but to the toils of the few. For most, he says, not only do not walk it but do not even choose it, which is a charge of the utmost gravity. But we must not attend to the many, nor be troubled by this, but emulate the few, and, bracing ourselves on every side, walk it in this way. For besides being narrow, the way that leads there also has many who trip us up. That is why he added, “Beware of the false prophets; for they will come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves.” Look: besides the dogs and swine, another kind of ambush and plotting, much worse than that one. For those are acknowledged and open, but these are concealed. That is why he commanded them to keep away from those, but to examine these with care, since it is not possible to see through them at the first encounter. That is why he said, “Beware,” making them more exact in discerning them. Then, having told them of a narrow and hard way, and that they must walk contrary to the many, and guard against swine and dogs, and with these against another and more wicked race, that of the wolves, so that they might not lose heart at the multitude of painful things, being about to go contrary to the many and to take thought for these dangers besides, he reminded them of what happened in the time of their fathers by calling them false prophets; for then too such things happened. Do not then be troubled, he says; nothing new or strange will happen. For the devil always sets deceit beside the truth. And by false prophets here he seems to me to hint not at the heretics but at those who are of corrupt life but wear a mask of virtue, whom the many are accustomed to call impostors. That is why he added, “By their fruits you will know them.” For among heretics it is often possible to find a good life too; but among those I spoke of, never. “What then, if they play the hypocrite in these things too?” But they will be easily caught. For such is the nature of this way which I commanded you to walk, laborious and toilsome; and the hypocrite would not choose to toil, but only to make a show; that is why he is easily exposed. For since he had said that few are those who find it, he sifts them out again from those who do not find it but pretend to, commanding us not to look at those who merely wear masks but at those who pursue it in truth. “And why,” someone says, “did he not make them manifest, but threw us into the search?” So that we may be watchful and always ready for the contest, guarding against not only open enemies but also hidden ones; whom Paul too hinted at when he said that “by fair speech they deceive the hearts of the innocent.” Let us not, then, be troubled when we see many such people even now. For Christ foretold this too from the beginning.

And see his gentleness. For he did not say, “Punish them,” but, “Do not be harmed by them; do not fall in with them unguarded.” Then, so that you might not say that it is impossible to recognize such people, he again sets down an argument from a human example, saying, “Do people gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles? So every good tree bears good fruit, but the rotten tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a rotten tree bear good fruit.” What he means is this: they have nothing gentle or sweet; the sheep goes only as far as the skin; that is why discerning them is easy. And so that you may not have even the least doubt, he compares this with the necessities of nature, things that cannot happen otherwise. This is what Paul too said: “For the mind of the flesh is death; for it is not subject to the law of God, nor indeed can it be.” And if he sets down the same thing a second time, it is not tautology. For lest anyone say that the evil tree bears bad fruit but also good, and makes discernment difficult since its crop is double, he says, It is not so; it bears only bad fruit, and would never bear good; and likewise the reverse. What then? Is there no good man who becomes wicked, and again the reverse? Life is full of many such examples. But Christ does not say this, that the wicked man cannot possibly change, or that the good man cannot fall away, but that as long as he lives in wickedness he will not be able to bear good fruit. For one who is wicked can change to virtue; but while he remains in wickedness he will not bear good fruit. What then? Did not David, being good, bear bad fruit? Not while remaining good, but after he had changed; since if he had remained continually what he was, he would not have borne such fruit. For surely it was not while he remained in the habit of virtue that he dared what he dared. He said these things also to stop the mouths of those who slander without cause, and to bridle the mouths of evil speakers. For since many suspect the good because of the wicked, he said this to deprive them of every excuse. For you could not say, “I was deceived and misled”; for I gave you an exact means of discernment from works, and commanded you to go by the deeds and not to confound everything without distinction. Then, since he had not commanded them to punish such people but only to guard against them, at once consoling those who are injured by them and frightening and changing those men, he fortified them with the punishment that comes from himself, saying, “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” Then, making his speech less offensive, he added, “So then, by their fruits you will know them,” so that he might not seem to bring in the threat as his main point, but to shake their minds by way of exhortation and counsel. Here he seems to me also to be hinting at the Jews, who were displaying such fruits. That is why he reminded them of the words of John, sketching their punishment in the same terms. For he too said these things, speaking to them of an axe, of a tree cut down, and of unquenchable fire. And it seems to be a single punishment, being burned; but if one examines it closely, these are two penalties. For the one who is burned is also wholly cast out of the kingdom, and this punishment is harsher than the other. And I know that many dread hell alone; but I say that falling from that glory is a punishment far more bitter than hell. And if it cannot be shown in words, there is nothing to wonder at. For we do not know the blessedness of those good things, so as to see clearly the misery that comes from being deprived of them; since Paul, who knew these things clearly, knows that to fall from the glory of Christ is harder than all things. And this we shall know then, when we come to the actual experience of it.

But may we never suffer this, O only-begotten Son of God, nor ever have any experience of this incurable punishment. How great an evil it is to fall from those good things it is not possible to say clearly; yet, as far as I am able, I will strive and endeavor by an example to make it plain to you, at least a little. Let us suppose a wonderful child who, together with virtue, holds the kingship of the world, and is in every way so virtuous as to be able to bring everyone to the affection of a father’s love. What then do you think his father would not gladly suffer so as not to lose his company? What evil, small or great, would he not accept in order to see and enjoy him? Let us reason in the same way about that glory. For no child, though ten thousand times virtuous, is so longed for and so lovely to a father as is the inheritance of those good things, and “to depart and be with Christ.” Hell is unbearable, and that punishment too. Yet even if someone sets down ten thousand hells, he will say nothing comparable to falling from that blessed glory: to be hated by Christ, to hear “I do not know you,” to be charged that we saw him hungry and did not feed him. For it is better to endure ten thousand thunderbolts than to see that gentle face turned away from us, and that serene eye not enduring to look at us. For if, when I was his enemy and hated him and turned away from him, he so pursued me as not even to spare himself but to give himself up to death; when after all that I do not even think him worthy of a loaf of bread when he is hungry, with what eyes shall I look at him then? But consider his gentleness here too. For he does not speak of his benefits, nor say that you neglected one who had helped you so much. He does not say: “Me, who brought you from not being into being, who breathed a soul into you and set you over all things on earth; who for your sake made earth and heaven and sea and air and all that is; who was dishonored by you and seemed to you of less honor than the devil, and did not withdraw even so, but devised countless things for you afterward; who chose to become a slave, who was struck and spat upon, who was slain, who died the most shameful death, who also intercedes for you above, who gives you the Spirit, who counts you worthy of a kingdom, who makes you such promises, who willed to be your head and bridegroom and garment and house and root and food and drink and shepherd and king and brother, who chose you as heir and joint heir, who brought you out of darkness into the authority of light.” For though he could say these things and more than these, he says none of them. But what? Only the sin itself. And here he shows his love and displays the longing he has for you. For he did not say, “Go into the fire prepared for you,” but, “prepared for the devil.” And first he says what wrongs they did, and even so he does not bring himself to say everything, but only a few things. And before these he calls those who have done well, to show from this too that his charges are just. What punishment, then, is not lighter than these words? For if someone who saw a man who had been his benefactor hungry would not neglect him; and if he did neglect him and were reproached for it, he would rather choose to sink into the earth than hear these things before two or three friends: what shall we suffer, hearing these things before the whole world, things which he would not have said even then had he not been hastening to make his own defense? For that he brought these things forward not to reproach but in his own defense, and to show that it was not in vain or rashly that he said to them, “Depart from me,” is clear from his unspeakable benefits. For had he wished to reproach, he would have brought all those things forward; but as it is, he speaks only of what he suffered.

Let us fear, then, beloved, to hear these words. Life is not a game; or rather, the present life is a game, but the things to come are not games. And perhaps life is not only a game but even worse than that. For it does not end in laughter, but brings great harm to those who will not manage their own affairs with care. For in what, tell me, do we who build splendid houses differ from children who play at building houses? In what do we who live in luxury differ from them when they make their dinners? In nothing, except that we do these things to our punishment. And if we do not yet perceive the worthlessness of what we do, it is no wonder; for we have not yet become men; but when we become men, we shall know that all these things are childish. For when we become men we laugh at those things too; but while we are children we think them worth much zeal, and, gathering potsherds and clay, we think no less of ourselves than those who raise great circuits of walls. But nevertheless they are at once destroyed and fall down, and even while standing they could be of no use to us, just as neither are these splendid houses. For they could not receive the citizen of heaven, nor would the one who has the fatherland above endure to remain in them; but as we throw down those with our feet, so he overthrows these with his mind. And as we laugh at children weeping over the overthrow, so these men too, when we lament these things, not only laugh but also weep, since their hearts are full of compassion and great is the harm that comes from this. Let us become men, then. How long shall we be dragged along the ground, priding ourselves on stones and wood? How long shall we play? And would that we were only playing! But as it is we are also betraying our own salvation. And just as children, when they spend their leisure on these things and neglect their letters, undergo the severest beatings, so we too, spending all our zeal on these things, and being asked then for our spiritual lessons in deeds and having none to give, shall pay the utmost penalty. And there is no one to rescue us, whether father or brother or anyone else. But these things will all pass away, while the torment that comes from them remains immortal and unending; just as happens with children too, when the father utterly destroys their childish toys because of their idleness and sets them weeping continually. And so that you may learn that these things are of this kind, let us bring forward what seems most of all to be worth zeal, wealth, and set against it whatever virtue of the soul you like, and then you will see its worthlessness most clearly. Let us suppose, then, two men; and I do not yet speak of greed, but of just wealth. Of these two, let the one gather money, sail the sea, till the land, and find many other ways of trade (though I do not know whether one who does these things can gain justly; but still, let it be so, and let it be supposed that he makes just gains and buys fields and slaves and all such things, and that no injustice attaches to these); and let the other, who possesses as much, sell fields, sell houses and vessels of gold and silver, and give to those in need, help the poor, care for the sick, release those in distress, bring out some from chains, set free those in the mines, take down others from the noose, release the captives from punishment. On which side, then, do you wish to be? And we have not yet spoken of the things to come, but so far only of the things here. On which side, then, do you wish to be? Of the one who gathers gold, or of the one who relieves misfortunes? Of the one who buys fields, or of the one who makes himself a harbor for human nature? Of the one clothed in much gold, or of the one crowned with countless praises? Is not the one like an angel come down from heaven for the amendment of the rest of mankind, while the other is not even like a man, but like a child gathering everything together idly and at random? And if just money-making is so ridiculous and a mark of the utmost folly, how is such a man not the most wretched of all when not even justice attends it? For if the laughter is so great, when hell too is added and the loss of the kingdom, of how many lamentations would he be worthy, both living and dead? But do you wish us to take up another part of virtue too? Let us bring forward, then, another man who is in power, commanding all, invested with great dignity, having a splendid herald and girdle and lictors and a great company of attendants. Does this not seem great and enviable? Come, then, let us set another against him too: the man who bears wrongs patiently, meek and humble and long-suffering; and let this man be insulted, let him be beaten, and let him bear it easily and bless those who do such things. Which, then, tell me, is admirable: the one who is puffed up and inflamed, or the one who is calm? Is not the one, again, like the powers above, which have great freedom from passion, and the other like a blown-up bladder, or a man who has dropsy and great inflammation? And the one like a spiritual physician, the other like a ridiculous child puffing out its cheeks? For why do you pride yourself, O man? Because you are carried high on a chariot? Because a pair of mules draws you? And what is that? One could see this happening to wood and stones too. Because you are clothed in fine garments? But look at the one who has put on virtue instead of garments, and you will see yourself like rotting grass, and him like a tree bearing wonderful fruit and giving great delight to those who see it. For you carry about food for worms and moths, which, if they attack you, will quickly strip you bare of this finery (for garments and gold and silver are, the one the spinning of worms, the other earth and dust, and earth again, and nothing more); but the one clothed in virtue has such a robe as not only moths but not even death itself can spoil; and very reasonably. For these virtues of the soul do not have their origin from the earth, but are the fruit of the Spirit; that is why they are not subject to the mouths of worms. For these garments are woven in heaven, where there is no moth, no worm, nor any other such thing. Which, then, tell me, is better: to be rich or to be poor? To be in power or in dishonor? In luxury or in hunger? Clearly, in honor and luxury and wealth. Therefore, if you want the realities and not the names, leave the earth and what is on it and move to heaven; for the things here are a shadow, but the things there are realities, unshaken, firmly fixed, and beyond the reach of all. Let us choose them, then, with all exactness, so that we may be freed from the turmoil of things here, and, sailing into that calm harbor, may appear with much cargo and with the unspeakable wealth of almsgiving; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“[Not everyone who] says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter into the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” Why did he not say, “but the one who does my will”? Because for the time being it was welcome for them to receive even this first; for it was already very great, given their weakness. And besides, by the one he hinted at the other too. And along with this one may also say that there is no other will of the Son besides that of the Father. And here he seems to me to be attacking the Jews most of all, who placed everything in doctrines and took no thought for their life. That is why Paul too charges them, saying, “But if you call yourself a Jew, and rest on the law, and boast in God, and know his will”; but you have no advantage from this when the display of a life and of works is not present. But he himself did not stop at this; he said something much more. “For many will say to me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name?’” For not only, he says, is the one who has faith but has neglected his life cast out of heaven; but even if, together with faith, he has done many signs and worked no good, he too is likewise shut out from those sacred doors. “For many will say to me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name?’” Do you see how quietly he brings himself in at last, now that he has completed his whole discourse, and shows that he is the judge? For that punishment awaits those who sin he showed in what went before; but who it is that punishes, he now reveals here. And he did not say openly, “It is I,” but, “Many will say to me,” establishing this same thing again. For if he were not himself the judge, how would he have said to them, “And then I will declare to them, ‘Depart from me; I never knew you’”? Not only at the time of judgment, he says, but not even then, when you were working miracles. That is why he said to the disciples too, “Do not rejoice that the demons are subject to you, but that your names are written in heaven.” And everywhere he commands us to take great care for our life. For it is not possible that a person who lives rightly and is free from all the passions should be overlooked; but even if he happens to go astray, God will quickly draw him to the truth. But there are some who say that these men were lying when they said this, and that this is why, they say, they were not saved. Then such a person establishes the opposite of what Christ intends. For he intends to show here that faith has no strength without works. Then, intensifying this, …

he added the signs too, showing that not only faith but not even the display of signs profited the wonder-worker anything without virtue. And if they had not done them, how could this point have been established here? Besides, they would not have dared to say this to him with the judgment at hand. And the answer itself, and their speaking in the form of a question, shows that they had done them. For since they saw an end contrary to their expectation, and while here they had been admired by all for working miracles, but there they now see themselves punished, they say, as men astonished and amazed, “Lord, did we not prophesy in your name?” How then do you turn us away now? What does this strange and unexpected end mean? But they wonder that, having worked such miracles, they were punished; you, however, must not wonder. For the grace was wholly of the gift of the giver; but they contributed nothing of their own; that is why they are justly punished, because toward the one who honored them so much as to give the grace even to the unworthy they proved ungrateful and without feeling. “What then,” someone says, “did they do such things while working lawlessness?” Some say that it was not at the time when they were working these miracles that they were also acting lawlessly, but that later they changed and did lawlessness. But if this is so, again the point he is laboring to make does not stand. For what he is eager to show is this: that neither faith nor miracles have strength when life is lacking; as Paul too said, “If I have faith so as to remove mountains, and know all mysteries and all knowledge, but have not love, I am nothing.” Who, then, are these? he says. Many of those who believed received gifts, such as the one who cast out demons and was not with him, such as Judas; for he too, though wicked, had a gift. And in the Old Testament too one could find this: grace often working in the unworthy so as to benefit others. For since not all were fitted for all things, but some were of pure life but did not have such great faith, and others the reverse, he urged the former through the latter to show great faith, and by this unspeakable gift called forth the latter to become better. That is why he gave the grace with great abundance. “For [we did] mighty works,” they say … “that I do not know you.” For now they think they are my friends, but then they will know that it was not as to friends that I gave. And why do you wonder that he gave gifts to men who believed in him but had no life consistent with their faith, when he is found working even in those who have fallen from both? For Balaam too was a stranger both to faith and to an excellent way of life; but nevertheless grace worked in him for the sake of his dealings with others. And Pharaoh was such; but nevertheless to him too he showed the things to come. And Nebuchadnezzar was most lawless; and to him again he revealed what would happen many generations later. And again to his son, who surpassed his father in lawlessness, he showed the things to come, ordering wonderful and great affairs. Since, then, at that time too the preaching was at its beginning, and there needed to be a great display of his power, many even of the unworthy received gifts. But nevertheless those men gained nothing from these signs, but are punished the more. That is why he spoke to them that fearful word, “I never knew you.” For many he hates even here already, and turns away from them before the judgment. Let us fear, then, beloved, and take great care of our life, and let us not think we have less because we do not now work signs. For we shall never have any advantage from these, just as we shall have no loss from not working them, if we take care of all virtue. For of the signs we are ourselves the debtors; but of our life and our actions we have God as our debtor. Since, then, he had completed everything, and had discoursed about virtue with all exactness, and had shown that its counterfeiters are of various kinds, those who fast and pray for display, those who come in sheep’s skin, and those who corrupt it, whom he called swine and dogs, he shows at last how great is the gain of virtue even here, and how great the harm of wickedness, saying, “Everyone, then, who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man.” What those who do not do them will suffer, even if they work signs, you have heard; but you must also know what those who obey all that has been said will enjoy, not only in the age to come but also here. “For everyone,” he says, “who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man.” Do you see how he varies his speech, at one time saying, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’” and revealing himself; at another, “the one who does the will of my Father”; and again bringing himself in as judge, “For many will say to me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name?’ and I will say, ‘I do not know you’”? And here again he shows that he has authority over all; that is why he also said, “Whoever hears these words of mine.” For since he had spoken entirely about the things to come, speaking of a kingdom and an unspeakable reward and comfort and all such things, he wishes to give them the fruits from here too, and to show how great is the strength of virtue even in the present life. What, then, is this strength? To live in safety, to be easily overcome by none of the terrors, to stand above all who mistreat us. What could equal this? For not even the man who wears the diadem could provide this for himself, but the one who pursues virtue. For he alone possesses it in great abundance, enjoying great calm in the ebb and flow of present affairs. For this is what is truly wonderful: that not when the weather is fair, but when the storm is violent and the turmoil great and the temptations continuous, he cannot be shaken even a little. “For the rain came down,” he says, “the rivers came, the winds blew and fell upon that house, and it did not fall; for it had been founded on the rock.” Here he speaks metaphorically of rain and rivers and winds, meaning human misfortunes and calamities, such as slanders, plots, griefs, deaths, losses of kinsfolk, injuries from strangers, all the evils of life one could mention. But such a soul, he says, yields to none of these; and the reason is that it is founded on the rock. And he calls the security of his own teaching a rock. For the commandments are stronger than a rock, making one higher than all the waves of human affairs. For the one who keeps them with exactness will prevail not only over men who mistreat him, but even over the very demons who plot against him. And that what has been said is no boast, Job is our witness, who received all the attacks of the devil and remained unmoved; and the apostles too would bear witness, who, when the waves of the world dashed against them, of peoples and tyrants, kinsfolk and strangers, demons and the devil, and every device was set in motion, stood firmer than a rock and broke up all these. What, then, could be more blessed than this life? For neither wealth, nor bodily strength, nor glory, nor power, nor anything else will be able to promise this, but only the possession of virtue. For it is not, it is not possible to find another life free from all evils except this one alone. And you are witnesses, who know the plots in palaces, the tumults and troubles in the houses of the rich. But among the apostles there was nothing of the kind. What then? Did nothing of the kind happen, and did they suffer nothing terrible from anyone? No; this is what is most wonderful of all: that they underwent many plots, and many storms burst upon them, yet these did not overturn their soul nor throw them into despondency, but, wrestling with bare bodies, they prevailed and overcame. You too, then, if you are willing to do these things with exactness, will laugh at everything. For if you are fortified with the philosophy of these counsels, nothing will be able to grieve you. For how will the one who wishes to plot against you harm you? Will he take away your money? But even before his threat you were commanded to despise it, and to keep from it so far as not even to ask the Master for any such thing. Will he throw you into prison? But before the prison you were commanded to live so as to be crucified to the whole world. Does he speak ill of you? But Christ has freed you from this pain too, promising you without toil a great reward for patience, and making you so clean of the anger and grief that come from it as even to command you to pray for them. Does he drive you out and surround you with countless evils? He makes your crown more splendid. Does he kill and slaughter you? For this very reason he again benefits you most of all, procuring for you the prizes of the martyrs, sending you more quickly into the harbor free from waves, giving you occasion for a greater reward, and causing you to turn to profit the penalty common to all. And this is most wonderful of all: that those who plot not only do no harm, but even make those they mistreat more highly esteemed. What could equal choosing such a life, such as this alone is? For since he had said that the way is narrow and hard, here too consoling the toils, he shows that its security is great and its pleasure great, just as great is the rottenness and the loss of the opposite. For as he showed the prizes of virtue even from here, so too the wages of wickedness. For, as I always say, so I will say now too: everywhere he secures the salvation of his hearers by both, by zeal for virtue and by hatred of wickedness. For since there were going to be some who admired what was said but did not give proof of it in deeds, he anticipates them and frightens them, saying that, even if what has been said is good, hearing is not enough for safety, but there is need also of obedience in works, and the whole lies chiefly in this. And here he ends his discourse, leaving the fear at its height in them. For just as with virtue he exhorted them not only from the things to come, speaking of a kingdom and heavens and an unspeakable reward and comfort and countless good things, but also from present things, displaying the firmness and immovability of the rock; so also with wickedness he frightens them not only from what is expected, such as the tree cut down, and the unquenchable fire, and not entering into the kingdom, and the saying, “I do not know you,” but also from present things, I mean the fall of the house. That is why he made his speech more vivid, working it out in a parable. For it was not the same to say that the virtuous man will be invincible and the wicked easily taken, as to set down a rock and a house and rivers and rain and wind and all such things. “And everyone who hears these words of mine,” he says, “and does not do them, will be like a foolish man who built his house upon the sand.” And well did he call him foolish. For what could be more senseless than one who builds a house on the sand, and undergoes the toil but is deprived of the fruit and the rest, and instead of this undergoes punishment? For that those who pursue wickedness also labor is plain to everyone: the robber, the adulterer, and the false accuser toil much and suffer hardship so as to bring their wickedness to completion; but not only do they reap no fruit from these toils, but … the loss. Hinting at this, Paul said, “He who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption.” Like this too are those who build on the sand, such as those given to sexual immorality, to licentiousness, to drunkenness, to anger, to all the other vices. Such was Ahab, but not such was Elijah. For by setting virtue and wickedness side by side we shall know the difference more exactly. For the one built on the rock, the other on the sand; that is why, though he was king, he feared and trembled at the prophet who had only a sheepskin. Such were the Jews, but not the apostles; that is why these, though few and bound, displayed the firmness of the rock, and those, though many and armed, the weakness of the sand. For they said, “What shall we do with these men?” Do you see who are at a loss? Not those who were in their power and bound, but those who held and bound them. What could be stranger than this? You hold them, and you are at a loss? And very reasonably. For since they had built everything on the sand, for this reason they were the weakest of all. That is why they also said again, “Do you intend to bring this man’s blood upon us?” What are you saying? You scourge, and you are afraid? You mistreat, and you dread? You judge, and you tremble? So weak is wickedness. But not so the apostles. How, then? “We cannot but speak the things we have seen and heard.” Did you see a lofty spirit? Did you see a rock laughing at the waves? Did you see a house unshaken? And what is more wonderful, they not only did not become cowardly when plotted against, but took more courage and threw those men into greater anguish. For the one who strikes … adamant is himself the one who is struck; and the one who kicks against the goads is himself the one who is pricked and receives the grievous wounds; and the one who plots against the virtuous is himself the one in danger. For wickedness becomes weaker the more it is arrayed against virtue. And just as one who binds fire in a garment did not quench the flame but consumed the garment, so the one who mistreats and holds and binds the virtuous makes them more glorious and destroys himself. For the more terrible things you suffer while living uprightly, the stronger you have become; for the more we honor philosophy, the less we shall need anything; and the less we need anything, the stronger we become and above all things. Such was John; that is why no one grieved him, but he grieved Herod; and the one who had nothing rose up against the ruler, while the one clothed with diadem and purple and endless pomp trembles and fears the one stripped of everything, and could not look without fear even upon him when he had been beheaded. For that even after his death he kept the fear of him at its height, hear what he says: “This is John, whom I killed.” And the words “I killed” were not those of one boasting, but of one soothing his fear and persuading his troubled soul to remember that he himself had slain him. So great is the strength of virtue that even after death it is more powerful than the living. For this reason too, while he was alive, those who possessed much money came to him and said, “What shall we do?” You have so much, and you wish to learn the way of your prosperity from one who has nothing? The rich from the poor? … Such was Elijah too; that is why he spoke to the people with the same boldness. For the one said, “Brood of vipers,” and this one, “How long will you limp upon both your hams?” And the one said, “You have murdered and taken possession,” and the other said, “It is not lawful for you to have the wife of your brother Philip.” Did you see the rock? Did you see the sand, how easily it falls down, how it yields to misfortunes, how it is overturned, whether it has a king on its side, or a multitude, or power? For it makes those who pursue it more senseless than all. And it does not simply fall, but with great calamity. “For great,” he says, “was its fall.” For the danger is not about trifles, but about the soul, about falling from heaven and from those immortal good things. Or rather, even before those, the one who pursues this life will live more wretchedly than all, living with continual despondency, fears, cares, and anguish; which a certain wise man too hinted at when he said, “The ungodly flees when no one pursues.” For such people tremble at shadows, suspect their friends, their enemies, their servants, those who know them and those who do not, and before the punishment pay the utmost penalty here. And making all this plain, Christ said, “And great was its fall,” closing these excellent precepts with a fitting end, and persuading even the very unbelieving to flee wickedness on the ground of present things. For even if the word about the things to come is greater, this one is better able to restrain the duller sort and lead them away from wickedness. That is why he ended with it, so that the benefit might ring in their ears. Knowing all these things, then, both the present and the future, let us flee wickedness, let us emulate virtue, so that we may not labor in vain and at random, but may both enjoy safety here and share in the glory there; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“And it came to pass, when Jesus had finished these words, the crowds were astonished at his teaching.” And yet it would have been natural for them to be pained at the burdensomeness of what was said, and numbed at the loftiness of what was commanded; but as it was, so great was the power of the teacher that he took hold of many of them, threw them into the greatest amazement, and persuaded them, through the delight of what was said, not to go away even when he had stopped speaking. For not even when he came down from the mountain did the hearers depart; even so the whole audience followed; such love for what had been said had he put into them. And they were astonished above all at his authority. For he did not say what he said referring it to another, as the prophet and Moses did, but everywhere showed himself to be the one who has the authority. For in giving laws he continually added, “But I say to you”; and in reminding them of that day he showed himself to be the one who judges, both by the punishments and by the honors. And yet it would have been natural for them to be disturbed by this too. For if the scribes, seeing him display his authority by his works, stoned him and drove him out, when there were only words showing this, how was it not natural for them to be offended, especially when these things were said at the beginning, before he had given proof of his own power? But nevertheless they suffered none of this; for when the soul and mind are right-minded, they are easily persuaded by the words of truth. For this reason those men were offended even when the signs proclaimed his power, while these, hearing bare words, were persuaded and followed. This, at any rate, the evangelist too hinted at when he said that great crowds followed him: not any of the rulers, nor of the scribes, but all who were free of wickedness and had an unbribed judgment. And throughout the whole Gospel you see these attached to him. For when he spoke they listened in silence, not interjecting anything, nor breaking the sequence, nor testing him and wishing to find a handle, as the Pharisees did; and after the discourse they followed again, marveling. But consider, I pray you, the Master’s wisdom, how he varies the benefit to those present, passing from miracles to words, and again from the teaching of words to miracles. For before he went up the mountain he healed many, preparing the way for what he would say; and after completing this long discourse he comes again to miracles, confirming by what was done what had been said. For since he taught as one having authority, so that this manner of teaching might not be thought boasting and arrogance, he does the same in his works too, healing as one having authority, so that those who saw him teaching thus might no longer be disturbed, since he worked his miracles in the same way. “For when he came down from the mountain, a leper came to him, saying, ‘Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.’” Great was the understanding and the faith of the one who came. For he did not interrupt the teaching nor break up the audience, but waited for the fitting time, and comes to him when he has come down. And not simply, but with great fervor; and he entreats him on his knees, as another evangelist says, with genuine faith and the right opinion about him. For he did not say, “If you ask God,” nor, “If you pray,” but, “If you will, you can make me clean.” Nor did he say, “Lord, cleanse me,” but entrusts everything to him, makes him lord of the healing, and bears witness to all his authority. “What then,” someone says, “if the leper’s opinion was mistaken?” Then he ought to have overthrown it, rebuked it, and corrected it. Did he then do this? Not at all; quite the opposite: he establishes and confirms what was said. For this reason he did not say, “Be cleansed,” but, “I will; be made clean,” so that the doctrine might no longer be the other’s supposition but his own judgment. But the apostles did not speak so; how, then? When the whole people were astonished, they said, “Why do you look at us, as though by our own power or authority we had made him walk?” But the Master, though he often uttered many modest things, lower than his own glory, here, to establish the doctrine of those who were amazed at him for his authority, what does he say? “I will; be made clean.” And yet, though he did so many and such great signs, nowhere does he appear to have said this word. But here, to ratify the supposition about his authority held by the whole people and the leper, for this reason he added, “I will.” And he did not say it and not do it; the deed followed at once. And if he had not spoken rightly, and what was said was blasphemy, the work ought to have been cut short. But as it was, nature yielded at his command, and with fitting speed, greater even than the evangelist said. For the word “immediately” is much slower than the speed with which the deed was done. And he did not simply say, “I will; be made clean,” but also “stretched out his hand and touched him,” which most of all deserves inquiry. For why, when he was cleansing him by will and word, did he add the touch of his hand? It seems to me it was for no other reason than to show by this too that he is not under the law but over it, and that from now on nothing is unclean to the clean. That is why Elisha did not even see Naaman, but, even when he saw him offended because he did not come out and touch him, he stays at home, keeping the strictness of the law, and sends him to the Jordan to wash. But the Master, showing that he heals not as a servant but as Lord, also touches him. For the hand did not become unclean from the leprosy, but the leprous body was made clean by the holy hand. For he had not come to heal bodies only, but also to lead the soul to philosophy. As, then, he no longer forbade eating with unwashed hands, bringing in that excellent law about the indifference of foods, so here too, teaching from now on that we must take care of the soul and, freed from outward purifications, scour it clean, and fear only its leprosy, which is sin (for being a leper is no hindrance to virtue), he himself first touches the leper, and no one accuses him. For the court was not corrupt, nor were the spectators possessed by envy. For this reason they not only did not find fault, but were amazed at the miracle and yielded, worshiping his irresistible power both from what was said and from what was done. Having healed his body, then, he commands him to tell no one, but to show himself to the priest and offer the gift that Moses commanded, as a testimony to them. Now some say that he commanded him to tell no one so that they might not act maliciously in judging his cleansing, a very foolish supposition. For he did not cleanse him in such a way that the cleansing could be disputed; but he commands him to tell no one, teaching us to avoid boasting and love of honor. And yet he knew that the man would not obey, but would proclaim his benefactor; but nevertheless he does his own part. “How then,” someone says, “does he elsewhere command one to tell?” Not contradicting himself or being inconsistent, but teaching us to be grateful. For there too he did not command him to proclaim himself, but to give glory to God; through this leper making us free from pride and vainglory, and through that one making us thankful and grateful, and teaching us everywhere to refer the praise for what is done to the Master. For since people for the most part remember God when they are sick, but when freed from their illness become more careless, he commands us constantly, both sick and healthy, to attend to the Master, and says, “Give glory to God.” But why did he also command him to show himself to the priest and to offer a gift? Again here fulfilling the law. For he did not everywhere set it aside, nor everywhere keep it, but sometimes did this, sometimes that: by the one preparing the way for the philosophy to come, by the other restraining for the time the shameless tongue of the Jews and condescending to their weakness. And why do you wonder if he himself did this at the beginning, when even the apostles, after being commanded to go to the Gentiles, after the doors of teaching throughout the world had been opened, and the law shut up, and the commandments renewed, and all the old things put to rest, appear sometimes keeping the law and sometimes passing it by? “And what does this contribute,” someone says, “to the keeping of the law, the saying, ‘Show yourself to the priest’?” No small thing. For there was an ancient law that the leper, when cleansed, should not entrust the examination of his cleansing to himself, but appear before the priest and present the proof to his eyes, and by his verdict be counted among the clean. For if the priest did not say, “The leper has been cleansed,” he still remained with the unclean outside the camp. That is why he says, “Show yourself to the priest, and offer the gift that Moses commanded.” He did not say, “that I command,” but for the time being sends him to the law, stitching shut their mouths on every side. For lest they say that he had seized the priests’ glory, he himself completed the work, but entrusted the examination to them and seated them as judges of his own miracles. For I am so far from fighting with Moses or the priests, he says, that I even lead those I have benefited to obey them. And what is “as a testimony to them”? For reproof, for proof, for accusation, if they are ungrateful. For since they said, “We persecute him as a deceiver and impostor, as an enemy of God and a transgressor of the law,” you will bear witness for me, he says, at that time, that I am no transgressor of the law. For having healed you I send you to the law and to the examination of the priests; which was the act of one who honored the law and admired Moses, and did not oppose the ancient decrees. And if they were going to gain nothing, from this especially one may learn his honor for the law: that, though he foreknew that they would reap no fruit, he fulfilled all his own part. For he foreknew this very thing and foretold it. For he did not say, “for their correction,” nor “for their instruction,” but, “as a testimony to them,” that is, for accusation and for reproof and for testimony that everything on my part has been done; and though I foreknew that they would remain uncorrected, not even so did I leave undone what had to be done; but they went on keeping their own wickedness. This, at any rate, he says elsewhere too: “This gospel will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all the nations, and then the end will come”; to the nations who do not obey, who are not persuaded. For lest anyone say, “And why do you preach to all, if not all are going to be persuaded?”, it is so that I may appear to have done all my own part, and that no one may be able afterward to complain that he did not hear. For the preaching itself will bear witness against them, and they will not be able afterward to say, “We did not hear”; for the word of godliness has gone out to the ends of the world. Considering these things, then, let us too fulfill all our own part toward our neighbors, and give thanks to God continually. For it is absurd, while enjoying his kindness in deed every day, not even to acknowledge the favor in word, and this when the acknowledgment again brings the benefit to us. For he needs nothing of ours, but we need everything of his. Thanksgiving adds nothing to him, but makes us more his own. For if, when we call to mind the kindnesses of men, we are warmed the more with affection, much more, when we continually remember the Master’s good deeds toward us, shall we be more zealous for his commandments. That is why Paul too said, “Be thankful.” For the best safeguard of a kindness is the memory of the kindness and continual thanksgiving. That is why the awesome mysteries too, full of great salvation, which are celebrated at every gathering, are called a Thanksgiving, the Eucharist, because they are a remembrance of many benefits, display the sum of God’s providence, and in every way prepare us to give thanks. For if being born of a virgin was a great wonder, and the evangelist said in amazement, “Now all this took place,” where shall we put his being slain, tell me? For if being born is called “all this,” being crucified and pouring out his blood and giving himself to us for a feast and a spiritual banquet, what would that be called? Let us give thanks to him continually, then, and let this go before our words and our works. And let us give thanks not only for our own goods but also for those of others; for in this way we shall be able both to destroy envy and to bind love tighter and make it more genuine. For you will no longer be able to envy those for whom you give thanks to the Master. That is why the priest too bids us give thanks for the world, for those who were before, for those now, for what has been done for us before and what will be hereafter, when that sacrifice is set forth. For this both frees us from the earth and transfers us to heaven, and makes angels out of men. For they too, having formed a choir, give thanks to God for the good things done to us, saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good pleasure among men.” “And what is this to us, who are not on earth, nor men?” Very much indeed to us; for so we have been taught to love our fellow servants as to think their goods our own. That is why Paul too everywhere in his letters gives thanks for the good deeds of the world. Let us too, then, give thanks continually, for our own goods and for others’, for small and for great. For even if what is given is small, it becomes great by being given by God; or rather, nothing from him is small, not only because it is given by him but also by its very nature. And, to pass over all the other things, which surpass the sand in number, what is equal to the dispensation made for us? For what was most precious of all to him, his only-begotten Son, him he gave for us his enemies; and not only gave, but after giving set him before us as a table, himself doing everything for us, both giving and making us thankful for it. For since man is for the most part ungrateful, everywhere he himself takes in hand and arranges what is for us. And what he did with the Jews, reminding them of his benefits by places and times and feasts, he has done here too, putting us by the manner of the sacrifice into a continual remembrance of his kindness in these things. So no one has been as eager for us to become approved and great and in every way grateful as God who made us. That is why he often benefits us even against our will, and mostly without our knowing. And if you wonder at what has been said, I show you this happening not with some ordinary person but with the blessed Paul. For that blessed man, being in many dangers and afflictions, often begged God that the temptations might depart from him; but nevertheless God attended not to his request but to his benefit; and showing this he said, “My grace is sufficient for you; for my power is made perfect in weakness.” So before he told him the reason, he benefits him against his will and without his knowing. What great thing, then, does he ask in commanding us to be thankful in return for such great care? Let us obey, then, and keep this everywhere. For nothing so destroyed the Jews as being ungrateful, and those many successive blows nothing else brought on but this; or rather, even before the blows, this destroyed and corrupted their soul. “For the hope of the ungrateful is like winter frost,” it says; it so numbs and deadens the soul as that does bodies. And this comes from arrogance and from thinking oneself worthy of something. But the contrite man will give thanks to God not only for good things but also for things that seem the opposite, and whatever he suffers he will think he has suffered nothing undeserved. Let us too, then, the more we advance in virtue, make ourselves the more contrite; for this too is virtue most of all. For just as the more sharply we see, the more we learn how far we are from heaven, so the more we advance in virtue, the more we are taught to know the distance between God and us. And this is no small part of philosophy, to be able to perceive our own worth. For he most of all knows himself who thinks himself nothing. That is why David and Abraham too, when they had climbed to the very summit of virtue, then most of all achieved this: the one called himself earth and ashes, the other a worm; and all the saints, like them, call themselves wretched. So the one who is lifted up to arrogance is the one who above all is ignorant of himself. That is why in common usage too we are accustomed to say of the proud, “He does not know himself; he is ignorant of himself.” And the one who is ignorant of himself, whom will he know? For as the one who knows himself will know all things, so the one who does not know this will not know the other things either. Such was he who said, “I will set my throne above the heavens.” For since he did not know himself, he did not know all the other things either. But Paul was not such; he called himself an untimely birth and the least of the saints, and thought himself not even worthy of the name of apostle, after so many and such great achievements. Him, then, let us emulate and imitate. And we shall imitate him if we are freed from the earth and the things on it. For nothing so makes one ignorant of oneself as being nailed to worldly things; and again nothing so prepares one to be nailed to worldly affairs as being ignorant of oneself; for these things hang on each other. For just as the one who loves outward glory and thinks present things great, even if he strives ten thousand times, is not allowed to see himself, so the one who looks down on these will easily know himself; and having learned himself, he will go on in due course to all the other parts of virtue. So then, that we may learn this excellent knowledge, let us be freed from all the perishable things that kindle a great flame in us, and, having learned our own worthlessness, let us show all humility and philosophy, so that we may obtain both the present and the future good things, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, might, and honor to the Father, together with the holy and good Spirit, now and always and for ever and ever. Amen.

“When he had entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, entreating him and saying, ‘Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, terribly tormented.’” The leper came to him when he came down from the mountain, but this centurion when he had entered Capernaum. Why then did neither this one nor that one go up the mountain? Not through sloth, for the faith of both was fervent, but so as not to interrupt the teaching. And when he came, he says, “My servant is lying at home paralyzed, terribly tormented.” Some say that he was excusing himself and stated the reason why he had not brought him. For it was not possible, he says, to carry on a litter one who was paralyzed and tormented and at his last breath. For that he was about to expire, Luke says: that he was about to die. But I say that this is a sign of his having great faith, much greater than that of those who let the paralytic down through the roof. For since he knew clearly that even a command alone was enough to raise up the one lying there, he thought it superfluous to bring him. What then does Jesus do? What he had nowhere done before, he does here. For everywhere he follows the will of those who entreat him, but here he even springs forward, and promises not only to heal but also to come to the house. And he does this so that we may learn the virtue of the centurion. For if he had not promised this, but had said, “Go, let your servant be healed,” we would have known none of these things. This at any rate he did in the opposite way with the Phoenician woman. For here, though not invited to the house, he says of his own accord that he will come, so that you may learn the centurion’s faith and great humility; but with the Phoenician woman he both refuses the gift and leaves her at a loss while she persists. For being a wise and resourceful physician, he knows how to bring about opposite results by opposite means. And here by his self-offered coming, there by his intense delay and refusal, he reveals the woman’s faith. So too he does with Abraham, saying, “I will not hide from my servant Abraham,” so that you may learn his affection and his concern for Sodom. And with Lot, those who were sent refuse to go in to him, so that you may learn the greatness of the righteous man’s hospitality. What then does the centurion say? “I am not worthy that you should come under my roof.” Let us hear, as many of us as are going to receive Christ; for it is possible to receive him even now. Let us hear and emulate, and receive him with as much zeal; for when you receive a poor man who is hungry and naked, you have received and fed him. “But only say the word, and my servant will be healed.” See this man too, like the leper, having the fitting opinion about him. For he too did not say, “Entreat God,” nor, “Pray and supplicate,” but, “Only say the word.” Then, fearing lest out of modesty he decline, he says, “For I too am a man under authority, having soldiers under me; and I say to this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” “And what of it,” someone says, “if the centurion supposed so? The question is whether Christ declared this and ratified it.” You speak well and very wisely. Let us then look at this very thing; and we shall find that what happened with the leper happened here too. For just as the leper said, “If you will” (and it is not only from the leper that we maintain the point about his authority, but also from the voice of Christ; for he not only did not overthrow the supposition but confirmed it the more, adding what was superfluous to say, “I will; be made clean,” to ratify that man’s doctrine), so here too it is right to examine whether anything of the kind happened; and indeed we shall find this same thing happened again. For when the centurion had said such things and borne witness to so great an authority, he not only did not reproach him, but accepted it, and did something more than accept it. For the evangelist did not say that he only praised what was said, but, indicating the intensity of the praise, he says that he even marveled; and not simply marveled, but with the whole people present, and set him as an example to the others, so that they might emulate him. Do you see how each of those who bore witness to his authority is admired? “And the crowds were astonished at his teaching, because he taught as one having authority”; and he not only did not reproach them, but took them with him when he came down, and by cleansing the leper ratified their judgment. Again, that man said, “If you will, you can make me clean”; and he not only did not rebuke him, but healed him and cleansed him in the very way that man had said. Again the centurion: “Only say the word, and my servant will be healed”; and marveling at him he said, “Not even in Israel have I found such faith.”

And so that you may learn this from the opposite too: since Martha said none of these things, but the opposite, “Whatever you ask of God, he will give you,” she not only was not praised, though she was well known and beloved and among those very zealous for him, but was even rebuked and corrected by him as not having spoken well. For he said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?”, charging her as one who had not yet believed. And again, since she said, “Whatever you ask of God, he will give you,” leading her away from such a supposition, and teaching that he does not need to receive from another but is himself the fountain of good things, he says, “I am the resurrection and the life”; that is, I do not wait to receive power, but I work all things of myself. That is why he both marvels at the centurion and prefers him to the whole people, honors him with the gift of the kingdom, and calls the others to the same zeal. And that you may learn that he said these things in order to train the others too to believe in this way, hear the exactness of the evangelist, how he hinted at it: “Turning,” he says, “Jesus said to those who followed him, ‘Not even in Israel have I found such faith.’” Do you see? To have a great conception of him, this most of all is faith, and procures the kingdom and the other good things. For the praise did not stop at words; he restored the sick man to health in return for his faith, weaves a splendid crown for him, and promises great gifts, saying, “Many will come from east and west and will recline in the bosom of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, but the sons of the kingdom will be cast out.” For since he had displayed many miracles, he now speaks to them with greater boldness. Then, so that no one might think the words were flattery, but all might learn that the centurion was so disposed, he says, “Go; as you have believed, let it be done for you.” And at once the deed followed, bearing witness to his disposition. “And his servant was healed in that hour.” This happened also with the Syrophoenician woman; for to her too he says, “O woman, great is your faith; let it be done for you as you wish. And her daughter was healed.” But since Luke too, in reporting this miracle, inserts several other things that seem to show disagreement, it is necessary to resolve these too for you. What then does Luke say? “He sent elders of the Jews to him, entreating him to come.” But Matthew says that he himself came and said, “I am not worthy.” And some say that this is not the same man, even though he has very similar features. For of that one they say, “He built our synagogue, and he loves our nation”; but of this one Jesus himself says, “Not even in Israel have I found such faith.” And of that one he did not say that many will come from the east, from which it is likely that he was a Jew. What then shall we say? That this solution is easy; but the question is whether it is true. To me this one seems to be that one. “How then,” someone says, “does Matthew say that he himself said, ‘I am not worthy that you should come under my roof,’ but Luke that he sent for him to come?” To me Luke seems to be hinting at the flattery of the Jews, and that those in misfortune, being unsettled, often change their plans. For it is likely that the centurion, wishing to go, was prevented by the Jews, who flattered him and said, “We will go and bring him.” See, at any rate, that their entreaty too is full of flattery. “For he loves our nation,” they say, “and he himself built the synagogue”; and they do not even know on what ground to praise the man. For they ought to have said, “He himself wished to come and entreat you, but we prevented him, seeing the misfortune and the body lying in the house,” and so to have shown the greatness of his faith. This they do not say; for out of envy they did not wish to reveal the man’s faith, but chose rather to overshadow the virtue of the one for whom they had come to make supplication, lest the one entreated should seem to be someone great, rather than achieve, by proclaiming his faith, the very thing for which they had come. For envy is able to blind the mind. But he who knows secret things proclaimed him even against their will. And that this is true, hear Luke himself again explaining it. For he says this: that when he was not far away, he sent, saying, “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy that you should come under my roof.” For when he was freed from their importunity, then he sends, saying, “Do not think that I did not come out of hesitation; I thought myself unworthy to receive you in my house.”

And if Matthew says that he said this not through his friends but himself, this makes no difference; for the question is whether each of them presented the man’s eagerness, and showed that he had the fitting opinion about Christ. And it is likely that he too, after sending his friends, came himself and said these things. And if Luke did not say this, neither did Matthew say that; which was the act not of men in conflict with each other, but rather of men filling up what the other had left out. And see how Luke proclaimed his faith from another side too, by saying that the servant was about to die. Nevertheless not even this cast him into despair or made him give up hope; even so he hoped that he would survive. And if Matthew says that Christ said, “Not even in Israel have I found such faith,” showing by this that he was not an Israelite, while Luke says that he built the synagogue, not even this is contrary. For it is possible for one who is not a Jew both to build the synagogue and to love the nation. But do not, I pray you, simply examine what he said, but add also his office, and then you will see the man’s virtue. For great is the pride of those in office, and not even in misfortunes do they come down. The one, at any rate, recorded by John drags him to his house and says, “Come down, for my child is about to die.” But not so this man; he was much better both than that one and than those who let the bed down through the roof. For he does not seek his bodily presence, nor did he bring the sick man near the physician; which was the act of one who imagined nothing small about him but had a supposition befitting God; and he says, “Only say the word.” And not even at the beginning does he say, “Say the word,” but only relates the suffering; for out of great humility he did not expect that Christ would at once consent and seek out his house. That is why, when he heard him say, “I will come and heal him,” then he says, “Say the word.” And not even suffering confounded him; even in misfortune he philosophizes, looking not so much to the health of the servant as to not seeming to do anything irreverent. And yet it was not he who pressed him, but Christ who promised; but even so he fears lest he should seem to go beyond his own worth and draw a heavy burden on himself. Did you see his understanding? Consider the folly of the Jews, who say, “He is worthy to have you grant him this.” For they ought to have taken refuge in the love of Jesus for humankind, but they put forward the man’s worth, and do not even know on what ground they should put it forward. But he does not do so; he says emphatically that he is unworthy, not only of the benefit but even of receiving the Lord into his house. That is why, having said, “My servant is lying …,” he did not add, “Say the word,” fearing lest he be unworthy to obtain the gift, but only reported the misfortune. And when he saw Christ eager to be generous, not even so did he leap at it, but he still remains keeping the measure that befitted him. And if someone should say, “Why did Christ not honor him in return?”, we would say this: that he honored him in return very greatly; first, by revealing his mind, which became evident above all from his not coming into his house; and second, by bringing him into the kingdom and preferring him to the whole Jewish nation. For since he made himself unworthy even of receiving Christ into his house, he became worthy both of the kingdom and of attaining the good things that Abraham enjoyed. “And why,” someone says, “was the leper not praised, though he displayed greater things than these?” For he did not say, “Say the word,” but, what was much greater, “Only will”; which the prophet says of the Father, that “whatever he willed, he did.” But he too was praised. For when he says, “Offer the gift that Moses commanded, as a testimony to them,” he says nothing else than this: You will accuse them, by the fact that you believed. And besides, it was not the same for a Jew to believe as for one outside the nation. For that the centurion was not a Jew is clear both from his being a centurion and from its being said, “Not even in Israel have I found such faith.”

And it was a very great thing for a man outside the roll of the Jews to conceive so great a thought. For he imagined, as it seems to me, the armies in heaven; or that diseases and death and all other things are subject to him in the way his soldiers are to himself. That is why he said, “For I too am a man placed under authority”; that is, you are God, I am a man; I am under authority, but you are not under authority. If then I, being a man and under authority, can do so much, much more can you, being both God and not under authority. For he wishes to persuade him emphatically that he says this not as one giving an example of an equal, but of one far surpassing. For if I, he says, though of equal rank with those I command and under authority, nevertheless, because of the small superiority of my office, can do so much, and no one contradicts, but whatever I command is done, even if the commands differ (for I say to this one, “Go,” and he goes, and to another, “Come,” and he comes), much more will you be able. And some read this passage thus: “For if I, being a man,” and, putting a stop in between, they add, “having soldiers under authority under me.” But consider, I pray you, how he showed that he can both master death as a slave and command it as a master. For when he says, “‘Come,’ and he comes, and ‘Go,’ and he goes,” he is saying this: If you command death not to come upon him, it will not come. Do you see how faithful he was? For what was going to be manifest to all later, this man had already made plain: that he has authority both over death and over life, and brings down to the gates of Hades and brings up again. And he did not speak only of soldiers, but also of slaves, which implied greater obedience. But nevertheless, though he had so great a faith, he still thought himself unworthy. But Christ, showing that he was worthy to have him enter his house, did much greater things, marveling at him and proclaiming him and giving more than he asked. For he came seeking bodily health for his servant, and went away having received the kingdom. Do you see how already the saying was fulfilled, “Seek the kingdom of heaven, and all these things will be added to you”? For since he displayed great faith and humility, he both gave him heaven and added health; and not only by this did he honor him, but also by showing who are cast out while he is brought in. For from here on he makes known to all that salvation is from faith, not from the works of the law. That is why this gift will be set before not only the Jews but also the Gentiles, and before the latter rather than the former. For do not think, he says, that this has happened in this man’s case only; it will be so in the whole world. And he said this prophesying about the Gentiles and holding out good hopes to them. For there were some following him from Galilee of the Gentiles. And he said these things both not allowing the Gentiles to despair and pulling down the pride of the Jews. And so that what was said might not offend the hearers, nor give them any handle, he neither introduces the word about the Gentiles as his main point, but takes occasion from the centurion, nor does he set down the bare name of the Gentiles. For he did not say, “Many of the Gentiles,” but, “Many from east and west,” which was a way of indicating the Gentiles, but did not offend the hearers so much, for the saying was veiled. And not only in this way does he soften what seemed to be the novelty of the teaching, but also by speaking of the bosom of Abraham instead of the kingdom. For that name, the kingdom, was not familiar to them, and Abraham, set in their midst, stung them more. That is why John too said nothing at first about hell, but what grieved them most: “Do not presume to say, ‘We are children of Abraham.’” And along with this he accomplishes something else too: not to seem to be an opponent of the old way of life. For one who admires the patriarchs and calls their bosom the inheritance of good things removes this suspicion too with great abundance. Let no one think, then, that the threat is single; for the punishment of these is double, and the joy of those is double: of these, not only that they fell, but that they fell from what was their own; of those, not only that they obtained, but that they obtained what they did not expect; and a third besides, that these received what belonged to those. And he calls them sons of the kingdom, for whom the kingdom had been prepared; which stung them most of all. For having shown them to be in the bosom by announcement and promise, he then drives them out. Then, since what was said was a bare declaration, he confirms it by the sign; just as he shows the signs too from the prophecy that came to pass afterward. Whoever, then, disbelieves the healing that came to the servant then, let him believe that too from the prophecy that has come to pass today. For the prophecy too, even before its fulfillment, became plain to all from the sign of that time. That is why, having first foretold these things, he then raised up the paralytic, so as to confirm the future by the present and the lesser by the greater. For that the virtuous should enjoy good things and their opposites endure painful things is nothing unlikely, but happens according to reason and the sequence of laws; but to brace the paralyzed and raise the dead was beyond nature. But nevertheless the centurion too contributed no small part to this great and wonderful thing; which Christ too showed when he said, “Go; as you have believed, let it be done for you.” Do you see how the servant’s health proclaimed both the power of Christ and the faith of the centurion, and confirmed the future? Or rather, everything proclaimed the power of Christ. For he not only set right the servant’s body, but himself drew the centurion’s soul to faith by the miracles. And do not consider only this, that this man believed and that one was healed, but marvel also at the speed. For the evangelist, showing this, said, “And his servant was healed in that hour”; just as with the leper he said that he was cleansed immediately. For not only by healing, but by doing it wonderfully and in an instant, he displayed his power. And not only in this way did he benefit them, but also by continually, in the display of his miracles, opening up discourses about the kingdom and drawing all to it. For those he threatens to cast out, he threatens not in order to cast them out, but in order to draw them to it by fear through his words. And if they gained nothing even from this, the whole charge is theirs, and of all who are sick with such things. For one could see this happening not only with the Jews but also with those who believed. For Judas too was a son of the kingdom, and heard with the disciples, “You will sit on twelve thrones,” but became a son of hell; while the Ethiopian, a barbarian, and one of those from east and west, will enjoy the crowns with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob. This happens with us too now. “For many,” he says, “who are first will be last, and the last first.” And he says this so that neither may those be careless, as unable to return, nor these be confident, as standing firm. This John too foretold from the beginning, saying, “God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” For since this was going to happen, it is proclaimed in advance from afar, so that no one might be disturbed by the strangeness of the thing. But he says it as something possible, for he came first; while Christ speaks of it as certainly going to be, providing the proof from his works.

Let us not, then, be confident, we who stand, but let us say to ourselves, “Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall”; nor let us despair who lie fallen, but let us say to ourselves, “Does not he who falls rise again?” For many who had gone up to the very summit of heaven, had displayed all endurance, had taken possession of the deserts, and had not seen a woman even in a dream, became a little careless, were tripped up, and came to the very pit of wickedness. And others again went up from there to heaven, and passed from the stage and the orchestra to the angelic way of life, and displayed such virtue as to drive out demons and work many other such signs. The Scriptures are full of these, and our life too is full of such examples. Even fornicators and the effeminate stop the mouths of the Manichaeans, who say that wickedness cannot be moved, being initiates of the devil, weakening the hands of those who wish to strive, and overturning all of life. For those who persuade people of this not only harm them with regard to the future, but even here turn everything upside down, as far as in them lies. For when will any of those living in wickedness take care for virtue, when he thinks that the return to it and the change for the better are impossible? For if now, when there are laws, and punishments threatened, and public opinion calling the many forth, and hell expected, and the kingdom promised, and evil things reproached, and good things praised, scarcely do some choose the sweat that virtue demands, if you take all these away, what is to prevent everything from being lost and corrupted? Knowing, then, the devil’s malice, and that these men, and those who attempt to lay down the doctrines of fate, are directly opposed to the lawgivers outside the church, to the oracles of God, to the reasonings of nature, to the common opinion of all men, barbarians and Scythians and Thracians and simply all, let us be sober, beloved, and, bidding farewell to all those, let us walk the narrow way, both confident and afraid: afraid because of the precipices on either side, confident because of Jesus who goes before us. Let us walk sober and watchful; for if one dozes even a little, he is quickly carried down. For we are not more careful than David, who, being a little negligent, was hurled down into the very pit of sin. But he rose quickly. Do not look, then, only at the fact that he sinned, but also that he washed away the sin. For this is why that history was written: not that you may see him fallen, but that you may marvel at him risen; that you may learn, when you fall, how one ought to rise. For as physicians choose the most grievous diseases, write them in their books, and teach the method of their treatment, so that, trained in the greater, they may easily overcome the lesser, so too God brought forward the greatest of sins, so that those who stumble in small things may find through those an easy correction of these. For if those obtained healing, much more will the lesser. Let us see, then, how that blessed man both fell sick and rose quickly. What, then, was the manner of his sickness? He committed adultery and murder. For I am not ashamed to proclaim these things with a loud voice. For if the Holy Spirit did not think it a shame to set down this whole history, much less ought we to overshadow it. That is why I not only proclaim these things, but add something else besides. For those who hide these things are the ones who most of all overshadow his virtue; and just as those who keep silent about the fight with Goliath deprive him of no small crowns, so too do those who pass over this history. Does what is said not seem paradoxical? Wait a little, then, and you will know that this has been said justly. For this is why I magnify the sin and make the discourse more paradoxical: so that I may prepare the remedies with greater abundance. What, then, is it that I add? The man’s virtue, which makes the charge greater too. For all things are not judged alike in all cases. “For the mighty,” it says, “will be mightily examined”; and, “The one who knows the will of his master and does not do it will be beaten with many stripes.” So greater knowledge is ground for greater punishment. That is why a priest who commits the same sins as those under his rule will not suffer the same things, but much harsher. Perhaps, seeing the accusation increase, you tremble and fear, and wonder at me as one walking along precipices. But I am so confident on behalf of the righteous man that I go further still; for the more I magnify the charge, the more I shall be able to show the praise of David. “And what more than this can be said?” someone says. Very much more. For just as with Cain what was done was not only murder but worse than many murders (for he killed not a stranger but a brother, and a brother who had not wronged him but had been wronged; and not after many murderers, but being the first to discover the crime), so here too the deed was not only murder; for the one who did it was no ordinary man but a prophet; and he kills not the one who had wronged him but the one who had been wronged; for he had been wronged in what mattered most, his wife having been seized; but nevertheless after that he added this too. Did you see how I did not spare the righteous man? How I spoke of his offenses without any reserve? But nevertheless I am so confident about the defense that, after so great a mass of sin, I would have wished the Manichaeans to be present, who most of all ridicule these things, and those sick with the doctrines of Marcion, so that I might stop their mouths abundantly. For they say that he murdered and committed adultery; but I not only say this, but have also shown the murder to be double, from the one who was wronged and from the quality of the person who offended.

For it is not the same for one who has been counted worthy of the Spirit, has received so many benefits, has had such great boldness, and is of such an age, to dare such things, as to do this same thing without all these. But nevertheless in this respect most of all that noble man is admirable: that, having fallen to the very bottom of wickedness, he did not lose heart, nor despair, nor throw himself down on his back after receiving so deadly a blow from the devil, but quickly, or rather immediately, and with great vehemence, he gave a more deadly blow than he received. It was as if in war and battle, when some barbarian had planted a spear in the heart of a champion, or let fly an arrow at his liver, and had added a second wound more deadly than the first, the one who had received these grievous blows, having fallen and streaming with blood on every side, should rise quickly and, hurling a spear at the one who shot him, should at once lay him dead on the plain. So here too, the greater you say the blow was, the more admirable you show the soul of the one struck to be, in that after this grievous wound he was able both to rise and to stand in the very front of the battle line and bring down the one who wounded him. And how great this is those know best who fall into grievous sins. For it is not so much the part of a noble and vigorous soul to walk upright and to run the whole way (for such a soul has good hope as its companion on the road, anointing it, rousing it, strengthening it, making it more eager) as, after countless crowns and many trophies and victories, having suffered the utmost loss, to be able to take up the same course again. And to make what I say clearer, I will try to bring before you another example, no less than the former. Imagine, I pray you, a pilot who has crossed countless seas, who, after sailing over the whole sea, after many storms and reefs and waves, with a large cargo, is sunk at the very mouth of the harbor, and has barely escaped this grievous shipwreck with his bare body: how is he likely to feel about the sea, and sailing, and such toils? Will such a man ever choose, unless he is of a very noble soul, to see a shore, or a ship, or a harbor? I do not think so; but he will lie with his head covered, seeing night in the day and giving up on everything, and will rather choose to live by begging than to take up the same toils. But not so this blessed man. Having suffered such a shipwreck, after those countless toils and sweat, he did not remain covered up, but launched his ship, spread the sails, took the rudder in hand, takes up the same toils, and made his wealth greater again. And if standing is so admirable, and not lying down altogether after falling, how many crowns would rising and doing such things deserve? And yet there were many things that threw him into despair: first, the greatness of the sin; second, that he suffered this not at the beginning of life, when hopes too are greater, but toward its end. For the merchant who suffers shipwreck right after leaving harbor does not grieve as much as one who strikes a reef after countless voyages of trade. Third, that he suffered this when he had already gathered much wealth. For no small cargoes were stored up for him by then: those of his first youth, when he was a shepherd; those concerning Goliath, when he set up that splendid trophy; those of his philosophy in the matter of Saul. For he displayed the long-suffering of the Gospel, having his enemy in his hands countless times and continually sparing him, and choosing rather to be cast out of his country and his freedom and life itself than to kill the one who was unjustly plotting against him. And after he became king too his achievements were not small. And besides what has been said, the opinion of the many, and falling from so splendid a glory, caused no ordinary turmoil. For the purple did not so much adorn him as the stain of sin shamed him. And you surely know how great a thing it is to have one’s sins paraded publicly, and how such a man needs a great soul so as not to lose heart after the accusation of the many and with so many witnesses of his offenses. But nevertheless that noble man, drawing all these arrows out of his soul, so shone afterward, so scoured away the stain, and so became clean, that even after his death he alleviated the sins of his descendants; and what was said of Abraham God is seen saying of him too, or rather much more of him. For of the patriarch he says, “I remembered my covenant with Abraham”; but here he does not say, “the covenant,” but how? “For the sake of David my servant I will defend this city.” And on account of his goodwill toward him he did not allow Solomon, though he committed so great a sin, to fall from the kingdom. And so great was the man’s glory that Peter, so many years later, addressing the Jews, speaks thus: “It is permitted to speak freely to you about the patriarch David, that he both died and was buried.” And Christ too, conversing with the Jews, shows that after the sin he was counted worthy of so much of the Spirit as to be counted worthy to prophesy even about Christ’s own Godhead; and stopping their mouths from this, he said, “How then does David in the Spirit call him Lord, saying, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand’?” And what happened with Moses happened with David too. For just as God punished Miriam, even against Moses’ will, for her insult to her brother, because he greatly loved the holy man, so too, when this man was insulted by his son, he quickly avenged him, and that though he did not wish it. These things, then, are sufficient, or rather these above all others are sufficient, to show the man’s virtue. For when God gives his verdict, nothing more is needed. But if you wish to learn his philosophy in detail, you may, by going through the history after the sin, and seeing his boldness toward God, his goodwill, his advance in virtue, his exactness up to his last breath. Having these examples, then, let us be sober and strive not to fall; and if ever we do fall, not to lie there. For it was not to throw you into carelessness that I spoke of David’s sins, but to produce greater fear. For if that righteous man, being a little careless, received such wounds, what shall we suffer, who are negligent every day? Do not, then, look at his fall and become careless; but consider how much he did afterward, how many laments he displayed, how great a repentance, adding the nights to the days, pouring forth fountains of tears, washing his bed with tears, and besides this putting on sackcloth. And if he needed so great a conversion, when shall we be able to be saved, who remain without feeling after so many sins? For the one who has many good deeds might easily overshadow his sins by these; but the one who is unarmed, wherever he receives an arrow, receives a deadly blow. So then, that this may not happen, let us arm ourselves with good works, and if any offense befalls us, let us wash it away; so that, having lived the present life to the glory of God, we may be counted worthy to enjoy the life to come; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“And when Jesus had come into Peter’s house, he saw his mother-in-law lying sick with a fever; and he touched her hand, and the fever left her; and she rose and served him.” Mark added “immediately” as well, wishing to indicate the time too; but this evangelist set down only the sign, without marking the time. And the others say that the woman lying there also entreated him; but this one passed over this too in silence. But this is not a matter of disagreement; the one is a matter of brevity, the other of exact narration. But why did he go into Peter’s house? It seems to me, to take food. This, at any rate, is shown by the words, “She rose and served him.” For he lodged with the disciples, as with Matthew too when he called him, honoring them and making them more eager in this way. But consider here too Peter’s reverence toward him. For though he had his mother-in-law lying at home with a severe fever, he did not drag him to his house, but waited for the teaching to be completed and for all the others to be healed, and then, when he had come in, he entreated him. So from the beginning he was trained to put the affairs of others before his own. So he does not even bring him in himself; Jesus went in of his own accord, after the centurion had said, “I am not worthy that you should come under my roof,” showing how much he favored his disciple. And yet consider what the dwellings of these fishermen were like; but nevertheless he did not disdain to enter their poor huts, teaching you in every way to trample on human pride. And sometimes he heals by words only, sometimes he also stretches out his hand, sometimes he does both, bringing the healing into view. For he did not wish always to work miracles in the most extraordinary way. For he had to remain hidden for the time, especially with the disciples; for in their great delight they would have proclaimed everything. And this is clear from the fact that even after coming to the mountain he needed to charge them to tell no one. Having touched her body, then, he not only quenched the fever, but also gave back pure health. For since the disease was slight, he displayed his power by the manner of the healing, which the art of medicine could not have done. For you know that even after release from fevers the sick need much time to return to their former health. But then everything happened at once. And not only here, but also on the sea. For there too he not only stopped the winds and the storm, but also immediately calmed the swell, which too was strange; for even if the storm ceases, the waters remain agitated for a long time. But not so with Christ; everything was ended at once; which is what happened with the woman too. That is why the evangelist, showing this, said, “She rose and served him,” which was a sign both of Christ’s power and of the disposition that the woman showed toward Christ. And another thing besides we may see from this: that Christ grants the correction of some at the faith of others (for here too others entreated him, as in the case of the centurion’s servant); and he grants it when the one who is to be healed does not disbelieve, but either cannot come to him because of disease, or through ignorance imagines nothing great about him, or is of immature age. “And when evening had come, they brought to him many who were possessed by demons; and he cast out the spirits with a word, and healed all who were sick, that what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: ‘He took our infirmities and bore our diseases.’” Do you see the multitude now growing in faith? For not even when the hour pressed would they endure to depart, nor did they think it untimely to bring their sick in the evening. But consider, I pray you, how great a multitude of people healed the evangelists pass over, not telling and narrating them to us one by one, but passing over in a single word an unspeakable sea of miracles. Then, so that the greatness of the miracle might not again throw them into unbelief, since he freed and set right so great a people and so many diseases in a single instant of time, he brings in the prophet bearing witness to what was done, showing that the proof from the Scriptures is great for us everywhere, and no less than the signs themselves; and he says that Isaiah too said this: “He took our infirmities and bore our diseases.” He did not say, “He loosed,” but, “He took and bore”; which seems to me to have been said by the prophet rather about sins, in agreement with John, who says, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” How

then does the evangelist here apply it to diseases? Either he reads the testimony according to the history, or he shows that most diseases come from sins of the soul. For if the chief of them, death itself, had its root and occasion from sin, much more do most diseases; since even our being subject to suffering came from there. “Now when Jesus saw great crowds around him, he gave orders to go over to the other side.” Do you see again his freedom from boasting? For the others say that he rebuked the demons so that they might not say that he was the one; but this evangelist says that he pushes away the crowds. And he did this at once teaching us to be modest, soothing the envy of the Jews, and teaching us to do nothing for display. For he not only healed bodies, but also set right the soul and taught it to philosophize, showing himself by both, by freeing them from diseases and by doing nothing for display. For they were attached to him, loving him and marveling at him and wishing to look at him. For who would have gone away from one working such miracles? Who would not have wished simply to see his face, and the mouth that uttered such things? For he was wonderful not only when working miracles, but even when simply appearing he was full of much grace; and the prophet, showing this, said, “Beautiful in loveliness beyond the sons of men.” And if Isaiah says, “He had no form or beauty,” he says this either in comparison with the unspeakable and inexpressible glory of the Godhead, or describing what happened in the passion, the dishonor he underwent at the time of the cross, and the lowliness he displayed in every way throughout his whole life. And he did not command them to go over to the other side until he had healed; for they would not have endured it. As, then, on the mountain they not only stayed while he preached, but followed him even when there was silence, so here too they waited on him not only while he worked miracles, but also when he had stopped, receiving great benefit even from his face. For if Moses had a glorified face, and Stephen a face like an angel’s, consider how the common Master was likely to appear then. Perhaps many now have fallen into a longing to see that form; but if we are willing, we shall see one much better than that. For if we finish the present life with boldness, we shall receive him on the clouds, meeting him in an immortal and incorruptible body. But see how he does not drive them away abruptly, so as not to wound them. For he did not say, “Withdraw,” but commanded them to go over to the other side, giving them the expectation that he would certainly come there. And the crowds displayed such great love and followed with great affection; but one man, a slave of money and full of great arrogance, came and said, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” Do you see how great his pride is? For not thinking it fit to be counted with the crowd, but showing that he himself is above the many, he comes in this way. For such are the manners of the Jews, full of untimely boldness. So too another, later, when all were silent, leaped up and said, “Which commandment is first?” But nevertheless the Master did not rebuke the untimely boldness, teaching us to bear with such people too. That is why he does not openly convict those who plan evil, but answers their thought, leaving it to them alone to know the reproof, and benefiting them doubly: by showing that he knows what is in their conscience, and by granting them, after this display, to remain hidden, and giving them again the opportunity, if they wish, to recover themselves; which he does in this man’s case too. For this man, seeing the many signs and the many who were being drawn after him, expected to make money from such miracles; that is why he hastened to follow. And how is this clear? From the answer which Christ gives, meeting not the question of the words but the purpose of the mind. “What?” he says; “do you expect to collect money by following me? Do you not see that I do not even have a lodging, not even so much as the birds have? For the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” And this was not the word of one turning him away, but of one convicting his evil purpose, and yet allowing him, if he wished, to follow with such an expectation. And that you may learn his wickedness: having heard this and been convicted, he did not say, “I am ready to follow.” And

in many other places too Christ is seen doing this: he does not openly convict, but by his answer shows the purpose of those who come to him. For to the one who said, “Good Teacher,” and expected to draw him by flattery, he answered according to his purpose, saying, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but one, God.” And when they said to him, “Look, your mother and your brothers are seeking you,” since they were feeling something human, not wishing to hear anything useful but to show that they were related to him and to be vainglorious by this, hear what he says: “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” And again to the brothers themselves, when they said to him, “Show yourself to the world,” and wished to be vainglorious from this, he said, “Your time is always ready, but mine has not yet come.” And he does this from the opposite side too, as with Nathanael, saying, “Behold, truly an Israelite in whom there is no guile”; and again, “Go and tell John what you hear and see.” For here too he answered not the words but the purpose of the one who sent them. And to the people again he speaks likewise to their conscience, saying, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?” For since it was likely that they were disposed toward John as toward someone fickle and easily blown about, correcting this suspicion, he says, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind? Or a man clothed in soft garments?”, showing by both that he is neither fickle of himself nor would become soft from any luxury. So here too he makes his answer to the purpose. And see how in this too he displays great modesty. For he did not say, “I have, but I despise it,” but, “I do not have.” Do you see how great an exactness there is together with condescension? As when he eats and drinks, when he appears to act contrary to John, he does this too for the salvation of the Jews, or rather of the whole world, at once stopping the mouths of the heretics and wishing to draw those of that time more abundantly. “And another,” it says, “said to him, ‘Lord, let me first go and bury my father.’” Do you see the difference? How the one shamelessly says, “I will follow you wherever you go,” while this one, though asking a holy thing, says, “Permit me”? But he did not permit him, but says, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but you follow me.” For everywhere he attended to the purpose. “And why did he not permit him?” someone says. Because there were those who would fulfill that duty, and the dead man was not going to remain unburied; and this man ought not to be drawn away from more necessary things. And by saying “their own dead,” he shows that this one is not his dead. For the deceased was, as I at least think, one of the unbelievers. And if you wonder at the young man, that he asked Jesus about so necessary a matter and did not go away of his own accord, wonder much more that even when prevented he remained. “Was it not the utmost ingratitude,” someone says, “not to be present when his father was buried?” If he did it from sloth, it was ingratitude; but if it was so as not to interrupt a more necessary work, then to go away would have been the utmost want of feeling. For Jesus prevented him, not commanding him to despise the honor due to parents, but showing that nothing must be more necessary to us than heavenly things, and that we must hold to these with all zeal and not delay even a little, even if what draws us away is very unavoidable and urgent. For what could be more necessary than to bury a father? And what easier? For it would not even have meant spending much time. And if one must not spend even as much time as a father’s burial takes, nor is it safe to be absent from spiritual things even so long, consider what we deserve, who all our time stand aloof from the things that belong to Christ, put very trivial things before necessary ones, and are careless though nothing presses us. And from this too we must marvel at the philosophy of the teaching: that he attached him very closely to the word, and besides this freed him from countless evils, such as laments and mourning and what follows from them. For after the burial there would then have been the need to busy himself with wills, and the distribution of the inheritance, and all the other things that follow these; and so waves succeeding waves would have carried him very far from the harbor of truth. That is why he draws him and attaches him to himself. And if you still wonder and are troubled that he was not allowed to be present at his father’s burial, consider that many do not let those who are ill learn of it, if the deceased is a father or mother or child or any other relative, nor let them follow to the tomb; and we do not charge them with cruelty or inhumanity for this; and very reasonably. For on the contrary it would be cruelty to lead out to mourning people so disposed.

And if it is an evil for relatives to mourn and be crushed in mind, much more is it an evil to be drawn away from spiritual words. That is why he said elsewhere too, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and turns back is fit for the kingdom of heaven.” For it is much better to proclaim the kingdom and draw others back from death than to bury a dead man who gains nothing by it, especially when there are those who will fulfill all these things. We learn from this, then, nothing else than that we must not waste even an ordinary moment, even if the pressing things are countless, but must put spiritual things before all, even the most necessary, and know what life is and what death is. For many even of those who seem to live differ in nothing from the dead, when they live in wickedness; or rather these are worse even than those. “For the one who has died,” it says, “is justified from sin”; but this one is a slave to sin. For do not tell me that he is not eaten by worms, nor lies in a coffin, nor has closed his eyes, nor is bound with grave clothes. For he endures things harder than the one who has died: not worms devouring him, but the passions of the soul tearing him more fiercely than wild beasts. And if his eyes are open, this again is much worse than their being shut. For the eyes of the dead man see nothing evil, but this man gathers countless diseases for himself with his eyes open. And the one lies in a coffin, unmoved toward everything; but this one is buried in the tomb of countless diseases. “But you do not see his body rotting.” And what of it? Before his body, his soul is corrupted and destroyed and endures greater rottenness. For the one smells for ten days, but this one breathes out a stench his whole life, having a mouth more unclean than sewers. So the one differs from the other by this much: the one endures only the corruption that comes from nature, but this one brings in, besides that, the rottenness that comes from profligacy, devising every day countless occasions of corruption. “But he rides on a horse.” And what is that? The other too is carried on a bier; and, what is grievous, no one sees that one dissolving and rotting, but he has the coffin as a curtain; but this one goes about everywhere stinking, carrying a dead soul about in his body as in a tomb. And if one could see the soul of a man living in luxury and wickedness, you would see that it is much better to lie bound in a tomb than to be bound fast with the cords of sins, and to have the stone lying on one rather than the heavy lid of insensibility. That is why, most of all, the relatives of these dead men, since they are without feeling, must come to Jesus about them, as Mary then did for Lazarus. Even if he stinks, even if he is four days dead, do not despair, but come, and first take away the stone. For then you will see him lying as in a tomb and bound with grave clothes. And if you wish, let us bring forward one of the great and illustrious. But do not be afraid; for I will give the example without naming names; or rather, even if I said the name, not even so ought you to be afraid. For who ever feared a dead man? For whatever he does, he remains dead; and a dead man can harm the living neither little nor much. Let us see, then, their head bound. For when they are continually drunk, just as with the dead and their many wrappings and grave clothes, so all their senses are shut up and bound. And if you wish to see the hands too, you will see these too bound to the belly, as with the departed, and bound tight, not with grave clothes, but, what is much harder, with the bonds of covetousness. For it does not let them be stretched out to almsgiving, nor to any other such good deed, but makes them more useless than those of the dead. Do you wish to see the feet too bound together? See them again bound tight with cares, and for this reason never able to run to the house of God. Did you see the dead man? Look also at the one who wrapped him for burial. Who, then, is the one who wraps these for burial? The devil, who binds them tightly and no longer lets the man appear a man, but dry wood. For where there is no eye, no hands, no feet, nor anything else of the kind, how could such a one appear a man? So too one can see their soul swaddled, an idol rather than a soul. Since, then, they themselves are without feeling, having become in a way dead, let us come to Jesus for them, let us entreat him to raise them, let us take away the stone, let us loose the grave clothes. For if you take away the stone, that is, the insensibility toward their evils, you will quickly be able to bring them out of the tomb too; and having brought them out, you will more easily free them from their bonds. Then Christ will know you, when you rise, when you are loosed; then he will also call you to his own banquets. As many, then, as are friends of Christ, as many as are disciples, as many as love the one who has departed, come to Jesus and pray. For even if he is full of countless stench, nevertheless not even so ought his relatives to abandon him, but rather to come all the more, as Lazarus’s sisters then did, and not to stand away entreating, praying, supplicating, until we receive him alive. For if we manage our own affairs and those of our neighbors in this way, we shall also quickly obtain the life to come; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory for ever and ever. Amen.

“And when he had got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, a great storm arose on the sea, so that the boat was covered by the waves; but he was asleep.” Luke, freeing himself from being required to keep the order of times, spoke thus: “Now it came to pass on one of the days that he got into a boat, and his disciples”; and Mark likewise. But this evangelist does not do so, but keeps the sequence here too. For they did not all write everything in the same way. And this I have said before too, so that no one may think that an omission is a disagreement. He sent the crowds on ahead, then, but took the disciples with him; for the others say this too. And he took them not idly or at random, but so as to make them spectators of the miracle that was about to happen. For like an excellent trainer he was preparing them for both: to be undismayed in dangers, and to be modest in honors. For so that they might not be proud because he had sent the others away and kept them, he lets them be tossed by the waves, accomplishing this and at the same time training them to bear temptations nobly. For the former miracles too were great, but this one also contained no small training, and was a sign akin to the ancient one. That is why he takes only the disciples with him. For where there was a display of miracles, he let the people be present too; but where there was an uprising of temptations and fears, he takes with him only the athletes of the world, whom he was going to train. And Matthew simply said that he was asleep, but Luke says that it was on a pillow, showing his freedom from pride and teaching us great philosophy from this. When the storm, then, was roused and the sea was raging, they wake him, saying, “Lord, save us; we are perishing.” But he rebuked them before the sea. For, as I said, these things were permitted for the sake of training, and were a type of the temptations that would overtake them. For afterward too he often let them fall into harsher storms of affairs, and was long-suffering. That is why Paul too said, “For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, that we were burdened beyond measure, beyond our strength, so that we despaired even of life”; and again afterward, “who delivered us from so great deaths.” Showing them, then, from this that they must be of good courage even if great waves are raised, and that he arranges everything for their benefit, he first rebukes them. For their very being troubled happened for their benefit, so that the miracle might appear greater and the memory of what happened might be lasting. For when something wonderful is about to happen, many things that make for remembrance are prepared beforehand, so that after the miracle has passed they may not fall into forgetfulness. So too Moses first fears the serpent, and fears not simply but with great anguish, and then sees that wonderful thing happen. So too these men, having first expected to perish, were then saved, so that, having acknowledged the danger, they might learn the greatness of the miracle. That is why he sleeps too; for if it had happened while he was awake, either they would not have feared, or they would not have entreated him, or they would not even have thought him able to do such a thing. That is why he sleeps, giving time to their cowardice and making their perception of what happened clearer. For one does not see what happens in other people’s bodies in the same way as what happens in oneself. Since, then, they had seen all others benefited, while they themselves had enjoyed nothing, they were even careless (for they were neither lame nor had any other such disease); and they had to enjoy his benefits through their own perception; so he permits the storm, so that through their deliverance they might receive a clearer perception of the benefit. That is why he does not do this with the crowds present either, so that they might not be condemned for little faith; but taking them alone, he corrects them, and before the storm of the waters he stills the storm of their soul, rebuking them and saying, “Why are you afraid, you of little faith?”, and teaching them at the same time that fear is produced not by the onset of temptations but by the weakness of the mind. And if someone should say that it was not cowardice or little faith to come and wake him, I would say this: that this very thing was above all a sign that they did not have the fitting opinion about him. For they knew that he could rebuke the sea when awake, but not yet that he could do it while asleep. And why do you wonder at this now, when even after many other miracles they were still rather imperfectly disposed? That is why they are often rebuked, as when he says, “Are you also still without understanding?” Do not wonder, then, if, when the disciples were so imperfectly disposed, the crowds imagined nothing great about him. For they marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even the sea and the winds obey him?” And Christ did not rebuke them because they called him a man, but waited, teaching them through the signs that their supposition was mistaken. And why did they think him a man? From his appearance, from his sleep, and from his using a boat. That is why they fell into perplexity, saying, “What sort of man is this?” For the sleep and the appearance showed a man, but the sea and the calm revealed God.

Since Moses too once did something of this kind, he shows his superiority from this too, and that the one works miracles as a servant, the other as Master. For he did not stretch out a rod as that man did, nor stretch out his hands to heaven, nor need prayer; but, as is fitting for a master commanding a maidservant and a creator his creature, so he calmed it and bridled it by a word and a command alone; and at once the whole tempest was ended, and not even a trace of the turmoil remained. For this the evangelist showed by saying, “And there was a great calm.” And what had been said of the Father as a great thing, this he showed again by his deeds. And what had been said of him? “He spoke,” it says, “and the stormy wind stood still.” So here too: he spoke, and there was a great calm. That is why the crowds especially marveled at him, who would not have marveled if he had done it as that man did. And when he had come from the sea, another miracle follows. For men possessed by demons, like wicked runaway slaves who see their master, said, “What have we to do with you, Jesus, Son of God? Have you come here before the time to torment us?” For since the crowds called him a man, the demons came proclaiming his Godhead; and those who did not hear the sea when it raged and was again still heard the demons crying out what the sea had cried out by its calm. Then, so that the thing might not seem to be flattery, they cry out from the experience of the facts, saying, “Have you come here before the time to torment us?” That is why the enmity is confessed first, so that their supplication might not be suspected. For they were being scourged invisibly, and were more storm-tossed than the sea, being pricked and burned and suffering intolerable things from his presence alone. For since no one dared to bring them, Christ himself goes to them. And Matthew says that they said, “Have you come here before the time to torment us?”; but the others added that they also entreated and adjured him not to cast them into the abyss. For they thought that the punishment was already upon them, and they feared, as if they were already about to fall into vengeance. And if Luke’s account says that there was one, while this evangelist says two, not even this shows disagreement. For if they had said that there was only one and there was not another, they would have seemed to contradict Matthew; but if the one spoke of one and the other of two, what is said is not a matter of conflict but of a different narration. For it seems to me that Luke chose the harsher of the two and spoke of him; that is why he reports the calamity more tragically, as that, breaking the bonds and the chains, he wandered in the desert; and Mark says that he also cut himself with stones. And their words too are enough to show their cruelty and shamelessness. “For have you come here before the time to torment us?” they say. That they had not sinned they could not say, but they ask not to pay the penalty before the time. For since he had caught them working those intolerable and lawless evils, distorting his creation in every way and punishing it, and they thought that because of the excess of what had been done he would not wait for the time of punishment, for this reason they entreated and begged; and those who could not endure even iron chains come bound; and those who ran over the mountains came out into the plains; and those who prevented others from passing by, seeing the one who walled off the road against them, stood still. And why do they also love to haunt the tombs? Wishing to put a destructive doctrine into the many: that the souls of the departed become demons; which may it never come to pass even in thought. “What then,” someone says, “would you say when many sorcerers take children and slaughter them, so as to have the soul working with them afterward?” And how is this clear? That they slaughter them, many say; but that the souls of the slain are with them, how did you know? tell me. “The possessed themselves,” he says, “cry out, ‘I am the soul of so-and-so.’” But this too is a piece of stagecraft and deceit of the devil. For it is not the soul of the dead man that cries out, but the demon who plays this part so as to deceive the hearers. For if it were possible for a soul to enter into the substance of a demon, much more could it enter into its own body. And besides, it would not be reasonable for the wronged soul to work together with the one who wronged it; or for a man to be able to change an incorporeal power into another substance. For if this is impossible with bodies, and no one could make a man’s body into a donkey’s, much more is this impossible with the invisible soul, and no one would be able to transform it into the substance of a demon.

So these words are the talk of drunken old women and bogeys for children. For it is not possible for a soul, once torn from the body, to wander here any longer. For “the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God”; and if those of the righteous, then also those of children; for those are not wicked. And those of sinners too are led away from here at once. This is clear from Lazarus and the rich man; and elsewhere Christ says, “This day they demand your soul from you.” And it is not possible for a soul that has gone out of the body to wander here; and very reasonably. For if, walking on familiar and well-known ground and clothed with a body, when we travel a strange road we do not know which way to go unless we have someone to lead us by the hand, how will the soul torn from the body, and gone out of everything familiar, know where it must walk without someone to guide it? And from many other places one could see that it is not possible for a soul that has gone out to remain here. For Stephen says, “Receive my spirit”; and Paul, “To depart and be with Christ is far better”; and of the patriarch Scripture says, “And he was gathered to his fathers, having been nourished in a good old age.” And that not even the souls of sinners can stay here, hear the rich man entreating much for this and not obtaining it; since, if it had been possible, he himself would have come and reported what had happened there. From which it is clear that after their departure from here the souls are led away into some place, no longer having power to return, but awaiting that fearful day. And if someone should say, “And why did Christ do what the demons asked, permitting them to go into the herd of swine?”, we would say this: that he did this not obeying them, but arranging many things by it: first, to teach those freed from those wicked tyrants the greatness of the destructiveness of those who plotted against them; second, that all might learn that they dare not attack even swine unless he himself permits; third, that they would have done worse things to those men than to the swine, had the men not enjoyed, even in their calamity, much of God’s providence. For that they hate us more than the irrational animals is plain to everyone. So those who did not spare the swine, but hurled them all down in a single moment of time, would much more have done this to the men they held, leading them about into deserts and away, had there not been, even in that very tyranny, great care from God, bridling and restraining their further violence. From which it is clear that there is no one who does not enjoy God’s providence. And if not all enjoy it alike, nor in one way, this too is a very great form of providence. For providence is displayed according to what profits each. And besides what has been said, we learn something else from this: that he provides not only for all in common, but also for each individually; which he showed with the disciples too when he said, “But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.” And from these possessed men one could see this clearly, who would long ago have been choked had they not enjoyed great care from above. For these reasons, then, he permitted them to go into the herd of swine; and so that those who lived in those places too might learn his power. For where his name was great he did not display it much; but where no one knew him, and they were still without feeling, he made his miracles shine forth, so as to draw them to the knowledge of his Godhead. For that those who inhabited that city were somewhat unfeeling is clear from the outcome. For when they ought to have worshiped him and marveled at his power, they sent him away and begged him to depart from their borders. But why did the demons destroy the swine? Everywhere they are eager to throw people into despondency, and everywhere they rejoice in destruction. This, at any rate, the devil did in the case of Job too; and yet there too God permitted it; but not there either because he obeyed the devil, but wishing to make his own servant more glorious, to cut off from the demon every pretext for shamelessness, and to turn upon his head what was done against the righteous man. For now too the opposite of what they wished has happened. For Christ’s power was splendidly proclaimed, and the wickedness of the demons, from which he freed those held by them, was shown more clearly, and that they have no power even to touch swine without the permission of the God of all.

And if someone also takes these things in a higher sense, nothing prevents it. This is the history; but one must know clearly that swinish men are easily assailed by the workings of demons. And while those who suffer this are still men, they can often prevail; but if they become swine entirely, they are not only possessed by demons but also hurled down headlong. And besides, so that no one might think that what happened was stagecraft, but might believe clearly that the demons had gone out, this is made plain by the death of the swine. But consider his gentleness too, together with his power. For when those who lived in that country, after receiving such benefits, drove him away, he did not resist, but withdrew, and left those who had shown themselves unworthy of his teaching, giving them as teachers those who had been freed from the demons, and the swineherds, so that they might learn from them everything that had happened; and by withdrawing himself he leaves the fear at its height in them. For the greatness of the loss spread the report of what had happened, and the event reached their minds. And from many sides voices were carried proclaiming the wonder of the miracle: from those who had been healed, from those that were drowned, from the owners of the swine, from the men who herded them. One could see these things happening now too, and many possessed in the tombs, whom nothing restrains from their madness, not iron, not chain, not a multitude of men, not exhortation, not admonition, not fear, not threat, nor anything else of the kind. For when someone is licentious, excited by every body, he differs in nothing from the possessed man, but goes about naked as that man did, clothed in garments indeed, but deprived of the true covering and stripped of the glory proper to him, cutting himself not with stones but with sins harder than many stones. Who then will be able to bind such a man? Who will stop him behaving disgracefully and goaded by frenzy, never coming to himself, but always haunting the tombs? For such are the lodgings of harlots, full of much stench and much rottenness. And what of the covetous man? Is he not such? For who will ever be able to bind him? Are there not fears and daily threats and exhortations and counsels? But he breaks all these bonds; and if anyone comes to free him, he adjures him not to free him, thinking it the greatest torment not to be in torment. What could be more wretched than this? For that demon, even if he despised men, yet yielded to the command of Christ and quickly leaped out of the body; but this man does not yield even to the command. See, at any rate, every day he hears him saying, “You cannot serve God and mammon,” and threatening hell and the incurable punishments, and he does not obey; not because he is stronger than Christ, but because Christ does not bring us to our senses against our will. That is why such people live as in deserts, even if they are in the midst of cities. For who in his senses would choose to associate with such men? I for my part would rather consent to live with ten thousand possessed than with one sick with this disease. And that I am not mistaken in saying this is clear from what each of them does. For these men think the one who has done them no wrong an enemy, and wish to take the free man as a slave, and surround him with countless evils; but the possessed do nothing of the kind, but turn the disease within themselves. And these men overturn many houses, and cause the name of God to be blasphemed, and are a pestilence to the city and to the whole world; while those troubled by demons are rather worthy to be pitied and wept for. And the latter do most things without perceiving; but the former rave with deliberation, frenzied in the midst of cities and mad with a new kind of madness. For what such thing do all the possessed do as Judas dared, displaying the utmost lawlessness? And all who emulate him, like savage beasts escaped from a cage, throw the cities into turmoil, with no one restraining them. For bonds surround these too on every side, such as the fear of judges, the threat of the laws, the condemnation of the many, and other things more than these; but nevertheless, breaking these too, they turn everything upside down. And if anyone were to take these entirely from them, then he would know clearly that the demon in them is much fiercer and madder than the one that went out just now. But since this is not possible, let us for the time suppose it in word, and take away all its chains, and then we shall know clearly its splendid madness. But do not fear the beast when we uncover it; for the scene is in words, not the thing in truth. Let there be, then, a man sending out fire from his eyes, black, having serpents hanging from both shoulders instead of hands; and let him have a mouth too, with sharp swords fixed in it instead of teeth, and instead of a tongue a fountain gushing forth venom and deadly poison; and a belly more consuming than any furnace, devouring everything thrown into it; and feet winged, and more vehement than any flame; and let his face be made from a dog and a wolf; and let him utter nothing human, but something discordant and unpleasant and fearful; and let him have flame in his hands as well. Perhaps what has been said seems fearful to you; but we have not yet portrayed him as he deserves; for other things must be added to these. Let him slaughter those he meets, devour them, fasten on their flesh. But the covetous man is much harsher than this, attacking all like Hades, swallowing all, going about as the common enemy of the human race. For he wishes there to be no other man, so that he may possess everything. And he does not stop even there; but when he has destroyed all in his desire, he desires to do away with the substance of the earth too, to see it turned to gold; and not only the earth, but also mountains and glens and springs and simply all things that appear. And so that you may learn that we have not yet set forth his madness, let there be no one to accuse him and frighten him; take away in word for the time the fear that comes from the laws, and see him seizing a sword and making away with all, sparing no one, not friend, not kinsman, not brother, not his very father. Or rather there is no need of supposition here; let us ask him whether he does not always form such fancies within himself, and attack all, slaying them in his thoughts, friends and kinsmen and his very parents. Or rather there is no need even of a question; for all know that those held by this disease are burdened even by a father’s old age, and think that sweet thing, desired by all, having children, heavy and burdensome. Many, at any rate, have for this reason even bought childlessness and maimed nature, not killing their children after birth, but not allowing them to come into being at all. Do not wonder, then, that we have portrayed the covetous man in this way (for he is much worse than what has been said); but let us consider how we may free him from the demon. How then shall we free him? If he were to learn clearly that covetousness is opposed to him in this very thing above all, in getting money; for those who wish to make small gains suffer great losses; from which the proverb too has been brought out for this very thing. Many, at any rate, wishing to lend at high interest, have often, in the expectation of gain, not examined the borrowers, and have lost the interest together with the whole principal. Again, others, having fallen into dangers and not willing to give up a little, have lost their life together with their substance. Again, when it was possible to buy profitable offices or some other such thing, being stingy they lost everything. For since they do not know how to sow, but have practiced always reaping, they continually lose the harvest too. For no one can always reap, just as no one can always gain. Since, then, they will not spend, they do not know how to gain either. And if they must take a wife, they suffer this same thing again; for either they have been deceived, taking a poor woman instead of a rich one, or, bringing in a rich one full of countless faults, they have suffered a greater loss again. For it is not abundance but virtue that makes wealth. For what is the use of wealth when she is extravagant and wasteful and carries everything away more violently than the wind? What if she is licentious and draws countless lovers? What if she is a drunkard? Will she not quickly make her husband poorer than all? And they not only marry but also buy recklessly, from their great desire, seeking out not good slaves but cheap ones. Considering all these things, then (for you cannot yet hear discourses about hell and the kingdom), and thinking of the losses you have often suffered from love of money, in loans and in purchases and in marriages and in patronage and in all other things, give up loving money. For in this way you will be able both to live the present life in safety, and, advancing a little, to hear discourses about philosophy too, and, looking up, to see the very sun of righteousness, and to obtain the good things promised by him; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“And getting into the boat he crossed over and came to his own city. And behold, they brought to him a paralytic lying on a bed. And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Take heart, child; your sins are forgiven.’” By his own city he here means Capernaum. For Bethlehem bore him, Nazareth brought him up, and Capernaum had him living there continually. This paralytic, however, is a different one from the one recorded in John. For that one lay at the pool, but this one in Capernaum; that one had had his illness thirty-eight years, but nothing of the kind is said about this one; and that one was destitute of anyone to stand by him, but this one had people caring for him, who also took him up and carried him. And to this one he says, “Child, your sins are forgiven,” but to that one he says, “Do you wish to be made well?” And that one he healed on the sabbath, but this one not on the sabbath; for otherwise the Jews would have accused him for this too; and in this case they were silent, but in that one they pressed on, persecuting him. And I have not said these things idly, but so that no one may think there is a disagreement, supposing them to be one and the same paralytic. But consider the Master’s freedom from pride and his gentleness. For before this too he pushed away the crowds; and when driven out by the people of Gadara, he did not resist, but withdrew, though not far. And again he got into the boat and crossed, though he could have crossed on foot. For he did not wish always to work wonders, so as not to harm the plan of the dispensation. Now Matthew says that they brought him; but the others, that they also broke open the roof and let him down. And they set the sick man before Christ, saying nothing, but entrusting everything to him. For at the beginning he himself went about, and did not require so much faith of those who came to him; but here they both came to him and were required to have faith. “For seeing their faith,” it says, that is, the faith of those who let him down. For he does not everywhere seek faith from the sick alone: for instance, when they are out of their minds, or are otherwise beside themselves from the disease. Or rather, here the faith was the sick man’s too; for he would not have endured being let down if he did not believe. Since, then, they displayed so great a faith, he too displays his power, loosing sins with all authority, and showing in every way that he is of equal honor with the one who begot him. And consider: he showed it earlier through his teaching, when he taught them as one having authority; through the leper, when he said, “I will; be made clean”; through the centurion, when, on the centurion’s saying, “Only say the word, and my servant will be healed,” he marveled and proclaimed him above all; through the sea, when he bridled it with a word alone; through the demons, when they acknowledged him as judge and he cast them out with great authority. Here again, in another and greater way, he compels his very enemies to confess his equality of honor, and makes it plain through their own mouths. For he, showing his freedom from love of honor (for a great audience stood around, walling off the entrance, which is why they let him down from above), did not run at once to the healing of the visible body, but takes the occasion from them; and he first healed what was unseen, the soul, forgiving the sins, which saved that man but did not bring himself much glory. But they, troubled by wickedness and wishing to find fault, caused what happened to shine forth even against their will. For he, being resourceful, used their envy for the manifestation of the sign. Since, then, they were disturbed and said, “This man blasphemes; who can forgive sins but God alone?”, let us see what he himself says. Did he remove the supposition? And yet, if he were not equal, he ought to have said, “Why do you fasten on me an opinion that does not belong to me? I am far from this power.” But as it is he said nothing of this; on the contrary, he entirely confirmed and ratified it, both by his own voice and by the display of the miracle. For since for a person to speak about himself seemed to offend the hearers, he confirms what concerns himself through others; and, what is wonderful, not only through friends but also through enemies; for this is the abundance of his wisdom. Through friends, when he said, “I will; be made clean,” and when he said, “Not even in Israel have I found such faith”; and through enemies now. For since they said that no one can forgive sins but God alone, he added, “But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins” (then he says to the paralytic), “Rise, take up your bed, and go to your house.” And not only here, but elsewhere too, when they said, “We stone you not for a good work but for blasphemy, and because you, being a man, make yourself God,” not even there did he overthrow this opinion, but again ratified it, saying, “If I do not do the works of my Father, do not believe me; but if I do them, even though you do not believe me, believe the works.” [2] Here, however, he shows another sign of his Godhead too, and not a small one, and of his equality of honor with the Father. For they said that loosing sins belongs to God alone; but he not only looses sins, but before this displays something else that belonged to God alone: bringing out the secrets of the heart. For they had not brought out into the open what they were thinking. “For behold, some of the scribes,” it says, “said within themselves, ‘This man blasphemes.’ And Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, ‘Why do you think evil in your hearts?’” And that it belongs to God alone to know secret things, hear what the prophet says: “You alone know hearts”; and again, “God tries the hearts and reins.” And Jeremiah says, “The heart is deep beyond all things, and it is man, and who shall know him?”; and, “Man looks on the face, but God on the heart.” And from many places one can see that it belongs to God alone to know what is in the mind. Showing, then, that he is God, equal to the one who begot him, what they were reasoning within themselves (for, fearing the multitude, they did not dare bring their opinion into the open), this opinion he uncovers and makes plain, displaying here too great freedom from offensiveness. “For why,” he says, “do you think evil in your hearts?” And yet if anyone had to be indignant, it was the sick man who should have been indignant, as one deceived, and should have said, “I came to have one thing healed, and you set right another? How is it clear that my sins are forgiven?” But as it is, he utters nothing of the kind, but gives himself up to the authority of the one healing; while these, being officious and envious, plot against the kindnesses done to others. That is why he reproves them, but with all gentleness. If you disbelieve the former thing, he says, and think what was said a boast, look, I add another to it, the uncovering of your secrets; and after that again another. What is this? Bracing the body of the paralyzed man. And when he spoke to the paralytic, he did not speak showing his own authority plainly; for he did not say, “I forgive you your sins,” but, “Your sins are forgiven.” But when they compelled him, he shows his authority more clearly, saying, “But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” Do you see how far he was from being unwilling to be thought equal to the Father? For he did not say that the Son of Man needs another, or that someone gave him authority, but that he has authority. And he does not say even this for love of honor, but, to persuade you, he says, that I do not blaspheme in making myself equal to God. For everywhere he wishes to provide clear and undeniable proofs: as when he says, “Go, show yourself to the priest”; and shows Peter’s mother-in-law serving; and allows the swine to be hurled down. So here too, he makes the bracing of the body a token of the forgiveness of sins, and the carrying of the bed a token of the bracing, so that what happened might not be thought an illusion. And he does not do this before he has questioned them. “For which,” he says, “is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Take up your bed and go to your house’?” What he means is this: Which seems easier to you, to brace a body that has been undone, or to loose the sins of a soul? Clearly, to brace a body. For as much as the soul is better than the body, so much is loosing sins greater than this; but since the one is unseen and the other visible, I add the lesser but more visible, so that the greater and unseen may receive its proof through this; already revealing by his works what was said by John, that he takes away the sins of the world.

Having raised him up, then, he sends him home, here again showing his freedom from pride, and that what happened was not an illusion; for those who were witnesses of the sickness he makes witnesses of the health too. For I wished, he says, through your suffering to heal those too who seem to be healthy but are sick in mind; but since they will not, go away home, to set right those there. Do you see how he shows that he is the creator both of souls and of bodies? He heals, then, the paralysis of each nature, and makes the unseen plain through the visible; but nevertheless they still crawl on the ground. “For when the crowds saw it they marveled,” it says, “and glorified God, who had given such authority to men”; for the flesh offended them. And he did not rebuke them, but goes on, raising them up by his works and making their thoughts lofty. For for the time it was no small thing for him to be thought greater than all men and to have come from God. For if they had confirmed this well in their own minds, going on in due course they would have known that he was also the Son of God. But they did not hold these things clearly; that is why they could not come to him either. For they said again, “This man is not from God”; “How is this man from God?” And they continually turned these things over, putting them forward as screens for their own passions. Which many do now too: seeming to avenge God, they fulfill their own passions, when they ought to pursue all things with gentleness. For the God of all, though he could send a thunderbolt upon those who blaspheme him, makes the sun rise, sends the rains, and provides all other things abundantly; whom we too must imitate, and entreat, exhort, and admonish with meekness, not being angry nor turning into wild beasts. For no harm comes to God from blasphemy, that you should be enraged; it is the blasphemer himself who has received the wound. Therefore groan, lament; for the suffering is worthy of tears. And nothing can heal the wounded man as gentleness can; for gentleness is more powerful than any force. See, at any rate, how he himself who has been insulted speaks to us, both in the Old Testament and in the New: there saying, “My people, what have I done to you?”, and here, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” And Paul commands us to instruct opponents in meekness. And when the disciples came to Christ asking that fire might come down from heaven, he rebuked them sharply, saying, “You do not know of what spirit you are.” And here too he did not say, “O you abominable men and sorcerers, O envious men and enemies of the salvation of mankind,” but, “Why do you think evil in your hearts?” We must, then, take away the disease with gentleness. For one who has become better through human fear will quickly return to wickedness again. That is why he commanded the tares to be left, giving a fixed time for repentance. Many of them, at any rate, repented and became earnest, who were formerly worthless, such as Paul, the tax collector, the robber; for these, being tares, became wheat. For with seeds this is impossible, but with the will it is easy and simple; for it is not bound by the limits of nature, but honored with freedom of choice. When, then, you see an enemy of the truth, heal him, take care of him, lead him back to virtue, displaying an excellent life, offering a blameless word, providing protection and care, moving every means of correction, imitating the best of physicians. For they too do not heal in one way only, but when they see the wound not yielding to the first remedy, they add another, and after that again another; and now they cut, now they bind up. You too, then, having become a physician of souls, move every means of healing according to the laws of Christ, so that you may receive the reward both of your own salvation and of the benefit to others, doing all things to the glory of God, and in this way being glorified yourself. “For those who glorify me,” he says, “I will glorify, and those who despise me shall be despised.” Let us do all things, then, to his glory, so that we may obtain that blessed lot; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“[And as] Jesus [passed on] from there, he saw a man sitting at the tax office, called Matthew; and he says [to him, ‘Follow me.’]” For, having worked the miracle, he did not stay, so as not to kindle their jealousy further by being seen, but grants them this favor by withdrawing and soothing their passion. Let us too do this: not closing with those who plot against us, but soothing their wound, giving way and slackening their tension. But why did he not call him with Peter and John and the others? Just as there he came at the time when he knew the men would obey, so he called Matthew too at the time when he knew he would yield. For this reason he also caught Paul, like a fisherman, after the resurrection. For he who knows the hearts and the secrets of each one’s mind knew also when each of them would obey. That is why he did not call him at the beginning, when he was still rather hard, but after his countless miracles and the great fame about him, when he knew he had become more fit for obedience. And it is worth marveling at the evangelist’s philosophy too: how he does not hide his own former life, but even sets down his name, though the others concealed him under another name. And why did he say that he was sitting at the tax office? Showing the power of the one who called him: that it was not when he had stopped, nor when he had left this wicked trade, but out of the midst of his evils that he drew him up; just as he also changed the blessed Paul while he was raging and mad and breathing fire; which Paul himself sets forth as proof of the power of the one who called him, saying to the Galatians, “You have heard of my former way of life in Judaism, that I persecuted the church of God beyond measure.” And he called the fishermen too while they were in the midst of their work. But that was a trade not of ill repute, though belonging to men of rather rustic disposition, unsociable and very simple; while this was a pursuit full of shamelessness and effrontery, a gain with no reasonable excuse, a shameless traffic, robbery with a lawful appearance; but nevertheless the one who called him was ashamed of none of these things. And why do I say that he was not ashamed of a tax collector, when he was not ashamed not only to call a harlot, but even to let her kiss his feet and wet them with her tears? For this is why he came: not only to heal bodies, but also to cure the wickedness of the soul. This he did with the paralytic too; and having shown clearly that he can forgive sins, then he comes to this man, so that they might no longer be disturbed at seeing a tax collector enrolled in the company of the disciples. For since he has authority to loose all offenses, why do you wonder if he makes this man an apostle too? But as you have seen the power of the one who called, so learn also the obedience of the one called. For he did not resist, nor say in doubt, “What is this? Is he not calling me, such as I am, with a deceitful call?” For that humility too would have been untimely. But he obeyed at once, and did not even think fit to go home and share this with his own people, just as the fishermen did not either; but as they left the net and the boat and their father, so this man too left the tax office and the gain and followed, displaying a mind prepared for everything; and tearing himself away all at once from all worldly things, he bore witness by his complete obedience to the fitness of the time chosen by the one who called him. “And why,” someone says, “did he not tell us also about the others, how and in what manner they were called, but only about Peter and James and John and Philip, and nowhere about the others?” Because these especially were in strange and lowly occupations. For there is nothing worse than tax collecting, nor more paltry than fishing. And that Philip too was one of the very obscure is clear from his homeland. That is why they proclaim these especially to us together with their occupations, showing that we must believe them in the glorious parts of their narratives too. For those who choose to leave out nothing of what seems disgraceful, but proclaim these things with exactness before the others, both about the Teacher and about the disciples, how could they be suspected in what is venerable? Especially when they pass over many signs and miracles, but cry aloud with exactness what seem to be the reproaches of the cross, and uncover with a loud voice the occupations and failings of the disciples, and the Teacher’s ancestors who were notorious for sins? From which it is clear that they took great account of truth and wrote nothing to please or for display.

Having called him, then, he honored him with the greatest honor too, sharing his table at once; for by this he made him of good hope about the future and led him to greater boldness. For he healed his wickedness not in a long time but all at once. And he reclines not with him alone but with many others too; and yet this too seemed to be a charge against him, that he did not drive the sinners away. But they do not hide even this, what sort of things his enemies tried to find fault with in what he did. And the tax collectors come together as to a fellow tradesman; for Matthew, priding himself on Christ’s coming in, called them all together. For Christ set in motion every kind of healing, and not only by conversing, nor by healing, nor by convicting his enemies, but also by dining he set right many who were in a bad state; teaching us by this that every occasion and every action can bring us benefit. And yet what was set out then came from injustice and greed; but Christ did not refuse to share in it, since great gain was going to come from it; but he becomes one who shares the roof and table of those who had committed such offenses. For such is the physician: if he does not bear the rottenness of the sick, he does not free them from their illness. And yet he got a bad reputation from this, both from eating with him, and in his house, and with many tax collectors. See, at any rate, how they reproach him with this: “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.” Let those hear this who are eager to surround themselves with great glory for fasting, and let them consider that our Master was called a glutton and a drunkard and was not ashamed, but looked down on all these things, so as to accomplish what he had in view; which indeed happened. For the tax collector was changed and so became better. And that you may learn that sharing his table accomplished this great thing, hear what Zacchaeus says, another tax collector again. For when he heard Christ saying, “Today I must stay in your house,” given wings by his delight, “Half of my possessions,” he says, “I give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore fourfold.” And Jesus says to him, “Today salvation has come to this house.” So it is possible to teach by all means. “And how,” someone says, “does Paul command, ‘If anyone who is called a brother is sexually immoral or greedy, with such a one do not even eat’?” First of all, it is not yet clear whether he gives this advice to teachers too, and not to brothers only. Then, these men were not yet among the perfected, nor had they become brothers. And besides this, Paul commands us to turn away even from those who have become brothers when they persist; but these had stopped and changed. But none of this shamed the Pharisees, but they charge the disciples, saying, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” And when the disciples themselves seem to sin, they appeal to him, saying, “Look, your disciples are doing what is not lawful to do on the sabbath”; but here they slander him to them. All of which was the act of men acting maliciously and wishing to tear the company of disciples away from the Teacher. What then does the infinite Wisdom say? “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.” See how he turned their argument to the opposite. For they made it a charge that he associated with these; but he, on the contrary, says that not associating with them would be unworthy of him and of his love for humankind; and that correcting such people is not only free from blame but his chief work, necessary and worthy of countless praises. Then, so as not to seem to shame those who had been called by saying “those who are sick,” see how he softens it again, rebuking them and saying, “But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’” And he said this reproaching them for their ignorance of the Scriptures. That is why he uses rather sharp language, not because he himself was angry, God forbid, but so that those men, the guests, might not be utterly at a loss. And yet he could have said, “Did you not notice how I loosed the sins of the paralytic? How I braced his body?” But he says none of these things, but first reasons with them from common reasonings, and then from the Scriptures. For having said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick,” and having shown in a veiled way that he himself is the physician, he then said, “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’” So Paul too does. Having first established his argument from common examples, and said, “Who tends a flock and does not eat of its milk?”, he then brought in the Scriptures too, saying, “For it is written in the law of Moses, ‘You shall not muzzle an ox that treads out the grain’”; and again, “So the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should live by the gospel.” But to the disciples he does not speak so, but reminds them of the signs, saying, “Do you not yet remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets you took up?”

But to these men he does not speak so, but reminds them of the common weakness, and shows that they too are among the sick, since they did not even know the Scriptures, and, neglecting all the rest of virtue, placed everything in the sacrifices. Hinting at this strongly, he sets down briefly what was said through all the prophets, saying, “Learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’” For by these words he shows that it is not he who breaks the law but they; as if he said, Why do you accuse me because I correct sinners? Then you will accuse the Father too of this. Which he also said elsewhere, establishing this: “My Father is working until now, and I am working”; and here again, “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’” For as he wishes this, he says, so do I. Do you see how those things are superfluous, but these necessary? For he did not say, “I desire mercy and sacrifice,” but, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.” For the one he approved and the other he cast out; and he showed that what they accused him of was not only not forbidden but even enjoined by law, and more than sacrifice; and he brings in the Old Testament itself speaking and legislating in harmony with him. Having reproved them, then, both from common examples and from the Scriptures, he adds again, “I came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.” And he says this to them in irony, as when it says, “Behold, Adam has become like one of us”; and again, “If I am hungry, I will not tell you.” For that there was no one righteous on earth Paul showed when he said, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” And by this he also consoled those who had been called. For I am so far, he says, from loathing sinners, that I have come for their sake alone. Then, so as not to make them more careless, having said “sinners,” he was not silent, but added, “to repentance.” For I did not come that they might remain sinners, but that they might change and become better. Since, then, he had stopped their mouths on every side, both from the Scriptures and from the sequence of facts, and they had nothing to say, having been shown liable to the charges they brought against him, and opposed to the law and to the Old Testament, they leave him and again transfer the charge to the disciples. And Luke says that the Pharisees said it, but this evangelist that John’s disciples did; but it is likely that both said these things. For, being at a loss, they took those men with them, as is likely, which they did later with the Herodians too. For John’s disciples were always jealous of him and spoke against him, being humbled only then, when at the beginning John lived in prison. At any rate, they came then and reported to Jesus; but after this they returned to their former envy. What then do they say? “Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but your disciples do not fast?” This is the disease which Christ cut out long before, saying, “When you fast, anoint your head and wash your face,” foreseeing the evils born of it. But he does not rebuke these men either, nor say, “O vainglorious and officious men,” but speaks to them with all gentleness, saying, “The sons of the bridechamber cannot fast as long as the bridegroom is with them.” For when the word was about others, I mean the tax collectors, to soothe their wounded soul he rebuked those who reproached them more sharply; but where they were mocking him and the disciples, he makes his answer with all gentleness. What they mean is this: Granted, he says, that you do these things as a physician; why do your disciples too give up fasting and attend to such tables? Then, to make the accusation greater, they put themselves first and then the Pharisees, wishing to increase the charge by the comparison. “For both we,” they say, “and the Pharisees fast often.” For they did fast, the one having learned it from John, the others from the law; as the Pharisee too said, “I fast twice a week.” What then does Jesus say? “Can the sons of the bridechamber fast as long as the bridegroom is with them?” Before, he called himself a physician, but here a bridegroom, uncovering by these names the unspeakable mysteries. And yet he could have spoken to them more sharply: “You are not masters of these things, to make such laws. For what is the use of fasting when the mind is full of wickedness? When you accuse others? When you condemn, carrying a beam about in your eyes, and do everything for display? For before all these things you ought to have cast out vainglory and achieved all the other things: love, meekness, brotherly love.” But he says none of these things, but with all gentleness: “The sons of the bridechamber cannot fast as long as the bridegroom is with them”; reminding them of John’s words, in which he said, “He who has the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom’s voice.” What he means is this: the present time is one of joy and gladness; do not then bring in gloomy things. For fasting is a gloomy thing, not by nature, but for those who are still rather weakly disposed; since to those who wish to philosophize the thing is very sweet and desirable. For as when the body is healthy there is great gladness, so when the soul is in good condition the pleasure is greater. But he says these things with regard to their supposition. So Isaiah too, speaking about it, calls it humbling of the soul, and Moses likewise. And not only by this does he stop their mouths, but also from another side, saying, “The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.” For by this he shows that what happened was not a matter of gluttony but of a wonderful dispensation; and at the same time he lays down beforehand the word about his passion, teaching the disciples in his disputes with others and training them to practice already in what seem to be gloomy things. For to say this to them directly would have been burdensome and grievous, since even later, when it was said, it troubled them; but said to others, it became less offensive to them. And since it was likely that they were proud too about John’s suffering, he puts down this swelling also from here; the word about the resurrection, however, he does not yet add; for it was not yet the time. For that one who was thought to be a man should die was according to nature, but that was above nature. Then what he did before, he does here too. For just as, when they tried to show him liable to charges for eating with sinners, he persuaded them of the contrary, that what was done was not only no charge but even praiseworthy, so here too, when they wish to show that he does not know how to deal with his disciples, he shows that saying such things belongs not to those who know how to deal with followers, but to those who simply accuse. “For no one puts a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment,” he says. Again he establishes his argument from common examples. What he means is this: the disciples have not yet become strong, but still need much condescension; they have not yet been renewed through the Spirit. And upon those so disposed one must not lay a weight of commands. And he said these things laying down laws and rules for his own disciples, so that when they were about to take as disciples all from the whole world, they might deal with them with great gentleness. “Nor do they put new wine into old wineskins.” Do you see the examples resembling the Old Testament: the garment, the wineskins? For Jeremiah too calls the people a girdle, and again mentions wineskins and wine. For since the discourse was about gluttony and a table, he takes his examples from the same things. And Luke says something more, that the new too is torn if you put it on the old. Do you see that not only is there no benefit, but even greater harm? And he speaks of the present, but foretells the future: that afterward they will be new; but until this happens, nothing severe and heavy must be enjoined on them. For the one who seeks to implant the lofty teachings before the fitting time, he says, will not find them fit even when the time calls, having once made them useless. And this happens not because of the wine, nor because of the vessels that receive it, but because of the unseasonableness of those who pour it in. From here he taught us also the reason for the lowly words with which he continually spoke to them. For because of their weakness he said many things beneath his own worth; which John too showed that he said, when he says, “I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” For so that they might not think that what he said was all there was, but might imagine other things much greater too, he set their weakness in the open, promising that when they became strong he would tell them those things too; which he says here too: “The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.” Let us, then, not demand everything from everyone at the beginning, but what is possible; and quickly we shall come to those things too. But if you press and hurry, for this very reason do not press, since you are in a hurry. And if what has been said seems a riddle to you, learn it from the very nature of things, and then you will see its whole force. And let none of those who accuse untimely move you; since here too the accusers were Pharisees and those reproached were disciples. But nevertheless none of these things persuaded Christ to change his judgment, nor did he say, “It is a shame that these fast and those do not fast.” But as an excellent pilot attends not to the troubled waves but to his own art, so Christ too did then. For the shame was not that they did not fast, but that because of fasting they should be struck in a vital part, and split off, and torn away. Considering these things, then, let us deal in this way with all our own people. Even if you have a wife fond of finery, gaping after cosmetics, flighty, dissolved in much luxury, talkative and foolish (and yet all these things cannot meet in one woman; but let us fashion such a woman in words). “Why then,” someone says, “do you fashion a woman and not a man?” There are men too worse than this woman. But since the oversight has been entrusted to men, for this reason we fashion a woman for the time, not because wickedness abounds more there. For one can find many things among men that are not among women, such as murder, tomb-robbing, fighting with wild beasts, and many such things. Do not think, then, that we do this to belittle the sex; it is not so, it is not so; but it is useful for the time to sketch the picture in this way. Let such a woman, then, be supposed by us, and let the husband strive in every way to correct her. How then will he correct her? Not by enjoining everything at once, but the lighter things first, and those by which she is not very strongly held. For if you press her to set everything right from the beginning, you have lost everything. Do not, then, take away the gold ornaments at once, but let her have them and wear them for the time; for this seems a lesser evil than the cosmetics and paints. Let those, then, be taken away first; and not even those by fear and threat, but by persuasion and kindness, and by censuring others, and by your own verdict and opinion. And say to her continually that a face so beautified is not lovely to you, but even very unpleasant; and persuade her above all that this grieves you. And after your own verdict bring in the opinion of others too, and say that this usually ruins even the good-looking, so that you may remove the passion. And do not yet say anything about hell or about the kingdom; for you will say these things in vain; but persuade her that she delights you more by showing God’s work bare; while she who tortures her face and stretches it and … does not appear beautiful and comely even to the many. First cast out the disease by common reasonings and the verdicts of all; and when you have softened her with these words, add those others too. And if you say it once and do not persuade, say it a second time and a third, and do not grow weary of pouring on the same words many times; not, however, with any offensiveness, but with charm; and now turn away, now flatter and humor her. Do you not see painters, how many things they wipe out, how many they paint in, when they make a beautiful face? Do not, then, be worse than they. For if they, painting the image of a body, use so much zeal, how much more would it be just for us, fashioning a soul, to set every device in motion? For if you fashion well the face of this soul, you will not see the unseemly face of the body, nor blood-red lips, nor a mouth like a bear’s stained with blood, nor eyebrows blackened as if from a cooking pot, nor cheeks whitewashed like the walls of tombs. For all these are soot and ashes and dust, and marks of the utmost ugliness. But I do not know how I was carried away unawares into these words, and, while advising another to teach with gentleness, I myself rolled into anger. Let us return again, then, to the gentler exhortation, and let us bear all the failings of women, so that we may achieve what we wish. Do you not see how we bear with children crying when we wish to wean them from the breast, and endure everything for this alone, to persuade them to despise their former table? So let us do here too: let us bear with all the rest, so that we may achieve this. For when this has been corrected, you will see the other too, proceeding in due course, and you will come again to the gold ornaments, and in the same way you will speak about these likewise; and so, shaping your wife little by little, you will be an excellent painter, a faithful servant, a very good husbandman. Along with these things remind her also of the women of old, Sarah, Rebekah, both the beautiful and those who were not so, and show that all were alike chaste. For Leah too, the patriarch’s wife, not being beautiful, was not compelled to devise any such thing; but though she was plain and not much loved by her husband, she neither devised anything of the kind nor spoiled her face, but kept her features intact, and that though she was brought up among pagans. But you, a believer, who have Christ as your head, bring in upon us a satanic device? And do you not remember the water that washed over your face, the sacrifice that adorns your lips, the blood that reddened your tongue? For if you consider all these things, even if you are ten thousand times fond of finery, you will not dare nor endure to put on that dust and ashes. Learn that you have been betrothed to Christ, and keep away from this unseemliness. For he does not delight in these colors, but seeks another beauty, of which he is an ardent lover: I mean that in the soul. This the prophet too commanded you to cultivate, saying, “And the king will desire your beauty.” Let us not, then, disfigure ourselves needlessly. For none of God’s works is imperfect, nor does it need correction from you. For if someone should attempt to add his own touches to a royal image after it has been set up, the attempt is not safe, but he will incur the utmost danger. Then a man makes something and you do not add to it, but God makes something and you correct it? And do you not consider the fire of hell? Do you not consider the desolation of the soul? For this is why it is neglected, because all zeal is emptied out on the flesh. And why do I speak of the soul? For to the flesh itself everything turns out contrary to what you have striven for. Consider. Do you wish to appear beautiful? This shows you ugly. Do you wish to please your husband? This grieves him more; and not him alone, but it also makes those outside into accusers. Do you wish to appear young? This will quickly bring you to old age. Do you wish to be beautified? This makes you ashamed. For such a woman is ashamed not only before her equals, but before those of her maidservants who are in the secret and those of her servants who know, and before all, before herself. But why must I say these things? For I have now passed over what is harshest of all: that you offend God, that you undermine chastity, that you kindle the flame of jealousy, that you emulate the harlots on the housetop. Considering all these things, then, laugh at the pomp of Satan and the art of the devil; and, leaving this adornment, or rather this disorder, prepare that beauty in your own souls which is lovely to angels and desirable to God and pleasant to your husbands, so that you may obtain both the present and the future glory; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“While he was saying these things to them, behold, a ruler came in and knelt before him, saying, ‘My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.’” The deed followed close upon the words, so that the Pharisees were silenced still more. For the one who came was a ruler of the synagogue, and the grief was terrible. For the child was an only child, and twelve years old, in the very flower of her age; which is especially why he raised her at once. And if Luke says that people came saying, “Do not trouble the Teacher, for she is dead,” we will say this: that the words “has just died” were those of a man guessing from the time of the journey, or magnifying the calamity. For it is the custom of those who make requests to exaggerate their own troubles in speech and to say something more than the facts, so as to draw those they entreat the more. But see his dullness. For he asks two things of Christ: both that he come in person and that he lay his hand on her; which was a sign that he had left her still breathing. This the Syrian Naaman too demanded of the prophet. For “I thought,” he says, “that he would come out and lay his hand on me.” For those who are rather dully disposed need sight and things perceptible to the senses. And Mark says that he took the three disciples, and Luke too; but this evangelist simply says “the disciples.” Why then did he not take Matthew, though he had just come to him? To put him into greater longing, and because he was still rather imperfectly disposed. For this is why he honors those, that this man may become like them. For him it was enough for the time to see the things concerning the woman with the flow of blood, and to be honored with the table and with the sharing of salt. And when he rose, many followed him, as to a great miracle, both because of the person who had come and because most, being rather dully disposed, sought not so much care for the soul as healing for the body; and they flocked together, some driven by their own sufferings, others eager to become spectators of the correction of others; but those who resorted to him chiefly for the sake of words and teaching were as yet few. He did not, however, let them enter the house, but only the disciples, and not even all of these, everywhere teaching us to push away the glory that comes from the many. “And behold,” it says, “a woman who had had a flow of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment. For she said within herself, ‘If I only touch his garment, I shall be made well.’” Why did she not come to him with boldness? She was ashamed because of her suffering, thinking herself unclean. For if a woman in her monthly period was not thought clean, much more would one with such a disease have thought this; for under the law the suffering was thought to be a great uncleanness. That is why she hides and conceals herself. For not even she yet had the fitting and perfect opinion about him; otherwise she would not have thought to escape notice. And this woman is the first to come publicly; for she had heard that he heals women too, and that he was going to the little girl who had died. And she did not dare call him to her house, although she was well off; nor did she come publicly, but secretly with faith she touched his garments. For she did not doubt, nor say within herself, “Shall I be freed from the disease or shall I not?”, but came thus, confident of her health. For she said within herself, it says, “If I only touch his garment, I shall be made well.” For she saw from what sort of house he had come out, the house of the tax collectors, and who were those following him, sinners and tax collectors; and all this made her hopeful. What then does Christ do? He did not let her escape notice, but brings her into the open and makes her known, for many reasons. And yet some of the unfeeling say that he does this out of love of glory. “Why,” they say, “did he not let her escape notice?” What are you saying, abominable man? He who commands silence, he who passes over countless miracles, does he love glory? Why then does he bring her into the open? First, he frees the woman from her fear, so that she might not, pricked by her conscience as though she had stolen the gift, live in anguish. Second, he corrects her, since she thought she was escaping notice. Third, he displays her faith to all, so that the others too might emulate it; and he gives a sign no less than stopping the fountains of blood, by showing that he knows everything. Then, the ruler of the synagogue, who was about to disbelieve and by this to ruin everything, he sets right through the woman. For those who came said, “Do not trouble the Teacher, for the girl is dead”; and those in the house laughed at him when he said that she was asleep; and it was likely that the father too had felt something of the kind.

That is why, correcting this weakness beforehand, he brings the woman into the open. For that he was one of the very dull, hear what he says to him: “Do not fear; only believe, and she will be saved.” For he deliberately waited for death to come, and then arrived, so that the proof of the resurrection might be clear. That is why he walks more slowly too, and talks longer with the woman, so as to let the girl die, and so that those who reported these things might come and say, “Do not trouble the Teacher.” This the evangelist too hints at and points out, saying, “While he was still speaking, people came from the house, saying, ‘Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher.’” For he wished the death to be believed, so that the resurrection might not be suspected. And he does this everywhere. So too with Lazarus, he stayed one day and a second and a third. For all these reasons, then, he brings her into the open and says, “Take heart, daughter”; as he also said to the paralytic, “Take heart, child.” For the woman was afraid; that is why he says, “Take heart,” and calls her daughter; for her faith made her a daughter. Then the praise too: “Your faith has made you well.” And Luke tells us still more about the woman. For when she had come, he says, and received her health, Christ did not call her at once, but first says, “Who is it that touched me?” Then, when Peter and those with him said, “Master, the crowds are pressing and crushing you, and you say, ‘Who touched me?’” (which was a very great sign both that he wore true flesh and that he trampled on all pride; for they were not following at a distance, but pressed upon him on every side), he persisted, it says, saying, “Someone touched me; for I perceived power going out from me,” answering rather plainly according to the thought of the hearers. And he said these things so as to persuade her to confess of her own accord. For this is why he did not convict her at once, so that, having shown that he knew everything clearly, he might persuade her of her own accord to tell everything, and prepare her to proclaim herself what had happened, and so that he might not, by speaking himself, seem to be suspect. Did you see the woman better than the ruler of the synagogue? She did not hold him, she did not seize him, but only touched him with the tips of her fingers, and though she came later, she went away healed first. And he drew the whole physician into his house, but for her a touch alone was enough. For though she was bound by her suffering, she was given wings by her faith. But see how he consoles her, saying, “Your faith has made you well.” And yet if he had drawn her into the open for display, he would not have added this; but he says these things at once teaching the ruler of the synagogue to believe, proclaiming the woman, and giving her by these words no less pleasure and benefit than the health of her body. For that he did these things wishing to glorify her and to correct others, and not to make himself illustrious, is clear from this. For he himself was going to be equally wonderful even without this (for miracles poured round him thicker than snowflakes, and he had done and was going to do far greater things than this); but the woman, had this not happened, would have gone away unnoticed, deprived of these great praises. That is why, bringing her into the open, he proclaimed her, and cast out her fear (for she came trembling, it says), and made her take heart, and along with the health of her body gave her other provisions for the road too, saying, “Go in peace.” “And when he came to the ruler’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a tumult, he said, ‘Go away; for the girl is not dead but asleep.’ And they laughed at him.” Fine tokens of the rulers of the synagogue: at a death, flutes and cymbals stirring up lamentation! What then does Christ do? He put all the others out but brought in the parents, so that it could not be said that he healed in some other way; and before the raising he raises her by his word, saying, “The girl is not dead but asleep.” And he does this in many places. Just as on the sea he first rebukes the disciples, so here too he casts the tumult out of the minds of those present, at the same time showing that it is easy for him to raise the dead (which he did also with Lazarus, saying, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep”), and at the same time teaching them not to fear death; for it is not death, but has become sleep from now on. For since he himself too was going to die, in the bodies of others he prepares the disciples beforehand to be of good courage and to bear death gently. For when he had come, death was thenceforth sleep. But nevertheless they laughed at him; and he was not indignant at being disbelieved in what he was about to do a little later, nor did he rebuke their laughter, so that both it, and the flutes and the cymbals and all the rest, might become a proof of the death.

For since people for the most part disbelieve miracles after they have happened, he anticipates them with their own answers; which happened with Lazarus too, and with Moses. For to Moses he says, “What is this in your hand?”, so that when he saw it become a serpent he might not forget that it was a rod before this, but, remembering his own words, might be amazed at what happened. And with Lazarus he says, “Where have you laid him?”, so that those who said, “Come and see,” and, “He stinks, for he has been dead four days,” might no longer be able to disbelieve that he raised a dead man. Seeing, then, the cymbals and the crowds, he put them all out, and works the miracle with the parents present, not bringing in another soul, but bringing back the very one that had gone out, and waking her as from sleep. And he takes her by the hand, assuring those who saw, so as to prepare the way, through sight, for faith in the resurrection. For the father said, “Lay your hand on her”; but he does something more: for he does not lay it on, but takes hold of her and raises her, showing that everything is ready to his hand. And he not only raises her, but also commands that food be given her, so that what happened might not seem an apparition. And he does not give it himself, but commands them; as with Lazarus too he said, “Unbind him and let him go,” and afterward makes him a sharer of his table. For he is always accustomed to establish both, making the proof both of the death and of the resurrection with all exactness. But do not consider only the raising, but that he also charged them to tell no one; and learn this above all from everything, freedom from pride and from vainglory; and along with this learn that too, that he put those who were beating their breasts out of the house and declared them unworthy of such a sight. [Do not, then,] go out with the flute players, but remain with Peter and John and James. For if he put those men out then, much more now. For then it was not yet clear that death had become sleep; but now this is plainer than the sun itself. “But he has not raised your little daughter now.” But he will surely raise her, and with greater glory. For that girl, having risen, died again; but yours, if she rises, remains immortal from then on. Let no one, then, beat their breast any more, nor lament, nor slander the achievement of Christ. For he has conquered death. Why then do you lament needlessly? The thing has become sleep. Why do you wail and weep? For if pagans did this, one would have to laugh at them; but when the believer behaves unseemly in these matters, what defense is there? What pardon will there be for those who act so foolishly, and that after so long a time and so clear a proof of the resurrection? But you, as though eager to increase the charge, even bring us pagan women as mourners, kindling the passion and stirring up the furnace; and you do not hear Paul saying, “What agreement has Christ with Belial? Or what portion has a believer with an unbeliever?” And the children of the pagans, who know nothing about resurrection, nevertheless find words of consolation, saying, “Bear it nobly; for what has happened cannot be undone, nor set right by laments”; and you, who hear things more philosophical and better than these, are you not ashamed to behave more unseemly than they? For we do not say, “Bear it nobly, since what has happened cannot be undone,” but, “Bear it nobly, for she will surely rise; the child is asleep and not dead; she is at rest and has not perished.” For resurrection will succeed it, and eternal life, and immortality, and the lot of angels. Do you not hear the psalm saying, “Return, my soul, to your rest, for the Lord has dealt kindly with you”? God calls the thing a kindness, and you lament? And what more would you have done if you were an enemy and foe of the dead? For if we must lament, we must lament for the devil. Let him beat his breast, let him wail, because we are journeying to greater good things. This wailing befits his wickedness, not you who are about to be crowned and to rest. For death is a calm harbor. Consider, at any rate, how full of evils the present life is; think how often you yourself have cursed the present life. For things go on to the worse; and from the beginning you were bound up in no small … “In the sweat of your face you shall eat your bread”; and, “In the world you will have tribulation.” But of the things there nothing of the kind has been said, but quite the opposite: that “pain, sorrow, and sighing have fled away”; and that “they will come from east and west and recline in the bosom of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob”; and that the things there are a spiritual bridechamber, and bright lamps, and a removal to heaven.

Why, then, do you shame the one who has departed? Why do you make the others fear and tremble at death? Why do you cause many to accuse God, as though he had done great evils? Or rather, why do you afterward invite the poor and ask priests to pray? “So that the deceased may depart into rest,” you say, “so that he may find the judge merciful.” Is it for this, then, that you lament and wail? Then you are fighting and warring against yourself, preparing a storm for yourself over the very things for which he has departed into harbors. “And what shall I do? Such is nature.” The charge does not belong to nature, nor to the sequence of things; it is we who turn everything upside down, who grow soft and betray our own nobility and make the unbelievers worse. For how shall we discourse to another about immortality? How shall we persuade the pagan, when we fear and shudder at death more than he? Many among the pagans, at any rate, though they knew nothing about immortality, put on crowns when their children had died, and went forth in white robes, so as to reap the glory of the present; but you do not stop playing the woman and beating your breast even for the sake of the glory to come. “But I have no heirs, nor successor to my property.” And which did you rather wish, that he should be heir of your goods or of heaven? Which did you desire, that he should succeed to perishable things, which he would have to leave a little later, or to things that abide and cannot be moved? You did not have him as your heir, but instead of you God has him; he did not become joint heir of his own brothers, but he became joint heir of Christ. “And to whom,” someone says, “do we leave the clothes, the houses, the slaves and the fields?” To him again, and more safely than if he were alive; for nothing prevents it. For if barbarians burn the property of the departed together with them, much more is it just for you to send his property along with the one who has died: not so that it may become ashes, as those things do, but so that it may surround him with greater glory; and if he departed a sinner, so that it may loose his sins; and if righteous, so that it may be an addition to his reward and recompense. “But you long to see him?” Then live the same life as he, and you will quickly receive that holy sight. And besides this consider that, even if you do not listen to us, you will surely be persuaded by time. But then you will have no reward; for the consolation comes from the multitude of days. But if you are willing to philosophize now, you will gain two very great things: you will free yourself from the evils in between, and you will bind on a more splendid crown from God. For bearing a calamity gently is much greater than almsgiving and the other things. Consider that the Son of God too died; and he for your sake, you for your own. And though he said, “If it is possible, let this cup pass from me,” and was grieved and in anguish, nevertheless he did not pass death by, but underwent it with great suffering. For he did not simply undergo death, but the most shameful death; and before the death, scourges; and before the scourges, reproaches and mockery and abuse; teaching you to bear all things nobly. But nevertheless, having died and laid aside the body, he took it up again with greater glory, holding out good hopes to you here too. If these things are not a fable, do not lament; if you think them trustworthy, do not weep; but if you weep, how will you be able to persuade the pagan that you believe?

“But even so what has happened still seems unbearable to you.” Then for this very reason it is not fitting to lament for him; for he has been freed from many such calamities. Do not, then, grudge him or envy him. For to ask death for oneself because of his untimely end, and to mourn him because he did not live to undergo many such things, is rather the act of one who grudges and envies. Do not think, then, that he will no longer return to the house, but that you too will go away to him a little later. Do not reckon that he no longer comes back here, but that not even these things that are seen remain as they are, but these too are transformed. For heaven and earth and sea and all things are remade, and then you will receive back your child with greater glory. And if he departed a sinner, his wickedness has come to a stop; for if God had known that he would change, he would not have snatched him away before repentance; and if he finished his life righteous, he possesses the good things in safety. From which it is clear that your tears are not of affection but of irrational passion. For if you loved the one who departed, you ought to rejoice and be glad that he has been freed from the present waves. For what more is there, tell me? What is strange and new? Do we not see the same things going round every day? Day and night, night and day; winter and summer, summer and winter, and nothing more. And these things are always the same, but the evils are strange and newer. Did you wish him, then, to draw these up every day and remain here, and be sick and mourn and fear and tremble, and endure some of the terrors and fear lest he should endure others? For you could not say this either, that one sailing this long sea could be free of despondency and cares and the other things of the kind. And besides this, consider that you did not bear an immortal child, and that if he had not died now, he would have undergone this a little later. “But I had not had my fill of him.” But you will surely enjoy him there. “But I long to see him here too.” And what prevents it? For it is possible here too, if you are sober; for the hope of the things to come is plainer than sight. And you, if he were in a palace, would never have sought to see him, hearing that he was in high esteem; but seeing that he has gone away to things much better, are you faint-hearted over a little time, and that though you have your husband in his place? “But I have no husband.” But you have a consolation, the Father of orphans and judge of widows. Hear Paul too calling this widowhood blessed, and saying, “She who is truly a widow and left alone has set her hope on the Lord.” For such a woman will appear more highly esteemed, displaying greater endurance. Do not, then, lament for that for which you are crowned, for which you demand a reward. For you have given back the deposit, if you have returned what was entrusted to you. Have no further anxiety, having laid up your possession in an inviolable treasury. And if you were to learn what the present life is and what the life to come is, and that this one is a spider’s web and a shadow, while the things there are all immovable and immortal, you would not need other words. For now the child has been freed from all change; but had he remained here, he might perhaps have remained good, and perhaps not. Or do you not see how many disown their own children? How many are compelled to keep at home children worse than those who are disowned? Considering all these things, then, let us philosophize; for so we shall please the deceased, and enjoy much praise from men, and receive from God the great rewards of endurance, and obtain the eternal good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“And as Jesus passed on from there, two blind men followed him, crying out and saying, ‘Have mercy on us, Son of David.’ And when he had come into the house, the blind men came to him; and Jesus says to them, ‘Do you believe that I am able to do this?’ They say to him, ‘Yes, Lord.’ Then he touched their eyes, saying, ‘According to your faith let it be done to you.’ And their eyes were opened.” Why does he put them off while they cry out? Here again teaching us to push away the glory that comes from the many. For since the house was near, he leads them there to heal them privately. And this is clear from his also charging them to tell no one. And this is no small accusation of the Jews: when these men, whose eyes had been put out, receive the faith from hearing alone, while those, seeing the miracles and having their sight to bear witness to what happened, do everything contrary. And see the eagerness of these men, both from their cry and from their very petition. For they did not simply come to him, but crying aloud, and putting forward nothing but mercy. And they called him Son of David, because the name seemed to be one of honor. In many places, at any rate, the prophets too called the kings whom they wished to honor and declare great by this name. And having brought them into the house, he puts a second question to them. For in many places he is eager to heal when entreated, lest anyone should think that he leaps at these miracles for love of honor; and not for this reason only, but to show that they were worthy of healing, and lest anyone should say that, if he saved by mercy alone, all ought to be saved. For his love for humankind too has a certain rule: the faith of those who are saved. And not only for these reasons does he require faith of them, but, since they had called him Son of David, leading them up to something higher and teaching them what they ought to think about him, he says, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” He did not say, “Do you believe that I am able to entreat my Father,” or, “that I am able to pray,” but, “that I am able to do this.” What then do they say? “Yes, Lord.” They no longer call him Son of David, but fly higher and confess his lordship. And then at last he too lays his hand on them, saying, “According to your faith let it be done to you.” And he does this strengthening their faith, showing them to be sharers in the good deed, and bearing witness that their words were not flattery. For he did not say, “Let your eyes be opened,” but, “According to your faith let it be done to you”; which he says to many of those who came to him, hastening to proclaim the faith in the soul before the healing of bodies, so as both to make those men more highly esteemed and to make others more earnest. So too with the paralytic: before bracing the body, he raises the soul that lay prostrate, saying, “Take heart, child; your sins are forgiven.” And the girl, when he had raised her, he took by the hand, and by the table taught her who her benefactor was. And with the centurion he did likewise, entrusting everything to his faith. And in freeing the disciples from the storm of the sea, he first freed them from their little faith. So here too he knew the secrets of their mind even before their words; but in order to lead others too to the same zeal, he makes them manifest to the rest as well, proclaiming by the result of the healing their hidden faith. Then after the healing he commands them to tell no one; and he does not simply command it, but with great vehemence. “For Jesus sternly charged them,” it says, “saying, ‘See that no one knows.’ But they went out and spread his fame through all that district.” But they could not contain themselves, but became heralds and evangelists, and, though commanded to hide what had happened, they could not bear it. And if elsewhere he is seen saying, “Go and tell the glory of God,” that is not contrary to this, but entirely in harmony with it. For he teaches us to say nothing about ourselves, and even to prevent those who wish to praise us; but if the glory is referred to God, not only not to prevent it, but even to command it to be done. “And as they were going out,” it says, “behold, they brought to him a mute man possessed by a demon.” For the suffering was not of nature but the plotting of the demon; that is why he also needs others to bring him. For he could not entreat by himself, being speechless, nor supplicate others, since the demon had bound his tongue and fettered his soul together with his tongue. That is why he does not require faith of him either, but at once sets right the disease. “For when the demon had been cast out,” it says, “the mute man spoke; and the crowds marveled, saying, ‘Never was anything like this seen in Israel.’” This especially vexed the Pharisees, that they preferred him to all, not only to those then living but to all who had ever been; and they preferred him not because he healed, but because he healed easily and quickly, and countless diseases, and incurable ones. And the people [reacted] thus;

but the Pharisees quite the opposite. For they not only slander what was done, but are not ashamed even to contradict themselves. For such is wickedness. For what do they say? “He casts out the demons by the ruler of the demons.” What could be more senseless than this? For in the first place, as he says further on, it is impossible for a demon to cast out a demon; for he is accustomed to strengthen his own, not to destroy them. But he not only cast out demons, but also cleansed lepers, raised the dead, bridled the sea, loosed sins, proclaimed the kingdom, and brought men to the Father; things which a demon would never choose, nor ever be able, to do. For demons bring men to idols, lead them away from God, and persuade them to disbelieve in the life to come. A demon, when insulted, does no kindness; since even when not insulted he harms those who serve and honor him. But he does the opposite. For after these insults and abuse, “he went about,” it says, “all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every disease and every infirmity.” And he not only did not punish them for their insensibility, but did not even simply rebuke them; at once displaying his meekness and by this refuting the slander, and at once wishing to provide a greater proof through the signs that followed, and then also to add the refutation by words. He went about, then, in cities and in country places and in their synagogues, teaching us in this way to repay slanderers, not with other slanders but with greater benefits. For if it is not for men but for God that you benefit your fellow servants, whatever they do, do not stop benefiting them, so that your reward may be greater; since the one who stops doing good after slander shows that it is for their praise and not for God that he takes up such virtue. That is why Christ, teaching us that he came to this from goodness alone, not only did not wait for the sick to come to him, but himself hastened to them, bringing them the two greatest blessings: one, the gospel of the kingdom; the other, the correction of all diseases. And he did not overlook a city nor pass by a village, but visited every place. And he does not stop even at this, but displays another kind of providence too. “For seeing the crowds,” it says, “he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he says to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; pray therefore the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.’” See again his freedom from vainglory. So as not to draw all to himself, he sends out the disciples. And not for this reason only, but also to train them, so that, having practiced in Palestine as in a wrestling school, they might thus strip for the contests of the world. That is why he sets them exercises of contests greater than their virtue had yet reached, so that they might take up the later contests more easily, leading them forward to fly like tender nestlings. And for the time he makes them physicians of bodies, reserving for later the chief thing, the correction of the soul. And see how he shows the matter to be easy and necessary. For what does he say? “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” For I am sending you, he says, not to the sowing but to the reaping. Which he said in John: “Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.” And he said these things both humbling their pride and making them take courage, and showing that the greater toil had gone before. And see here too that he begins from love for humankind, not from any return. “For he had compassion, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” This is the accusation of the rulers of the Jews: that being shepherds they displayed the conduct of wolves. For they not only did not correct the multitude, but even spoiled its progress. At any rate, when the people marveled and said, “Never was anything like this seen in Israel,” these said the opposite, that he casts out the demons by the ruler of the demons. But whom does he mean here by laborers? The twelve disciples. What then? Having said, “The laborers are few,” did he add to their number? Not at all; but he sent them. Why then did he say, “Pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest,” and add none to them? Because, though they were twelve, he made them many from then on, not by adding to the number but by granting power. Then, showing how great the gift is, he says, “Pray the Lord of the harvest”; and quietly he shows himself to be the one who has authority. For having said, “Pray the Lord of the harvest,” without their having asked or prayed at all, he himself at once appoints them, reminding them also of the words of John, of the threshing floor and the winnower and the chaff and the wheat. From which it is clear that he himself is the farmer, he himself the Lord of the harvest, he himself the Master of the prophets. For if he sent them to reap, it is clear that they reap not what belongs to another, but what he sowed through the prophets. And he encouraged them not only by calling their ministry a harvest, but also by making them able for the ministry. “And having called to him,” it says, “his twelve disciples, he gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal every disease and every infirmity.” And yet the Spirit had not yet been given; “for the Spirit was not yet,” it says, “because Jesus was not yet glorified.” How then did they cast out the spirits? By his command, by his authority. And consider, I pray you, the timeliness of the mission. For he did not send them at the beginning, but when they had sufficiently … (words lost; the sense is “enjoyed following him”), when they had seen a dead girl raised, the sea rebuked, demons driven out, a paralytic braced, sins loosed, a leper cleansed, and had received sufficient proof of his power through both deeds and words: then he sends them out; and not into dangerous affairs; for there was as yet no danger in Palestine, but only standing up to slanders. Yet he tells them this too, about the dangers, preparing them even before the time and making them ready for the contest by continual prediction of these things. Then, since he had told us of two pairs of apostles, Peter and Andrew, James and John, and after those had shown Matthew called, but had told us nothing about the calling and names of the other apostles, here of necessity he sets down their list and number and makes their names plain, saying thus: “Now the names of the twelve apostles are these: first, Simon who is called Peter.” For there was another Simon, the Cananaean; and Judas Iscariot, and Judas of James; and James the son of Alphaeus, and James the son of Zebedee. Mark sets them down according to their rank too; for after the two leaders he then counts Andrew; but this evangelist does not do so, but without distinction; or rather he even sets Thomas, who was far inferior, before himself. But let us look at their list from the beginning. “First, Simon who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother.” This too is no small praise; for he named the one from his virtue and the other from the nobility of his character. “Then James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother.” Do you see how he does not set them down according to rank? For it seems to me that John was greater not only than the others but even than his brother. Then, having said, “Philip and Bartholomew,” he added, “Thomas, and Matthew the tax collector.” But Luke does not do so, but the reverse, and sets him before Thomas. “Then James the son of Alphaeus”; for there was, as I said before, the son of Zebedee too. Then, having said, “Lebbaeus, who was surnamed Thaddaeus, and Simon the Zealot,” whom he also calls the Cananaean, he comes to the traitor; and he narrated it not as an enemy and foe, but as one writing history. He did not say, “the abominable, the utterly abominable,” but called him from his city: “Judas Iscariot.” For there was another, Luke says, saying, “Judas of James.” Distinguishing him from this one, then, he says, “Judas Iscariot, who also betrayed him.” And he is not ashamed to say, “who also betrayed him.” So they never hid anything, not even of what seemed disgraceful. And first of all, and leader, is the unlettered, the untrained man. But let us see where and to whom he sends them. “These twelve,” it says, “Jesus sent out.” What sort of men were these? The fishermen, the tax collectors; for four were fishermen and two tax collectors, Matthew and James; and one was also a traitor. And what does he say to them? At once he charges them, saying, “Do not go on the road of the Gentiles, and do not enter a city of the Samaritans; but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” For do not think, he says, that because they insult me and call me demon-possessed I hate them and turn away from them. For I have been eager to correct them first, and, drawing you away from all the others, I send you to them as teachers and physicians. And I not only forbid you to preach to others before them, but do not even permit you to set foot on the road leading there, nor to enter such a city. (For the Samaritans too were hostile to the Jews.) And yet their case was easier; for they were much more fit for faith; while that of these was harder. But nevertheless he sends them to the more difficult, showing his care for them, stopping the mouths of the Jews, and preparing the way for the teaching of the apostles, so that they might not again accuse them of having gone in to the uncircumcised, and seem to have a just cause for fleeing from them and turning away. And he calls them lost sheep, not sheep that had leaped away, everywhere devising pardon for them and drawing their mind to himself. “And as you go,” it says, “preach, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’” Do you see the greatness of the ministry? Do you see the dignity of the apostles? They are commanded to speak of nothing perceptible to the senses, nor such things as Moses and the prophets before them spoke of, but of things new and strange. For those men did not preach such things, but the land and the good things in the land; … and these are greater not only from this but also from their obedience. For they do not shrink back nor hesitate, as the ancients did; but (though hearing of dangers and wars and intolerable evils) they receive the commands with great readiness, as heralds of a kingdom. “And what is wonderful,” someone says, “if, preaching nothing gloomy or hard, they obeyed easily?” What are you saying? Were they commanded nothing hard? Do you not hear of the prisons, the arrests, the civil wars, the hatred from all, which he said a little later they would all undergo? For he sent them as the procurers and heralds of countless good things to others, but told and foretold that they themselves would suffer intolerable terrors. Then, making them trustworthy, he says, “Heal the sick, cleanse lepers, cast out demons; freely you have received, freely give.” See how he takes care of their character, and not less than of the signs, showing that the signs without this are nothing. For he humbles their pride, saying, “Freely you have received, freely give,” and prepares them to be pure of love of money. Then, so that it might not be thought their own achievement, and that they might not be lifted up by the signs that happened, he says, “Freely you have received.” You are bestowing nothing on those who receive you; for you did not receive these things for a wage, nor by toiling; for the grace is mine. So give to them likewise; for there is no price that can be found worthy of these things. Then, at once pulling up the root of evils, he says, “Acquire no gold, nor silver, nor copper in your belts, no bag for the road, nor two tunics, nor sandals, nor staff.” He did not say, “Do not take them with you,” but, even if it is possible to get them from elsewhere, flee the wicked disease. For by this he accomplished many things: first, making the disciples free of suspicion; second, freeing them from every care, so as to give all their leisure to the word; third, teaching them his own power. This, at any rate, he says to them afterward too: “Did you lack anything when I sent you out naked and unshod?” He did not say at once, “Acquire nothing”; but when he had said, “Cleanse lepers, cast out demons,” then he said, “Acquire nothing; freely you have received, freely give,” providing by the facts both what was fitting for them and what was possible. But perhaps someone might say that the other things would be reasonable; but not to have a bag for the road, nor two tunics, nor a staff, nor sandals, why did he command this? Wishing to train them to all exactness; since earlier too he did not permit them to be anxious even about the next day. For he was going to send them out as teachers to the world. That is why he makes them, so to speak, angels out of men, releasing them from all worldly care, so that they might be held by one care alone, that of teaching; or rather he releases them even from that, saying, “Do not be anxious how or what you are to speak.” So what seems very burdensome and grievous, this he shows to be especially easy and simple for them. For nothing makes one so cheerful as being freed from care and anxiety, especially when it is possible, being freed from it, to lack nothing, since God is present and becomes everything to them. Then, so that they might not say, “From where, then, shall we get the necessary food?”, he does not say to them, “You heard what I said to you before, ‘Look at the birds of the air’” (for they were not yet able to show this command in deeds), but he added something much lower than this, saying, “For the laborer deserves his food”; showing that they had to be fed by those they taught, so that neither they might be proud toward those they taught, as giving everything and receiving nothing from them, nor these again be torn away, as being disdained by them. Then, so that they might not say, “Do you command us, then, to live by begging?” and be ashamed, he shows the matter to be a debt, both by calling them laborers and by naming what is given a wage. For do not think, he says, because the work is in words, that the benefit from you is small; for the matter involves many toils; and whatever those taught give, they do not provide it as a favor, but as paying a recompense; “for the laborer deserves his food.” And he said this not as declaring the apostolic toils worth so little (far from it, God forbid!), but both legislating for them to seek nothing more, and persuading those who provide that what is done by them is not generosity but a debt.

“[And into whatever] city or village you enter, find out who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave.” For do not think, he says, that because I said, “The laborer deserves his food,” I have opened everyone’s doors to you; here too I command you to use great exactness. For this will benefit you both for your reputation and for your very maintenance. For if he is worthy, he will surely give you food, especially when you ask nothing beyond necessities. And he not only commands them to seek out the worthy, but also not to change from house to house, so as neither to grieve the one who receives them nor to get a reputation for gluttony and self-indulgence. This he showed by saying, “Stay there until you leave.” And this one can learn from the other evangelists too. Do you see how by this too he made them venerable, and made those who receive them careful, showing that they themselves are rather the ones who gain, both in honor and in benefit? Then, pursuing this same point again, he says, “And as you enter the house, greet it. And if the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you.” Do you see how far he does not decline to give instructions? And very reasonably. For he was preparing athletes of godliness and heralds of the world. And preparing them in this way to be modest and making them lovable, he says, “And whoever does not receive you nor hear your words, as you leave that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet. Truly I say to you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that city.” For do not, because you teach, he says, therefore wait to be greeted by others, but lead the way in honor. Then, showing that this is not a bare greeting but a blessing, he says, “If the house is worthy, it will come upon it; but if it behaves insolently, its first punishment is not to enjoy the peace, and the second, that it will suffer the things of Sodom.” “And what is their punishment to us?” someone says. You will have the houses of the worthy. And what does “Shake off the dust of your feet” mean? It is either to show that they received nothing from them, or to be a testimony to them of the long journey they undertook for their sake. But consider, I pray you, how he does not yet give them everything. For he does not yet grant them foreknowledge, so as to learn who is worthy and who is not, but commands them to inquire and to await the test. How then did he himself stay with a tax collector? Because he had become worthy by his change. And consider, I pray you, how, having stripped them of everything, he gave them everything, permitting them to stay in the houses of those being made disciples, and to enter having nothing. For in this way they were freed from care, and they persuaded those others that they had come solely for their salvation, by bringing nothing with them, by asking nothing more of them than necessities, and by not entering everyone’s house without distinction. For he wished them to appear illustrious not only from the signs, but even before the signs, from their own virtue. For nothing so marks philosophy as freedom from superfluities and, as far as possible, from wants. This even the false apostles knew. That is why Paul too said, “So that in what they boast of they may be found to be as we are.” And if, when we are in a strange land and going to people we do not know, we must seek nothing more than our daily food, much more when we stay at home.

Let us not only hear these things, but also imitate them. For they were said not only about the apostles but also about the saints who came after. Let us become worthy, then, of receiving them. For according to the disposition of those who receive them this peace comes, and flies away again. For this happens not only from the boldness of those who teach, but also from the worthiness of those who receive. And let us not think it a small loss not to enjoy such peace. For this the prophet too proclaimed long before, saying, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news of peace.” Then, explaining its worth, he added, “of those who bring good news of good things.” This Christ too declared to be great, saying, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.” And we must do everything so as to enjoy it, both at home and in church. For in the church too the one who presides gives peace. And this is a type of that; and one must receive him with all eagerness, in mind, before the table. For if not to share it after the table is offensive, how much more offensive would it be to push away the one who speaks it! For your sake the presbyter sits, for your sake the teacher stands, toiling and laboring. What excuse, then, will you have if you do not give him even the welcome of listening? For the church is the common house of all; and when you have come in first, we enter, keeping the type of those apostles. That is why we too pronounce the peace in common to all as soon as we enter, according to that law. Let no one, then, be careless, no one distracted, when the priests have entered and are teaching; for no small punishment is laid down for this. For I for my part would rather ten thousand times enter the house of one of you and be left at a loss, than not be heard when I speak here. This is harder to me than that, since this house is the more important. For our great possessions are laid up here; here are all our hopes. For what is there here that is not great and awesome? For this table is much more precious and sweeter than that one, and this lamp than that lamp. And those know it who, anointing themselves with oil in faith and in due season, have put away diseases. And this chest is much better and more necessary than that chest; for it holds shut up not clothes but alms, even if those who possess them are few. Here too is a couch better than that one; for the rest of the divine Scriptures is sweeter than any couch. And if the work of concord had been well achieved among us, we would have no other house besides this. And that what has been said is not burdensome, the three thousand and the five thousand bear witness, who had one house, one table, and one soul; “for the multitude of those who believed,” it says, “were of one heart and one soul.” But since we fall far short of their virtue and are scattered in our houses, at least when we gather here let us do this with eagerness. For if in other things we are … at least here receive us with love when we come in to you. And when I say, “Peace be with you,” and you then say, “And with your spirit,” say it not with the voice only but with the mind, not with the mouth only but with the understanding. But if here you say, “Peace, and with your spirit,” and outside you war against me, spitting at me and speaking ill of me, secretly besmirching me with countless reproaches, what sort of peace is this? For I, even if you speak ill of me ten thousand times, give you the peace with a pure heart, with a sincere mind, and can never say anything evil about you; for I have a father’s heart. And if I ever rebuke you, I do it out of care. But you, biting me secretly and not receiving me in the Lord’s house, I fear lest you again increase my despondency; not because you insulted me, nor because you cast me out, but because you thrust away the peace and drew on yourself that grievous punishment. For even if I do not shake off the dust, even if I do not turn away, the terms of the threat remain unmoved. For I often pronounce peace to you, and I will not stop saying it continually; and if, besides your insults, you do not receive me, not even so do I shake off the dust; not because I disobey the Master, but because I burn with love for you exceedingly. And besides, I have suffered nothing for your sake: I have neither come on a long journey, nor come with that dress and that poverty (that is why we first accuse ourselves), nor without sandals and a second tunic; perhaps that is why you too fall short in your part. Yet this is not enough for your defense; for while our judgment is greater, it gives you no share of pardon.

Then the houses were churches, but now the church has become a house. Then there was nothing worldly to be said in a house; now there is nothing spiritual to be said in church, but even here you bring in the affairs of the marketplace; and while God is speaking, leaving off listening in silence to what is said, you bring in the opposite and confer together. And would that it were your own affairs! But as it is, you both speak and hear things that do not concern you at all. For this I lament, and I will not stop lamenting. For I have no power to change this house; but here I must remain until we depart from the present life. “Make room, then, for us,” as Paul commanded. For what he said there was not about a table but about mind and disposition. This we too seek from you: love, that warm and genuine friendship. But if you will not endure even this, at least love yourselves, laying aside your present sloth. This is enough consolation for us, if we see you well approved and become better. So I too will show greater love, “even if the more I love, the less I am loved.” For many things bind us together: one table is set before all; one Father begot us; we were all born of the same birth pangs; the same drink has been given to all; or rather not only the same drink, but to drink from one cup. For the Father, wishing to lead us to affection, devised this too, that we should drink from one cup; which belongs to intense love. “But we are not equal to the apostles.” I too confess it, and would never deny it. For we are not worthy, not only of them, but not even of their shadow. But nevertheless, let your part be done. This cannot shame you, but will benefit you the more. For when you show so much love and obedience even toward the unworthy, then you will receive the greater recompense. For it is not our own things that we speak; since you have no teacher on earth; but what we received, we also give, and in giving we seek nothing more from you than to be loved only. And if we are unworthy even of this, yet by loving you we shall quickly become worthy. And yet we have been commanded to love not only those who love us, but even our enemies. Who, then, is so harsh, who so savage, as, having received such a law, to turn away from and hate even those who love him, even if he is full of countless evils? We have shared a spiritual table; let us share spiritual love too. For if robbers, sharing salt, forget their ways, what defense shall we have, who always partake of the Lord’s body and do not imitate even their gentleness? And yet for many not a table only, but even belonging to one city has been enough for friendship; but we, when we have the same city, the same house, table, road, door, root, life, head, the same shepherd, king, teacher, judge, maker, and Father, and all things in common, what pardon would we deserve if we are divided from one another? “But you seek the signs that those men worked when they came in: the lepers cleansed, the demons driven out, the dead raised?” But this too is the greatest proof of your nobility and of your love: to believe God without pledges. For it was for this and for another reason that God stopped the signs. For if, when signs do not happen, those who pride themselves on other advantages, such as the word of wisdom or a display of piety, are vainglorious, are puffed up, and split from one another, what rifts would there not have been if signs had happened too? And that what has been said is not conjecture, the Corinthians bear witness, who were divided from this into many parts. Do not, then, seek signs, but the health of the soul. Do not seek to see one dead man raised; for you have learned that the whole world is rising. Do not seek to see a blind man healed, but see all now receiving the better and more useful sight; and learn yourself too to look chastely, and correct your eye. For if we all lived as we ought, the children of the pagans would marvel at us more than at wonder-workers. For the signs often bring with them a suspicion of illusion and another evil suspicion, even though ours are not such; but a pure life cannot admit any such slander, but the possession of virtue stops the mouths of all.

Let us take care of this, then; for great is its wealth and great the wonder. It provides true freedom and makes it seen even in slavery, not freeing men from slavery, but showing slaves, while they remain slaves, more venerable than free men, which is much more than giving freedom; not making the poor man rich, but showing him, while he remains poor, better off than the rich. And if you wish to work signs too, be freed from offenses, and you have accomplished everything. For sin is a great demon, beloved; and if you take this out, you have done something greater than those who drive out ten thousand demons. Hear Paul speaking and putting virtue before signs: “But be zealous,” he says, “for the greater gifts; and I show you a still more excellent way.” And when he was about to speak of this way, he did not speak of raising the dead, nor of cleansing lepers, nor of anything else of the kind; but in place of all these he set love. Hear Christ too saying, “Do not rejoice that the demons obey you, but that your names are written in heaven.” And before this again: “Many will say to me in that day, ‘Did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons, and do many mighty works?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I do not know you.’” And when he was about to be crucified, he called the disciples and said to them, “By this all will know that you are my disciples,” not if you cast out demons, but “if you have love for one another.” And again, “By this all will know that you sent me,” not if these men raise the dead, but if they are one. For the signs often benefited another but harmed the one who had them, lifting him up to arrogance and vainglory, or in some other way; but with works it is not possible to suspect anything of the kind, but they benefit both those who pursue them and many others. Let us work these, then, with great care. For if you change from inhumanity to almsgiving, you have stretched out the hand that was withered. If you leave the theaters and go to church, you have set right the lame foot. If you turn your eyes away from a harlot and from another’s beauty, you have opened them when they were blind. If instead of satanic songs you learn spiritual psalms, you have spoken though you were mute. These are the greatest miracles, these the wonderful signs. If we continue working these signs, we ourselves shall become great and admirable through them,

and we shall draw all the wicked to virtue, and shall enjoy the life to come; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“[Behold,] I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Be therefore wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” Since he had made them confident about necessary food, and opened everyone’s houses to them, and given their entrance a venerable bearing, commanding them to enter not as vagrants and beggars but as far more venerable than those who received them (for he showed this by saying, “The laborer deserves his wage,” and by commanding them to inquire who is worthy and to stay there, and by enjoining them to greet those who received them, and by threatening those who did not receive them with those incurable evils), since, then, he had in this way cast out their anxiety, and armed them with the display of signs, and made them as it were of iron and adamant, freeing them from all worldly things and liberating them from every passing care, he now tells them also of the evils that would befall them; not only those that would happen a little later, but also those that would be long afterward, preparing them from far in advance for the war against the devil. For much was achieved by this: first, that they should learn the power of his foreknowledge; second, that no one should suspect that these terrors came upon them through the weakness of their teacher; third, that those who endured them should not be dismayed by their happening unexpectedly and contrary to hope; fourth, that they should not be troubled at hearing these things at the very time of the cross. For they did suffer this very thing then, when he reproached them and said, “Because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart; and none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’” And yet he had not yet said anything about himself, such as that he would be bound and scourged and put to death, so as not to confound their mind by this too; but for the time he foretells what would befall them. Then, so that they might learn that this law of war is new and the manner of the battle strange, sending them naked, with one tunic, unshod, without staff, without belt and bag, and commanding them to be fed by those who received them, he did not stop his discourse even here, but, showing his unspeakable power, he says: Even going out in this way, display the gentleness of sheep, and that though you are about to go to wolves; and not simply to wolves, but into the midst of wolves. And he commands them to have not only the gentleness of sheep, but also the innocence of the dove. For in this way above all I will display my strength, when sheep overcome wolves, and, being in the midst of wolves and receiving countless bites, are not only not consumed but even change them; which is much more wonderful and greater than killing them: to change their purpose and reshape their mind; and that when they were only twelve, and the world was full of wolves. Let us be ashamed, then, who do the opposite, who attack our enemies like wolves. For as long as we are sheep, we conquer; but if we become wolves, though we are ten thousand, we are defeated; for the shepherd’s help departs from us. For he shepherds not wolves but sheep; and he leaves you and withdraws, for you do not let his power be shown. For if, when you are ill treated, you display gentleness, the whole trophy is reckoned to him; but if you go after them and box with them, you overshadow the victory. But consider, I pray you, who they are who hear these hard and toilsome commands: the timid and untrained, the unlettered and ignorant, the obscure in every way, those never brought up in the laws outside, who did not readily throw themselves into the marketplaces; the fishermen, the tax collectors, those full of countless shortcomings. And if these things were enough to disturb even the lofty and great, how were they not enough to cast down and dismay those wholly inexperienced, who had never imagined anything noble? But it did not cast them down. “And very reasonably,” someone might perhaps say; “for he gave them authority to cleanse lepers and drive out demons.” But I would say this: that this very thing was especially able to disturb them, that even while raising the dead they were going to undergo these incurable things, courts and arrests and wars from all and the common hatred of the world, and to await such terrors while working such miracles. What, then, is the consolation for all these things? The power of the one who sends them. That is why he set this before everything, saying, “Behold, I send you.” This is enough for your consolation; this is enough for your confidence, and for fearing none of the things that come upon you.

Do you see authority? Do you see power? Do you see might that cannot be fought? What he means is this: Do not be troubled, he says, that, sending you among wolves, I command you to be as sheep and as doves. For I could have done the opposite, and let you suffer nothing terrible, nor be placed as sheep under wolves, but made you more fearsome than lions; but it is better that it be so. This makes you more glorious too; this proclaims my power too. This he said to Paul too: “My grace is sufficient for you; for my power is made perfect in weakness.” It is I, then, who have made you to be so. For when he says, “I send you out as sheep,” he hints at this. Do not lose heart, then; for I know, I know clearly, that in this way above all you will be invincible to all. Then, so that they might contribute something of their own too, and everything might not seem to be of grace, nor they be thought to be crowned idly and in vain, he says, “Be therefore wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” “And what could our wisdom do,” someone says, “in so many dangers? How shall we be able to have wisdom at all, deluged by so many waves? For however wise a sheep may become in the midst of wolves, and so many wolves, what more will it be able to accomplish? However innocent a dove may become, what will it profit with so many hawks attacking?” With the irrational creatures, nothing; but with you, the greatest things. But let us see what wisdom he requires here. That of the serpent, he says. For as it gives up everything, and even if its body must be cut off does not cling to it much, so as to preserve its head, so you too, he says, give up everything except the faith, whether money or body, even if you must give up life itself. For that is the head and the root; and if that is preserved, even if you lose everything, you will recover everything again with greater splendor. For this reason he commanded one to be neither simple and guileless only nor wise only, but blended both, so that they might become virtue: taking the wisdom of the serpent, so as not to be struck in a vital part, and the innocence of the dove, so as not to retaliate against those who wrong us nor take vengeance on those who plot against us; since again wisdom is of no use unless this is present. What, then, could be more strenuous than these commands? Was it not enough to suffer ill treatment? No, he says; I do not even permit you to be indignant. For this is the dove. It is as if someone threw a reed into the fire and commanded it not to be burned by the fire, but to quench the fire. But let us not be troubled; for these things came to pass and were fulfilled and were shown in the very deeds, and they became wise as serpents and innocent as doves, being not of another nature but of the same as we. Let no one, then, think the commands impossible. For he above all others knows the nature of things; he knows that boldness is quenched not by boldness but by gentleness. And if you wish to see this happening in fact, read the book of the Acts of the Apostles, and you will see how often, when the people of the Jews rose up against them and were gnashing their teeth, these men, imitating the dove and answering with fitting gentleness, put an end to their rage, quenched their madness, and broke their onset. For when they said, “Did we not strictly charge you not to speak in this name?”, though they could have worked countless miracles, they neither said nor did anything harsh, but defended themselves with all meekness, saying, “Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge.” Did you see the innocence of the dove? Look at the wisdom of the serpent: “For we cannot but speak what we have seen and heard.” Do you see how we must be exact on every side, so as neither to be humbled by dangers nor provoked by anger. That is why he also said, “Beware of men; for they will deliver you up to councils and flog you in their synagogues; and you will be brought before governors and kings for my sake, to bear witness before them and the Gentiles.” For again he prepares them to be watchful, everywhere assigning to them the suffering of ill treatment and leaving the doing of it to others, so that you may learn that victory lies in suffering ill, and that the splendid trophies are set up from this. For he did not say, “Box back, you too, and resist those who wish to mistreat you,” but only, “You will suffer the utmost things.” Ah, what … philosophy! For it is very worthy of wonder how, hearing these things, they did not leap away at once, men who were afraid of every noise and had never gone beyond that lake on which they fished; and how they did not reflect and say to themselves, “And where shall we flee then? The courts are against us, the kings against us, the governors, the synagogues of the Jews, the peoples of the pagans, rulers and ruled.” For from here he foretold to them not only Palestine and the evils in it, but also opened up the wars of the world, saying, “You will be brought before kings and governors,” showing that he was going to send them later as heralds to the Gentiles too. “You have made the world our enemy; you have armed all who dwell on earth against us, peoples, tyrants, kings. And what follows is much more terrible, when men are going to become murderers of brothers and children and fathers because of us. For brother will deliver brother to death,” he says, “and the father his child; and children will rise against parents and have them put to death.” How then, they might say, will the rest believe, when they see children killed by fathers because of us, and brothers by brothers, and everything filled with pollution? Will they not drive us out everywhere as destroyers, seeing the earth filled with the blood of kinsfolk and with such murders? A fine peace indeed we shall give, bringing it into the houses, filling them with so many slaughters! For if we were many, and not twelve; if we were not untrained and unlettered, but wise and orators and skilled speakers; or rather if we were kings ourselves, having armies and an abundance of money, how could we persuade anyone while kindling civil wars, and wars much harsher than civil wars? For even if we despise our own safety, which of the others will heed us? But they neither thought nor said any of these things, nor demanded an account of the commands, but only yielded and obeyed. And this was not of their virtue only, but also of their Teacher’s wisdom. For see how he joined a consolation to each of the terrors: in the case of those who did not receive them he said, “It will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that city”; and here again, having said, “You will be brought before governors and kings,” he added, “for my sake, to bear witness before them and the Gentiles.” And this is no small consolation, to suffer these things for Christ’s sake, and for the conviction of those men? For God, even if no one pays heed, is seen everywhere doing his own part. And he consoled them with these things, not because they desired vengeance on others, but so that they might have confidence that they would have him everywhere present with them, the one who had foretold and foreknown these things, and that they would suffer them not as wicked men and destroyers. And besides these he adds another consolation, and no small one, saying, “But when they deliver you up, do not be anxious how or what you are to speak; for what you are to speak will be given you in that hour. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you.” For so that they might not say, “How shall we be able to persuade when such things are happening?”, he commands them to be confident about their defense too. And elsewhere he says, “I will give you a mouth and wisdom”; but here, “It is the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you,” raising them to the dignity of the prophets. That is why, when he had spoken of the power given, he then added the terrors, the murders and slaughters. “For brother will deliver brother to death,” he says, “and the father his child; and children will rise against parents and have them put to death.” And he did not stop even there, but added what is much more terrible, enough to shake a rock: “And you will be hated by all.” And here again the consolation is at the door: “for my name’s sake,” he says, you will suffer these things. And besides this again another: “But the one who endures to the end will be saved.” And besides, these things were enough to raise up their spirits, if the power of the preaching was going to be kindled so greatly that nature would be dishonored and kinship cast out and the word preferred to all, driving all things before it by force. For if the tyranny of nature cannot stand against what is said, but is dissolved and trampled underfoot, what else will be able to overcome you? Yet it does not follow, because these things will be, that your life will be free from fear; you will have as common foes and enemies those who inhabit the world.

Where now is Plato? Where is Pythagoras? Where is the string of the Stoics? For he [Plato], though he had enjoyed great honor, was so put to the test that he was even sold, and achieved nothing of what he wished, not even with one tyrant; but he also betrayed his disciples and ended his life pitiably. And the refuse of the Cynics all passed away like a dream and a shadow. And yet nothing of the kind ever befell them; but they even seemed illustrious because of the philosophy outside, and the Athenians publicly dedicated the letters of Plato sent by Dion, and they spent all their time in ease, and were rich in no small money. So, at any rate, Aristippus bought expensive harlots; another wrote wills, leaving no ordinary estate; another walked on high when his disciples made a bridge of themselves; and the man of Sinope, they say, even behaved indecently in public in the marketplace. For these are their venerable deeds. But nothing of the kind is here, but intense chastity and exact decorum, and war against the whole world for the truth and for godliness, and being slaughtered every day, and after this the splendid trophies. “But there are some,” someone says, “who were generals among them too, such as Themistocles and Pericles.” But these too are children’s toys compared with the deeds of the fishermen. For what could you say? That he persuaded the Athenians to board their ships when Xerxes was marching against Greece? But here, not when Xerxes was marching, but when the devil with the whole world and countless demons was attacking these twelve, not at one moment but throughout their whole life, they prevailed and conquered; and, what is wonderful, not by killing their opponents, but by changing and reshaping them. For this above all one must observe everywhere: that they did not kill or destroy those who plotted against them, but, taking them equal to demons, made them rivals of angels, freeing human nature from this wicked tyranny, and driving those accursed demons that confound everything out of the midst of marketplaces and houses, or rather even out of the desert itself. And the choirs of monks bear witness, whom they planted everywhere, cleansing not only the inhabited world but even the uninhabited. And, what is more wonderful still, they did not do these things in an equal battle, but accomplished everything by suffering ill. For they had them in their midst, twelve untrained men, binding, scourging, dragging them about, and were not able to stop their mouths; but as it is impossible to bind a sunbeam, so also their tongue. And the reason was that it was not they who were speaking, but the power of the Spirit. So, at any rate, Paul too conquered Agrippa and his court, and Nero, who surpassed all men in wickedness. “For the Lord stood by me,” he says, “and strengthened me, and I was rescued from the mouth of the lion.” But marvel at them too, how, having heard, “Do not be anxious,” they believed and accepted it, and none of the fearful things dismayed them. And if you say that he gave them sufficient consolation by saying, “It is the Spirit of your Father who speaks,” for this very reason I am most amazed at them, that they did not doubt nor seek release from the terrors; and that though they were going to suffer these things not for two or three years but throughout their whole life. For saying, “But the one who endures to the end will be saved,” was the act of one hinting at this. For he wishes not only his own gifts to be brought in, but the good deeds to come from them too. Consider, at any rate, from the beginning how some things are his and others the disciples’. For to work signs is his; but to acquire nothing is theirs. Again, to open all the houses belongs to the grace from above; but to require nothing beyond need, to their philosophy: “for the laborer deserves his wage.” To grant the peace is of God’s gift; to seek out the worthy and not to enter everyone’s house without distinction, of their self-control. Again, to punish those who do not receive them is his; but to withdraw from them with gentleness, not reviling nor insulting, belongs to the meekness of the apostles. To give the Spirit and to make them free of anxiety belonged to the one who sends; but to become as sheep and doves and to bear everything nobly, to their vigor and understanding. To be hated, and not to fall, and to endure, is theirs; to save those who endure, the one who sends. That is why he said, “But the one who endures to the end will be saved.”

For since the many are accustomed to be vehement at the beginning but to slacken afterward, for this reason he says, I seek the end. For what is the use of seeds that bloom at the beginning but wither a little later? That is why he requires lasting endurance of them. For so that no one might say that he did everything himself, and that it was no wonder that they became such men, since they suffered nothing burdensome, for this reason he tells them that there is need of your endurance too. For even if I snatch you out of the first dangers, I am keeping you for other, harsher ones; and after those again others will follow; and you will not cease being plotted against as long as you breathe. For this he hinted at when he said, “But the one who endures to the end will be saved.” For this reason too, having said, “Do not be anxious what you are to speak,” elsewhere he says, “Be ready to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you.” For when the contest is among friends, he commands us too to take thought; but when there is a fearful court, and raging mobs, and fears on every side, he provides his own support, so that they may take courage and speak out, and not be terrified nor betray what is just. For it was a very great thing that a man occupied with lakes and hides and the tax office, when tyrants were seated and satraps and spearmen standing by, and swords bared, and all standing with them, should enter alone, bound, looking down, and be able to open his mouth. For they did not even grant them speech or defense about the doctrines, but tried to cudgel them to death as common destroyers of the world. “For these men who have turned the world upside down,” it says, “have come here too”; and again, “They act contrary to the decrees of Caesar, saying that there is another king, Christ Jesus.” And everywhere the courts were taken over beforehand by such suspicions, and there was need of much support from above to show both that the doctrine they preached was true and that they did not damage the common laws; and neither, in their zeal to speak about the doctrine, to fall under suspicion of overturning the laws, nor again, in their zeal to show that they were not overturning the common order, to corrupt the exactness of the doctrines; all of which you will see accomplished with fitting understanding in Peter and in Paul and in all the rest. For they were accused throughout the world as seditious, revolutionaries, and innovators; but nevertheless they repelled this suspicion too and put on the opposite, being proclaimed by all as saviors and guardians and benefactors. And all these things they achieved by great endurance. That is why Paul too said, “I die every day”; and he remained in danger to the end. What, then, would we deserve, who have so many examples and grow soft and fall down in peace? No one persecutes us; we are commanded to be saved in peace, and not even this can we do. And they, when the world was on fire and the pyre was kindled over the whole earth, went in and snatched those who were burning out of the midst of the flame; but you cannot even keep yourself. What boldness, then, shall we have? What pardon? There are no scourges, no prisons, no rulers, no synagogues, nor anything else of the kind pressing on us; quite the opposite, we rule and hold power. For there are pious emperors, and many honors for Christians, and precedence and glory and ease; and not even so do we prevail. But they, being led away every day, both teachers and disciples, and bearing countless weals and continual marks, lived in more delight than those who dwell in paradise; while we, who have not suffered anything like this even in a dream, are softer than any wax. “But they,” someone says, “worked miracles.” Did this, then, keep them from being scourged? Did it keep them from being driven out? For this is the wonderful thing, that they often suffered such things even from those they had benefited, and not even so were they troubled, receiving evil for good; but you, if you do someone some small kindness and then meet with something painful, are troubled and disturbed, and repent of what you did.

If, then, it should happen (which may it not happen, nor ever befall) that war against the churches and persecution should arise, consider how great the laughter will be, how many the reproaches. And very reasonably; for when no one trains in the wrestling school, how will he be illustrious in the contests? For what athlete, not knowing a trainer, will be able, when the Olympic games call, to show anything great and noble against his opponent? Ought we not to wrestle and box and run every day? Do you not see those called pentathletes, how, when they have no opponent, they fill a sack with much sand and hang it up and exercise all their strength on it? And the younger of them practice on the bodies of their companions the fight against their enemies. Emulate these too, and practice the wrestling bouts of philosophy. For many provoke you to anger, and throw you into desire, and kindle a great flame. Stand, then, against the passions; bear nobly the pains of the mind, so that you may bear those of the body too. For the blessed Job, had he not trained well before the contests, would not have shone so brilliantly in the contests; had he not practiced being free of all despondency, he would have said something rash when his children died. But as it was, he stood against all the bouts: against the loss of money and the destruction of so great an estate, against the loss of children, against the pity of his wife, against the scourges of his body, against the reproaches of friends, against the abuse of servants. And if you wish to see his training too, hear him saying how he despised money: “If I rejoiced when great wealth came to me; if I counted gold as dust; if I trusted in a precious stone.” That is why he was not troubled when these things were snatched away either, since he did not desire them while they were present. Hear how he also managed the affairs of his children: not growing soft beyond what was fitting, as we do, but requiring all exactness of them. For he who offered sacrifice even for their unknown sins, consider how exact a judge he was of their manifest ones. And if you wish to hear of his contests for chastity too, hear him saying, “I made a covenant with my eyes not to look upon a virgin.” That is why his wife did not break him down; for he loved her before this too, but not beyond measure, but as one fittingly loves a wife. Whence I am led to wonder how it occurred to the devil, knowing his training, to stir up the contests. How, then, did it occur to him? The beast is wicked and never despairs; which becomes the greatest condemnation for us, that he never despairs of our destruction, while we despair of our own salvation. But consider how he practiced for the maiming and disfigurement of the body. For since he himself had never undergone anything of the kind, but continued living in wealth and luxury and the rest of splendor, he dreamed every day of the misfortunes of others. And showing this he said, “For the fear that I feared has come upon me, and what I dreaded has met me.” And again, “I wept over every helpless man, and groaned when I saw a man in distress.” That is why nothing of what befell him, great and unbearable as it was, troubled him. For do not look only at the loss of money, nor at the taking of the children, nor at that incurable wound, nor at the plotting of his wife, but at things much harder than these. “And what did Job suffer harder than these?” someone says; “for from the history we learn nothing more than these.” Because we sleep, we do not learn; since the one who is careful and searches out the pearl well will know much more than these. For the harder things, able to bring in greater turmoil, were others. First, knowing nothing clear about the kingdom of heaven and the resurrection; which he lamented when he said, “For I shall not live forever, that I should be patient.” Second, being conscious of many good deeds in himself. Third, being conscious of nothing evil. Fourth, thinking that he was suffering these things from God; and even if from the devil, this too was enough to offend him. Fifth, hearing his friends slander him for wickedness: “For you have been scourged less than your sins deserve,” they say. Sixth, seeing those who live in wickedness prospering and mocking him. Seventh, having no one else to look to who had ever suffered such things.

And if you wish to learn how great these things are, consider the present. For if now, when the kingdom is expected and the resurrection hoped for, and the unspeakable good things, and when people are conscious of countless evils in themselves, and have so many examples, and share in so great a philosophy, some, if they lose a little gold, and that often gold they had seized, think life not worth living, though no wife is pressing them, no children have been taken away, no friends are reproaching them, no servants trampling on them, but there are many to comfort them, some by words and some by deeds: of how many crowns would that man not be worthy, who saw what he had gathered from just toil snatched away at random, and after all that endured countless snowstorms of temptations,

and remained unmoved through all, and offered to the Master the fitting thanksgiving for these things? For even if no one had said anything else, the words of his wife alone were enough to shake a rock. See, at any rate, her malice. She does not mention money, she does not mention camels and flocks and herds (for she knew her husband’s philosophy in these things), but what is more burdensome than all these, I mean the children; and she broadens the tragedy and adds her own touches. And if women have often persuaded men of many things when they were in prosperity and suffering nothing unpleasant, consider how vigorous that soul was, repelling her when she came with so many weapons, and trampling on two most tyrannical passions, desire and pity. And yet many who have mastered desire have been bent by pity. That noble Joseph, at any rate, mastered the most tyrannical pleasure and repelled that barbarian woman who brought countless devices against him; but he did not master his tears, but, seeing the brothers who had wronged him, he was set on fire by the passion, and quickly throwing off the mask, he revealed the drama. But when it is a wife, and she says pitiful things, and has the occasion working with her, and the wounds and the weals and the countless waves of misfortunes, how could one not justly declare that soul, which suffered nothing under so great a storm, firmer than any adamant? Allow me to say with boldness that this blessed man was, if not greater, at least not less than the apostles. For they were consoled by suffering for Christ; and this remedy was so sufficient to raise them up every day that the Master set it down everywhere, saying, “for me” and “for my sake,” and, “If they called the master of the house Beelzebul.” But he was destitute of this consolation, and of that from the signs, and of that from grace; for he did not have so great a power of the Spirit. And what is greater, having been brought up in great luxury, not among fishermen and tax collectors and those who had lived meanly, but having enjoyed so much honor, he suffered all that he suffered. And what seemed most burdensome in the case of the apostles, he too endured: being hated by friends, by servants, by enemies, by those he had benefited; and the sacred anchor and the harbor free from waves (this was what was said to the apostles, the words “for my sake”), this he could not see. I marvel at the three youths too, that they braved the furnace, that they rose up against the tyrant. But hear what they say: “We do not serve your gods, and we do not worship the image you set up.” This was the greatest consolation to them, to know clearly that they were suffering all for God’s sake, whatever they suffered. But he did not know that these were contests and wrestling; for if he had known, he would not have felt what happened. When, at any rate, he heard, “Do you think I dealt with you otherwise than that you might appear righteous?”, consider how he revived at once from a bare word, how he made himself of no account, how he did not even think he had suffered what he suffered, saying thus: “Why am I still judged, admonished and reproved by the Lord, hearing such things, I who am nothing?” And again, “I had heard of you before by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye has seen you; therefore I have despised myself and melted away, and I count myself earth and ashes.” Let us, then, emulate this courage and this gentleness, we who live after the law and grace, emulating him who lived before the law and grace, so that we may be able to share the eternal tabernacles with him; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“When they persecute you in this city, flee to the next. For truly I say to you, you will not have gone through the cities of Israel before the Son of Man comes.” Having spoken of those fearful and terrible things, able to dissolve adamant, which would befall them after the cross and the resurrection and the ascension, he brings his discourse back again to gentler things, giving the athletes a breathing space and providing them with great security. For he did not command them, when persecuted, to close with their persecutors, but to flee. For since it was as yet the beginning and the first steps, he uses more condescending language. For he is not speaking of the persecutions that came afterward, but of those before the cross and the passion. And this he showed by saying, “For you will not have gone through the cities of Israel before the Son of Man comes.” For so that they might not say, “What then, if, when we are persecuted, we flee, and there again they drive us out?”, removing this fear he says, You will hardly have gone round Palestine before I overtake you at once. And see how here too he does not end the terrors, but stands by them in their dangers. For he did not say, “I will snatch you out and put an end to the persecutions,” but what? “You will not have gone through the cities of Israel before the Son of Man comes.” For it was enough for their consolation just to see him. But consider, I pray you, how he does not everywhere entrust everything to grace, but commands them to contribute something of their own too. For if you are afraid, he says, flee; for this he showed by saying, “Flee,” and “Do not be afraid.” And he did not command them to flee first, but to withdraw when they were driven out; and he does not give them a great distance either, but only as much as going round the cities of Israel. Then again he trains them for another [part of philosophy], casting out first [the anxiety about] food,

and second, the fear of dangers; and now the fear of slander. For from that anxiety he freed them by saying, “The laborer deserves his wage,” and by showing that many would receive them; and from the anguish over dangers by saying, “Do not be anxious how or what you are to speak,” and that “the one who endures to the end will be saved.” But since, along with these things, it was likely that they would also get a bad reputation, which seems to many more burdensome than all, see from what source he consoles them here too, setting down the consolation drawn from himself and from all that had been said about him, to which nothing was equal. For just as he said there, “You will be hated by all,” and added, “for my name’s sake,” so here too. And he consoles them in another way also, setting down another consolation after that one. What is this? “A disciple is not above his teacher,” he says, “nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more those of his household! So do not fear them.” See how he reveals himself to be Master and God and Creator of all. What then? Is a disciple not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master? As long as he is a disciple and a servant, he is not, according to the nature of the honor. For do not tell me of the rare cases here, but take the saying from the majority. And he does not say, “how much more the servants,” but “those of his household,” displaying great intimacy with them. And elsewhere he said, “I no longer call you servants; you are my friends.” And he did not say, “If they insulted and slandered the master of the house,” but sets down the very form of the insult, that they called him Beelzebul. Then he also gives another consolation not less than this; for this is the greatest; but since those who were not yet perfect needed another too, one especially able to restore them, he sets this down as well. And the form of the words seems to have a universal statement; yet it was said not about all matters, but only about the matter in hand. For what does he say? “For nothing is covered that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known.” What he means is this: It is enough for your consolation that I, your Teacher and Master, shared the same abuse with you. But if you are still pained at hearing these things, consider this too, that a little later you will be freed from this suspicion too. For why are you pained? Because they call you sorcerers and deceivers? But wait a little, and all will call you saviors and benefactors of the world. For time uncovers all that is overshadowed, and will expose their slander and make your virtue plain. For when you appear in deeds as saviors and benefactors, displaying every virtue, people will not attend to their words but to the truth of the facts; and they will appear as false accusers and liars and slanderers, but you brighter than the sun, as long time uncovers and proclaims you, sending out a voice clearer than a trumpet, and making all witnesses of your virtue. Let not, then, what is said now humble you, but let the hope of the good things to come raise you up. For it is impossible that your affairs should be hidden. Then, when he had freed them from all anguish and fears and anxiety, and made them higher than reproaches, then at last, at the fitting time, he speaks to them also about boldness in preaching. “For what I tell you in the dark,” he says, “speak in the light; and what you hear in the ear, proclaim on the housetops.” And yet it was not dark when he said this, nor was he speaking to them in their ear; but he uses hyperbole. For since he was speaking to them alone, and in a small corner of Palestine, for this reason he said, “in the dark” and “in the ear,” contrasting with the manner of that conversation the boldness that was to come afterward, which he was going to give them. For you will preach not to one or two or three cities, he says, but to the whole world, going over land and sea, the inhabited and the uninhabited, to tyrants and peoples, to philosophers and orators, saying everything with bare head and with all boldness. That is why he said, “on the housetops” and “in the light,” without any reserve and with all freedom. And why did he not say only, “Proclaim on the housetops” and “Speak in the light,” but added, “What I tell you in the dark” and “what you hear in the ear”? To lift up their spirits. Just as when he said, “He who believes in me will also do the works that I do, and greater works than these will he do,” so here too, showing that he will accomplish everything through them, and more than through himself, he set this down. For I have given the beginning, he says, and the first steps; but the greater part I wish to accomplish through you. And this was the word not only of one commanding, but also of one foretelling the future and encouraging them by his words, and showing that they would prevail over all, and quietly undermining again their anguish about slander. For just as this preaching, hidden for the time, will go over everything, so the evil opinion of the Jews too will quickly perish. Then, since he had lifted them up and exalted them, he again foretells the dangers too, giving wings to their mind and making them higher than all. For what does he say? “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” Do you see how he set them above all things, persuading them to despise not only anxiety and slander, nor dangers and plots, but even death itself, which seems the most fearful of all; and not simply death, but violent death? And he did not say, “You will be killed,” but set it before them with the dignity that befitted him, saying, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; but fear rather him who can destroy both soul and body in hell”; doing what he always does, turning the argument to the opposite. For what? he says; do you fear death, and for this reason shrink from preaching? For this very reason preach, since you fear death. For this will rescue you from real death. For even if they are going to kill you, they will not overcome the better part, even if they strive ten thousand times. That is why he did not say, “who do not kill the soul,” but, “who cannot kill it.” For even if they wish, they will not prevail. So, if you fear punishment, fear that which is much harsher. Do you see how again he does not promise them freedom from death, but lets them die, granting them more than if he had not allowed them to suffer this? For persuading them to despise death is much greater than freeing them from death. He does not, then, throw them into dangers, but makes them higher than dangers, and in a short word fixes in them the doctrines about the immortality of the soul; and having planted a saving doctrine in two or three words, he consoles them with other reasonings too. For so that they might not think, when they were killed and slaughtered, that they suffered this as men abandoned, he again brings in the word about God’s providence, saying, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall into a snare without your Father who is in heaven. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.” For what is more worthless than those? he says; but nevertheless not even they will be caught without God’s knowledge. For he does not say this, that it falls by his working, for that is unworthy of God, but that nothing of what happens escapes him. If, then, he is ignorant of nothing that happens, and loves you more truly than a father, and loves you so as even to have numbered your hairs, you must not fear. And he said this not because God counts hairs, but to show his exact knowledge and the great providence he has for them. If, then, he both knows all that happens, and can save you, and wishes to, whatever you suffer, do not think that you suffer it as men abandoned. For he does not wish to free you from terrors, but to persuade you to despise terrors; since this above all is freedom from terrors. “So do not fear; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Do you see that fear had already taken hold of them? For he knew the secrets of their mind; that is why he added, “So do not fear them.” For even if they prevail, they will prevail over the lesser part, I mean the body; which, even if they do not kill it, nature will surely take and depart with. So they have not become masters even of this, but they have it from nature. And if you fear this, much more must you fear the greater, and fear him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. And he does not say openly now that he himself is the one who can destroy both soul and body; but he made it plain by what he had shown earlier, that he is the judge. But now the opposite happens. For him who can destroy the soul, that is, punish it, we do not fear; but those who kill the body we shudder at. And yet he punishes the body together with the soul; while they can punish not only not the soul, but not even the body, even if they punish it ten thousand times; rather they make it more glorious by doing so. Do you see how he shows the contests to be easy? For death shook their soul very much, being still fearsome to them because it had not yet been made easy to overcome, and because those who were going to despise it had not yet enjoyed the grace of the Spirit. Having cast out, then, the fear and the anguish that shook their soul, he encourages them again by what follows, casting out fear by fear, and not by fear only, but also by the hope of great rewards; and he threatens with great authority, urging them on from both sides to boldness for the truth; and he adds, saying, “Everyone, then, who confesses me before men, I too will confess before my Father who is in heaven; but whoever denies me before men, I too will deny before my Father who is in heaven.” For he urges them not only by good things but also by their opposites, and ends with gloomy things. And consider the exactness: he did not say “me,” but “in me,” showing that the one who confesses confesses not by his own power, but helped by grace from above. But of the one who denies he did not say “in me,” but “me”; for it is having become destitute of the gift that he thus denies. “Why, then, is he blamed,” someone says, “if he denies having been abandoned?” Because being abandoned comes about through the one who is abandoned. And why is he not content with faith in the mind, but requires also confession with the mouth? To anoint us for boldness and greater love and affection, and to make us lofty. That is why he speaks to all, and does not use the person of the disciples only; for he is making not them only but also their disciples noble already. For the one who has learned this will not only teach with boldness, but will also suffer everything easily and with eagerness. This, at any rate, brought many to the apostles: believing this word. For in punishment too the penalty is greater, and in good things the recompense is greater. For since the one who does well is outrun in time, and the sinner thinks he gains by the delay of punishment, he brought in an equal, or rather a much greater, advantage, the addition of … “Did you outdo me,” he says, “by confessing me first here? I too will outdo you,” he says, “by giving you more, and unspeakably more; for I will confess you there.” Do you see that both the good things and the evil things are stored up there? Why then do you hurry and press? Why do you seek the rewards here, you who have been saved in hope? For this reason, then, even if you do something good and do not receive its recompense here, do not be troubled; for the reward of these things awaits you with increase in the time to come. And if you do something evil and do not pay the penalty, do not be careless; for the punishment will receive you there, unless you change and become better. And if you disbelieve, judge from the things here about the things to come too. For if in the time of the contests those who confess are so illustrious, consider what they will be in the time of the crowns. If here the enemies applaud, how will he who is more affectionate than all fathers not admire you and proclaim you? For then come both the gifts for good things and the punishments for evil. So those who deny will be harmed both here and there: here, living with an evil conscience, they will surely die even if they do not die now; and there they will undergo the utmost penalty. But the others will gain both here and there, turning death here to profit, becoming by this more glorious than the living, and there enjoying the unspeakable good things. For God is ready not only to punish, but also to do good, and more ready for this than for that. But why does he set this down once and that twice? He knows that they are brought to their senses more by this. That is why, having said, “Fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell,” he says again, “I too will deny him.” So Paul too does, continually mentioning hell. Having, then, anointed the hearer by all means (for he opened heaven to him, and set over him that fearful judgment seat, and showed the theater of the angels, and the proclaiming of the crowns among them, preparing from this great ease for the word of godliness), at last, so that the preaching might not be hindered by their becoming cowardly, he commands them to prepare themselves even for the very slaughters; so that they may learn that those who remain in error will also pay the penalty for their plotting against these. Let us despise death, then, even if there is no occasion that requires it of us; for we shall be transferred to a much better life. “But the body is corrupted.” And for this very reason we must rejoice most, because death is corrupted and mortality destroyed, not the substance of the body. For if you saw a statue being melted down, you would not call what happens destruction, but a better refashioning. Reason so about the body too, and do not lament. For then you ought to lament, if it remained in the punishment. “But,” someone says, “this ought to happen without the corruption of bodies, and they should remain whole.” And how would this have benefited either the living or the departed? How long will you love the body? How long, nailed to the earth, will you gape at shadows? For what would this have profited? Or rather, what harm would it not have done? For if bodies were not corrupted, first the greatest of all evils, pride, would have remained with many. For if, even when this happens and worms pour out, many have contended to be gods, what would not have happened if this did not? Second, it would not have been believed that the body is from earth; for if, though the end bears witness, some still dispute it, what would they not have suspected if they did not see this? Third, bodies would have been loved exceedingly, and most would have become more carnal and grosser; and if even now some cling to tombs and coffins when the bodies have disappeared, what would they not have done if they had the image preserved? Fourth, they would not have longed much for the things to come. Fifth, those who say that the world is immortal would have been more confirmed, and would not have said that God is the Creator. Sixth, they would not have known the excellence of the soul, and how much a soul is when present in a body. Seventh, many who lost their relatives would have left the cities and lived in the tombs and become crazed, conversing continually with their dead. For if even now people fashion images, since they cannot keep the body (for it is not possible, but it flows away and leaps off even against their will), and are nailed to the boards, what absurdity would they not have devised then? It seems to me that most would even have built temples to such bodies, and those skilled in such sorceries would have persuaded demons to speak through them; since even now those who dare necromancy attempt many things more absurd than these. And how many idolatries would not have arisen from this, when people still strive to do these things after the dust and the ashes? Taking away, then, all these absurdities, and teaching us to keep away from all earthly things, God makes bodies disappear before our eyes. For the lover of the body, excited by a beautiful girl, if he will not learn by reason the ugliness of the substance, will know it from sight itself. For many of the same age as the beloved, and often more brilliant, have, after dying, given off a stench after one or two days, and ichor and the rottenness of worms. Consider, then, what sort of beauty you love, and at what comeliness you are excited. And if bodies were not corrupted, this would not have been well known; but just as the demons run about the tombs, so too many lovers, sitting continually by the tombs, would have received demons into their soul and quickly died of this grievous madness. But as it is, besides all the other things, this too consoles the soul: that the image is not seen; and it casts the passion into forgetfulness.

And if this were not so, there would be no tombs either, but you would see the cities holding dead bodies instead of statues, each person wishing to see his own. And great confusion would have arisen from this, and none of the many would have taken care of the soul, nor would it have given room for the word about immortality to come in; and many other things more absurd than these would have happened, which it is not good even to say. That is why it rots at once: so that you may see the beauty of the soul bare. For if the soul is the provider of so much beauty and so much life, much more would it itself be better; if it holds together what is so ugly and unsightly, much more itself. For the beauty is not in the body, but the form and the bloom which is painted on its substance from the soul. Love, then, that which makes this too appear so. And why do I speak of death? For even in life itself I show you how all beautiful things are the soul’s. For if it is glad, it scatters roses over the cheeks; if it is pained, it takes that beauty and wraps everything in a black robe. If it rejoices continually, the body becomes healthy; if it grieves, it makes the body thinner and weaker than a spider’s web; if it is angry, it makes it again repulsive and ugly; if it shows a calm eye, it bestows great beauty; if it envies, it pours out much pallor and wasting; if it loves, it gives great comeliness. So, at any rate, many women who were not comely of face received great grace from the soul; and others again, shining in bloom, because they had a graceless soul, spoiled their comeliness. Consider how a white face blushes and by the variety of color produces great pleasure when it must be ashamed and blush; just as, if it is shameless, it makes the face more unpleasant than any beast. For nothing is lovelier than a beautiful soul, nothing sweeter. For with bodies, longing is accompanied by pain; but with souls, the pleasure is pure and free from waves. Why do you leave the king and become excited about the herald? Why do you abandon the philosopher and gape at the interpreter? Did you see a beautiful eye? Learn the one within; and if that is not beautiful, despise this one too. For if you saw an ugly woman wearing a beautiful mask, you would not be moved toward her; just as you would not endure a comely and beautiful woman to be hidden by the mask, but, removing it, would wish to see her beauty bare. Do this, then, with the soul too, and learn it first; for the body is wrapped around it in place of a mask; that is why it remains as it is; but the soul, even if it is ugly, can quickly become beautiful. Even if it has an eye unsightly and harsh and hard, it can become beautiful, gentle, calm, mild, kindly. Let us seek this comeliness, then, let us adorn this face, so that God too, desiring our beauty, may give us a share in the eternal good things, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“Do not think that I came to cast peace upon the earth; I came not to cast peace, but a sword.” Again he sets down the harder things, and with great abundance; and what they were going to object, this he says beforehand. For lest, on hearing these things, they should say, “Is it for this, then, that you have come, to destroy both us and those who obey us, and to fill the earth with war?” he himself says first, “I came not to cast peace upon the earth.” How then did he command them, on entering each house, to pronounce peace? And how did the angels too say, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace”? And how did all the prophets too proclaim this as good news? Because this above all is peace, when what is diseased is cut away, when what is in revolt is separated. For so it is possible for heaven to be joined to earth. For so the physician too preserves the rest of the body, when he cuts out what is incurable; and so the general, when he brings into disagreement those who are in evil agreement. So it happened also in the case of that tower: for the good discord dissolved the evil peace and made peace. So also Paul split apart those who were in agreement against him. And in the case of Naboth, that agreement proved at that time more grievous than any war. For concord is not good everywhere, since robbers too agree together. The war, then, is not the work of his purpose, but of their mind. For he himself wished all to be of one mind in the word of godliness; but since they were in revolt, war arises. Yet he did not speak so; but what does he say? “I came not to cast peace,” comforting them. “For do not think,” he says, “that you are the cause of these things; it is I who bring them about, since they are so disposed. Do not be troubled, then, as though things were happening contrary to expectation. For this I came, to cast in war; for this is my will. Do not be troubled, then, as though the earth were warred upon and plotted against. For when the worse part is split off, then at last heaven is joined to the better.” And he says these things to strengthen them against the evil suspicion of the many. And he did not say “war,” but what was more grievous than this, “a sword.” And if these things are said rather harshly and with an ill sound, do not wonder. For wishing to train their hearing by the roughness of the words, so that they might not leap away in the difficulty of the events, he shaped his speech so; so that no one might say, “He persuaded us by flattery and by hiding the hard things,” for this reason he expressed even the things that ought to have been said otherwise more severely and more harshly. For it is better to see gentleness in deeds than in words. For this reason he was not content even with these words, but unfolding the very form of the war, he shows that it is far more grievous than a civil war, and says, “I came to set a man at variance against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.” “For not friends,” he says, “nor fellow citizens only, but kinsmen too will stand against one another, and nature will be split against itself.” “For I came,” he says, “to set a man at variance against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.” For the war is not simply among those of the household, but among the dearest and those most closely bound. And this above all shows his power, that hearing these things they themselves accepted them and persuaded others. And yet it was not he who did these things, but their wickedness; but nevertheless he says that he does them. For such is the custom of Scripture. For elsewhere too it says, “God gave them eyes that they should not see”; and here he speaks so, in order that, as I said before, having been exercised in these words, they might not be troubled when reproached and insulted. And if some think these things harsh, let them call to mind the ancient history. For in the former times too this happened, which above all shows the old covenant akin to the new, and that he who says these things is the same who also commanded those. For in the case of the Jews too, when each one slew his neighbor, then he let go his anger against them: both when they made the calf, and when they were initiated to Baal-peor. Where then are those who say that that God is evil and this one good? For see, he has filled the world with the blood of kinsmen. Yet nevertheless we say that this too is a work of great love for humanity. For this reason, showing that he is the same who also approved those things, he also mentions a prophecy, even if it was not spoken for this, yet still showing the same thing. And what is it? “A man’s enemies are those of his own household.” For among the Jews too something of this kind happened. For there were prophets and false prophets, and the people was split, and the houses were divided; and some believed these, and others those. For this reason the prophet exhorts, saying, “Do not trust in friends, nor hope in leaders; but even from her who lies in your bosom guard yourself, so as not to entrust anything to her”; and, “A man’s enemies are the men in his own house.” And he said these things preparing the one who was to receive the word to be above all things. For it is not dying that is evil, but dying evilly. For this reason he also said, “I came to cast fire upon the earth.” And he said this showing the vehemence and the warmth of the love that he required. For since he loved us exceedingly, so he wishes also to be loved by us. And these words also anointed these men and made them loftier. “For if those others,” he says, “are to despise kinsmen and children and parents, consider what sort you the teachers ought to be. For the hardships will not stop with you, but will pass on to the others as well. For since I came bringing great goods, I require great obedience and devotion too.” “He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And he who does not take his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.” Do you see the dignity of a teacher? Do you see how he shows himself the true Son of him who begot him, commanding them to leave all things below and to prefer his love? “And why do I speak,” he says, “of friends and kinsmen? Even if you prefer your own life to my love, you stand far from my disciples.” What then? Are these things not contrary to the old law? God forbid! Rather they are in full harmony. For there he commands not only to hate idolaters but even to stone them; and in Deuteronomy, admiring these, he says, “He who says to his father and to his mother, ‘I have not seen you,’ and did not know his brothers, and disowned his sons, has kept your sayings.” And if Paul gives many injunctions about parents, commanding obedience to them in all things, do not wonder; for he says to obey them only in those things that do not harm godliness. For it is holy to render them all other honor; but when they demand more than is owed, one must not obey. For this reason Luke says, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, and wife and children and brothers, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple,” not commanding simply to hate, since this would be utterly lawless, but “when he wishes to be loved by you more than I am, hate him in this respect.” For this destroys both the one who is loved and the one who loves.

And he said these things both making the children more courageous and making the fathers, who were going to hinder them, milder. For seeing that he has such strength and power as to split their children away from them, they too were likely to withdraw, as attempting the impossible. Therefore, leaving these, he directs his speech to those others, teaching these not to make the attempt, as attempting what cannot be done. Then, so that those others might not be indignant or vexed, see where he carries his speech. For having said, “He who does not hate father and mother,” he added, “and his own life.” “For why do you speak to me,” he says, “of parents, and brothers, and sisters, and wife? Nothing is closer to anyone than his own soul; yet even so, unless you hate this too, you will suffer everything contrary to what one who loves it would wish.” And he did not command simply to hate it, but even to give it up to war and to battles, and to slaughter and blood. “For he who does not bear his cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” For he did not simply say that one must be prepared for death, but for a violent death; and not only violent, but shameful. And he says nothing as yet about his own passion, so that, trained meanwhile in these things, they might more easily receive the word about it. Is it not worth our amazement how, as they heard these things, their soul did not fly out of the body, since everywhere the painful things were in hand and the good things in hopes? How then did it not fly away? Great was the power of the speaker, and great the love of the hearers. Therefore, although they heard things far harder and more burdensome than those great men around Moses and Jeremiah heard, they continued obeying and saying nothing against them. “He who finds his life,” he says, “will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it.” Do you see how great is the harm of those who love beyond what is right, how great the gain of those who hate? For since the commands were burdensome, bidding them to be arrayed against parents, and children, and nature, and kinship, and the world, and against their very soul, he sets down the benefit too, which is very great. “For not only will these things not harm,” he says, “but they will benefit you most greatly; and the contrary things will harm you,” which he does everywhere, leading them on by the very things they desire. For why are you unwilling to despise your soul? Because you love it? Then for this very reason despise it, and then you will benefit it most greatly and show yourself one who loves it. And consider his unspeakable wisdom. For he does not exercise this argument on parents only, nor on children, but on the soul, which is closest of all, so that the other point might thereby become beyond dispute, and they might learn that in this way they will benefit those others too most greatly, seeing that this happens even in the case of the soul, the most necessary of all. These things, then, were enough to persuade those who were to tend them to receive them. For who would not have received with all eagerness men so noble and valiant, running through the world like lions and despising all their own things so that others might be saved? But nevertheless he sets down another reward too, showing that in this he cares more for those who show hospitality than for those who are entertained. And he gives the first honor, saying, “He who receives you receives me, and he who receives me receives him who sent me.” What could equal this, to receive the Father and the Son? And with this he promises another recompense too: “For he who receives a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and he who receives a righteous man in the name of a righteous man will receive a righteous man’s reward.” And above he threatened punishment to those who do not receive them; here he also appoints a release of good things. And so that you may learn that he cares more for them, he did not simply say, “He who receives a prophet,” or “He who receives a righteous man,” but added, “in the name of a prophet,” and “in the name of a righteous man”; that is, if it is not for worldly patronage, nor for some other perishable thing that he is sought, but because he is a prophet or a righteous man, he will receive a prophet’s reward and a righteous man’s reward, such as it is fitting for one who has received a prophet or a righteous man to receive, or such as that man is going to receive. Which Paul too said: “Your abundance for their want, that their abundance also may become for your want.” Then, so that no one might plead poverty, he says, “And whoever gives one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, truly I say to you, he will not lose his reward.” Even if you give a cup of cold water, where there is nothing to spend, for this too a reward will be laid up for you. “For it is for your sake that I do all things for those who receive you.” Do you see how many things he used to persuade, and opened to them the houses of the whole world? For he showed through all things that they were debtors to them: first, by saying, “The laborer is worthy of his wages”; second, by sending them out having nothing; third, by giving them up to wars and battles on behalf of those who receive them; fourth, by entrusting signs to them as well; fifth, by bringing into the houses of those who receive them, through their mouth, peace, the cause of all good things; sixth, by threatening things more grievous than Sodom’s to those who do not receive them; seventh, by showing that both he and the Father are received by those who receive them; eighth, by promising a prophet’s and a righteous man’s reward; ninth, by promising great recompense even for a cup of cold water. And each of these by itself was enough to draw them. For who, tell me, seeing a general with countless wounds and covered with blood, returning from war and battle with many trophies, would not have received him, throwing open the doors of his whole house? “And who is such a one now?” someone says. For this reason he added, “in the name of a disciple,” and “of a prophet,” and “of a righteous man,” so that you may learn that he sets the reward not by the worth of the one who arrives, but also by the mind of the host. For here he speaks of prophets and righteous men and disciples, but elsewhere he commands us to receive even those who are utterly cast off, and punishes those who do not receive them: “For inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me either”; and the opposite again he says of the same people. For even if he achieves nothing of this kind, he is a man, dwelling in the same world as you, seeing the same sun, having the same soul, the same Master, having shared with you the same mysteries, called to the same heaven as you, having a great claim, his poverty and his need of necessary food. But now those who wake you with flutes and pipes in the winter season, and trouble you idly and in vain, go away having received many gifts from you; and those who carry swallows about, and are smeared with soot, and abuse everyone, receive a reward for this monstrous show. But if a poor man comes asking for bread, there are countless revilings and slanders, and accusations of idleness, and abuse and insults and jeers; and you do not reckon with yourself that you too are idle, and yet God gives you his own things. For do not tell me that you yourself also do something; but show me this, whether you do and handle any of the necessary things. And if you tell me of money-making and trading and the care and increase of your possessions, I too would say to you that these would not be works, but almsgiving and prayers and the protection of the wronged and all such things, in respect of which we live in idleness continually. But nevertheless God has never said to us, “Since you are idle, I do not kindle the sun for you; since you do nothing of the necessary things, I quench the moon, I make barren the womb of the earth, I stop the lakes, the springs, the rivers, I blot out the air, I withhold the yearly rains”; but he provides all things to us with abundance. And to some who are not only idle but even do evil things he grants the enjoyment of these. When therefore you see a poor man and say, “It chokes me that this fellow, being young and healthy and having nothing, wishes to be fed in idleness, being perhaps a slave and a runaway who has left his own master,” say these things that I have said to yourself; or rather, give him leave to say them to you with boldness, and he will say with more justice, “It chokes me that you, being healthy, are idle, and do none of the things God commanded, but, having run away from the commands of the Master, go about as though in a foreign land, spending your time in wickedness, getting drunk, carousing, stealing, robbing, overturning the houses of others.” And you accuse him of idleness, but I accuse you of evil works, when you plot, when you swear, when you lie, when you rob, when you do countless things of this kind.

And I say these things not legislating idleness (God forbid!), but rather earnestly wishing all to be at work, for idleness has taught every vice; but I beseech you not to be unmerciful nor cruel. For Paul too, after finding countless faults and saying, “If anyone will not work, let him not eat,” did not stop there, but added, “But you, do not grow weary in doing good.” “And yet these things are contrary. For if you commanded them not to eat, how do you exhort us to give?” “Yes,” he says, “for I commanded them to be shunned and not to be mixed with; and again I said, ‘Do not count them as enemies, but admonish them’; legislating not contrary things, but things fully in harmony.” For if you are ready for mercy, he too, the poor man, will quickly be rid of his idleness, and you of your cruelty. “But he tells many lies and pretends,” someone says. But for this too he deserves pity, that he has fallen into such necessity as to be shameless even in such things. But we not only do not pity, but add those cruel words, saying, “Did you not receive once and twice?” What then? Does he not need to be fed again, because he was fed once? Why do you not set these laws for your own belly too, and say to it as well, “You were filled yesterday and the day before; do not seek now”? But that you stretch even beyond measure, while this man, who asks for moderate things, you turn away, when you ought for this very reason to pity him, that he is forced to come to you every day. For even if nothing else bends you, for this reason you ought to pity him; for it is by the necessity of poverty that he is forced and does these things. And you do not pity him, that hearing such things he is not ashamed; for necessity is stronger. But you not only do not pity, but even expose him; and though God commanded to give in secret, you stand publishing the one who came to you, and reproaching him for the very things for which you ought to have pitied him. For if you do not wish to give, why do you also accuse, and crush the wretched and miserable soul? He came as into a harbor, seeking your hands; why do you raise waves and make the storm more grievous? Why do you condemn him for meanness? For if he had expected to hear such things, would he have come? And if he came even knowing these things beforehand, for this reason it is right both to pity him and to shudder at your cruelty, that not even so, seeing an inexorable necessity pressing upon him, do you become gentler, nor think the fear of famine enough for his defense against the charge of shamelessness, but accuse him of shamelessness; and yet you yourself have often been more shameless, and on behalf of grievous things. For here shamelessness even brings pardon; but we, often doing things worthy of punishment, are brazen, when we ought, thinking of those things, to become humble; and we add insult to these wretched men, and to those who ask for medicines we add wounds. For if you do not wish to give, why do you also strike? If you do not wish to bestow, for what reason do you also insult? “But he will not go away otherwise.” Then do as that wise man commanded: “Answer him peaceable things with meekness.” For it is not willingly that he is so shameless. For there is not, there is not a man who simply wishes to be put to shame; even if countless people contend, I could never be persuaded that a man living in abundance would choose to beg. Let no one then deceive us. But even if Paul says, “If anyone will not work, let him not eat,” he says it to those men; but to us he does not say this, but the contrary: “Do not grow weary in doing good.” So we too do in a household: when two people are fighting with each other, we take each aside privately and exhort them to contrary things. This God too did, and Moses. For to God he said, “If you will forgive them their sin, forgive; otherwise blot me out too”; but them he commanded to slay one another and all their relatives. And yet these things are contrary; but nevertheless both looked to one end. Again God said to Moses, while the Jews were listening, “Let me alone, and I will destroy the people” (for even if they were not present when God said these things, yet they were going to hear them afterward); but privately he exhorts him to the opposite. And this Moses, being compelled, disclosed afterward, speaking so: “For did I conceive them in the womb, that you say to me, ‘Carry them, as a nurse carries the suckling child in her bosom’?” These things happen in households too; and often a father privately rebukes the tutor who has insulted the boy, saying, “Do not be rough nor harsh,” but to the young man he says the opposite, “Even if he insults you unjustly, bear it,” gathering from the opposites one useful result. So Paul too said to those who were healthy and begged, “If anyone will not work, let him not eat,” that he might throw them into work; but to those able to show mercy, “But you, do not grow weary in doing good,” that he might lead them to almsgiving. So too, when in the Epistle to the Romans he exhorted those from the Gentiles not to be high-minded against the Jews, he brought forward the wild olive as well, and he appears to say some things to these and other things to those. Let us not then fall into cruelty, but let us hear Paul saying, “Do not grow weary in doing good”; let us hear the Master saying, “Give to everyone who asks you,” and, “Be merciful as your Father.” And though he said many things, nowhere did he set this down except in the case of mercies. For nothing makes us equal to God as doing good does.

“But nothing,” someone says, “is more impudent than a poor man.” Why, I beseech you? Because he runs after you and cries out? Do you wish then that I show that we are more shameless than they, and exceedingly impudent? Remember now, I pray you, in the season of the fast, how often, when the table was set in the evening, and you called the servant who waited on you, because he walked rather slowly you overturned everything, kicking, insulting, reviling, for a small delay only; and that though you knew well that even if not at once, yet a little later you would enjoy your food. Then yourself, who become a wild beast over nothing, you do not call shameless; but the poor man, who fears and trembles for greater things (for his whole fear is not of delay but of famine), him you will call bold and impudent and shameless and every most shameful name? And how is this not the extreme of shamelessness? But we do not consider these things; for this reason we think them burdensome. Since if we examined our own things and compared them with theirs, we would not have thought them troublesome. Do not then be a bitter judge. For even if you were free of all sins, not even so did the law of God permit you to become a strict examiner of the faults of others. For if the Pharisee perished for this, what defense shall we obtain? If he does not permit those who have done well to examine bitterly the things of others, much less those who have stumbled. Let us not then be cruel, nor harsh, nor without natural affection, nor implacable, nor worse than wild beasts. For I know many who have come to such brutality that through a little sloth they overlook people starving, and say these words: “No servant is with me now; we are far from home; no banker is known to me.” O the cruelty! You promised the greater thing, and you do not accomplish the less? So that you may not walk a little, he is wasting away with hunger? O the insolence! O the pride! For if you had to walk ten stades, ought you to have shrunk from it? Do you not consider that so the reward becomes greater for you? For when you give, you receive a reward for what is given only; but when you also walk yourself, a recompense for this too is laid up for you again. For this is why we admire the patriarch too, that he himself ran to the herd and snatched the calf, and that though he had three hundred and eighteen servants born in his house. But now some are so filled with pride as to do these things through servants and not to be ashamed. “But do you command me to accomplish these things by myself?” he says. “And how shall I not seem vainglorious?” And yet now too you do this through another kind of vainglory, being ashamed to be seen talking with a poor man. But I am not at all exacting about these things; only give, whether you wish to do it by yourself or through another; and do not accuse, do not strike, do not revile. For the one who comes to you needs medicines, not wounds; mercy, not a sword. For tell me, if someone struck by a stone and wounded on the head, leaving all others, ran to your knees streaming with blood, would you have struck him with another stone and added another wound? I for one do not think so; rather you would have tried to set right even that one. Why then do you do the opposite with the poor? Do you not know how much a word can both raise up and cast down? “For a word,” it says, “is better than a gift.” Do you not consider that you are thrusting the sword against yourself, and receiving a more grievous wound, when that man, after being reviled, goes away in silence, groaning and shedding many tears? For he is sent to you by God. Consider then, when you insult him, where you pass the insult on to, when God sends him to you and commands you to give, and you not only do not give, but even insult him when he comes. And if you do not know the excess of the absurdity, consider it in the case of men, and then you will know well the greatness of the sin. For if your servant, ordered by you to go to another servant who held your money and to receive it, not only came back with empty hands, but also insulted, what would you not have done to the one who insulted him? How great a penalty would you not have exacted, since you yourself would then be the one insulted? Reckon this in the case of God too; for he himself sends the poor to us, and it is his things that we give, if indeed we give. But if, besides not giving, we also send them away insulted, consider how many thunderbolts, how many lightnings the thing we do deserves. Reckoning all these things, then, let us both bridle the tongue and cast out inhumanity, and stretch out the hand to almsgiving, and comfort those in need not with money only but also with words, so that we may both escape the punishment for reviling and inherit the kingdom that comes from blessing and almsgiving, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And it came to pass, when Jesus had finished commanding his twelve disciples, he departed from there to teach and to preach in their cities.” For since he had sent them, he withdrew himself at last, giving them room and occasion to do what he had commanded. For while he was present and healing, no one would have wished to approach them. “Now when John heard in the prison the works of Jesus, he sent two of his disciples and asked him, saying, ‘Are you he who comes, or do we look for another?’” And Luke says that they themselves reported the signs to John, and then he sent them. However, this contains no difficulty, but only matter for reflection; for it shows their jealousy toward him. But what follows is very much among the things that are inquired into. What is this? The saying, “Are you he who comes, or do we look for another?” For he who knew him before the signs, who learned it from the Spirit, who heard it from the Father, who proclaimed him before all, does he now send to learn from him whether he is the one or not? And yet if you do not know clearly that it is he, how do you think yourself trustworthy when you pronounce about things not known? For the one who is to bear witness to others must first be trustworthy himself. Was it not you who said, “I am not worthy to loose the strap of his sandal”? Was it not you who said, “I did not know him; but he who sent me to baptize with water, he said to me, ‘On whom you see the Spirit descending and remaining on him, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit’”? Did you not see the Spirit in the form of a dove? Did you not hear the voice? Did you not try to prevent him, saying, “I have need to be baptized by you”? Did you not say to your disciples too, “He must increase, but I must decrease”? Did you not teach all the people that he would baptize them with the Holy Spirit and with fire, and that he is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world? Did you not proclaim all these things before the signs and the wonders? How then now, when he has become manifest to all, and his fame has gone out everywhere, and the dead have been raised, and demons driven out, and so great a display of signs has taken place, do you then send to learn from him? What then has happened? Were all those words a deceit, a stage play and fables? And who having sense would say this? I do not say John, who leaped in the womb, who proclaimed him before his birth, the citizen of the desert, who displayed the angelic way of life; but even if he had been one of the many, and of those utterly cast off, he would not have doubted after so many testimonies, both his own and those of others. From which it is clear that he did not send because he himself was in doubt, nor did he ask in ignorance. For neither could anyone say this, that he knew clearly, but because of the prison he had become more timid; for he did not expect to be released from there, nor, if he had expected it, would he who was arrayed for death have betrayed godliness. For unless he had been prepared for this, he would not have shown such great courage before a whole people practised in shedding the blood of prophets; he would not have convicted that cruel tyrant with such great boldness in the middle of the city and the marketplace, rebuking him like a very small child, in the hearing of all. And if he had become more timid, how was he not ashamed before his own disciples, before whom he had borne him so great a witness, but asked through them, when he ought to have asked through others? And yet he knew clearly that they were jealous of him and desired to find some handle against him. And how did he not blush before the Jewish people, before whom he had proclaimed so much? And what more would he gain from this toward release from his bonds? For he had not been thrown in because of Christ, nor because he proclaimed his power, but because of his reproof concerning the unlawful marriage. And what senseless child, what madman, would not have brought this reputation upon himself? What then is it that is being brought about? That it is not John’s part to doubt these things, nor even of an ordinary man, nor of one very senseless and deranged, is clear from what has been said; but now we must bring on the solution. For what reason, then, did he send to ask? John’s disciples were turning away from Jesus, and this is clear to everyone, and they were always jealous toward him. And it is clear from what they said to their teacher: “He who was with you,” they say, “beyond the Jordan, to whom you have borne witness, behold, he is baptizing, and all are coming to him.” And again: “There arose a dispute between John’s disciples and the Jews about purification.” And again they came to him and said, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but your disciples do not fast?”

For they did not yet know who Christ was, but suspecting Jesus to be a mere man and John to be greater than a man, they were stung seeing the one held in honor and the other, as he said, already waning. And this hindered them from approaching, their jealousy walling off the approach. So while John was with them, he exhorted them continually and taught them, and not even so did he persuade them; but when he was now about to die, he makes greater effort. For he feared lest he leave behind an occasion for evil doctrine, and they should remain broken off from Christ. For he himself had been eager from the beginning to bring all his own to him; but since he did not persuade them, now as he is dying he shows greater zeal. If then he had said, “Go away to him, he is better than I,” he would not have persuaded them, since they were hard to tear away; rather he would have been thought to be speaking so out of modesty, and they would have been the more nailed to him; and if he had kept silence, again nothing more would have come of it. What then does he do? He waits to hear from them that Jesus is working wonders; and not even so does he exhort them, nor does he send them all, but two whom he knew perhaps to be more easily persuaded than the others, so that the question might be free of suspicion, so that they might learn from the facts the difference between Jesus and himself; and he says, “Go and say, ‘Are you he who comes, or do we look for another?’” And Christ, knowing John’s intention, did not say, “I am he”; for again this would have offended the hearers, although this would have been the natural thing to say; but he lets them learn from the facts. For it says that when these came to him, then he healed many. And yet what sequence was there, on being asked, “Are you he?”, to say nothing to this, but at once to heal the sick, unless he wished to bring about what I have said? For they thought the testimony from deeds more trustworthy and freer from suspicion than that from words. Knowing therefore, since he was God, the intention with which John had sent them, he at once healed blind men, lame men, and many others, not teaching John (for how could he teach one already persuaded?), but these who were in doubt; and having healed them he says, “Go and report to John what you hear and see: the blind recover their sight, and the lame walk, and lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised, and the poor have good news preached to them.” And he added, “And blessed is he who is not offended in me,” showing that he knows even their secret thoughts. For if he had said, “I am he,” this would have offended them, as I said before, and they would have thought, even if they did not say it, what the Jews said to him: “You bear witness about yourself.” For this reason he himself does not say this, but lets them learn everything from the wonders, making the teaching free of suspicion and clearer. For this reason too he brought in his rebuke of them covertly. For since they were offended in him, he made their sickness public, but left it to their conscience alone, and made no witness of this charge except those very men who knew these things, and by this too he drew them the more, saying, “Blessed is he who is not offended in me.” For it was hinting at them that he said these things. But so that we may not set forth only what we have said, but also, placing in the midst what is said by others, may make the truth clearer to you by the comparison of what is said, it is necessary to state those things too. What then do some say? That the cause is not the one we have stated, but John was ignorant; yet he was not ignorant of everything, but he knew that he was the Christ, while whether he was also going to die for men he did not know; therefore he said, “Are you he who comes?”, that is, he who is going to go down into Hades. But this would have no reason; for John was not ignorant even of this. Indeed he proclaimed this even before the other things, and bore witness to this first: “For behold,” he says, “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” And he called him a lamb, proclaiming the cross; and by saying, “who takes away the sin of the world,” he showed this same thing. For not otherwise but through the cross did he accomplish this; which Paul too said: “And the bond, which was against us, he took out of the way, nailing it to the cross.” And the saying, “He will baptize you with the Spirit,” was that of one who prophesied the things after the resurrection. “But that he would rise again,” they say, “he knew, and would give the Holy Spirit; but that he would also be crucified he did not know.” How then was he going to rise who had not suffered nor been crucified? And how was this man greater than a prophet, who did not even know the things of the prophets? For that he was greater than a prophet Christ himself bore witness; and that the prophets knew of the passion is clear to everyone. For Isaiah says, “He was led as a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before its shearer is dumb.” And before this testimony he says, “There shall be the root of Jesse, and he who rises up to rule the nations; in him shall the nations hope.” Then speaking of the passion and the glory that comes from it, he added, “And his rest shall be honor.” And he foretold not only that he would be crucified, but with whom: “For he was numbered with the transgressors,” he says. And not this only, but that he would not even defend himself: “For he,” he says, “does not open his mouth”; and that he would be unjustly condemned: “For in his humiliation,” he says, “his judgment was taken away.” And before him David too says this, and sketches the court of judgment: “Why,” he says, “did the nations rage, and the peoples devise vain things? The kings of the earth stood by, and the rulers were gathered together against the Lord and against his Christ.” And elsewhere he speaks also of the figure of the cross, saying thus: “They pierced my hands and my feet”; and he adds with all exactness what the soldiers dared to do: “For they divided my garments among themselves,” he says, “and for my clothing they cast lots.” And elsewhere he says that they also offered him vinegar: “For they gave,” he says, “gall for my food, and for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.” Then do the prophets, so many years before, speak of the court, and the condemnation, and those crucified with him, and the division of the garments, and the lot cast upon them, and many more things besides (for it is not necessary to set out everything now, so as not to make the discourse long), while this man, greater than all of them, was ignorant of all these things? And how would this have reason? And for what reason did he not say, “Are you he who comes into Hades?” but simply, “he who comes”? And yet that other thing would be far more ridiculous than this; for they say that he said these things so that, having gone there too, he might preach. To whom it is timely to say, “Brothers, do not be children in your minds, but in malice be infants.” For the present life is the time for conduct, but after death come judgment and punishment. “For in Hades,” it says, “who will confess to you?” How then were the gates of bronze broken and the bars of iron shattered? Through his body. For then for the first time was a body shown immortal and dissolving the tyranny of death. And besides, this shows the might of death destroyed, not the sins of those who died before his coming loosed. Otherwise, if he set free from Gehenna all those before as well, how does he say, “It shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah”? For this is said as though those too will be punished, more gently indeed, but punished nonetheless. And yet they paid the utmost penalty here as well; but nevertheless not even this will deliver them. And if not these, much less those who have suffered nothing. What then? “Were those before his coming wronged?” someone says. By no means; for it was possible then to be saved even without confessing Christ. For this was not required of them, but not to worship idols and to know the true God. “For the Lord your God,” it says, “is one Lord.” For this reason the Maccabees too were admired, because they suffered what they suffered for keeping the law, and the three children, and many others among the Jews, who displayed an excellent life and kept the measure of this knowledge, were required to do nothing more. For then it was enough for salvation, as I said before, only to know God; but now no longer, but there is need also of the knowledge of Christ. For this reason he said, “If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have sin; but now they have no excuse for their sin.” So also in conduct. Then murder destroyed the one who committed it, but now even being angry does. And then to commit adultery and to have intercourse with another’s wife brought punishment; but now even to look with unchaste eyes. For as knowledge, so also conduct has now been made stricter. So there was no need of a forerunner there. And besides, if unbelievers were going to be saved by believing after death, no one would ever perish. For all will then repent and worship. And that this is so (…): “Every tongue will confess, and every knee will bow, of things in heaven and things on earth and things under the earth”; and that “the last enemy, death, is destroyed.” But there is no profit in that submission; for it is not of a grateful choice, but, as one might say, of the necessity of the facts at last. Let us not then bring in any longer such old wives’ doctrines and Jewish fables. Hear then what Paul says about these things: “For as many as have sinned without law will also perish without law,” speaking of those in the time before the law; “and as many as have sinned under the law will be judged by the law,” speaking of all those after Moses; and, “For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men”; and, “Indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish, upon every soul of man that does evil, of the Jew first and also of the Greek.” And yet the Greeks suffered countless evils here; and this both the histories of those outside and the Scriptures among us make clear. For who could recount the tragedies of the Babylonians, or those of the Egyptians? And that those too who did not know Christ before his coming in the flesh, but withdrew from idolatry and worshiped God alone and displayed an excellent way of life, will enjoy all the good things, hear what he says: “But glory and honor and peace to everyone who works good, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.” Do you see that there are many rewards of good things for these, and punishments and penalties again for those who have done the opposite? Where then are those who disbelieve in Gehenna? For if those before Christ’s coming, who did not even hear the name of Gehenna, nor of resurrection, and were punished here, will pay the penalty there too, how much more we, who have been nurtured on so many words of wisdom? “And how is it reasonable,” someone says, “that those who heard nothing about Gehenna should fall into Gehenna?” For they will say, “If you had threatened Gehenna, we would have feared more and been sober.” Quite so! As we live now, hearing every day the words about Gehenna and paying no attention at all! And apart from these things, this too may be said, that he who is not restrained by the punishments at his feet will much less be restrained by those. For the more senseless and the grosser are usually brought to their senses by things at hand and about to happen at once more than by things that will come about long afterward. “But over us,” someone says, “a greater fear has been hung, and in this those men have been wronged.” By no means. For first, the same contests are not set before us and them, but far greater ones before us. And those who have taken on greater labors needed to enjoy greater help; and no small help is the increase of fear. And if we have the advantage over them in knowing the things to come, they too have the advantage over us in that severe punishments were brought upon them immediately. But the many say something else against these things too: “For where is the justice of God,” they say, “when someone who sins here is punished both here and there?” Do you wish then that I remind you of your own words, so that you may no longer give us trouble, but bring the solution from home? I have heard many of our people, whenever they learned that a murderer had been beheaded in court, being vexed and saying these words: “This foul and accursed man, who dared thirty murders, or even many more, himself endured only one death; and where is the justice?” So you yourselves confess that one death is not enough for punishment. How then do you now vote the contrary? Because you are judging not others but yourselves. So great a hindrance does self-love become to seeing what is just. For this reason, when we judge others, we examine everything with exactness; but when we judge ourselves, we are blinded. Since if we examined these things in our own case too, as in that of the others, we would give an impartial vote. For we too have sins worthy not of two and three deaths, but of countless ones. And to pass over the other things, let us consider ourselves, as many as partake of the mysteries unworthily; and such are guilty of the body and the blood of Christ. So when you speak of the murderer, reckon yourself too. For he killed a man, but you are answerable for the slaughter of the Master; and he did so without partaking of the mysteries, but we while enjoying the sacred table. And what (…) of us who bite and devour our brothers and shed much venom? And what of him who takes away the food of the poor? For if he who does not share is such, much more he who takes the things of others. How many robbers are the covetous worse than? How many murderers the rapacious? How many grave-robbers? And how many, after stripping, are even eager for blood? “Away with it! God forbid!” someone says. Now you say “God forbid”; when you have an enemy, say “God forbid” then, and remember what has been said, and show a life full of great exactness, so that the things of Sodom may not await us too, so that we may not suffer the things of Gomorrah, so that we may not endure the evils of Tyre and of Sidon; or rather, so that we may not offend against Christ, which is (…) of all. Even if Gehenna seems to many to be fearful, yet I will not cease crying out continually that this is more grievous and more fearful than any Gehenna, and I beseech you to be so disposed. For so we shall both be delivered from Gehenna and enjoy the glory that comes from Christ; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And as they went their way, Jesus began to say to the crowds concerning John, ‘What did you go out into the wilderness to behold? A reed shaken by the wind? But what did you go out to see? A man clothed in soft garments? Behold, those who wear soft things are in the houses of kings. But what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.’” For what concerned John’s disciples had been well managed, and they went away confirmed by the signs that had just been done; but it remained to heal what concerned the people too. For those disciples would have suspected nothing of the kind about their own teacher; but the great crowd, from the question of John’s disciples, might have suspected many absurd things, not knowing the intention with which he had sent his disciples. And it was likely that they would reason among themselves and say, “He who bore such great witness has now changed his mind, and is in doubt whether it is this man or another who is to come. Is he perhaps saying these things because he is at odds with Jesus? Has he perhaps become more timid because of the prison? Did he perhaps say the former things idly and in vain?” Since then it was likely that they would suspect many such things, see how he corrects their weakness and removes these suspicions. “For as they went their way, he began to say to the crowds.” Why “as they went their way”? So that he might not seem to flatter the man. And in correcting the people he does not bring their suspicion out into the open, but only brings in the solution of the reasonings troubling them in their minds, showing that he knew the secret thoughts of all. For he does not say, as he did to the Jews, “Why do you think evil?” For even if they had thought these things, it was not from wickedness that they reasoned so, but from ignorance of what had been said. For this reason he does not speak to them reprovingly either, but only corrects their thinking, and makes a defense on John’s behalf; and he shows that he had not fallen from his former opinion nor changed, for he is not a man easily moved and blown about, but firm and steadfast, and not such as to betray what had been entrusted to him. And in establishing these things he does not establish them at once by his own pronouncement, but first from their testimony, showing them to be witnesses of his firmness not only by what they said but also by what they did. Therefore he says, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?” As if he said, “Why did you all leave the cities and the houses and gather into the wilderness? To see some pitiable and fickle man?” But this would have no reason. For that eagerness, and all running together into the wilderness, does not show this. For so great a people and so many cities would not have poured out at that time with such great zeal into the wilderness and to the river Jordan, unless you had expected to see someone great and wonderful and firmer than a rock. “For indeed you did not go out to see a reed shaken by the wind”; for the fickle and those easily carried about, saying now these things and now those, and standing on nothing, are most like this. And see how, leaving every other vice, he sets down this one, which was most lurking in them at that time, and takes away the ground of the charge of fickleness. “But what did you go out to see? A man clothed in soft garments? Behold, those who wear soft things are in the houses of kings.” What he says is this: that he was not fickle by nature, and you showed this by your eagerness. Nor could anyone say this either, that he was firm, but afterward, having become a slave of luxury, he grew slack. For of men some are such by nature, while others become so; as, for example, one man is irascible by nature, while another, having fallen into a long illness, acquires this disease. Again, some are fickle and light by nature, while others become so from being slaves to luxury and living softly. “But John,” he says, “neither was such by nature (for you did not go out to see a reed), nor, by giving himself to luxury, did he lose the excellence he had.” For that he was not a slave to luxury his clothing shows, and the wilderness, and the prison. For if he had wished to wear soft things, he would not have dwelt in the wilderness, nor in the prison, but in the palace. For it was open to him, merely by keeping silence, to enjoy countless honors. For seeing that Herod so revered him even after he had reproved him and while he was in bonds, much more would he have flattered him if he had kept silence. How then would one who had given proof by deed of his firmness and endurance justly be suspected of such things?

Having then characterized his disposition from the place, and from the garments, and from the concourse, he next brings in the prophet too. For having said, “What did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet,” he says, “For this is he of whom it is written, ‘Behold, I send my messenger before your face, who will prepare your way before you.’” Having first set down the testimony of the Jews, he then applies that of the prophets; or rather, first he sets down the verdict of the Jews, which would be the greatest proof, when the testimony is borne by enemies; second, the life of the man; third, his own judgment; fourth, the prophet, stopping their mouths on every side. Then, so that they might not say, “What then, if he was such then, but now has changed?”, he added what came after these things too, the garments, the prison, and with these the prophecy. Then, having said that he is greater than a prophet, he shows also in what respect he is greater. In what respect then is he greater? In being near to him who had come. “For I send,” he says, “my messenger before your face,” that is, near you. For as with kings those who ride near the chariot are more illustrious than the others, so John too appears riding near the coming itself. See how he showed his preeminence from this too; and he does not stop even here, but next brings in his own verdict as well, saying, “Truly I say to you, there has not arisen among those born of women one greater than John the Baptist.” What he says is this: “No woman has borne one greater than this man.” And the pronouncement is enough; but if you wish to learn from the facts too, consider his table, his manner of life, the loftiness of his mind. For he lived as in heaven, and having risen above the necessities of nature, he traveled a strange road, spending all his time in hymns and prayers, conversing with no man, but with God alone continually. For he did not see any of his fellow servants, nor was he seen by any of them; he was not nourished with milk, he enjoyed no bed, no roof, no marketplace, nor any other human thing; and yet he was at once gentle and vehement. Hear at least how he converses with his own disciples with gentleness, how with courage with the people of the Jews, how with boldness with the king. For this reason he also said, “There has not arisen among those born of women one greater than John the Baptist.” But so that the excess of praise might not in turn give birth to some absurdity, the Jews preferring him to Christ, see how he corrects this too. For as the crowds were harmed by the very things by which the disciples were built up, thinking him fickle, so from the things by which the crowds were healed a greater harm might have come, if they took from what had been said a higher opinion of him than of Christ. Therefore he corrects this too without arousing suspicion, saying, “But he who is less is greater than he in the kingdom of heaven.” “Less” in age, and in the opinion of the many; for they called him “a glutton and a winebibber,” and, “Is not this the carpenter’s son?”, and everywhere they made light of him. “What then?” someone says. “Was he greater by comparison with John?” Away with it! For neither does John speak by way of comparison when he says, “He is mightier than I”; nor does Paul write by way of comparison when, mentioning Moses, he writes, “For this man has been counted worthy of more glory than Moses.” And he himself, when he says, “Behold, something greater than Solomon is here,” does not speak by way of comparison. And even if we were to grant that this was said by him by way of comparison, it was done by way of accommodation, because of the weakness of the hearers. For people were then exceedingly gaping after him; and the prison and his boldness toward the king had made him more illustrious; and it was much if this much were accepted by the many for the time. For the old covenant too knows how to correct thus the souls of those led astray, setting incomparable things side by side by way of comparison, as when it says, “There is none like you among the gods, O Lord,” and again, “There is no god like our God.” But some say that Christ said this about the apostles, and others about angels. For when some turn aside from the truth, they are accustomed to wander far. For what sequence would there be in speaking either about angels or about apostles? And besides, if he were speaking about the apostles, what prevented him from bringing them forward by name? But speaking about himself, he naturally conceals the person, because of the suspicion still prevailing, and so as not to seem to say something great about himself; for he is seen doing this in many places. And what is “in the kingdom of heaven”? Among the spiritual beings and all those in heaven. And the saying, “There has not arisen among those born of women one greater than John,” was that of one who was distinguishing John from himself, and so excepting himself.

For even if he himself was born of a woman, yet not as John was; for he was not a mere man, nor was he born like a man, but by a strange and wonderful birth. “And from the days of John the Baptist,” he says, “until now, the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent seize it.” And what connection does this have with what was said before? A great one, and very much in harmony. For by this too he presses and urges them on toward faith in himself, and at the same time supports what had been said before by John. For if all things have been fulfilled up to John, “I am he who comes.” “For all the prophets and the law,” he says, “prophesied until John.” “For the prophets would not have ceased unless I had come. Do not then look for anything further, nor wait for another. For that I am he is clear both from the prophets’ having ceased, and from those who every day seize the faith in me. For it is so manifest and clear that many seize it.” And who seized it? Tell me. All who come to it with zeal. Then he sets down another proof too, saying, “If you are willing to receive it, this is Elijah who is to come.” “For I will send you,” it says, “Elijah the Tishbite, who will turn the heart of the father to the children.” “This man then is Elijah,” he says, “if you attend with exactness.” For “I will send,” it says, “my messenger before your face.” And he said well, “If you are willing to receive it,” showing that there is no compulsion: “For I do not force you.” And he said this, requiring a fair-minded disposition, and showing that this man is that one, and that one is this man. For both undertook one ministry, and both have been forerunners. Therefore he did not simply say, “This is Elijah,” but, “If you are willing to receive it, this is he,” that is, if you attend to what is happening with a fair-minded disposition. And he did not stop even here, but added, showing that there is need of understanding, to “This is Elijah who is to come,” the words, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” And he set down so many riddles, rousing them to ask questions. And if not even so were they awakened, much less if the things had been plain and clear. For neither could anyone say this, that they did not dare to ask and that he was hard of access. For those who asked him and tested him about chance matters, and who were silenced countless times and did not desist, how would they not have inquired and asked about necessary things, if indeed they had desired to learn them? For if they asked about matters of the law, “Which commandment is first?”, and such things, though there was no necessity for him to speak of these, how would they not have examined the meaning of what he himself said, for which he was more answerable to give answers, and especially when he himself was urging and drawing them to this? For by saying, “The violent seize it,” he rouses them to eagerness; and by saying, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear,” he does this same thing. “But to what shall I liken this generation?” he says. “It is like children sitting in the marketplace and saying, ‘We piped to you, and you did not dance; we mourned to you, and you did not lament.’” Again these things seem to be detached from what went before, but they follow very closely on them. For he still holds to the same main point, of showing that John acts in harmony with him, even if the things done were opposite, as also in the case of the question; and he shows that nothing that ought to have been done for their salvation was left undone; as the prophet says of the vineyard, “What ought I to have done to this vineyard, and have not done?” “For to what,” he says, “shall I liken this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplace and saying, ‘We piped to you, and you did not dance; we mourned to you, and you did not lament.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Behold, a man who is a glutton and a winebibber, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’” What he says is this: “We came each by an opposite way, I and John, and we did the same thing; as if some hunters, when a beast hard to catch was going to fall into the nets by two ways, each took one of the two ways and drove it, standing opposite the other, so that it must fall into one or the other.” Consider at least the whole human race, how it is struck with wonder at fasting and at this hard and philosophic life. For this reason it was so arranged that John was reared thus from his earliest age, so that by this too the things said by him might become trustworthy. “And for what reason,” someone says, “did he himself not choose this way?” Indeed he himself came by this way too, when he fasted the forty days, and went about teaching and not having where to lay his head; but nevertheless he also brought about this same thing in another way, and secured the gain from that. For to be witnessed to by one who came by this way was the same as his coming by it himself, or even far greater. And besides, John showed nothing more than his life and conduct, “for John,” it says, “did no sign”; but he himself had the testimony from signs and from wonders as well. Leaving John, then, to shine from his fasting, he himself came by the opposite way, both going into the tables of tax collectors and eating and drinking.

Let us ask the Jews, then: Is fasting good and wonderful? Then you ought to have obeyed John, and received him, and believed what was said by him. For so those words would have brought you to Jesus. But is fasting burdensome and grievous? Then you ought to have obeyed Jesus, and believed him, who came by the opposite way. For by either way you would have fallen into the kingdom. But like an intractable beast they found fault with both. The charge, then, belongs not to those who were not believed, but the accusation is against those who did not believe. For no one would ever choose to find fault with opposite things, just as no one would praise them either. What I mean is this: he who approves the cheerful and relaxed man will not approve the gloomy and severe one; he who praises the gloomy man will not praise the cheerful one. For it is impossible to cast both this vote and that. For this reason he himself says, “We piped to you, and you did not dance,” that is, “I showed the relaxed life, and you were not persuaded”; and, “We mourned, and you did not lament,” that is, “John followed the hard and severe life, and you paid no attention.” And he does not say, “He followed this, and I that,” but since the purpose of both was one, even if their practices were opposite, for this reason he says that what was done is common to both. For indeed the coming by the opposite way came from an intense agreement looking to one end. What defense then could you have any longer? For this reason he also added, “And wisdom is justified by her children”; that is, “Even if you were not persuaded, you can no longer accuse me.” Which the prophet says about the Father: “That you may be justified in your words.” For God, even if he accomplishes nothing more by his care for us, fulfills everything on his part, so as to leave to those who wish to be shameless not even a shadow of ungrateful doubt. And if the illustrations are common and of low sound, do not wonder; for he was speaking to the weakness of the hearers. For Ezekiel too tells them many illustrations suited to them, and unworthy of the majesty of God. But this too above all is worthy of his care. And see them carried about from another side into contrary opinions. For having said of John that he has a demon, they did not stop there, but of him, who chose the opposite way, they said this same thing again; so were they always carried about into conflicting opinions. And Luke sets down besides these another, greater accusation against them, saying, “For the tax collectors justified God, having received the baptism of John.” Then at last he reproaches the cities, when wisdom had been justified, when he had shown that all had been fulfilled. For since he did not persuade them, he now bewails them, which is more than to make them afraid. For he had displayed both the teaching of words and the wonder-working of signs. But since they remained in their disobedience, he now reproaches them. “Then,” it says, “Jesus began to reproach the cities in which most of his mighty works were done, because they did not repent, saying, ‘Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!’” Then, so that you may learn that they were not such by nature, he also sets down the name of the city from which five apostles came; for both Philip and those two pairs of the leaders were from there. “For if,” he says, “the mighty works done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented in sackcloth and ashes. But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon in the day of judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, who are exalted to heaven, will be brought down to Hades; for if the mighty works done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I tell you that it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment than for you.” And he does not add Sodom to them simply, but to increase the accusation. For it is the greatest proof of wickedness when they appear worse not only than the wicked of their own time but than any that have ever been. So he makes a comparison elsewhere too, condemning them by the Ninevites and by the queen of the south; but there by those who had done well, while here by those who had sinned too, which was far heavier. Ezekiel too knows this law of condemnation; and therefore he said to Jerusalem, “You have justified your sisters in all your sins.” So everywhere he is accustomed to linger fondly in the old covenant. And he does not stop the discourse even here, but intensifies the fear too, saying that they will suffer things more grievous than the people of Sodom and of Tyre, so as to lead them on from every side, both by bewailing them and by making them afraid.

Let us too hear these things. For not to the unbelievers only, but to us also he has appointed a punishment more grievous than that of the people of Sodom, if we do not receive the strangers who come in to us, when he also commanded them to shake off the dust; and with good reason. For they, even if they sinned lawlessly, yet did so before the law and grace; but we, after so much care, of what pardon would we be worthy, displaying such hatred of strangers, and shutting the doors against those in need, and before the doors our ears? Or rather, not against the poor only, but against the apostles themselves? For it is for this reason that we shut them against the poor, because we shut them against the apostles too. For when Paul is being read and you do not attend, when John is preaching and you do not hear, when will you receive a poor man, not receiving an apostle? So that, then, our houses may be continually open to these and our ears to those, let us cleanse the filth from the ears of the soul. For as filth and mud stop up the ears of the flesh, so harlots’ songs and worldly tales and debts and talk of interest and loans stop up the hearing of the mind more grievously than any filth; or rather, they not only stop it up, but also make it unclean. For those who tell these things put dung into your ears. And what the barbarian threatened, saying, “You will eat your own dung,” and what follows, this these men make you endure, not in word but in deeds; or rather, something far more grievous. For those songs are more loathsome even than these things; and what is worse, you not only do not think yourselves annoyed when hearing them, but even laugh, when you ought to loathe and flee them. And if they are not loathsome, go down onto the stage, imitate what you praise; or rather, just walk in company with the man who moves that laughter. But you would not endure it. Why then do you assign him so much honor? And the laws written by the Greeks wish them to be without civic rights; but you receive them with the whole city, as if they were ambassadors and generals, and call everyone together to receive dung into their ears. And the servant who utters something shameful in your hearing will receive countless lashes; and if a son, or a wife, or anyone at all does this very thing, you call the thing an outrage; but if men who deserve the whip, worth three obols, invite you to hear shameful words, you not only are not indignant, but even rejoice and praise them. And what could equal this folly? “But I myself do not utter these shameful things.” And what is the gain? Or rather, how is even this clear? For if you did not utter them, you would not laugh on hearing them, nor would you have run with such eagerness to the voice that puts you to shame. For tell me, do you rejoice in hearing people blaspheme? Do you not rather shudder and stop up your ears? I think so. Why? Because you yourself do not blaspheme. Do so also with shameful talk; and if you wish to show us clearly that you do not delight in uttering shameful things, do not even endure hearing them. For when will you be able to become earnest, nurtured on such things heard? When will you endure to bear the sweat of labor for chastity, gradually slipping away through the laughter and the songs and these shameful words? For it is a great thing if a soul pure of all these things can become modest and chaste, let alone one nurtured on such things heard. Or do you not know that we incline more readily to vice? When then we make it even an art and a business, when shall we escape that furnace? Did you not hear what Paul says, “Rejoice in the Lord”? He did not say, “in the devil.”

When then will you be able to hear Paul? When will you gain a sense of your offenses, being always and continually drunk from that spectacle? For that you have come here is nothing wonderful or great; or rather, it is wonderful. For here you come simply and as a matter of form; but there with eagerness and running and much zeal. And it is clear from what you carry home when you come back from there. For all the mire poured out on you there through the words, through the songs, through the laughter, you each gather up and carry into your house; or rather, not into the house only, but each into his own mind. And things not worthy of loathing you turn away from, but loathsome things you not only do not hate, but even love. Many at least, coming back from tombs, have washed themselves; but coming away from theaters they have not groaned, nor shed fountains of tears; and yet the dead body is not unclean, but sin puts so great a stain on us that not even countless fountains can cleanse it, but only tears and confessions. But no one is aware of this stain. For since we do not fear what we ought, for this reason we dread what we ought not. And what is the clapping? What the din, and the satanic shouts, and the devilish postures? For one, being young, wears his hair long behind, and making his nature womanish, strives in look and gesture and dress and simply in everything to pass into the likeness of a tender girl. And another, grown old, contrariwise, having shaved off his hair with a razor, and girded about the loins, cutting off shame before his hair, stands ready to be slapped, prepared to say and do anything. And the women, with bare head, practise shamelessness, and pour out every boldness and licentiousness into the souls of the hearers. And there is one aim: to tear up all chastity from its foundations, to put nature to shame, to fill up the desire of the evil demon. For there are shameful words there, and more shameful postures, and haircut and gait and dress and voice of the same kind, and bending of limbs, and rolling of eyes, and pipes and flutes and plays and plots, and simply everything full of the utmost licentiousness. When then will you become sober, tell me, when the devil pours you so much unmixed wine of sexual immorality and mixes so many cups of licentiousness? For there are adulteries there, and thefts of marriages, and women playing the harlot, men prostituted, young men made effeminate; all things full of lawlessness, all of monstrousness, all of shame. Those who sit there, then, ought not to laugh at these things, but to weep and groan bitterly. “What then?” someone says. “Shall we shut up the stage, and shall everything be overturned by your word?” Indeed, now everything has been overturned. For from where, tell me, come those who plot against marriages? Is it not from this stage? From where come those who break into bedchambers? Is it not from that stage? Is it not from there that husbands are burdensome to their wives? Is it not from there that wives are contemptible to their husbands? Is it not from there that most are adulterers? So it is the one who goes to the theater who overturns everything, the one who brings in a grievous tyranny. “No,” someone says, “this is the decree of the good order of the laws.” But to tear wives apart, and to outrage young boys, and to overturn houses, is the work of those who have seized citadels. “And who,” he says, “has become an adulterer from these spectacles?” Who indeed is not an adulterer? And if it were possible now to name them by name, I would have shown how many husbands they have split off from their wives, how many those harlots have taken captive, raising some from the very marriage bed and not allowing others even to enter upon marriage at all. “What then? Tell me, shall we overturn all the laws?” Rather, it is lawlessness that one overturns by doing away with these theaters. For those who are the ruin of cities come from these; from here at least come seditions and riots. For those who are maintained by the dancers, and who sell their own voice for their belly, whose business it is to shout and do every absurd thing, these above all are the ones who fan the peoples into flame, who cause the riots in the cities. For youth, having taken hold of idleness and being nurtured on such great evils, becomes fiercer than any wild beast.

For the sorcerers, tell me, where do they come from? Is it not from there, so that they may excite a people idly at leisure, and make the dancers enjoy much applause, and set up the prostituted women as a fortress against the chaste, coming to such a pitch of magic arts as not even to shrink from disturbing the bones of the departed? Is it not from there, when they are compelled to spend countless sums on that evil chorus of the devil? And licentiousness, where does it come from, and the countless evils? Do you see that it is you who overturn life by dragging men to these things, while I hold it together by doing away with them? “Let us pull down the stage, then,” someone says. Would that it were possible to pull it down! Or rather, if you are willing, as far as our part goes it is pulled down and razed. But I command none of these things. Make what stands of no effect, which is a greater praise than pulling it down. If no others, at least imitate the barbarians; for they are pure of every such spectacle. What defense then shall we have any longer, when we, the citizens of heaven, who join the dance of the Cherubim and share with the angels, become worse even than the barbarians in this, and that when it is possible to find countless other delights better than these? For if you wish to be entertained, go to the gardens, to a river flowing by and lakes (…) of the martyrs, where there is health of body and profit of soul, and no harm, nor regret after the pleasure, as there is here. You have a wife, you have children: what equals this pleasure? You have a house, you have friends: these are the delightful things, which together with chastity bring great gain as well. For what is sweeter than children, tell me? And what than a wife, to one who wishes to be chaste? The barbarians, at any rate, are said once to have spoken a saying full of wisdom. For hearing about these lawless theaters and their unseasonable delight, they said, “The Romans devised such pleasures as though they had no children and wives,” showing that nothing is sweeter than children and a wife, if you wish to live honorably. “What then,” someone says, “if I show people who have suffered no harm from spending time there?” Indeed, this itself is a harm, to spend the time idly and in vain, and to become a stumbling block to others. For even if you are not harmed, you make another more eager for this. And how will you yourself not be harmed, furnishing occasions for what goes on? For the sorcerer, and the prostituted boy, and the prostituted woman, and all those devilish choruses bring the blame for what is done upon your head. For as, if there were no spectators, there would be none who pursue these things, so, since there are, they too share in the fire of what is done. So even if you were harmed in nothing as regards chastity, which is impossible, yet you will give a grievous account for the destruction of others, both of the spectators and of those who bring them together. And as regards chastity too you would have gained more if you had not gone there. For even if you are chaste now, you would have become more chaste by fleeing such spectacles. Let us not then contend about superfluous things, nor devise useless defenses. For there is one defense: to flee the Babylonian furnace, to get far from the Egyptian harlot, even if one must escape her hands naked. For so we shall both enjoy much pleasure, our conscience not accusing us, and live the present life with chastity, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“At that time Jesus answered and said, ‘I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent, and have revealed them to babes. Yes, Father, for so it was well-pleasing before you.’” See by how many means he leads them to faith. First, by the praises of John. For having shown him great and wonderful, he made all his words trustworthy too, by which he was drawing them to the knowledge of himself. Second, by saying, “The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent seize it”; for this is the language of one urging and pressing. Third, by showing that all the prophets had been completed; for this too showed that he was the one foretold through them. Fourth, by showing that all that needed to be done by him had been done, when he also recalled the parable of the children. Fifth, by reproaching those who did not believe, and making them afraid and threatening great things. Sixth, by giving thanks for those who believed. For “I confess to you” here is “I give thanks”: “I give thanks,” he says, “that you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent.” What then? Does he rejoice at destruction, and at their not learning these things? By no means; but this is the best way of salvation, not to force those who spurn and are unwilling to receive what is said; so that, since by being called they did not become better, but fell back and despised it, by being cast out they might fall into a desire for these things. For so those who paid attention were also going to become more earnest. For that these things were revealed to these is worthy of joy; but that they were hidden from those is no longer worthy of joy, but of tears. This at any rate he does, weeping over the city. He does not then rejoice for this, but because what the wise did not know, these knew; as when Paul says, “I give thanks to God that you were slaves of sin, but you obeyed from the heart the form of teaching to which you were delivered.” So neither does Paul rejoice for this, that they were slaves of sin, but that, being such, they enjoyed such things. And by “the wise” he here means the scribes and the Pharisees. And he says these things to make the disciples more eager, and to show of what the fishermen were counted worthy, from which all those had fallen. And in saying “wise,” he does not mean the true and praiseworthy wisdom, but that which they thought they had from cleverness (for this reason he did not say, “You have revealed them to fools,” but “to babes,” that is, unaffected and simple); and he shows that not only did those men not enjoy these things undeservedly, but also reasonably; and he teaches us through all things to be rid of senseless pride and to emulate simplicity. For this reason Paul too said it with greater intensity, writing thus: “If anyone among you thinks he is wise in this age, let him become a fool, that he may become wise.” For so the grace of God is shown. And why does he give thanks to the Father, though he himself did it? As he prays and makes intercession with God, showing the great love he has for us, so he does this too; for this too is a mark of great love. And he shows that they fell away not only from him but also from the Father. For what he said to the disciples, saying, “Do not cast holy things to the dogs,” this he himself did first. Then he shows from these things both his own primary will and that of the Father: his own by giving thanks and rejoicing at what had happened; and the Father’s by showing that he too did not do this on being entreated, but moved of himself: “For so,” he says, “it was well-pleasing before you,” that is, so it pleased you. And why was it hidden from them? Hear Paul saying, “Seeking to establish their own righteousness, they did not submit to the righteousness of God.” Consider then what the disciples were likely to feel on hearing these things: that what the wise did not know, these knew, and knew while remaining babes, and knew because God revealed it. And Luke says that in that very hour, when the seventy came reporting about the demons, he then rejoiced and said these things, which, besides making them more earnest, also prepared them to be modest. For since it was likely that they would think highly of themselves for driving out the demons, by this too he restrains them. For what took place was a revelation, not their own achievement.

Therefore the scribes and the wise, thinking themselves prudent in their own eyes, fell away through their own pride. If then it was hidden from them for this reason, “Fear,” he says, “you too, and remain babes. For this made you enjoy the revelation, just as the contrary made them be deprived of it.” For when he says, “You have hidden,” he does not say that the whole is God’s doing; but as when Paul says that he “gave them up to a reprobate mind,” and “blinded their thoughts,” he says this not bringing God in as the agent of these things, but those who furnish the cause; so here too he says, “You have hidden.” For since he said, “I confess to you that you have hidden, and have revealed them to babes,” so that you might not think that he gives thanks in this way as though he himself were deprived of this power and unable to accomplish it, he says, “All things have been delivered to me by my Father.” And to those who rejoiced that the demons obey them, “Why do you wonder,” he says, “that demons yield to you? All things are mine; all things have been delivered to me.” And when you hear “have been delivered,” suspect nothing human; for it is so that you may not think there are two unbegotten Gods that he sets down this word. For that he was at once begotten and Master of all, he shows from many places elsewhere. Then he says something greater still, setting your mind right: “And no one knows the Son except the Father; nor does anyone know the Father except the Son.” And to those who do not understand it seems to be detached from what went before, but it has much agreement with it. For since he had said, “All things have been delivered to me by my Father,” he adds, “And what wonder is it,” he says, “if I am Master of all, when I have something else greater too, to know the Father, and to be of the same essence?” For this too he shows covertly, from his alone knowing him so. For when he says, “No one knows the Father except the Son,” this is what he means. And see when he says these things: when they had received the proof of his power through his works, not only seeing him working wonders, but also being able to do so much in his name. Then, since he had said, “You have revealed them to babes,” he shows that this too is his own: “For no one knows the Father,” he says, “except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son wills to reveal him”; not to whom he is ordered, nor to whom he is commanded. And if he reveals him, he reveals himself too. But this he left as agreed, while that he set down. And everywhere he says this, as when he says, “No one can come to the Father except through me.” And by these things he establishes another point too, that he is in harmony and of one mind with him. “For I am so far,” he says, “from fighting and warring against him, that it is not even possible for anyone to come to him except through me.” For since this above all offended them, that he seemed to be opposed to God, he removes this by every means, and was no less earnest about this than about the signs, but even much more. And when he says, “Nor does anyone know the Father except the Son,” he does not say this, that all were ignorant of him, but that with the knowledge with which he knows him no one knows him; which may be said about the Son too. For he was not saying these things about some unknown God who had become known to no one, as Marcion says, but hinting here at exact knowledge; since we do not know even the Son as one ought to know him; and Paul too, making this very thing clear, said, “We know in part, and we prophesy in part.” Then, having brought them through what had been said into a desire for him, and having shown his unspeakable power, he then calls them, saying, “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Not this one and that one, but all who are in cares, who are in griefs, who are in sins. “Come, not that I may demand an account, but that I may loose your sins; come, not because I need your glory, but because I desire your salvation. For I,” he says, “will give you rest.” He did not say, “I will save you” only, but, what was far more, “I will set you in complete security.” “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is kind, and my burden is light.” “For do not be afraid,” he says, “on hearing ‘yoke,’ for it is kind; do not fear because I said ‘burden,’ for it is light.” And how did he say before, “Narrow is the gate and constricted the way”? When you are careless, when you are lax; whereas if you accomplish what has been said, the burden will be light; therefore now too he called it such. And how is it accomplished? If you become lowly and meek and gentle. For this virtue is the mother of all philosophy. Therefore too, when beginning those divine laws, he began from here. And here again he does this same thing, and sets down the greatest prize. “For you do not become useful to another only, but you give rest to yourself before all,” he says. “For you will find rest for your souls.” And before the things to come he gives you the recompense from here, and already bestows the prize; and by this, and by setting himself forward as an example, he makes his word easy to receive. “For what do you fear?” he says. “That you will be diminished by being lowly? Look at me and all that is mine; learn from me, and then you will know clearly how great the good is.” Do you see how by every means he leads them to humility? By what he himself did: “For learn from me, for I am meek”; by what they themselves were going to gain: “For you will find,” he says, “rest for your souls”; by what he bestows on them: “For I too,” he says, “will give you rest”; by having made it light: “For my yoke is kind, and my burden is light.” So Paul too does, saying, “For the momentary lightness of our affliction works for us beyond all measure an eternal weight of glory.” “And how is the burden light,” someone says, “when he says, ‘Unless one hates father and mother,’ and, ‘He who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me,’ and, ‘He who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple,’ when he commands us to give up even life itself?” Let Paul teach you, saying, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” and that “the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Let those teach you who returned from the council of the Jews after countless stripes, and rejoiced that they had been counted worthy to be dishonored for the name of Christ. And if you still fear and shudder on hearing of the yoke and the burden, the fear comes not from the nature of the thing but from your own carelessness; since if you are prepared and have eagerness, all things will be easy and light for you. For this reason Christ too, showing that we ourselves must also toil, did not mention the kind things only and keep silence about the others, nor the burdensome things only, but set down both. For he said “yoke,” and called it kind; and he named a “burden,” and added “light”; so that you might neither flee them as laborious nor despise them as too easy. And if after all these things virtue still seems difficult to you, consider that vice is more difficult. And hinting at this very thing, he did not say first, “Take my yoke,” but first, “Come, you who labor and are heavy laden,” showing that sin too has labor, and a heavy and hard-to-bear burden. For he did not say only “you who labor,” but also “heavy laden.” This the prophet too said, describing its nature: “Like a heavy burden they have weighed heavy upon me.” And Zechariah, describing it, says that it is a talent of lead. And experience itself shows this. For nothing so weighs down the soul [nothing so maims the mind] and presses it down as a conscience of sin; nothing so gives it wings and lifts it on high as the possession of righteousness and virtue. And consider. What is more burdensome, tell me, than to possess nothing? Than to turn the cheek, and when struck not to strike back? Than to die a violent death? But nevertheless, if we live wisely, all these things are light and easy and productive of pleasure. But do not be disturbed; rather let us take each of them in hand and examine it with exactness, and, if you wish, first the one that seems to many to be laborious. Which is heavy and burdensome, tell me: to care for one belly, or to take thought for countless things? To be clothed in one garment and seek nothing more, or, having many things within, to be distressed every day and night, fearing, trembling over their safekeeping, grieving and choked over their loss, lest it become moth-eaten, lest a servant steal it and go away? But whatever I say, the word will not set the matter forth as experience of the facts does. Therefore I could wish that one of those who have reached that summit of philosophy were present with us; and then you would see clearly the pleasure of the thing, and how none of those lovers of having nothing would accept it, though countless people offered to make them rich. “But would these rich,” someone says, “ever have consented to become poor and to throw off the cares they have?” And what of this? This is a sign of their folly and of their grievous disease, not of the thing’s being most pleasant.

And they themselves would bear witness to this for us, those who every day lament over these cares and think life unlivable. But those others are not so; rather they laugh, they leap, and pride themselves on their poverty more than those who wear the diadem. Again, to turn the cheek is lighter than to strike another, for one who pays attention; for in the one case the war takes its beginning, in the other its end; and by the one you kindled the other’s pyre too, by the other you also quenched your own flame. And that not to be burned is pleasanter than to be burned is clear to everyone. And if this is so with bodies, much more with the soul. And which is lighter, to contend or to be crowned? To box, or to have the prize? To endure the waves, or to put into harbor? Therefore to die is better than to live. For the one brings us out of the storms and dangers, while the other adds to them, and makes us liable to countless plots and necessities, because of which you thought life unlivable. And if you disbelieve what is said, hear those who have seen the faces of the martyrs at the time of their contests, how when scourged and torn they were full of joy and radiant, and laid on frying pans they rejoiced and were glad more than those reclining on a bed of roses. Therefore Paul too said, when he was about to depart from here and to end his life by a violent death, “I rejoice and rejoice with you all; and do you likewise rejoice and rejoice with me.” Do you see with what intensity he calls the whole world to share in the gladness? So great a good did he know the departure from here to be; so desirable that death so fearful, and lovely, and worthy of prayer. But that the yoke of virtue is sweet and light is clear from many other places too; and now, if it seems good, let us look also at the burdens of sin. Let us bring forward, then, the covetous, the hucksters and the retailers of shameless contracts. What then could be more burdensome than such business? How many griefs, how many cares, how many collisions, how many dangers, how many plots and wars spring up every day from these gains? How many tumults and troubles? For as it is not possible ever to see the sea without waves, so neither such a soul without care and despondency and fear and trouble; but the second overtake the first, and again others come upon them, and before these have ceased others rise to a crest. But do you wish to see the souls of the revilers and the hot-tempered? And what is worse than this torment? What worse than the wounds they have within? What worse than the furnace that burns continually and the flame that is never quenched? But the souls of the lovers of the body and of those wasting away for the present life? And what is more grievous than this slavery? They live the life of Cain, living with continual trembling and fear, (…) lamenting their own death. And what is more turbulent and more frantic than the puffed up? “For learn from me,” he says, “for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” For forbearance is the mother of all good things. Do not then fear, nor leap away from the yoke that lightens you of all these things, but come under it with all eagerness, and then you will know clearly its pleasure. For it does not chafe your neck, but is laid on you only for good order’s sake, and to persuade you to walk with good rhythm, and to lead you to the royal road, and to deliver you from the precipices on either side, and to make you walk the narrow road with ease. Since then its good things are so great, so great its safety, so great its gladness, with all our soul, with all our zeal let us draw this yoke, so that here too we may find rest for our souls, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“At that time Jesus went on the sabbath through the grainfields; and his disciples were hungry, and began to pluck heads of grain and to eat.” And Luke says, “On the second-first sabbath.” And what is “second-first”? When the rest is double, both of the Lord’s sabbath and of another feast following on it; for they call every rest a sabbath. And why ever did he who foreknew all things lead them there, unless he wished the sabbath to be broken? He wished it, but not simply; therefore he never breaks it without a cause, but gives reasonable occasions, so that he might both put the law to rest and not offend them. But there are times when he breaks it as a primary purpose, not on account of circumstances, as when he anoints the eyes of the blind man with the clay, as when he says, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” And he does these things, by the one glorifying his own Father, by the other comforting the weakness of the Jews. Which he brings about here too, putting forward the necessity of nature; and yet in the case of acknowledged sins there could never be a defense. For neither could the murderer put forward his anger, nor the adulterer his desire, nor indeed state any other cause at all; but here, by mentioning their hunger, he freed them from every charge. But do you admire the disciples, so restrained and taking no account of bodily things, but treating the table of the flesh as a by-work, and fighting continual hunger, and not even so withdrawing. For unless hunger had compelled them exceedingly, they would not have done even this. What then do the Pharisees do? “When they saw it,” it says, “they said to him, ‘Behold, your disciples are doing what is not lawful to do on the sabbath.’” Here they are not very vehement (though this would have been consistent), but nevertheless they are not much provoked, but simply accuse. But when he stretched out and restored the withered hand, then they became so savage as even to take counsel about his slaughter and destruction. For where nothing great and noble is done, they are quiet; but where they see some people being saved, they grow wild and are troubled and are more troublesome than all; so much are they enemies of men’s salvation. How then does Jesus defend them? “Have you not read,” he says, “what David did in the temple, when he was hungry, he and all those with him? How he entered into the house of God and ate the loaves of the presentation, which it was not lawful for him to eat, nor for those with him, but only for the priests?” For when he defends the disciples he brings David forward; but when he defends himself, the Father. And see how reprovingly he speaks: “Have you not read what David did?” For great was the prophet’s glory, so that Peter too afterward, making his defense before the Jews, spoke thus: “It is permitted to speak freely to you about the patriarch David, that he both died and was buried.” And why does he not call him by his title, either here or afterward? Perhaps because he himself traced his descent from him. If then they had been at all forgiving, he would have brought the discourse to the suffering of hunger; but since they were vile and inhuman, he also reads them a history. And Mark says, “in the time of Abiathar the high priest,” not saying what is contrary to the history, but showing that he had two names; and he adds that he gave it to him, showing by this too that the defense is great, seeing that even the priest permitted it; and not only permitted, but also served him. For do not tell me that David was a prophet; for not even so was it lawful, but it was the privilege of the priests; therefore he also added, “but only for the priests.” For even if he were ten thousand times a prophet, yet he was not a priest; and even if he was a prophet, yet those with him were not; for he gave to those too. “What then?” someone says. “Are these equal to David?” Why do you speak to me of rank, when there seems to be a transgression of the law, even though it is a necessity of nature? For in this way he rather freed them from the charges, when the greater is seen to have done the same thing.

“And what is this to the question?” someone says. “For he did not transgress the sabbath.” You tell me the greater point, and what above all shows the wisdom of Christ, that leaving the sabbath aside he brings an example greater than the sabbath. For it is not equal to transgress a day, and to touch that sacred table which it was lawful for no one to touch. For the sabbath has been broken many times, or rather it is always broken, both in circumcision and in many other works; and one may see the same thing done at Jericho too; but this was done then only. So the victory is from the greater. How then did no one accuse David, although there was another charge greater than this too, that of the murder of the priests, which took its beginning from this? But he does not set this down; for he keeps to the matter in hand only. Then again he resolves it in another way too. For at the beginning he brought forward David, restraining their folly by the dignity of the person; but when he had stopped their mouths and brought down their arrogance, he then brings in the more decisive solution. And what was this? “Do you not know that in the temple the priests profane the sabbath, and are guiltless?” “For there,” he says, “circumstances caused the breaking; but here the breaking is even without circumstances.” But he did not resolve it in this way at once, but first by way of pardon, then by way of objection. For the stronger argument had to be brought in afterward, though the former too had its own force. For do not tell me that it is not freedom from a charge to bring forward another who commits the same sin. For when the one who did it is not accused, what was ventured becomes a law of defense. However, he was not content with this, but brings in the more decisive point too, saying that what was done is not even a sin; which was above all a mark of brilliant victory, to show the law dissolving itself, and doing this twice over, both from the place and from the sabbath; or rather three times over, in that the work was done twice over, and besides this another thing, that of the priests; and, what is greater, that it is not even a charge: “For they are guiltless,” he says. Do you see how many things he has set down? The place: for he says, “in the temple”; the person: for “the priests”; the time: for he says, “the sabbath”; the act itself: for “they profane”; for he did not say, “they break,” but the harsher word, “they profane”; that they not only do not pay a penalty, but are even free from blame: “For they are guiltless.” Do not then

think,” he says, “that this is like the former case. For that happened once, and not by a priest, and from necessity; therefore they were worthy of pardon; but this happens every sabbath, and by priests, and in the temple, and according to the law. Therefore they are freed from the charges not by way of pardon, but according to the law. For I did not say these things accusing,” he says, “nor freeing them from blame by way of pardon, but according to the principle of justice.” And he seems to be defending those, but he frees these from the charges. For when he says, “Those are guiltless,” “much more these,” he says. “But they are not priests.” But they are greater than priests. For the very Lord of the temple is present here, the truth, not the type. Therefore he also said, “But I say to you that something greater than the temple is here.” But nevertheless, though they heard such great things, they said nothing; for the salvation of men was not their aim. Then, since it seemed heavy to the hearers, he quickly veiled it, again bringing the discourse round to pardon, and that with a rebuke too, speaking thus: “But if you had known what this means, ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the guiltless.” Do you see how he again brings the discourse round to pardon, and again shows them to be above pardon? “For you would not have condemned,” he says, “the guiltless.” The former point he drew from the case of the priests, saying, “They are guiltless”; this he sets down of himself, or rather this too from the law; for he read out a prophetic saying. Then he states another cause too: “For the Son of Man,” he says, “is Lord of the sabbath,” speaking of himself. But Mark says that he said this about our common nature too; for he said, “The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.” For what reason then was the man gathering wood punished? Because if the laws were going to be despised even at the beginning, they would hardly have been kept afterward. For the sabbath was of much benefit, and of great benefit, at the beginning; for example, it made them gentle toward those of their household, and taught them God’s providence and his work of creation, as Ezekiel says; it trained them little by little to abstain from wickedness, and prepared them to attend to spiritual things. For since, in giving the law of the sabbath, if he had said, “Do good things on the sabbath, and do not do evil things,” they would not have endured it, he restrained them from all things alike: “For you shall do nothing”; and not even so were they held back. But he himself, in giving the law of the sabbath, hinted even so that he wishes them to abstain from evil things only: “For you shall do nothing,” he says, “except what shall be done for the soul.” And in the temple everything was done, and with greater zeal and twice the labor. So by the very shadow he was opening the truth to them. “Did Christ then abolish so great a gain?” someone says. God forbid! Rather he greatly heightened it. For it was time for them to be trained in all things through loftier things, and there was no need for the hands of one freed from wickedness and winged for all good things to be bound; nor to learn from this that God made all things; nor from this to be gentle, for those called to the very imitation of God’s love for humanity (“For be merciful,” he says, “as your heavenly Father”); nor to keep feast one day, for those commanded to keep feast all their life (“For let us keep the feast,” he says, “not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth”); nor to stand beside an ark and a golden altar, for those who have the Master of all himself dwelling within them, and converse with him through all things, through prayer, and through the offering, and through the Scriptures, and through almsgiving, and through having him within. What need then of a sabbath for one who keeps feast continually, whose citizenship is in heaven? Let us then keep feast continually, and do nothing evil; for this is a feast. But let spiritual things be heightened and earthly things give way, and let us rest with a spiritual rest, withdrawing our hands from covetousness, releasing the body from superfluous and unprofitable toils, and from those which the people of the Hebrews then endured in Egypt. For we who gather gold differ in nothing from those bound to the clay and making those bricks, and gathering straw, and being scourged. For now too the devil commands us to make bricks, as Pharaoh did then. For what else is gold but clay? And what else is silver but straw? At any rate it kindles the flame of desire like straw; like clay, so gold defiles the one who has it. For this reason he sent us not Moses from the wilderness, but his Son from heaven. If then after his coming you remain in Egypt, you will suffer the things of the Egyptians; but if, leaving it, you go up with the spiritual Israel, you will see all the wonders. However, not even this is enough for salvation. For one must not only be delivered from Egypt, but also enter into the promise. For the Jews too, as Paul says, both passed through the Red Sea, and ate manna, and drank spiritual drink, but nevertheless all perished. So that we too may not suffer the same things, let us not shrink nor draw back; but when you hear evil spies now too slandering the narrow and constricted way, and saying what those spies said then, let us not imitate the great crowd, but Joshua and Caleb the son of Jephunneh; and do not give up until you lay hold of the promise and set foot in heaven. Nor think the journey difficult. “For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God, much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved.” “But this way,” someone says, “is narrow and constricted.” But the former one, by which you passed, was not only narrow and constricted, but also impassable and full of wild beasts. And as it was not possible to cross the Red Sea unless that wonder had happened, so it was not possible for those remaining in the former life to go up to heaven unless baptism had appeared in between. And if the impossible has become possible, much more will the difficult become easy. “But that,” someone says, “was of grace only.” Why, for this very reason you would most justly take courage. For if where there was grace alone he worked with you, will he not much more work together with you where you also display labors? If he saved you when you were idle, will he not much more help you when you work? Above, then, I said that from the impossible things you ought to take courage about the difficult ones too; but now I will say this, that if we are sober, these things will not even be difficult. For see: death has been trampled down, the devil has fallen, the law of sin has been quenched, the grace of the Spirit has been given, life has been drawn together into a short span, the burdensome things have been cut short. And so that you may learn these things from the deeds themselves too, consider how many have overshot the commands of Christ; but you fear even the measure itself. What defense then will you have, when, while others leap beyond the bounds of the contest, you yourself shrink from what is prescribed? For we exhort you to give alms from what you have, but another has stripped himself even of all that he has; we ask you to live chastely with your wife, but another has not even entered upon marriage; and we beseech you not to be envious, but we have another who even gives up his own life for love; and we beseech you to be forgiving and not severe toward those who sin, but another, when struck, turned the other cheek too. What then shall we say, tell me? What defense shall we make, not doing even these things, while others surpass us so far? And they would not have surpassed us unless the thing were very easy. For who is wasted away, he who envies the good things of others, or he who shares their pleasure and rejoices? Who suspects everything and trembles continually, the chaste man or the adulterer? Who is gladdened by good hopes, the robber, or he who shows mercy and shares his own things with the needy? Considering these things, then, let us not grow numb toward the races for virtue, but stripping with all eagerness for these noble wrestling bouts, let us toil a short time, so that we may receive the everlasting and unfading crowns; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages.

“And departing from there, he went into their synagogue; and behold, a man having a withered hand.” Again he heals on the sabbath, defending what had been done by the disciples. And the other evangelists say that he set the man in the midst and asked them whether it is lawful to do good on the sabbath. Behold the tender compassion of the Master. He set him in the midst so that he might bend them by the sight; so that, broken down by the spectacle, they might cast out their wickedness, and, put to shame by the man, might cease from their brutality. But the untamed and man-hating rather choose to harm the glory of Christ than to see this man saved, showing their wickedness on both sides, both by warring against Christ, and by doing so with such contentiousness as even to spite the benefits done to others. The other evangelists, then, say that he himself asked; but this one that he was asked: “And they asked him,” it says, “saying, ‘Is it lawful to heal on the sabbath?’ that they might accuse him.” And it is likely that both happened. For being vile, and knowing that he would certainly come to the healing, they hastened to forestall him by the question, expecting in this way to hinder him. Therefore they also asked, “Is it lawful to heal on the sabbath?”, not that they might learn, but that they might accuse him. And yet the deed was enough, if they wished to accuse him; but they wished to find a handle through words too, preparing for themselves beforehand an abundance of charges. But the lover of mankind does this too, and answers, teaching his own gentleness, and showing it, turning everything back upon them, and he shows their inhumanity. And he sets the man in the midst, not fearing them, but hastening to benefit them and to bring them to mercy. But when not even so did he bend them, then he was grieved, it says, and angry with them because of the hardness of their heart, and he says, “What man is there among you who will have one sheep, and if this falls into a pit on the sabbath, will he not lay hold of it and lift it out? How much then is a man better than a sheep! So it is lawful to do well on the sabbath.” For so that they might not be able to be shameless, nor again to accuse him of transgression, he reasons with them by this example. But consider, I pray you, how variously and suitably everywhere he brings in his defenses about breaking the sabbath. For in the case of the blind man he does not even defend himself to them when he made the clay, though even then they accused him, but the manner of the creative act was enough to show the Master of the law. But in the case of the paralytic, when he carried his bed and they accused him, he defends himself now as God, now as man: as man, when he says, “If a man receives circumcision on the sabbath, that the law may not be broken” (and he did not say, “that a man may be benefited”), “are you angry with me because I made a man wholly sound?”; and as God, when he says, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” And when accused on behalf of the disciples he said, “Have you not read what David did when he was hungry, he and those with him? How he entered into the house of God and ate the loaves of the presentation?” And he brings the priests forward. And here again: “Is it lawful on the sabbath to do good, or to do evil? Which of you will have one sheep?” For he knew their love of money, that they were this rather than lovers of mankind. And yet the other evangelist says that he also looked around while asking these things, so as to draw them by his look as well; but not even so did they become better. And yet here he only speaks, while elsewhere in many places he heals by laying on his hands as well. But nevertheless none of these things made them mild; but the man was healed, while they through his health became worse. For he himself wished, before healing that man, to heal them, and set in motion countless ways of healing, both by what he did before and by what he said; but since they were sick incurably, he proceeded to the deed. “Then he says to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ And he stretched it out, and it was restored sound like the other.” What then did they do? “They go out,” it says, “and take counsel to destroy him.” “For the Pharisees,” it says, “went out and took counsel against him, how they might destroy him.” Though they had suffered no wrong, they were attempting to kill him. So great

an evil is envy. For it wars always not against strangers only, but against one’s own too. And Mark says that they took this counsel with the Herodians. What then does the gentle and meek one do? He withdrew when he learned these things. “But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, withdrew from there,” it says. Where then are those who say that signs ought to have been done? For by these things he showed that the ungrateful soul is not persuaded even by them, and he made clear that they accused the disciples too without cause. But this one must observe, that they grow especially savage at the benefits done to their neighbors; and when they see someone being freed from disease or from vice, then they both accuse and become wild beasts. For when he was going to save the harlot, they slandered him; and when he ate with tax collectors; and now again, when they saw the hand restored. But consider, I pray you, how he neither leaves off his care for the sick and appeases their envy. “And great crowds followed him, and he healed them all; and he charged those who were healed not to make him known.” For the crowds everywhere both marvel and follow; but those men do not leave off their wickedness. Then, so that you may not be troubled at what happens, and at the strangeness of their madness, he brings in the prophet too, foretelling these things. For so great was the exactness of the prophets that they did not leave out even these things, but prophesied both his journeys and his removals, and the intention with which he did these things; so that you may learn that they spoke all things by the Spirit. For if it is impossible to know the secret things of men, much more was it impossible to learn the aim of Christ, unless the Spirit had revealed it. What then does the prophet say? The evangelist added at any rate: “That what was spoken by Isaiah the prophet might be fulfilled, saying, ‘Behold my servant, whom I have chosen, my beloved, in whom my soul is well pleased. I will put my Spirit upon him, and he will proclaim judgment to the Gentiles. He will not strive nor cry aloud, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets; a bruised reed he will not break, and smoking flax he will not quench, until he sends forth judgment to victory; and in his name the Gentiles will hope.’” He celebrates his meekness and his unspeakable power, and opens to the Gentiles a great and effectual door, and foretells the evils that would overtake the Jews, and shows his oneness of mind with the Father. “For behold,” he says, “my servant, whom I have chosen, my beloved, in whom my soul is well pleased.” And if he chose him, he does not break the law as an opponent, nor as an enemy of the lawgiver, but as one of one mind and doing the same things. Then, proclaiming his meekness, he says, “He will not strive nor cry aloud.” For he himself wished to heal in their presence; but since they repulsed him, he did not resist even this. And showing both his own strength and their weakness, he says, “A bruised reed he will not break.” For it was easy to snap them all like a reed; and not simply a reed, but one already bruised. “And smoking flax he will not quench.” Here he sets forth both their kindled anger and his strength, which was able to put down their anger and quench it with all ease; from which great gentleness is shown. What then? Will it always be so? And will he bear to the end those who plot such things and rage? Away with the thought! But when he has displayed his own part, then he will do those things too. For he made this clear by saying, “Until he sends forth judgment to victory; and in his name the Gentiles will hope”; as Paul too says, “Being ready to avenge all disobedience, when your obedience is fulfilled.” And what is “when he sends forth judgment to victory”? “When he has fulfilled all that is his part,” he says, “then he will bring on the vengeance too, and a complete vengeance.” Then they will suffer the terrible things, when the trophy stands brilliant, and his righteous acts have prevailed, and he leaves them not even a shameless pretext for gainsaying. For Scripture knows how to call righteousness “judgment.” But the dispensation will not stop at this, at the punishment of the unbelievers only, but he will also draw the world to himself. Therefore he also added, “And in his name the Gentiles will hope.” And so that you may learn that this too is according to the Father’s will, the prophet in the opening placed this too in pledge together with what went before, saying, “My beloved, in whom my soul is well pleased.” For it is clear that the beloved did these things too according to the will of the one who loves him. “Then they brought to him one possessed by a demon, blind and dumb; and he healed him, so that the blind and dumb man both spoke and saw.” O the wickedness of the demon! He had stopped up both entrances, through which that man was going to believe, both sight and hearing; but nevertheless Christ opened both. “And all the crowds were amazed, saying, ‘Can this be the Son of David?’ But the Pharisees said, ‘This man does not cast out demons except by Beelzebul, the ruler of the demons.’” And yet what great thing had they said? But nevertheless they did not bear even this; so, as I said before, they are always stung by the benefits done to their neighbors, and nothing grieves them so much as the salvation of men. And yet he had both withdrawn and given their passion time to abate; but the evil was kindled again, since again a benefit had been done; and they were more indignant than the demon. For he went out of the body, and withdrew, and fled, uttering nothing; but these men at one time tried to kill him, at another to slander him. For since that did not succeed, they wished to harm his reputation. Such is envy, than which there could be no worse vice. For the adulterer at least reaps some pleasure, and completes his sin in a short time; but the envious man punishes and torments himself before the one he envies, and never ceases from his sin, but is continually in the doing of it. For as a pig delights in mire, and demons in our harm, so he too delights in his neighbor’s evils; and if something unpleasant happens, then he rests and breathes again, counting the misfortunes of others his own cheerfulness, and the good things of others his own evils; and he considers not what might be pleasant to himself, but what painful to his neighbor. Is it not right, then, to stone such men and beat them to death, like mad dogs, like avenging demons, like the very Furies? For as beetles (…), being common enemies and foes of nature. And others pity a brute beast being slaughtered; but you, seeing a man receiving benefits, become a wild beast and tremble and turn pale? And what could be worse than this madness? For this reason fornicators and tax collectors were able to enter the kingdom, while the envious, who were inside, went out. “For the sons of the kingdom,” he says, “will be cast out.” And those, freed from the wickedness in which they were, attained what they never expected; while these lost even the good things they had, and with good reason. For this makes a devil out of a man; this makes him a savage demon. So the first murder was committed; so nature was disregarded; so the earth was defiled; so afterward, opening its mouth, it received alive and destroyed those with Dathan and Korah and Abiram, and all that people. But someone might say that to accuse envy is easy; we must consider also how they may be freed from the disease. How then shall we be freed from this wickedness? If we consider that, as it is not lawful for the fornicator to enter the church, so neither for the envious man, and much more for him than for the other. For now it seems even a matter of indifference; therefore it is neglected; but if it becomes clear that it is evil, we shall easily withdraw from it. Weep then and groan; lament and entreat God. Learn to feel and to repent as about a grievous sin. And if you are so disposed, you will quickly be freed from the disease. “And who does not know,” someone says, “that envy is evil?” No one is ignorant of it; but they do not hold the same opinion about this passion as about sexual immorality and adultery. When at least did anyone bitterly condemn himself for having envied? When did he entreat God about this disease, that he might become merciful to him? Never at all; but if he fasts and gives a poor man a little silver, even if he is ten thousand times envious, he thinks he has done nothing terrible, though held by the vilest passion of all. Where then did Cain become such? Where Esau? Where the sons of Laban? Where the sons of Jacob? Where those with Korah and Dathan and Abiram? Where Miriam? Where Aaron? Where the devil himself? With

these things consider this too, that you do not wrong the one you envy, but thrust the sword against yourself. For how did Cain wrong Abel? Did he not send him, even against his will, more quickly to the kingdom, while he pierced himself through with countless evils? How did Esau harm Jacob? Did not the one grow rich and enjoy countless good things, while he himself was driven out of his father’s house and wandered in a strange land after that plot? And how did his sons make Joseph worse off, though they went as far as blood? Did not they endure famine and run the risk of the utmost dangers, while he became king of all Egypt? For the more you envy, the greater the good things you procure for the one you envy. For it is God who oversees these things; and when he sees the one who does no wrong being wronged, he raises him the more and makes him illustrious by this, but punishes you. For if he does not let those who exult over their enemies go unpunished (“For do not rejoice,” it says, “at the fall of your enemies, lest God see it and it displease him”), much more those who envy those who have done no wrong. Let us then cut off the many-headed beast; for many are the forms of envy. For if he who loves the one who loves him has nothing more than the tax collector, where will he stand who hates the one who does no wrong? And how will he escape Gehenna, becoming worse than the Gentiles? Therefore I grieve exceedingly that we, who are commanded to imitate the angels, or rather the Master of the angels, emulate the devil. For there is much envy in the church too, or rather among us more than among those who are ruled. Therefore we must speak to ourselves too. For what reason, tell me, do you envy your neighbor? Because you see him enjoying honor and kind words? Then do you not consider how much evil honors bring to those who do not pay attention, lifting them to vainglory, to pride, to arrogance, to contempt, making them more careless? And besides these evils, they also wither easily. For this is the most grievous thing, that the evils from it remain undying, while the pleasure no sooner appeared than it flew away. Is it for these things, then, that you envy, tell me? “But he has great authority with the ruler, and leads and carries everything wherever he wishes, and grieves those who offend him and benefits those who flatter him, and has great power.” These words belong to worldly men and to men nailed to the earth. For nothing will be able to grieve the spiritual man. For what terrible thing will he do to him? Will he depose him from his rank? And what of this? For if it is justly, he is even benefited; for nothing so provokes God as being a priest unworthily; but if unjustly, the charge passes again to the other, not to this man; for he who suffers something unjustly and bears it nobly gains by this greater boldness before God. Let us not then consider this, how we may be in positions of power and in honors and in authority, but how we may be in virtue and philosophy. For authority persuades us to do many things that do not seem good to God, and it needs a very vigorous soul to use authority as one ought. For he who is deprived of it practises philosophy willingly or unwillingly; but he who enjoys it suffers something like this, as if someone living with a beautiful and lovely girl were to receive a law never to look at her licentiously. Such a thing is authority. Therefore it has thrown many even against their will into insolence, has roused anger, has taken away the bridle of the tongue, and torn the door off the mouth, fanning the soul as by a wind, and sinking the ship into the lowest depth of evils. Do you then admire the man in so great danger and say he is to be envied? And how great is the folly of this! Consider at least, besides what has been said, how many enemies and accusers, how many flatterers he has besieging him. Are these things worthy of being called blessed, tell me? And who would say so? “But he is in good repute with the people,” someone says. And what of this? For the people is not God, to whom he is going to give account. So when you say “the people,” you are saying nothing else than other projecting rocks, and crags, and sunken reefs, and hidden rocks. For good repute among the people, the more illustrious it makes a man, the greater the dangers, the cares, the despondencies it has. For such a man cannot breathe again or stand still at all, having so harsh a master. And why do I say stand still and breathe again? Even if such a man has countless good deeds, he enters the kingdom with difficulty. For nothing is accustomed to throw men headlong as the glory that comes from the many does, making them cowardly, ignoble, flatterers, hypocrites. For what reason at any rate did the Pharisees say that Christ had a demon? Was it not because they desired the glory that comes from the many? And how did the many cast the right vote about him? Was it not because they were not held by this disease? For nothing, nothing so makes men lawless and senseless as gaping after the glory of the many; nothing makes them of good repute and illustrious as despising it. Therefore there is need of a very vigorous soul in one who is going to hold out against so great a rush and violence of wind. For when he prospers, he sets himself before all; and when he suffers the opposite, he wishes to bury himself; and this is to him both Gehenna and kingdom, when he is submerged by this passion.

Are these things then worthy of envy, tell me, and not rather of laments and tears? It is clear to everyone. But you do the same thing in envying the man in such good repute as if someone, seeing a man bound and scourged and dragged about by countless wild beasts, were to envy him his wounds and stripes. For as many men as the people has, so many bonds this man too has, so many masters; and what is more grievous, each of these has a different opinion, and all of them decree whatever comes into their heads about the one who serves them, examining nothing, but confirming whatever seems good to this one and that one. What waves then, what storm, is not less grievous than these things? For such a man is suddenly puffed up by pleasure, and is easily sunk again, being always in unevenness and never in calm. For before the theater and the contests of speaking he is held in anguish and trembling; and after the theater he is either dead with despondency or again rejoices beyond measure, which is more grievous than grief. For that pleasure is no less an evil than grief is clear from how it disposes the soul; for it makes it light, and lifted up, and given wings. And this one may see from the men of former times too. When at any rate was David good: when he rejoiced, or when he was in distress? When the people of the Jews: when they groaned and called on God, or when they rejoiced in the wilderness and worshiped the calf? Therefore Solomon too, who knew best of all what pleasure is, says, “It is good to go to the house of mourning rather than to the house of laughter.” Therefore Christ too calls the one blessed, saying, “Blessed are those who mourn,” and bewails the others: “For woe to you who laugh, for you will weep.” And with good reason. For in luxury the soul is slacker and softer, but in mourning it is drawn together and sober, and freed from the whole swarm of passions, and becomes loftier and stronger. Knowing all these things, then, let us flee the glory that comes from the many and the pleasure that comes from it, so that we may attain the glory that truly is and abides forever; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said to them, ‘Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and every city or house divided against itself will not stand. And if Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself; how then will his kingdom stand?’” They had already made this accusation before, that he casts out the demons by Beelzebul. But then he did not rebuke them, giving them the opportunity to know his power from his more numerous signs and to learn his majesty from his teaching. But since they persisted in saying the same things, he now rebukes them too: first by showing his divinity in this, by bringing their secret thoughts out into the open; and second, by this very act of casting out the demons with ease. And yet the accusation was exceedingly shameless. For, as I said, (…) does not seek what to say, but only to say something. But nevertheless not even so did Christ despise them, but he makes his defense with his fitting gentleness, teaching us to be meek toward our enemies, and, even if they say such things as we are not conscious of in ourselves, and which have no reason at all, not to be disturbed nor troubled, but with all long-suffering to give them an account. Which he especially did then too, furnishing the greatest proof that what they had said was false. For it was not the part of one possessed by a demon to show such gentleness; it was not the part of one possessed to know secret thoughts. For indeed, both because such a suspicion was exceedingly shameless, and because of their fear of the many, they did not even dare to make these charges public, but turned them over in their mind. But he, showing them that he knows those thoughts too, does not set down the accusation, nor expose their wickedness, but brings in the solution, leaving the conviction to the conscience of those who had spoken. For one thing only was his earnest concern, to benefit those who sin, not to expose them. And yet, if he had wished to stretch out a long speech, and to make them ridiculous, and besides this to exact the utmost penalty from them, there was nothing to hinder him; but nevertheless, passing over all these things, he looked to one thing only, not to make them more contentious but more reasonable, and in this way to make them fitter for correction. How then does he defend himself to them? He says nothing from the Scriptures (for they were not attending, but were even going to misinterpret them), but from what commonly happens. “For every kingdom,” he says, “divided against itself will not stand”; and a city and a house, if it is split, is quickly dissolved. For wars from outside do not destroy as civil wars do. For this happens in bodies too, and in all things; but meanwhile he brings his examples from the better known. And yet what is mightier on earth than a kingdom? Nothing; but nevertheless it perishes when it is in revolt. And if there one blames the bulk of its affairs, as breaking up against itself, what would you say of a city? What of a house? For whether a thing is small or great, if it is in revolt against itself it perishes. “If then I, having a demon, cast out the demons by him, there is revolt and battle among the demons, and they stand against one another. And if they stand against one another, their strength has perished and been destroyed. For if Satan casts out Satan” (and he did not say “the demons,” showing that there is great agreement among them toward one another), “he is divided,” he says, “against himself. And if he is divided, he has become weaker and has perished; and if he has perished, how can he cast out another?” Do you see how laughable the accusation is? How great the folly? How great the contradiction? For it is not consistent to say both that he stands and that he casts out the demons, and to say that he stands by the very thing by which he would likely have been destroyed. And this is the first solution; and the second, after it, is the one about the disciples. For he does not always resolve their objections in one way only, but in a second and a third, wishing to stop their shamelessness with abundance. Which he did in the case of the sabbath too, bringing forward David, the priests, the testimony that says, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice,” and the reason for which the sabbath was made: “For the sabbath,” he says, “is for man.” This he does here too. For after the first he goes on to a second solution, clearer than the first. “For if I,” he says, “cast out the demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your sons cast them out?” See his gentleness here too. For he did not say, “my disciples,” nor, “the apostles,” but “your sons,” so that, if they wished to return to the same nobility as those men, they might take a great starting point from this; but if they were ungrateful and persisted in the same things, they might not have even a shameless pretext left to say. What he says is this: “By whom do the apostles cast them out?” For they were already casting them out, having received authority from him; and these men accused them of nothing; for they were fighting not against the things but only against the person. Wishing then to show that what had been said was only from envy toward him, he brings the apostles forward. “For if I cast them out in this way, much more those who received the authority from me. But nevertheless you have said nothing of the kind to them. How then do you bring these charges against me, who am the cause of what is done by them as well, while you acquit them of the charges? But this will not free you from punishment; rather it will condemn you the more.” For this reason he also added, “They themselves will be your judges.” “For when men who are from among you, and who have been trained in these things, both believe me and obey me, it is clear that they will also condemn those who both do and say the contrary.” “But if I cast out the demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.” What is “the kingdom”? “My coming.” See how again he draws them and heals them, and attracts them to the knowledge of himself, and shows that they are warring against their own good things and contending against their own salvation. “For you ought to rejoice,” he says, “and to leap for joy, that one has come bestowing those great and unspeakable gifts sung of old by the prophets, and the time of your prosperity is at hand; but you do the opposite, not only not receiving the good things, but even slandering them and composing charges that do not exist.” Matthew then says, “But if I cast out by the Spirit of God”; but Luke, “But if I cast out the demons by the finger of God,” showing that to cast out demons is a work of the greatest power, and not of ordinary grace. And he wishes from these things to draw the conclusion and to say, “But if this is so, then the Son of God has come.” But this he does not say; but veiledly, and as was not offensive to them, he hints at it, saying, “Then the kingdom of God has come upon you.” Do you see the abundance of wisdom? By the very things for which they accused him, by these he showed his coming shining forth. Then, to draw them on, he did not say simply, “The kingdom has come,” but “upon you”; as if he said, “The good things have come to you; why then are you displeased at your own blessings? Why do you war against your own salvation? This is that time which the prophets foretold of old; this is the sign of the coming sung by them, that these things are done by divine power.” “For that they are done, you yourselves know too; and that they are done by divine power, the facts cry out. For it is not possible that Satan is stronger now, but of all necessity he is weak; and he who is weak cannot, as if he were strong, cast out the strong demon.” And he said these things showing the power of love, and the weakness of division and contention. Therefore he himself also continually exhorted the disciples, up and down, about love, and said that the devil does everything to destroy it. Having then stated the second solution, he adds a third too, speaking thus: “Or how can anyone enter the house of the strong man and plunder his goods, unless he first binds the strong man, and then he will plunder his goods?” For that it is not possible for Satan to cast out Satan is clear from what has been said; and that it is not possible to cast him out otherwise unless one first overcomes him, this too is agreed by all. What then is established from these things? What was said before, with greater abundance. “For I am so far,” he says, “from using the devil as an ally, that I even war against him and bind him; and the proof of this is the plundering of his goods.” See how the opposite of what they were trying to establish is demonstrated. For they wished to show that it was not by his own power that he casts out demons; but he shows that not only the demons, but also their chief himself, he holds bound with great authority, and that he has overcome him before these by his own power; and this is clear from what happens. For if the one is ruler and the others are subject, how, unless he had been defeated and had submitted, would these have been plundered? And here what is said seems to me to be a prophecy too. For not only the demons are the devil’s goods, but also the men who do his works. Showing then that he not only casts out demons, but will also drive out the whole error of the world, and will destroy his sorceries, and will make all his things useless, he said these things. And he did not say, “will seize,” but “will plunder,” showing that it is done with authority. And he calls him strong, not because he is such by nature (God forbid!), but showing his former tyranny, which came about through our own carelessness. “He who is not with me is against me; and he who does not gather with me scatters.” Behold a fourth solution too. “For what do I wish?” he says. “To bring men to God, to teach virtue, to proclaim the kingdom. And what do the devil and the demons wish? The opposite of these things. How then would he who does not gather with me, nor is with me, have worked together with me? And why do I say work together? On the contrary, he desires even to scatter my things. He then who not only does not work with me, but even scatters, how would he have shown such concord with me as to cast out the demons with me?” And it is likely that he said this not about the devil only, but also about himself, as being against the devil and scattering his things. “And how,” someone says, “is he who is not with me against me?” By this very fact of not gathering. And if this is true, much more he who is against him. For if he who does not work together is an enemy, much more he who wars. And he says all these things so as to show that his enmity toward the devil is great and unspeakable. For tell me, if you had to fight someone, is not he who is unwilling to fight as your ally against you by this very fact? And if elsewhere he says, “He who is not against you is for you,” this is not contrary to this. For here he showed one who is against them, but there he shows one who is in part with them: “For in your name,” he says, “they cast out the demons.” And it seems to me that here he also hints at the Jews, setting them with the devil. For they too were against him and scattered what he gathered. For that he was hinting at them too he made clear by speaking thus: “Therefore I say to you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven men.” For since he had made his defense, and resolved the objection, and shown them to be shameless in vain, he now makes them afraid. For this too is no small part of counsel and correction, not only to make a defense and persuade, but also to threaten, which he does in many places when giving laws and counsel. And what has been said seems to have much obscurity; but if we attend, it will have an easy solution. First, then, it is well to hear the words themselves. “Every sin,” he says, “and blasphemy will be forgiven men; but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven them. And whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man, it will be forgiven him; but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit, it will not be forgiven him, neither in this age nor in the age to come.” What then is it that he says? “You have said many things against me, that I am a deceiver, that I am opposed to God. These things I forgive you if you repent, and I do not exact penalties from you; but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven, not even to those who repent.” And how would this have reason? For this too was forgiven to those who repented. Many at least of those who had said these things believed afterward, and all was forgiven them. What then is it that he says? That this sin above all is unpardonable. Why ever? Because they did not know him, who he was; but of the Spirit they had received sufficient experience. For the prophets spoke through him what they spoke, and all those in the old covenant had a very high notion of him. What he says, then, is this: “Granted, you stumble at me because of the flesh that clothes me; can you say of the Spirit too, ‘We do not know him’? For this reason the blasphemy will be unpardonable for you, and you will pay the penalty both here and there.” For many were punished here only, as the fornicator, as those who partook of the mysteries unworthily among the Corinthians; but you both here and there. “Whatever blasphemies, then, you spoke against me before the cross, I forgive, and the very daring of the cross itself; and you will not be condemned for unbelief alone” (for neither did those who believed before the cross have complete faith; and in many places he charges them to make him known to no one before the passion; and on the cross he said that this sin was forgiven them). “But what you have said about the Spirit will have no pardon.” For that he is speaking about what was said against him before the cross, he added, “Whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man, it will be forgiven him; but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit, no longer.” Why? “Because this is known to you, and you are shameless toward what is manifest. For even if you say that you do not know me, surely you are not ignorant of this too, that to cast out demons and to perform healings is a work of the Holy Spirit. So you insult not me only, but also the Holy Spirit. Therefore the penalty for you is inexorable, both here and there.” For of men some are punished both here and there; some here only; some there only; and some neither here nor there. Both here and there, like these very men (for they paid the penalty here too, when they suffered those incurable things at the capture of the city, and there they will endure a most grievous one), like the citizens of Sodom, like many others. There only, like the rich man being roasted, and not master even of a drop. Here only, like the fornicator among the Corinthians. Neither here nor there, like the apostles, like the prophets, like the blessed Job; for what they suffered was not of punishment, but of contests and wrestlings. Let us be eager, then, to belong to the portion of these; and if not of these, at least of those who wash away their sins here. For that judgment seat is fearful, and the punishment inexorable, and the penalty incurable. And if you wish not to pay the penalty even here, judge yourself, exact an account from yourself. Hear Paul saying, “If we judged ourselves, we would not be judged.” If you do this, advancing on the way you will come even to a crown. “And how shall we exact a penalty from ourselves?” someone says. Lament, groan bitterly, humble yourself, afflict yourself, remember your sins one by one. This is no small torment of the soul. If anyone has been in compunction, he knows that above all things the soul is punished by this. If anyone has been in remembrance of sins, he knows the pain that comes from it. For this reason God sets righteousness as the prize for such repentance, saying, “Declare your sins first, that you may be justified.” For it is not, it is not a small thing for correction, to gather all one’s sins together and turn them over one by one continually and reckon them up. For he who does this will be so pierced with compunction as not to think himself even worthy to live; and he who thinks this will be softer than any wax. For do not tell me only of acts of sexual immorality, nor of adulteries, nor of these things that are manifest and acknowledged by all; but gather also the secret plots, and the false accusations, and the evil speakings, and the vainglories, and envy, and all such things. For these too will bring no small punishment. For the reviler will fall into Gehenna; and the drunkard has nothing in common with the kingdom; and he who does not love his neighbor so offends God as not to be benefited even if he bears witness as a martyr; and he who neglects his own has denied the faith; and he who overlooks the poor is sent into the fire. Do not then think these things small, but gather them all, and write them as in a book. For if you write them, God blots them out; just as, if you do not write them, God both writes them in and exacts the penalty. It is far better, then, that they be written by us and blotted out above, than the opposite, that, when we have forgotten them, God should bring them before our eyes on that day. So that this may not happen, let us reckon up everything with exactness, and we shall find ourselves answerable for many things. For who is clean of covetousness? Do not tell me of the measure, but consider this, that even in a small thing we shall pay the same penalty, and repent. Who is free of insult? And this casts into Gehenna. Who has not secretly spoken evil of his neighbor? And this deprives of the kingdom. Who has not been arrogant? And this man is more unclean than all. Who has not looked with licentious eyes? And this man is a complete adulterer. Who has not been angry with his brother without cause? And this man is liable to the council. Who has not sworn? And this is from the evil one. Who has not sworn falsely? And this man is more than from the evil one. Who has not served mammon? And this man has fallen from the true service of Christ. I have other things too, greater than these, to say; but these are enough, and sufficient to bring to compunction one who is not of stone nor utterly insensible. For if each of them casts into Gehenna, what will they not do when all come together? “How then is it possible to be saved?” someone says. By applying the remedies that counterbalance these: almsgiving, prayers, compunction, repentance, humility, a contrite heart, contempt of possessions. For God has cut countless roads of salvation, if we are willing to attend. Let us attend, then, and by all means cleanse our wounds, showing mercy, letting go our anger against those who have grieved us, giving thanks to God for all things, fasting according to our power, praying sincerely, making friends for ourselves of the mammon of unrighteousness. For so we shall be able both to obtain pardon for our offenses and to attain the promised good things; of which may we all be counted worthy, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Either make the tree good, and its fruit good; or make the tree rotten, and its fruit rotten; for the tree is known by its fruit.” Again he puts them to shame in another way, and is not content with the former refutations. And he does this not to free himself from charges (for the former was enough), but wishing to correct them. What he says is this: “None of you either found fault with those who were healed, as though they had not been healed, or said that it is evil to set someone free from a demon.” For even though they were exceedingly shameless, they could not say this. Since then they did not attack the works, but slandered the one who did them, he shows that this accusation is contrary both to common reasoning and to the sequence of the facts; which is the mark of intense shamelessness, not only to do wickedly, but also to compose such things as are contrary even to common notions. And see how free he is of contentiousness. For he did not say, “Make the tree good, since the fruit too is good,” but, stopping their mouths with abundance, and showing his own gentleness and their shamelessness, he says, “Even if you wish to lay hold of the works, I do not hinder you; only do not make charges that are inconsistent and do not follow.” For so they were going to be caught more clearly, being shameless toward things exceedingly manifest. “So you act wickedly in vain,” he says, “and say things inconsistent with yourselves. For the discerning of the tree appears from the fruit, not the fruit from the tree; but you do the opposite. For even if the tree is the cause of the fruit, yet the fruit is what makes the tree known. And it would have been consistent either to slander the works too, if you were accusing us, or, if you praised them, to free us who do them from these charges too. But now you do the opposite; for having nothing to charge against the works, which are the fruit, you cast the contrary vote about the tree, calling me possessed by a demon, which is the height of drunken madness.” For what he said before he establishes now too, that a good tree cannot bear evil fruit, nor again the opposite. So their charges are contrary to all consistency and nature. Then, since he was speaking not on his own behalf but on behalf of the Spirit, he uses the accusation vehemently too, saying, “Brood of vipers, how can you speak good things, being evil?” And this was the part of one at once accusing them and furnishing the proof of what had been said from them. “For behold,” he says, “you, being evil trees, cannot bear good fruit. I do not wonder, then, that you utter these things; for you were reared badly, being of wicked ancestors, and you have acquired a wicked mind.” And see how exactly and without any handle he has set down the charges. For he did not say, “How can you speak good things, being a brood of vipers?” for this has nothing to do with that; but, “How can you speak good things, being evil?” And he called them a brood of vipers because they boasted of their ancestors. Showing then that there is no gain for them from this, he cast them out of their kinship with Abraham, and gives them ancestors of like character, having stripped them of the distinction that came from there. “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” Here again he shows his divinity, knowing secret things; and that they will pay the penalty not only for words but also for evil thoughts; and that he knows them as God. But he says that it is possible for men too to know these things; for this is the sequence of nature, that when wickedness overflows within, words pour out through the mouth. So when you hear a man uttering evil things, do not think so much wickedness lies in him as his words display, but conjecture that the spring is far more; for what is said outwardly is the overflow of what is within. Do you see how vehemently he laid hold of them? For if what was said was so evil, and came from the very mind of the devil, consider how great is the root and the spring of the words. And this happens with reason. For the tongue, being often ashamed, does not pour out its wickedness all at once; but the heart, having no man as witness, without fear gives birth to whatever evils it wishes; for it takes little account of God. Since then the things spoken come under examination and are set before all, while the heart is overshadowed, for this reason the things of the tongue become fewer and those of the heart more. But when the multitude of what is within becomes great, the things hidden till then come forth with a great rush. And as those who vomit at first force themselves to keep down the humors leaping out, but when they are overcome bring forth much loathsomeness, so too those who have evil designs and speak evil of their neighbors. “The good man,” he says, “out of the good treasure brings forth good things; and the evil man out of the evil treasure brings forth evil things.”

“For do not think,” he says, “that this happens in the case of wickedness only; for this happens in the case of goodness too; for there too the virtue within is greater than the words outside.” From which he showed that those men should be thought more wicked than their words displayed, and himself better than what was said showed. And he says “treasure,” showing the abundance. Then again he builds up a great fear against them. “For do not think,” he says, “that the matter stops at this and at the condemnation of the many; for all who do such wickedness will pay the utmost penalty.” And he did not say “you,” at once instructing the whole human race and making his word less offensive. “But I say to you,” he says, “that every idle word that men speak, they will give account of it in the day of judgment.” And “idle” is what does not correspond to fact, what is false, what contains false accusation; but some say that it is also the vain word, for example what moves disorderly laughter, or what is shameful and shameless and illiberal. “For by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.” Do you see how inoffensive the judgment seat is? How mild the accounts? For not from what another said about you, but from what you yourself uttered, the judge will cast his votes, which is the most just of all. For you are master both of speaking and of not speaking. It is not, then, those who are spoken ill of who ought to be in anguish and tremble, but those who speak ill. For those are not compelled to defend themselves for what they heard spoken ill of them, but these for what they spoke ill; and over these the whole danger hangs. So those who are spoken ill of should be free of care, for they will not give account for what others said ill; while those who have spoken ill should be in anguish and tremble, since they themselves are going to be dragged to the judgment seat for these things. For this is a devilish snare, and a sin that has no pleasure, but only harm. For such a man lays up an evil treasure in his soul. And if he who has an evil humor reaps the disease first himself, much more will he who (…) the wickedness that is more bitter than all bile suffer the utmost, gathering a grievous disease. And this is clear from what he belches forth. For if it (…) others so, much more the soul that gives birth to these things. For he who plots destroys himself first; for he who treads on fire burns himself, and he who strikes adamant harms himself, and he who kicks against the goads makes himself bleed. For such a thing is he who knows how to be wronged and to bear it nobly: he is adamant and goads and fire; but he who has practised doing wrong is weaker than any clay. It is not, then, being wronged that is evil, but doing wrong, and not knowing how to bear being wronged. How many wrongs at any rate did David suffer? And how many did Saul do? Who then became stronger and more blessed? And who more wretched and pitiable? Was it not the one who did wrong? Consider. Saul promised, if David killed the foreigner, to take him as his son-in-law and to give him his daughter with great favor. He killed the foreigner; Saul transgressed the agreement, and not only did not give her, but even tried to kill him. Who then became more illustrious? Was not the one choked by despondency and by the evil demon, while the other shone above the sun with his trophies and with his favor with God? Again, at the dance of the women, was not the one strangled by envy, while the other, bearing everything in silence, won over all and bound them to himself? And when he too took him into his hands and spared him, who again was blessed? Who wretched? Who the weaker? Who the stronger? Was it not this man who did not avenge himself even justly? And with good reason. For the one had armed soldiers, but the other had as ally and helper righteousness, stronger than countless armies. For this reason, though plotted against unjustly, he did not consent to kill him even justly. For he knew from what went before that it is not doing evil, but suffering evil, that makes men more powerful. This happens with bodies too, this with trees too. And what of Jacob? Was he not wronged by Laban, and did he not suffer evil? Who then was stronger: the one who took him into his hands and did not dare to touch him, but feared and trembled, or this man, who without arms and soldiers became more fearful to him than countless kings? But so that

I may furnish you with another proof of what has been said, greater than this, let us exercise the argument again on David himself, in the opposite direction. For this man, who when wronged was strong, became weaker again afterward when he did wrong. When at any rate he wronged Uriah, the order was changed again, and the weakness passed over to the one who did the wrong, and the power to the one who was wronged; for, though dead, he laid waste the other’s house. And the one, being king and alive, had no strength; while the other, being a soldier and slain, turned all his affairs upside down. Do you wish me to make what I say clearer from another side too? Let us examine those also who avenge themselves justly. For that those who do wrong are the most worthless of all, warring against their own soul, is clear to everyone. But who avenged himself justly, and kindled countless evils, and pierced himself through with many misfortunes and griefs? David’s general. For he both stirred up a grievous war and suffered countless evils, not one of which would have happened if he had known how to live wisely. Let us flee this sin, then, and wrong our neighbors neither by words nor by deeds. For he did not say, “If you speak evil and set up a court,” but simply, “If you speak ill,” even by yourself, even so you will pay the utmost penalty. Even if what was said is true, and even if you speak it convinced, even so you will be punished. For God will cast his vote not from what that man did, but from what you said: “For by your words you will be condemned,” he says. Do you not hear that the Pharisee too spoke true things, and said what was manifest to all, not uncovering hidden things? But nevertheless he paid the utmost penalty. And if one must not accuse what is acknowledged, much more what is disputed; for the one who has offended has a judge. Do not, then, seize the dignity of the Only-begotten. The throne of judgment is kept for him. But do you wish to judge? You have a court that holds great gain and brings no charge. Seat the judging reason upon the tribunal of conscience, and bring into the midst all your offenses. Examine the sins of your soul, and exact the accounts with exactness, and say, “Why did you dare this and that?” And if it flees these things and examines those of others, say to it, “It is not for these that I am judging you; it is not for these that you came in to make your defense. For what if so-and-so is wicked? Why did you commit this and that offense? Defend yourself, do not accuse; look to your own things, not those of others.” And continually set it in this contest. Then, if it has nothing to say but sinks down, tear it with the scourge like some flighty maidservant playing the harlot. And set up this court every day, and describe to it the river of fire, the venomous worm, the other instruments of torment. And do not let it consort with the devil any longer, nor endure it when it says shamelessly, “He comes to me, he plots against me, he tempts me”; but say to it, “If you are not willing, all those things are in vain.” And if it says again, “I am entwined with a body, I am clothed with flesh, I dwell in the world, I spend my time on earth,” say to it that all these things are excuses and pretexts. “For so-and-so wore flesh, and so-and-so, dwelling in the world and spending his time on earth, was approved; and you yourself, when you do well, do this while clothed with flesh.” And if it is pained at hearing these things, do not withhold your hand; for it will not die if you strike it, but you will deliver it from death. And if it says again, “So-and-so provoked me,” say to it, “But it is possible for you not to be provoked; often at any rate you have held back your anger.” If it says, “The beauty of such a woman gave me wings,” say to it, “But you could have mastered yourself.” Bring forward those who prevailed; bring forward the first woman, who said, “The serpent deceived me,” and was not freed from the charge.

And when you examine these things, let no one be present, let no one make a disturbance; but as judges sit behind curtains and judge, so do you too, instead of curtains, seek a time and place of quiet. And when you rise from supper and are about to lie down, then judge these things; this time is suitable for you, and the place is the bed and the bedchamber. This the prophet too commanded, saying, “What you say in your hearts, be pierced with compunction for it upon your beds.” And exact great accounts for small things, so that you may never come even near the great ones. If you do this every day, you will stand with boldness before that fearful judgment seat. So Paul became pure; therefore he also said, “For if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged.” So Job purified his children. For he who offered sacrifices for unknown sins much more exacted accounts for known ones. But we do not do so, but entirely the opposite. For as soon as we lie down, we turn over all worldly matters; and some bring in unclean thoughts, others loans and contracts and perishable cares. And having a virgin daughter we guard her strictly; but what is more precious to us than a daughter, the soul, this we allow to play the harlot and be defiled, bringing in countless evil thoughts upon it. Whether it is the love of covetousness, or of luxury, or of beautiful bodies, or of anger, or whatever other wishes to come in, we throw the doors open and drag it in and call it, and freely allow it to have intercourse with her. What could be more barbarous than this, to overlook the soul, more precious to us than all, outraged by so many adulterers, and consorting with them until they are sated? Which will never happen. For this reason, when sleep takes us, then only do they depart; or rather not even then; for dreams and fantasies bring her the same images. Hence also, when day comes, the soul that fancies such things has often fallen into the deed of those fantasies. But you allow not even a little dust to come into the pupil of your eyes, and do you overlook your soul dragging along a heap of so many evils? When then shall we be able to bail out this dung which we lay up every day? When to cut out the thorns? When to sow the seeds? Do you not know that the time of harvest is at hand? But we have not yet even broken up the fields. If then the husbandman comes and accuses us, what shall we say? What shall we answer? That no one gave the seeds? Yet these are cast down every day. But before that fearful judgment seat, that no one cut out the thorns? Yet every day we sharpen the sickle. “But the necessities of life drag us about.” And why did you not crucify yourself to the world? For if he who only gave back what was given him was wicked, because he did not double it, what will he hear who has even destroyed it? If that man was bound and carried out where there is gnashing of teeth, what shall we suffer, who shrink and draw back though countless things draw us to virtue? For what is not enough to urge you on? Do you not see the cheapness of this life, the uncertainty of our existence, the toil in present things, the sweat? Is it virtue only that is pursued with toil, while vice can be pursued without toil? If then there is toil both here and there, why did you not choose the one that holds much gain? Or rather, there are some parts of virtue that have no toil at all. For what toil is it not to speak evil, nor to lie, not to swear, to let go one’s anger against one’s neighbor? On the contrary, it is doing these things that is toilsome and brings much (…). What defense then shall we have, what pardon, if we do not accomplish even these things? For from these it is clear that the more toilsome things too escape us from carelessness and sloth. Considering all these things, then, let us flee vice and choose virtue, so that we may attain both the present and the future good things, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Then some of the scribes and Pharisees answered him, saying, ‘Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.’ But he answered and said, ‘An evil and adulterous generation seeks a sign, and no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah the prophet.’” What could be more senseless than these men, not to say more impious? After so many signs, as though none had taken place, they say, “We wish to see a sign from you.” For what reason then did they say this? So that they might lay hold of him again. For since he had stopped their mouths by his words, once, twice and many times, and had shut up their shameless tongue, they come again to the works; which the evangelist too, wondering at it again, said: “Then some of the scribes answered him, asking for a sign.” Then, when? When they ought to have bowed down, when to marvel, when to be astonished and to give way, then they do not leave off their wickedness. And see their words too, full of flattery and irony. For they expected to draw him on by these. And now they insult him, now they flatter him; now calling him possessed by a demon, now teacher; both from an evil mind, even if the things said are opposite. For this reason he lays hold of them very vehemently too. And when they questioned him harshly and insulted him, he spoke to them gently; but when they flattered him, insultingly and with great vehemence, showing that he is above both passions, and neither was he then led into anger, nor is he now softened by flattery. And see that the insult too is not simply abuse, but contains a proof of their wickedness. For what does he say? “An evil and adulterous generation seeks a sign.” What he says is this: “What wonder is it if you do these things in my case, who have been unknown to you till now, seeing that in the case of the Father too, of whom you had so much experience, you did this very thing, when you left him and ran after the demons, drawing to yourselves evil lovers?” Which Ezekiel too continually reproached them with. And he said these things showing himself in harmony with the Father, and that these men were doing nothing strange, and uncovering their secret thoughts, and that they were asking in hypocrisy and as enemies. For this reason he called them an evil generation, because they have always been ungrateful toward their benefactors, because when well treated they become worse, which is the mark of the utmost wickedness. And he called it adulterous, showing both their former and their present unbelief; from which he shows himself again equal to the Father, if indeed not believing him too makes it adulterous. Then, having insulted them, what does he say? “And no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah the prophet.” He is already striking up beforehand the discourse about the resurrection, and confirming it from the type. “What then?” someone says. “Was no sign given to it?” It was not given to it when it asked. For he did not do the signs in order to lead them on (for he knew they were hardened), but in order to correct others. Either then this is the thing to say, or that they will not receive such a sign as that one. For a sign came to them when through their own punishment they learned his power. Here then he speaks threatening, and hinting at this very thing, as if he said, “I have displayed countless benefits; none of these drew you, nor were you willing to worship my power. You will learn my strength, then, through the opposite things, when you see the city cast to the ground, when the walls are torn down, when the temple has become a ruin, when you fall from your former polity and freedom, and go about everywhere again homeless and fugitives.” For all these things happened after the cross. These things, then, will be to you in place of great signs. For it is indeed a very great sign, that their evils remain unmoved, that though countless men have tried, no one has been able to set right the penalty once laid upon them. But these things he does not say; he leaves them to become clear to them in the time after these things; but meanwhile he exercises the discourse about the resurrection, which they were going to know through what they were going to suffer afterward. “For as Jonah was,” he says, “in the belly of the sea monster three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man also be in the heart of the earth three days and three nights.” For he did not say openly that he will rise again, since they would even have laughed; but he hinted at it in such a way that they believed that he knew beforehand. For that they knew it, they say to Pilate, “That deceiver said, while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise again,’” though the disciples did not know this; for they were before more lacking in understanding than these. Therefore these men too have become self-condemned.

And see how, even while hinting, he sets it down exactly. For he did not say “in the earth,” but “in the heart of the earth,” so that he might show the tomb too, and no one might suspect a mere appearance. And he allowed three days for this reason, so that it might be believed that he died. For it is confirmed not only by the cross and by the sight of all, but also by the length of the days. For all the time afterward was going to bear witness to the resurrection; but the cross, unless it had then had many signs bearing witness to it, would have been disbelieved; and if this had been disbelieved, the resurrection too would have been disbelieved. For this reason he also calls it a sign. And if he had not been crucified, the sign would not have been given. For this reason too he brings the type forward, so that the truth may be believed. For tell me, was Jonah in the belly of the sea monster an appearance? But you could not say this. Then neither was Christ in the heart of the earth. For surely the type is not in truth while the truth is in appearance. For this reason we proclaim his death everywhere, both in the mysteries, and in baptism, and in all other things. For this reason Paul too cries with a loud voice, “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” From which it is clear that those sick with the things of Marcion are children of the devil, blotting out these things which Christ did countless things so that they might not be done away, and which the devil was countless times eager to have done away, I mean the cross and the passion. For this reason he said elsewhere too, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up”; and, “The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them”; and here, “No sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah the prophet,” showing both that he would suffer for them, and that they would gain nothing; for this he made clear afterward. But nevertheless, knowing even these things, he died; so great was his care. For so that you may not think that what followed would be among the Jews as among the Ninevites, and that they would turn, and that as he established the city of those men when it was shaken, and turned the barbarians, so these too would turn after the resurrection, hear how he shows entirely the opposite. For that they would reap nothing from this for their own benefit, but would even suffer incurable things, this too he made clear next, through the example of the demon. But meanwhile he makes a defense for what they were going to suffer afterward, showing that they will suffer justly. For their misfortunes and desolation he sets forth by that example; but meanwhile he shows that they will endure all these things justly; which he did in the old covenant too. For when he was about to destroy Sodom, he first made his defense to Abraham, showing the desolation and the scarcity of virtue, seeing that not even ten men were found in so many cities who had chosen to live chastely. And to Lot likewise, having shown their hatred of strangers and their unnatural lusts, he then brings on the fire. And in the case of the flood he did this same thing, defending himself to Noah by the deeds. And to Ezekiel likewise, when he made him, while he was living in Babylon, see the evils in Jerusalem. And to Jeremiah again, when he said, “Do not pray,” making his defense he said, “Do you not see what these are doing?” And everywhere he does this same thing, which he does here too. For what does he say? “The men of Nineveh will rise up in the judgment and condemn this generation, because they repented at the preaching of Jonah; and behold, something greater than Jonah is here.” “For he was a servant, but I am the Master; and he came out of a sea monster, but I rose from death; and he preached overthrow, but I came preaching the kingdom. And they (…), but I displayed (…). And they heard nothing more than those words, but I set in motion every form of philosophy. And he came as one serving, but I myself, the Master and the Lord of all, came, not threatening, not demanding accounts, but bringing forgiveness. And they were barbarians, but these have lived with countless prophets. And about him no one foretold anything, but about me all did, and the deeds agreed with the words. And he ran away when he was about to go, so as not to be laughed at; but I came, knowing that I am going to be both crucified and laughed at. And he would not bear even to be reproached on behalf of those being saved; but I have endured even death, and the most shameful death, and after this again I send others. And he was a stranger and foreign and unknown; but I am a kinsman according to the flesh, and of the same ancestors.” And one might gather many other things too, if he sought more.

But he does not stop even here, but adds another example too, saying, “The queen of the south will rise up in the judgment with this generation and condemn it, because she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon; and behold, something greater than Solomon is here.” This was more than the former. For Jonah went to them; but the queen of the south did not wait for Solomon to come to her, but came to him herself, and that though she was a woman and a barbarian and so far away, with no threat hanging over her, not fearing death, but only out of love of wise words. “But behold, something greater than Solomon is here. For there the woman came, but here I came. And she rose from the ends of the earth, but I go about cities and villages. And he spoke about trees and wood, things that could not greatly benefit the one who had come; but I about unspeakable things and most awesome mysteries.” Since then he had condemned them, showing from great abundance that they sinned unpardonably, and that their disobedience came from their own ingratitude, not from the teacher’s weakness, and had proved this both from many other things and from the Ninevites and the queen, he then speaks also of the punishment that would overtake them, in a riddling way, but still he speaks of it, weaving much fear into the story. “For when the unclean spirit,” he says, “has gone out of a man, it goes through waterless places seeking rest and does not find it; then it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came out.’ And when it comes, it finds it unoccupied, swept and put in order. Then it goes and takes with it seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there; and the last state of that man becomes worse than the first. So shall it be also with this generation.” From this he shows that not only in the age to come, but here too they will suffer most grievously. For since he had said, “The men of Nineveh will rise up in the judgment and condemn this generation,” so that they might not despise it because of the delay of the time and become more careless, from this he sets the terrible things before them. Which the prophet Hosea too said threatening them, that they will be “like the prophet who is beside himself, the man who carries a spirit,” that is, like the false prophets raving and frenzied under evil spirits. For he here calls the false prophet a prophet beside himself, such as the soothsayers are. This too Christ shows, saying that they will suffer the utmost things. Do you see how from every side he pushes them to attend to what is said: from things present, from things to come, from those who were approved (I mean from the Ninevites and the queen), from those who had offended, the Tyrians and the people of Sodom? Which the prophets too did, bringing forward the sons of Rechab, and the bride who does not forget her own ornament and her girdle, and the ox that knows its owner, and the ass that recognizes its manger. So here too, having set forth their ingratitude by comparison, he now states the punishment too. What then is it that is said? “As the possessed,” he says, “when they are freed from that sickness, if they become more careless, draw upon themselves a more grievous delusion, so it happens with you. For before too you were held by a demon, when you worshiped the idols and sacrificed your sons to the demons, displaying great madness; but nevertheless I did not forsake you, but I cast out that demon through the prophets, and I came again myself, wishing to cleanse you more fully. Since then you are unwilling to attend, but have run aground on greater wickedness (for far greater and more grievous than killing the prophets is to slaughter him himself), for this reason you will suffer things more grievous than the former ones,” I mean those in Babylon, and in Egypt, and under the first Antiochus. For what befell them under Vespasian and Titus was far more grievous than these. Therefore he also said, “There will be great tribulation, such as has never been, nor ever will be.” And the example does not show this only, but that they will be utterly bereft of all virtue, and more easily attacked by the working of the demons than then. For then, even if they sinned, there were nevertheless also some among them who did well, and the providence of God was present, and the grace of the Spirit, caring for them, correcting them, fulfilling all its own part; but now, he says, they will be utterly bereft of this care too, so that there is now a greater scarcity of virtue, and an increase of misfortune, and a more tyrannical working of the demons. You know then too in our own generation, when Julian, who surpassed all in impiety, raved, how they ranged themselves with the Greeks, how they courted their things. So even if they seem a little sober now, they are quiet through fear of the emperors; since if this were not so, they would have dared things far more grievous than the former. For in other evil works they surpass those before them, displaying sorceries, magic arts and licentiousness to a great excess. And in other matters, though held by so strong a bridle, they have often rioted and risen up against emperors, so as to fall into the utmost evils. Where now are those who seek signs? Let them hear that there is need of a grateful mind; and if this is not present, there is no profit in signs. Behold at any rate, the Ninevites believed without signs; but these after so many wonders became worse, and made themselves a dwelling place of countless demons, and drew upon themselves countless misfortunes, and with good reason. For when someone, once set free from evils, is not brought to his senses, he will suffer far more grievous things than the former. For this reason he said that it does not find rest, so that he might show that the plot of the demons will certainly and of necessity seize such a man. For they ought to have been brought to their senses by these two things, both by having suffered before and by having been delivered; or rather a third is added too, the threat of suffering worse things. But nevertheless by none of these did they become better. These things it would be timely to say not to them only, but also to us, when, having been illuminated and freed from our former evils, we hold again to the same wickedness; for the punishment of the sins after these things will be more grievous. For this reason Christ also said to the paralytic, “See, you have become well; sin no more, lest something worse happen to you,” and that to a man who had had his illness thirty-eight years. “And what worse,” someone says, “was he going to suffer than these things?” Much worse and more grievous. For God forbid that we should endure as much as we are able to suffer! For God does not lack punishments. “For according to his great mercy, so also is his wrath.” This he charges against Jerusalem too through Ezekiel: “For I saw you,” he says, “weltering in blood, and I washed you and anointed you, and you got a name in your beauty; and you played the harlot,” he says, “with your neighbors”; therefore he threatens more grievous things to her for sinning. But from this do not reckon the punishment only, but also God’s boundless long-suffering. How often at any rate have we laid hold of the same evils, and still he is long-suffering. But let us not be confident, but fear. For Pharaoh too, if he had been taught by the first plague, would not have had experience of the later ones, nor would he afterward have been drowned together with his army. And I say these things because I know many who now too say like Pharaoh, “I do not know God,” and nail those subject to them to clay and brick-making. How many, when God commands them to relax threatening, do not even consent to slacken the toil? But it is no longer possible now to cross a Red Sea. But there is a sea of fire, a sea not such, nor so great, but far greater and fiercer, having waves of fire, of a strange and awesome fire. There is a great abyss there of most grievous flame. For everywhere one may see fire running about, like some wild beast. For if here this sensible and material fire, like a beast leaping out of the furnace, sprang upon those sitting outside, what will that fire not do to those who have fallen in? Hear the prophets saying about that day: “The day of the Lord is incurable, full of wrath and anger.” For there will be no one standing by, no one rescuing, nowhere the gentle and serene face of Christ. But as those who work the mines are handed over to harsh men, and see none of their own, but only the overseers, so then too; or rather not so, but far more grievously. For here it is possible to go and beseech the emperor and release the condemned man; but there no longer, for it is not permitted, but they remain roasting and having such pain as it is not possible even to tell. For if no word can set forth the sharp pains of those burned here, much less of those who suffer these things there. For here everything happens in a brief moment of time; but there the burning goes on, but what is burned is not consumed. What then shall we do there? For I say these things to myself too. “And if you, the teacher,” someone says, “say these things about yourself, I no longer care at all. For what wonder is it if I am punished?” Do not, I beseech you, let anyone seek this consolation; for it is no comfort. For tell me, was not the devil a bodiless power? Was he not better than men? But nevertheless he fell. Is there then anyone who will take consolation from being punished with him? By no means. And what of all those in Egypt? Did they not see those in authority too being punished, and every house in mourning? Did they then breathe again and find comfort from this? Not at all; and it is clear from what they did afterward, as though scourged by some flame, joining together against the king and compelling him to drive out the people of the Hebrews. For this word is very cold, to think that being punished with all brings consolation, to say, “As all, so I.” For why must one speak of Gehenna? Consider, I pray you, those held by gout, who when they are stretched by sharp pain, even if you show them countless people suffering more grievously, do not even take it to mind. For the intensity of the pain does not allow the reason any leisure to consider others and find comfort. Let us not then feed ourselves on these cold hopes. For to receive comfort from the evils of one’s neighbor happens in moderate sufferings; but when the torment is excessive, and all within is full of storm, and the soul can no longer know even itself, whence will it reap comfort?

So all these words are laughter and the fables of senseless children. For what you speak of happens in despondency, and in moderate despondency, when we hear that so-and-so suffered the same thing; and there are times when it does not happen even in despondency. And if there it has no strength, much less in pain and unspeakable suffering, which the gnashing of teeth shows. And I know that I am burdensome and grieve you with these words; but what am I to do? For I did not wish to say these things, but to be conscious of virtue both in myself and in all of you; but since most of us are in sins, who would grant me to be able truly to grieve you, and to reach the minds of the hearers? Then I would have rest. But now I fear lest some despise what is said, and the punishment become greater because of their neglect in hearing. For neither, if, when some master threatened, one of the fellow servants hearing it despised the threat, would the angry master let him pass unpunished; but this too would have become for him an occasion of greater punishment. Therefore I beseech you, let us pierce ourselves with compunction when we hear the words about Gehenna. For nothing is sweeter than this discourse, since nothing is more bitter than the things themselves. “And how is it sweet to hear about Gehenna?” someone says. Because it is not sweet to fall into Gehenna, which those words that seem burdensome ward off; and before this they set down another pleasure: for they draw our souls together, and make them more reverent, and lift up the mind, and give wings to the reason, and drive out the evil siege of the desires, and the thing becomes a healing. Therefore grant me to speak, together with the punishment, also of the shame. For as the Ninevites will then condemn the Jews, so many of those who seem inferior now will condemn us. Let us consider then how great the laughter, how great the condemnation; let us consider, and lay some beginning even now, and a door of repentance. I say these things to myself; I exhort myself first to these things; and let no one be angry as though condemned. Let us lay hold of the narrow road. How long luxury? How long ease? Have we not had our fill of carelessness, of laughing, of putting off? Will not the same things be again, table, and satiety, and extravagance, and money, and possessions, and buildings? And what is the end? Death. What is the end? Ashes and dust and coffins and worms. Let us display, then, a new life; let us make the earth heaven; let us show the Greeks from here of how many good things they are deprived. For when they see us living well, they will behold the very sight of the kingdom of heaven. For when they see us gentle, pure of anger, of evil desire, of envy, of covetousness, accomplishing all other things, they will say, “If the Christians have become angels here, what will they be after their departure from here? If where they are strangers they shine so, how great will they become when they receive their homeland?” So those too will become better, and the word of godliness will run, no less than in the time of the apostles. For if they, being twelve, turned whole cities and countries, if we all become teachers through care in our way of life, consider how high our affairs will be raised. For a dead man rising does not so draw the Greek as a man living wisely. For at that he will be astonished, but from this he will gain. That happened and passed away; but this remains, and continually cultivates his soul. Let us take care of ourselves, then, so that we may gain them too. I say nothing burdensome. I do not say, “Do not marry”; I do not say, “Leave the cities and withdraw from civic affairs”; but, being in them, show virtue. For I wish those who move about in the middle of cities to be approved rather than those who have taken to the mountains. Why? Because great is the gain from this. “For no one lights a lamp and puts it under the bushel.” For this reason I wish all the lamps to be set on the lampstand, so that the light may be great. Let us kindle, then, his fire; let us make those sitting in darkness be freed from error. And do not tell me, “I have a wife, and I have children, and I manage a household, and I cannot accomplish these things.” For even if you have none of these but are careless, all is gone; and even if you are surrounded by all these but are earnest, you will attain virtue. For one thing is required, the preparation of a noble mind; and neither age, nor poverty, nor wealth, nor circumstances of affairs, nor anything else will be able to hinder. For both old and young, and those having wives and rearing children, and practising crafts, and serving as soldiers, have accomplished all that was commanded. For Daniel was young, and Joseph was a slave, and Aquila practised a craft, and the seller of purple presided over a workshop, and another was a jailer, and another a centurion, like Cornelius, and another sickly, like Timothy, and another a runaway, like Onesimus; but nothing was a hindrance to any of these, but all were approved, both men and women, both young and old, both slaves and free, both soldiers and private persons. Let us not then make superfluous excuses, but let us prepare an excellent mind; and whatever we are, we shall certainly lay hold of virtue and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“While he was still speaking to the crowds, behold, his mother and his brothers stood outside, seeking to speak to him. And someone said to him, ‘Behold, your mother and your brothers are standing outside, seeking to speak to you.’ But he answered and said to the one who told him, ‘Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?’ And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, ‘Behold my mother and my brothers.’” What I said the other day, that when virtue is absent all things are superfluous, this is shown now too with great abundance. For I said that age and nature and dwelling in the desert and all such things are useless when the mind is not good; but today we learn something more besides, that not even to have carried Christ in the womb and to have given birth by that wonderful birth brings any gain when virtue is not present. And this is especially clear from here. “For while he was still speaking to the crowds,” it says, “someone said to him, ‘Your mother and your brothers are seeking you.’ But he says, ‘Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?’” And he said these things not being ashamed of his mother, nor denying her who bore him (for if he were ashamed, he would not have passed through that womb), but showing that there is no profit to her in this unless she does all that she ought. For what she attempted was of excessive love of honor; for she wished to show the people that she has power and authority over her son, as yet imagining nothing great about him; therefore she also came at an unseasonable time. See at any rate the folly both of her and of them. For when they ought to have gone in and listened with the crowd, or, if they did not wish this, to have waited for him to end his discourse and then to approach, they call him outside, and do this before all, displaying excessive love of honor, and wishing to show that they give him orders with great authority. Which the evangelist too shows, finding fault; for hinting at this very thing he said, “while he was still speaking to the crowds,” as if he said, “Was there no other time? Was it not possible to speak with him privately?” And what did they wish to say? For if it was about the doctrines of the truth, they ought to have set these forth in common and said them before all, so that the others too might gain; but if about other matters that concerned themselves, they ought not to have pressed him so. For if he did not allow one to bury his father, so that the following might not be interrupted, much less ought he to have broken off his public discourse for things that did not concern it at all. From which it is clear that they did this only from vainglory; which John too showed when he said that “not even his brothers believed in him”; and he reports their words too, full of great folly, saying that they were dragging him to Jerusalem for no other reason than that they might reap glory from his signs: “For if you do these things,” they say, “show yourself to the world; for no one does anything in secret and himself seeks to be known openly”; when he too rebuked them, blaming their fleshly mind. For since the Jews reproached him and said, “Is not this the carpenter’s son, whose father and mother we know? And are not his brothers with us?”, they, wishing to beat off the meanness of his family, were calling him to a display of signs. For this reason he repels them, wishing to heal their passion; since if he had wished to deny his mother, he would have denied her then, when those men reproached him. But now he is seen taking such forethought for her as, at the very cross, to entrust her to the disciple he loved most of all, and to give many charges concerning her. But he does not do this now, caring for her and for his brothers. For since they regarded him as a mere man and were vainglorious, he casts out the disease, not insulting but correcting. But do not examine only the words, which contain a measured rebuke, but also the absurdity and the daring that his brothers dared, and who the one rebuking was, that he was not a mere man but the only-begotten Son of God, and with what purpose he rebuked them; for it was not wishing to put them to confusion, but to free them from a most tyrannical passion, and to lead them little by little to the fitting notion about him, and to persuade her that he is not only her son but also her Master. And you will see that the rebuke was very fitting for him and profitable for her, and besides this full of gentleness. For he did not say, “Go, tell my mother that she is not my mother,” but he directs his answer to the one who spoke, saying, “Who is my mother?”, establishing with what has been said another point too. What is this? That neither they nor others, trusting in kinship, should neglect virtue. For if it profits her nothing to be his mother unless that other thing were present, hardly would anyone else be saved by kinship. For there is one nobility only, to do the will of God. This manner of nobility is better and more sovereign than that.

Knowing these things, then, let us neither pride ourselves on children of good repute, unless we have their virtue, nor on noble fathers, unless we are like them in character. For it is possible for one who begot not to be a father, and for one who did not beget to be one. For this reason elsewhere too, when a woman said, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts that you sucked,” he did not say, “No womb bore me, nor did I suck breasts,” but this: “Rather, blessed are those who do the will of my Father.” Do you see how up and down he does not deny the natural kinship, but adds that of virtue? And the Forerunner too, saying, “Brood of vipers, do not presume to say, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’” does not show that they were not from Abraham by nature, but that it profits them nothing to be from Abraham unless they have the kinship that comes from character; which Christ too showed when he said, “If you were children of Abraham, you would do the works of Abraham,” not depriving them of the kinship according to the flesh, but teaching them to seek the one greater and more sovereign than it. This he establishes here too, but less offensively and more tactfully; for his word concerned his mother. For he did not say, “She is not my mother, nor are those my brothers, since they do not do my will”; he did not declare and condemn, but still left them masters of their own choice, speaking with his fitting gentleness. “For whoever does the will of my Father,” he says, “he is my brother and sister and mother.” So if they wish to be so, let them come by this road. And when the woman cried out, saying, “Blessed is the womb that bore you,” he did not say, “She is not my mother,” but, “If she wishes to be blessed, let her do the will of my Father.” For such a one is both brother and sister and mother. O the honor! O the virtue! To what a summit it leads the one who pursues it! How many women have called that holy virgin and her womb blessed, and prayed to become such mothers, and to give up everything! What then is the hindrance? For behold, he has cut a broad road for us, and it is possible not for women only but for men too to come into such a rank, or rather into one still much greater. For this makes a mother far more than those birth pangs. So if that is to be called blessed, much more this, inasmuch as it is more sovereign. Do not then simply desire it, but walk with great zeal the road that leads you to what you desire. Having said these things, then, he went out of the house. Do you see how he both rebuked them and did what they longed for? Which he does at the wedding too. For there too he both rebuked her when she asked unseasonably, and nevertheless did not refuse; by the first correcting her weakness, by the second showing his goodwill toward his mother. So here too he both healed the disease of vainglory and rendered the fitting honor to his mother, though she asked unseasonably. “For on that day,” it says, “Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea.” “For if you wish,” he says, “to see and to hear, behold, I go out and converse.” For since he had done many signs, he again bestows the benefit of teaching. And he sits beside the sea, fishing and netting those on the land. And it was not without purpose that he sat beside the sea; and the evangelist set down this very thing as a hint. For to show that he did this wishing to assemble the audience with exactness, and so as to leave no one behind his back but to have all face to face, “And great crowds,” it says, “were gathered to him, so that he got into a boat and sat down, and the whole crowd stood on the shore.” And having sat down there, he speaks in parables. “And he spoke to them,” it says, “many things in parables.” And yet on the mountain he did not do so, nor did he weave his discourse with so many parables; for then there were only crowds and an unaffected people, but here there were scribes and Pharisees too. But consider, I pray you, which parable he speaks first, and how Matthew sets them down in order. Which then does he speak first? The one he most needed to speak first, the one that makes the hearer more attentive. For since he was going to speak in riddles, he first rouses the mind of the hearers by the parable. For this reason another evangelist too says that he rebuked them because they did not understand, saying, “How did you not know the parable?” And he speaks in parables not for this reason only, but also to make his word more vivid, and to implant a fuller memory of it, and to bring the things before their eyes. So the prophets too do.

What then is the parable? “Behold, the sower went out to sow,” he says. From where did he go out, who is present everywhere, who fills all things? Or how did he go out? Not in place, but in relation and in his dispensation toward us, having come nearer to us through the clothing of the flesh. For since we could not enter, our sins walling off the entrance from us, he himself comes out to us. And why did he come out? To destroy the land full of thorns? To punish the husbandmen? By no means; but to till it and care for it, and to sow the word of godliness. For by the seed he here means the teaching, and by the field the souls of men, and by the sower himself. What then comes of this seed? Three parts perish, and one is saved. “And as he sowed,” it says, “some fell beside the road, and the birds came and devoured them.” He did not say that he cast them there, but that they fell. “And others on the rock, where they had not much earth; and at once they sprang up, because they had no depth of earth; and when the sun rose they were scorched, and because they had no root they withered. And others among the thorns; and the thorns grew up and choked them. And others on the good ground, and it yielded fruit, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” A fourth part was saved; and not even this equally, but here too the difference is great. And he said these things showing that he spoke to all ungrudgingly. For as the sower does not distinguish the field that lies before him, but simply and without discrimination casts the seeds, so he too does not distinguish rich, poor, wise, unwise, careless, earnest, brave, cowardly, but spoke to all, fulfilling his own part, though he foreknew what would be, so that it might be possible for him to say, “What ought I to have done, and have not done?” And the prophets speak of the people as of a vine: “For the beloved had a vineyard,” it says; and, “You brought a vine out of Egypt”; but he as of seed. Showing what? That the obedience will now be swift and easier, and will at once yield its fruit. And when you hear, “The sower went out to sow,” do not think it a tautology. For the sower often goes out for another task too, either to plough, or to cut out the bad weeds, or to pull up thorns, or to care for some other such thing; but he went out to sow. From where then, tell me, did the greater part of the seed perish? Not from the one who sowed, but from the earth that received it, that is, from the soul that did not listen. And why does he not say that the careless received some and lost it, the rich some and choked it, the slack some and betrayed it? He does not wish to touch them too sharply, so as not to throw them into despair, but leaves the conviction to the conscience of the hearers. And not the seed only suffered this, but the net too; for it also brought up many useless things. And he speaks this parable anointing the disciples and teaching them, even if those who perish are more than those who receive the word, not to fall down. For this happened in the case of the Master too; and he who surely foreknew that these things would be did not desist from sowing. “And how would it have reason,” someone says, “to sow on the thorns, on the rock, on the road?” In the case of seeds and earth it would not have reason; but in the case of souls and teachings this even has great praise. For the husbandman would reasonably be blamed for doing this; for it is not possible for the rock to become earth, nor for the road not to be a road, nor the thorns not to be thorns; but with rational beings it is not so. For it is possible for the rock to be changed and to become rich soil, and for the road no longer to be trampled nor to lie open to all who pass by, but to be a fertile field, and for the thorns to be done away and the seeds to enjoy much security. For if it were not possible, he would not have sown. And if the change did not take place in all, it was not because of the sower, but because of those unwilling to be changed. For he did his own part; and if they betrayed what came from him, he is blameless who displayed such love for humanity. But consider this, I pray you, that the way of destruction is not one, but various and differing from one another. For those like the road are the coarse and careless and negligent; while those on the rock are only the weaker. “For he who was sown on the rocky places,” he says, “this is he who hears the word and at once receives it with joy; but he has no root in himself, but endures for a while; and when tribulation or persecution arises because of the word, at once he is offended.” “When anyone,” he says, “hears the word of the truth and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in his heart. This is he who was sown beside the road.” But it is not equal for the teaching to wither when no one attacks it or tries to pry it loose, and when temptations press upon it. And those who are like the thorns are far less pardonable than these.

So that we may not suffer any of these things, then, let us cover what is said with eagerness and with continual remembrance. For even if the devil snatches, it is in our power not to be robbed; even if the seeds wither, this happens not because of the heat (for he did not say that it withered because of the heat, but because it had no root); even if what is said is choked, it is not because of the thorns, but because of those who allow them to grow up. For it is possible, if you are willing, to check this evil growth, and to use wealth as one ought. For this reason he did not say “the world,” but “the care of the world”; nor “wealth,” but “the deceitfulness of wealth.” Let us not then blame the things, but the corrupted mind. For it is possible both to be rich and not to be deceived, and to be in this world and not to be choked by its cares. For wealth has two opposite defects: the one straining and darkening, care; the other making men softer, luxury. And he said well, “the deceitfulness of wealth.” For all the things of wealth are deceit; for they are names only, not resting on realities. For pleasure, and glory, and adornment, and all these things are a kind of fantasy, not the truth of things. Having then stated the ways of destruction, he afterward sets down the good ground, not allowing them to despair, but giving hope of repentance, and showing that it is possible to change from those mentioned into this. And yet if the ground is good, and the sower one, and the seeds the same, why did one bear a hundredfold, another sixty, another thirty? Here again the difference is from the nature of the ground; for even where the ground is good, the difference in it is great. Do you see that it is not the husbandman who is the cause, nor the seeds, but the ground that receives them, not by nature but by choice? And here too his love for humanity is great, that he does not require one measure of virtue, but receives the first, and does not cast out the second, and gives room to the third. And he says these things so that those following him might not think that hearing is enough for salvation. “And for what reason,” someone says, “did he not set down the other vices too, such as desire for bodies, vainglory?” By saying “the care of this world” and “the deceitfulness of wealth,” he set down all. For vainglory too and the other things belong to this world and to the deceitfulness of wealth, such as pleasure, and gluttony, and envy, and vainglory, and all such things. And he added the road and the rock, showing that it is not enough only to be rid of money, but one must practise the rest of virtue too. For what if you are free of money, but cowardly and soft? And what if you are not cowardly, but careless and negligent about hearing? For one part is not enough for our salvation, but there is need first of exact hearing and continual memory, then of courage, then of contempt of money and freedom from all worldly things. For this reason he sets this first, before that, since there is need of this first (…): “For how will they believe, unless they hear?” So we too, unless we attend to what is said, shall not be able even to learn what we ought to do; then courage, and contempt of present things. Hearing these things, then, let us wall ourselves round on every side, attending to what is said, and sending our roots down deep, and cleansing ourselves of all worldly things. But if we do some things and neglect others, we shall have nothing more; for if not in this way, we perish in that. For what difference does it make if we are destroyed not by wealth but by carelessness, not by carelessness but by cowardice? For the husbandman too, whether he loses his seed in this way or in that, mourns alike. Let us not then take comfort because we are not perishing in all the ways, but let us grieve in whatever way we perish. And let us burn up the thorns; for they choke the word. And the rich know this, who are useful not only not for these things, but not for other things either. For having become slaves and captives of pleasures, they are useless even for civic affairs; and if for those, much more for the things of heaven. For a double ruin comes upon the reasoning from this, both from luxury and from care. For each of these by itself is enough to sink the ship; but when both run together, consider how great the storm becomes.

And do not wonder if he called luxury thorns. For you do not know it, being drunk with the passion; but the healthy know that it pricks more than a thorn, and that luxury consumes the soul more than care, and brings more grievous pains both to the body and to the soul. For no one is so smitten by anxiety as by surfeit. For when sleeplessness, and throbbing of the temples, and heaviness of the head, and pains of the bowels surround such a man, consider how much more grievous these things are than thorns. And as thorns, wherever they are held, make bloody the hands that hold them, so too luxury ruins feet and hands and head and eyes and simply all the members; and it is dry and fruitless, like the thorn, and grieves far more than it, and in the vital parts. For it brings on untimely old age, and blunts the senses, and darkens the reason, and maims the sharp-sighted mind, and makes the body flabby, making the storehouse of dung more abundant and gathering a great heap of evils, and making the burden greater and the load excessive; whence the falls are many and continual, and the shipwrecks frequent. For why do you fatten the body, tell me? Are we going to sacrifice you? Are we going to set you on a table? You do well to fatten birds; or rather, not even those well; for when they are fattened, they are useless for a healthy diet. So great an evil is luxury that it shows its ruin even in irrational creatures. For by pampering them we make them useless both to themselves and to us. For the residues are undigested, and a moister putrefaction comes from that fat. But those not so fed, but living, as one might say, in fasting and on a moderate diet, and toiling and enduring hardship, these are most useful both to themselves and to others, both for food and for all other things. Those at any rate who eat these are healthier; while those who are fed on the others become like them, sluggish and sickly, and make their bond more grievous. For nothing is so hostile and harmful to the body as luxury; nothing so bursts it and buries it and destroys it as prodigality. Therefore one might be most astonished at their folly in this too, that they are not willing to show toward themselves as much sparing as others show toward wineskins. For the wine sellers do not let these take in more than they should, so that they may not burst; but these men do not count their wretched belly worthy even of this forethought, but when they have filled it and burst it, they fill everything up to the ears, up to the nostrils, up to the throat itself, contriving thereby a double constriction for the breath and for the power that governs the living creature. Was your throat made for this, that you might fill it up to the mouth with rotten wine and other corruption? Not for this, O man, but that before all you might sing to God, and send up the sacred prayers, and read the divine laws, and counsel your neighbors what is profitable. But you, as though you had received it for this, do not allow it even a little time to be at leisure for that ministry, but subject it all your life to this evil slavery. And as if someone, taking a lyre with golden strings and well tuned, instead of striking up the all-harmonious melody on it, were to bury it in much dung and mud, so do these men. And by dung I did not mean food, but luxury and that great wantonness. For what is beyond what is needed is not food but only ruin. For the belly alone was made only for the reception of food; but mouth and throat and tongue for other things far more necessary than these; or rather, not even the belly simply for the reception of food, but for the reception of moderate food. And it shows this, crying out against us countless times when we abuse it by this greed; and it not only cries out, but avenging itself for the injustice exacts the utmost penalty from us. And first it punishes the feet, which carry and lead us away to those evil banquets; then binding the hands that serve it, in return for having brought it so many and such dishes; and many have even had the mouth itself distorted, and the eyes and the head. And as a servant, when something beyond his strength is commanded him, in desperation insults the one who gave the order, so often it too, together with these members, when forced, destroys and ruins even the brain itself. And God arranged this well, that so great harm should come from immoderation, so that when you do not live wisely of your own will, you may learn moderation even against your will through fear of so great corruption. Knowing these things, then, let us flee luxury, let us care for moderation, so that we may both enjoy health of body and, having freed the soul from every sickness, attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And the disciples came and said to him, ‘Why do you speak to them in parables?’ And he answered and said to them, ‘Because to you it has been given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.’” It is worth admiring the disciples, how, though they desire to learn, they know when they ought to ask. For they do not do this before all; and Matthew showed this by saying, “And they came.” And that what has been said is not a conjecture, Mark set it forth more clearly, saying that they came to him privately. This his brothers and his mother too ought to have done, and not to call him outside and make a display. And consider their affectionate care too, how they take great account of the others, and seek their good first, and then their own. “For why,” they say, “do you speak to them in parables?” They did not say, “Why do you speak to us in parables?” For elsewhere too they are seen in many ways to be affectionately disposed toward all, as when they say, “Send the crowds away,” and, “Do you know that they were offended?” What then does Christ say? “Because to you it has been given,” he says, “to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.” And he said this not bringing in necessity, nor some allotment made simply and at random, but showing that they are the cause of all their evils, and wishing to set forth that the thing is a gift and a grace given from above. Yet because it is a gift, free will is not therefore taken away; and this is clear from what follows. See at any rate how, so that neither those might despair nor these grow careless on hearing that “it has been given,” he shows that the beginning is with us. “For whoever has, to him more will be given, and he will have abundance; but whoever does not have, even what he seems to have will be taken from him.” And what has been said is full of much obscurity, but it shows unspeakable justice. For what he says is this: when someone has eagerness and zeal, all the things from God will be given to him too; but when he is empty of these and does not contribute his own part, neither are the things from God given. “For even what he seems to have,” he says, “will be taken from him”; not God taking it away, but not counting him worthy of his gifts. This we too do: when we see someone listening carelessly, and after exhorting him much to attend we do not persuade him, we are silent at last. For if we are going to persist, his carelessness is increased. But the one eager to learn we draw on and pour much into him. And he said well, “even what he seems to have”; for he does not even have this. Then he made what he had said clearer too, showing what is meant by “to him who has it will be given, and from him who does not have, even what he seems to have will be taken from him.” “For this reason,” he says, “I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see.” “Then he ought to have opened their eyes,” someone says, “if they do not see.” But if the blindness were of nature, he ought to have opened them; but since the blindness is voluntary and self-chosen, for this reason he did not simply say, “They do not see,” but, “Seeing they do not see”; so the blindness is of their own wickedness. For they saw demons too going out, and they said, “He casts out the demons by Beelzebul, the ruler of the demons.” They heard him bringing them to God and showing great concord with him, and they say, “This man is not from God.” Since then they declared the contrary both of what they saw and of what they heard, “for this reason,” he says, “I take away from them even the hearing.” For no more comes to them from it, but even greater judgment. For they not only disbelieved, but also rebuked and accused and plotted. But he does not say this; for he does not wish to be burdensome in accusing. So at the beginning he did not speak to them so, but with great clearness; but since they perverted themselves, he now speaks in parables. Then, so that no one may think that what was said is mere accusation, and that they may not say, “Being our enemy, he accuses and slanders us with these things,” he brings in the prophet too, voting the same things with him. “For in them is fulfilled,” he says, “the prophecy of Isaiah, which says, ‘Hearing you will hear and shall not understand, and seeing you will see and shall not perceive.’” See the prophet too accusing with this exactness. For neither did he say, “You do not see,” but, “You will see and shall not perceive”; not that “you will not hear,” but that “you will hear and shall not understand.” So they deprived themselves first, stopping their ears, shutting their eyes, making their heart fat. For not only did they not hear, but they also heard heavily. And they did this, he says, “lest they should turn, and I should heal them,” speaking of their intense wickedness and their eager turning away.

And he says this drawing them on and provoking them, and showing that if they turn, he will heal them; as if someone were to say, “He did not wish to see me, and I am grateful; for if I had been counted worthy, I would at once have given way.” And he says this showing how he might be reconciled. So here too he says, “lest they should turn and I should heal them,” showing both that turning is possible and that it is possible for those who repent to be saved, and that he did everything not for his own glory but for their salvation. For if he had not wished them to hear and be saved, he ought to have kept silence, not to speak in parables; but now by this very thing he moves them, by speaking in veiled sayings. “For God does not desire the death of the sinner, so much as that he should turn and live.” For that sin is not of nature, nor of necessity and force, hear what he says to the apostles: “But blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear,” not meaning this sight nor this hearing, but that of the mind. For these too were Jews, and had been brought up in the same things; but nevertheless they were in no way harmed by the prophecy, since they had the root of good things well disposed, I mean their choice and their mind. Do you see that “to you it has been given” was not of necessity? For they would not have been called blessed unless the achievement had been theirs. For do not tell me that it was spoken obscurely; for they could have come and asked, as the disciples did; but they were unwilling, being careless and lax. And why do I say they were unwilling? They even did the opposite. For they not only disbelieved, nor only did not listen, but even made war and were very ill-disposed toward what was said; which is why the prophet is brought in accusing them, by saying, “They heard heavily.” But those others were not such; therefore he also called them blessed. And from another side too he confirms them again, saying, “For truly I say to you, many prophets and righteous men desired to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it”: “my coming,” he says, “the very wonders, my voice, my teaching.” For here he sets them above not only these corrupt men, but also above those who had done well; for he says that they are more blessed even than those. Why? Because these see not only what the Jews did not see, but also what those men desired to see. For those beheld only by faith, but these by sight too, and far more clearly. Do you see how again he joins the old covenant to the new, showing that those men not only knew the things to come, but even desired them exceedingly? But they would not have desired them, if they had belonged to some strange and opposite God. “Hear then the parable of the sower,” he says; and he says what we stated before, about carelessness and zeal, about cowardice and courage, about wealth and having nothing, showing the harm from the one and the benefit from the other. Then he brings in different ways of virtue too. For being a lover of mankind, he did not cut one road only, nor did he say, “Unless one produces a hundred, he has fallen away”; but he who produces sixty is saved too, and not he only, but also he who produces thirty. And he did this making salvation easy. And you, then, cannot practise virginity? Marry chastely. You cannot become one who possesses nothing? Give from what you have. You cannot bear that burden? Share your possessions with Christ. You do not wish to give him all? Give him at least the half, at least the third part. He is your brother and fellow heir; make him your fellow heir here too. Whatever you give him, you will give to yourself. Do you not hear what the prophet says? “You shall not overlook those of your own seed.” And if one must not overlook kinsmen, much less the Master, who besides his lordship has the claim of kinship upon you too, and many other claims. For he made you a sharer in his own things, having received nothing from you, but even having begun this unspeakable benefit. How then is it not the height of folly not even to be loving toward men in return for this gift, nor to give a recompense for grace, and that a smaller one for greater things? For he made you heir of heaven; but you do not share with him even the things on earth. He reconciled you when you had done nothing good, but were even an enemy; but you do not repay him even though he is a friend and benefactor? And yet even before the kingdom and before all other things, ought we not to be grateful to him for this very thing, that we may give? For servants too, when they invite their masters to a meal, think that they are not giving but receiving; but here the opposite has happened. For not the servant the master, but the master first invited the servant to his own table; and do you not invite him even after this? He first brought you under his own roof; and do you not do so even second? He clothed you when you were naked; and do you not even after these things take him in when he is a stranger? He first gave you to drink of his own cup; and do you not share even cold water? He gave you the Holy Spirit to drink; and do you not even relieve his bodily thirst? He gave you the Spirit to drink, though you deserved punishments; and do you overlook him even when he is thirsty, and that when you are going to do all these things from his own possessions?

For do you not think it a great thing to hold the cup from which Christ is going to drink, and to bring it to his mouth? Do you not see that it is lawful for the priest alone to hand the cup of the blood? “But I am not exacting at all about these things,” he says; “but even if you yourself hand it, I receive it; even if you are a layman, I do not refuse. And I do not require such as I gave; for I do not seek blood, but cold water.” Consider whom you give to drink, and shudder. Consider that you become a priest of Christ, giving with your own hand, not flesh but bread, not blood but a cup of cold water. He clothed you with the garment of salvation, and clothed you by himself; do you at least clothe him through your servant. He made you glorious in heaven; do you free him from shivering and nakedness and shame. He made you a citizen with the angels; do you at least share your roof with him, at least give him a lodging as you would to your servant. “I do not turn away from this lodging, and that though I opened all heaven to you. I set you free from a most grievous prison; this I do not require, nor do I say, ‘Set me free’; but if you only see me bound, this is enough for my comfort. I raised you up when you were dead; this I do not require from you, but I say, ‘Only visit me when I am sick.’” When then the things given are so great and the things required very light, and we do not furnish even these, of how great a Gehenna would we not be worthy? With reason we go away into the fire prepared for the devil and his angels, being more insensible than rocks. For how great is the insensibility, tell me, that we who have received so much and are going to receive so much should be slaves of money, from which a little later we shall depart even unwillingly? And others gave even their life and poured out their blood; but you do not give up even your superfluities for heaven, for so many crowns? And of what pardon would you be worthy, what defense, when in sowing the earth you give up everything gladly, and in lending to men you spare nothing, but in feeding your Master through those in need you are cruel and inhuman? Considering all these things, then, and reckoning what we have received, what we are going to receive, and what we are asked for, let us display all our zeal in spiritual things. Let us at length become gentle and loving toward men, so that we may not draw upon ourselves the unbearable penalty. For what is not enough to condemn us? To have enjoyed so many and such great things; to be asked for nothing great; to be asked for such things as we shall leave here even unwillingly; to display great love of honor in worldly things. For each of these by itself is enough to condemn us; but when all come together, what hope of salvation will there be? So that we may escape all this condemnation, then, let us display some generosity toward those in need. For so we shall enjoy all the good things both here and there; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Another parable he put before them, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field; but while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, and went away. And when the blade sprang up and bore fruit, then the tares appeared too. And the servants of the householder came and said to him, “Sir, did you not sow good seed in your field? From where then does it have tares?” And he said to them, “An enemy has done this.” And the servants said to him, “Do you wish then that we go and gather them up?” But he said, “No, lest while gathering up the tares you root up the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.”’” What is the difference between this parable and the one before it? There he speaks of those who did not attend to him at all, but leaped away and threw away the seed; but here he speaks of the companies of the heretics. For so that this too might not trouble the disciples, he foretells this too, after teaching them why he speaks in parables. That parable, then, says that they did not receive; but this one, that they even received corrupters. For this too is part of the devil’s craft, always to bring in error beside the truth, painting it over with many likenesses, so as easily to steal away those who are easily deceived. For this reason he calls it not some other seed, but tares, which in appearance somehow resemble wheat. Then he states the manner of the plot too: “For while men slept,” he says. From this he hangs no small danger over the rulers, to whom especially the guarding of the field has been entrusted; and not over the rulers only, but over those who are ruled as well. And he shows that error comes after the truth; which the outcome of events too bears witness to. For after the prophets came the false prophets; and after the apostles, the false apostles; and after Christ, the Antichrist. For unless the devil sees something to imitate, or someone to plot against, he neither attempts nor knows how. And now then, since he saw that one produced a hundredfold, another sixty, another thirty, he goes another way at last. For since he could not snatch away what had taken root, nor choke it, nor scorch it, he plots by another deceit, throwing in his own things. “And what difference is there,” someone says, “between those who sleep and those who resemble the seed by the road?” That there he snatched it at once; for he did not allow it even to take root; but here he needed more contrivance. And Christ says these things teaching us to be watchful always. “For even if you escape those harms,” he says, “there is another harm too. For as there destruction comes through the road and the rock and the thorns, so here through sleep; so there is need of continual watchfulness.” Therefore he also said, “But he who endures to the end will be saved.” Something of this kind happened at the beginning too. Many at least of those who preside, bringing wicked men into the churches, heresiarchs in disguise, gave great facility to such a plot. For the devil needs no more labor, when he has planted those in the midst. “And how is it possible not to sleep?” someone says. Natural sleep is not possible to avoid; but the sleep of the will is possible. Therefore Paul too said, “Watch, stand firm in the faith.” Then he shows that the thing is superfluous too, not only harmful. For after the field had been cultivated and there was no need of anything, then this man sows over it, as the heretics too do, who for no other reason than vainglory cast in their venom. And not from this only, but also from what follows he sketches their whole stage play with exactness. “For when the blade sprang up,” he says, “and bore fruit, then the tares appeared too”; which these men too do. For at the beginning they keep themselves in the shade; but when they gain much freedom of speech and someone gives them a share in teaching, then they pour out their venom. And for what reason does he bring in the servants telling what had happened? So that he may say that one must not kill them. And he calls him an enemy “man” because of the harm done to men. For the spite is against us; but the beginning of the spite came not from his enmity toward us, but from his enmity toward God. From which it is clear that God loves us more than we love ourselves. And see the devil’s malice from another side too. For he did not sow before this, since he had nothing to destroy; but when all things had been filled, so that he might ruin the labor of the husbandman; so hostile to him was he in all that he did. And consider the servants’ affection too. For they hasten at once to pull up the tares, even if they do not act with deliberation; which shows their care for the seed, and that they look to one thing only, not that the enemy may pay the penalty, but that what was sown may not perish; for that is not the urgent thing. Therefore they consider how they may take away the disease for the present. And not even this do they seek simply; for they do not trust themselves, but wait for the master’s opinion, saying, “Do you wish?” What then does the master say? He forbids them, saying, “Lest you root up the wheat with them.” And he said this forbidding wars and bloodshed and slaughter to take place. For one must not kill a heretic; since an implacable war would have been brought into the world.

By two considerations, then, he holds them back: one, that the wheat may not be harmed; the other, that punishment will certainly overtake them, since they are incurably sick. So if you wish them to be punished, and that without harm to the wheat, wait for the fitting time. And what is “lest you root up the wheat with them”? Either he means this, that if you were to take up arms and slaughter the heretics, many of the saints too must needs be struck down with them; or that from among the tares themselves it is likely that many will change and become wheat. If then you uproot them beforehand, you ruin the wheat that is going to come to be, destroying those who are able to change and become better. He does not then forbid restraining heretics, and stopping their mouths, and cutting off their freedom of speech, and breaking up their assemblies and covenants, but killing and slaughtering them. And see his gentleness, how he not only declares and forbids, but also sets down reasons. What then if the tares remain to the end? “Then I will say to the reapers, ‘Gather first the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them.’” Again he reminds them of the words of John, which brought him in as judge; and he says that as long as they stand near the wheat, they must be spared, for it is possible for them even to become wheat; but when they depart having gained nothing, then the inexorable penalty will of necessity take them. “For I will say to the reapers,” he says, “Gather first the tares.” Why first? So that these may not fear, as though the wheat were being carried off together with them. “And bind them in bundles to burn them; but gather the wheat into the barn.” “Another parable he put before them, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed.’” For since he had said that of the seed three parts perish and one is saved, and that even in the part that is saved so much harm happens, so that they might not say, “And who and how many will the believers be?”, he takes away this fear too, leading them to faith by the parable of the mustard seed, and showing that the preaching will certainly spread. For this reason he brought forward the image of this herb, which very much resembles the subject: “which is the smallest,” he says, “of all seeds; but when it has grown, it is greater than the herbs, and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in its branches.” For he wished to show the proof of its greatness. “So it will be with the preaching too,” he says. For the disciples were weaker than all and less than all; but nevertheless, since the power in them was great, it spread out everywhere in the world. Then he adds the leaven to this image, saying, “The kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, until the whole was leavened.” “For as this changes the great quantity of meal into its own strength, so you too will change the whole world.” And see his wisdom. For he brings forward the things of nature, showing that as it is impossible for those not to happen, so for these too. “For do not tell me, ‘What shall we be able to do, twelve men falling among so great a multitude?’ For this very thing above all makes your strength shine out, to be mixed with the multitude and not to flee. As then the leaven too leavens the lump when it comes near the meal, and not simply near, but so as to be mixed with it (for he did not say simply, ‘she put,’ but ‘she hid’), so you too, when you are joined and united to those who war against you, then you will overcome them. And as it is buried but not destroyed, but little by little changes everything into its own state, in the same way this will happen with the preaching too. Do not then fear because I said that the spiteful attacks would be many; for even so you will shine out and overcome all.” And by three measures he here means many; for Scripture knows how to take this number for a multitude. And do not wonder if, speaking about the kingdom, he mentioned a grain and leaven; for he was speaking to men inexperienced and unlearned, who needed to be led on by these things. For they were so simple that even after all these things they needed much interpretation. Where then are the children of the Greeks? Let them learn Christ’s power, seeing the truth of the facts; and let them worship him on both counts, because he both foretold so great a thing and fulfilled it. For it is he who put the power into the leaven. For this reason too he mixed those who believe in him with the multitude, so that we might share our understanding with the others. Let no one then blame our fewness. For great is the power of the preaching; and what has once been leavened becomes leaven in turn for the rest. And as a spark, when it takes hold of wood, makes what is already burned an addition to the flame, and so comes upon the rest, so too does the preaching. But he did not say fire, but leaven. Why? Because there the whole is not the fire’s, but also that of the wood that is kindled; but here the leaven does the whole by itself. And if twelve men leavened the whole world, consider how great is our wickedness, when, being so many, we are not able to correct those who remain, we who ought to have been enough for countless worlds and to become leaven.

“But those men,” someone says, “were apostles.” And what of this? Did they not share the same things as you? Were they not reared in cities? Did they not enjoy the same things? Did they not practise crafts? Were they angels? Did they come down from heaven? “But they had the signs,” someone says. It was not the signs that made them wonderful. How long shall we use those wonders as cloaks for our own carelessness? See the choir of the saints, who did not shine by those wonders. For many, even after casting out demons, since they worked lawlessness, did not become wonderful, but were even punished. “And what then was it,” someone says, “that showed them great?” Despising money, disdaining glory, being freed from worldly affairs. Since if they had not had these things, but had been slaves of the passions, even if they had raised countless dead, not only would they have profited nothing, but they would even have been thought to be deceivers. So it is the life that shines everywhere, that draws to itself the grace of the Spirit too. What sign did John do, that he made so many cities hang upon him? For that he did no sign, hear the evangelist saying, “John did no sign.” And from where did Elijah become wonderful? Was it not from his boldness toward the king? Was it not from his zeal for God? Was it not from his having nothing? Was it not from his sheepskin and the cave and the mountains? For he did the signs after all these things. And what sign did the devil see Job doing, that he was astonished? No sign, but a shining life, and a patience firmer than adamant. What sign did David do, while still young, that God said, “I have found David the son of Jesse, a man after my own heart”? And what dead man did Abraham and Isaac and Jacob raise? What leper did they cleanse? Do you not know that signs, unless we are sober, often even harm? So many of the Corinthians were split from one another; so many of the Romans were puffed up; so Simon was cast out; so the man who then desired to follow Christ was rejected, hearing, “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests.” For each of these, one desiring money, another the glory that comes from signs, fell away and perished. But care for one’s life and the love of virtue not only do not give birth to such a desire, but even take it away when it is there. And he himself, when giving laws to his disciples, what did he say? “Do signs, so that men may see”? By no means; but what? “Let your light shine before men, so that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” And to Peter he did not say, “If you love me, do signs,” but, “Feed my sheep.” And everywhere preferring him above the others, together with James and John, from what, tell me, did he prefer them? From the signs? Yet all alike cleansed lepers and raised the dead, and he gave the authority to all alike. From where then did these have more? From the virtue of the soul. Do you see that everywhere there is need of life and of the display that comes through works? “For by their fruits,” he says, “you will know them.”

And what establishes our life? A display of signs, or the exactness of an excellent way of life? Clearly the second; and signs too have their starting points from here and end in this. For he who displays an excellent life draws this grace to himself; and he who receives the grace receives it for this, that he may correct the life of others. For Christ too did those wonders for this reason, that, having appeared trustworthy by them and having drawn men to himself, he might bring virtue into life. Therefore he also makes the greater effort on behalf of this. For he is not content with signs only, but also threatens Gehenna, and promises the kingdom, and sets down those strange laws, and does everything for this, so as to make men equal to the angels. And why do I say that Christ does everything for this? For if someone gave you, tell me, the choice either to raise the dead in his name or to die for his name, which would you rather accept? Is it not clear that the second? And yet the one is a sign, the other a work. And what if someone set before you either to make grass gold, or to be able to despise all money as grass, would you not accept this rather? And with good reason. For this would above all draw men. For if they saw grass becoming gold, they would have desired to receive the power themselves too, like Simon, and the love of money would have increased in them; but if they saw all despising and disdaining gold as grass, they would long ago have been freed from this disease. Do you see that the life is more able to benefit? And by life I do not now mean if you fast, nor if you spread sackcloth and ashes beneath you, but if you disdain money as one should disdain it, if you are affectionate, if you give your bread to the hungry, if you (…) anger. So he himself taught: “For learn from me,” he says, “for I am meek and lowly in heart.” He did not say, “For I fasted,” though he had the forty days to speak of; but he does not say this, but, “For I am meek and lowly in heart.” And again, sending them out, he did not say, “Fast,” but, “Eat everything that is set before you.” But concerning money he required great exactness, saying, “Do not get gold or silver or copper for your belts.” And I say these things not finding fault with fasting (God forbid!), but even praising it greatly; but I grieve when, neglecting the other things, you think this is enough for your salvation, though it holds the last place in the choir of virtue. For the greatest thing is love and gentleness and almsgiving, which has surpassed even virginity. So if you wish to become equal to the apostles, nothing hinders you. For it is enough to have pursued only this virtue to have nothing less than they. Let no one then wait for signs. For the demon is grieved when he is driven from a body, but much more when he sees a soul being freed from sin. For this is his great power. For this Christ died, to destroy it. For this brought in death; through this all things were turned upside down. If then you take this away, you have cut out the devil’s sinews, crushed his head, destroyed all his strength, scattered his army, displayed a sign greater than all signs. This word is not mine, but blessed Paul’s. For having said, “Be zealous for the better gifts; and yet I show you a more excellent way,” he did not bring in a sign, but love, the root of all good things. If then we practise this, and all the philosophy that comes from it, we shall need no signs; just as, if we do not practise it, we shall gain nothing from signs. Considering all these things, then, let us emulate the things from which the apostles became great. From where then did they become great? Hear Peter saying, “Behold, we have left everything and followed you; what then shall we have?” Hear Christ too saying to them, “You will sit on twelve thrones,” and that “everyone who has left houses or brothers or father or mother will receive a hundredfold in this age, and will inherit eternal life.” Withdrawing ourselves, then, from all worldly things, let us dedicate ourselves to Christ, so that we may become equal to the apostles according to his own sentence, and enjoy eternal life; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“All these things Jesus spoke in parables to the crowds, and without a parable he spoke nothing to them, that what was spoken through the prophet might be fulfilled, saying, ‘I will open my mouth in parables; I will utter things hidden from the foundation of the world.’” And Mark says that “as they were able to hear, he spoke the word to them in parables.” Then, showing that he was introducing nothing new, he brings in the prophet too, foretelling this manner of teaching. And teaching us Christ’s intention, that he spoke so not that they might be ignorant but that he might lead them to ask questions, he added, “And without a parable he spoke nothing to them.” And yet he had said many things without a parable; but then, nothing. And nevertheless no one asked him; and yet they often asked the prophets, as Ezekiel, as many others; but these did nothing of the kind. And yet what had been said was enough to throw them into anguish and to rouse them to ask; for the parables threatened the greatest punishment; but nevertheless not even so were they moved. Therefore he also left them and went away. “For then,” it says, “Jesus left the crowds and went into his house”; and none of the scribes follows; from which it is clear that they followed for no other reason than to lay hold of him. But since they did not understand what was said, he let them be at last. “And his disciples come to him, asking about the parable of the tares”; and yet there are times when they wished to learn and were afraid to ask. From where then did they get this boldness here? They had heard, “To you it has been given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven,” and they took courage. Therefore they also ask privately, not grudging the multitude, but keeping their Master’s law. “For to them,” he says, “it has not been given.” And why, leaving aside the parable of the leaven and of the mustard seed, do they inquire about this one? They left those as clearer; but this one, as having a kinship with the one spoken before and showing something more than it, they wished to learn. For he would not have spoken the same one a second time. For they desire to learn, seeing great threatening displayed in it. Therefore he does not even blame them, but fills out what had been said. And what I have always said, that one must not go through the parables word by word, since many absurdities will follow, this he too teaches us here by explaining the parable so. For he does not say who the servants are who came; but, showing that he took them in for the sake of a certain sequence and to shape the image, leaving that part aside he interprets the urgent and most essential things, those for which the parable was spoken, showing himself to be judge and Lord of all. “And he answered,” it says, “and said to them, ‘He who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; and the field is the world; and the good seed, these are the sons of the kingdom; and the tares are the sons of the evil one; and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; and the harvest is the end of the age; and the reapers are angels. As then the tares are gathered and burned with fire, so will it be at the end of this age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will gather out of his kingdom all stumbling blocks and those who do lawlessness, and will cast them into the furnace of fire; there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.’” For when he himself is the sower, and gathers from his own field and out of his own kingdom, it is clear that the present world too is his. And consider his unspeakable love for humanity, his inclination toward kindness, and his estrangement from punishing. For when he sows, he sows himself; but when he punishes, through others, that is, the angels. “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” Not because they will shine only so, but since we know nothing brighter than this star, he uses examples known to us. And yet elsewhere he says that the harvest is already present, as when he says about the Samaritans, “Lift up your eyes and see the fields, that they are white already for harvest”; and again, “The harvest is great, but the laborers are few.” How then does he say there that the harvest is already present, but here that the harvest is to come? With another meaning. And how, having said elsewhere, “One is the sower and another the reaper,” does he say here that he himself is the sower? Because there too he was distinguishing not himself but the prophets from the apostles, in the case of the Jews and Samaritans. For he himself sowed through the prophets too. And there are times when he calls this same thing both harvest and sowing, naming it so in relation to different things.

For when he speaks of the persuasion and obedience of those who obeyed, he calls the thing a harvest, as having completed the whole; but when he seeks the fruit of the hearing, sowing; and he calls the end a harvest. And how does he say elsewhere that the righteous are caught up first? They are caught up first indeed; but when Christ has come, these others are handed over to punishment, and then those go away into the kingdom of heaven. For since they must be in heaven, and he will come here and judge all men, having given his sentence to these, like a king he rises with his friends, leading them to that blessed lot. Do you see that the punishment is double, both being burned and falling from that glory? But for what reason, now that those had withdrawn, does he speak to these too in parables? They had become wiser from what had been said, so as even to understand. At any rate he says to them after these things, “Have you understood all these things?” They say to him, “Yes, Lord.” So besides the other things the parable achieved this too, making them more discerning. What then does he say again? “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and hid, and in his joy he sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls, who, having found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it.” As there the mustard seed and the leaven have some small difference from each other, so here too these two parables, that of the treasure and that of the pearl. For through both he hints at this, that the preaching must be preferred to all things. And those of the leaven and the mustard seed were spoken with reference to the power of the preaching, and that it will certainly overcome the world; but these display its preciousness and costliness. For it spreads out like mustard and prevails like leaven, but it is costly like a pearl and gives countless abundance like a treasure. And not only this may we learn, that we must strip off all other things and hold to the preaching, but also that we must do this with joy; and that one who is deprived of his possessions must know that the thing is a merchant’s gain, not a loss. Do you see how the preaching is hidden in the world, and the good things in the preaching? Unless you sell everything, you do not buy; unless you have such a soul, anxious and seeking, you do not find. Two things, then, must be present: to keep away from worldly things and to be watchful. “For a merchant seeking fine pearls,” he says, “who, having found one of great price, sold everything and bought it.” For the truth is one, and not split into many parts. And as he who has the pearl knows himself that he is rich, while to others he is often not known, holding it in his hand (for it is no bulk of body), so too with the preaching: those who hold it know that they are rich, but the unbelievers, not knowing this treasure, do not know our wealth either. Then, so that we may not trust in the preaching only, nor think faith alone enough for our salvation, he speaks another fearful parable too. What is this? That of the net. “For the kingdom of heaven is like a net cast into the sea, and gathering of every kind; which, when it was filled, they drew up on the shore, and sat down and gathered the good into vessels, but threw the bad away.” And how does this differ from the parable of the tares? For there too some are saved and others perish; but there through the choice of evil doctrines, and those before them through not attending to what was said, but these through wickedness of life; who are the most wretched of all, having attained knowledge and been caught, but not able to be saved even so. And yet elsewhere he says that he himself, the shepherd, separates them, but here he says that the angels do this, as also with the tares. What then is it? Sometimes he speaks to them more grossly, sometimes more loftily. And this parable he interprets without even being asked, but of his own accord he made it known in part, and increased the fear. For so that you might not think, on hearing that they threw the bad away, that the destruction is without danger, he showed the punishment through the interpretation, saying that they will cast them into the furnace, and he made known the gnashing of teeth and the pain, which is unspeakable. Do you see how many are the ways of destruction? That through the rock, that through the thorns, that through the road, that through the tares, that through the net. Not without reason, then, did he say, “Broad is the road that leads away to destruction, and many are those who go away through it.” Having said these things, then, and having closed the discourse on the fearful note, and shown them more of these things (for he lingered with them longer), he says, “Have you understood all these things?” They say to him, “Yes, Lord.” Then, since they had understood, he praises them again, saying, “Therefore every scribe who has been made a disciple in the kingdom of heaven is like a man who is a householder, who brings out of his treasure new things and old.” Therefore he also says elsewhere, “I will send you wise men and scribes.” Do you see how he does not shut out the old covenant, but even praises it and speaks publicly of it, calling it a treasure? So those who are inexperienced in the divine Scriptures would not be householders, those who neither have of themselves nor receive from others, but overlook themselves perishing with hunger. And not these only, but the heretics too are outside this blessing. For they do not bring out new things and old. For they do not have the old things; therefore not the new either; just as those who do not have the new do not have the old either, but are deprived of both; for these are bound and woven together with each other. Let us hear, then, as many of us as neglect the reading of the Scriptures, how great a loss we suffer, how great a poverty. For when shall we lay hold of the way of life that comes through works, we who do not even know the laws by which we must live? But the rich, who are mad about money, continually shake out their garments so that they may not become moth-eaten; (…) and do you not read books, do you not beat off the ruin from your soul, do you not adorn your soul, do you not continually look upon the image of virtue, and learn well its members and its head? For it has a head too, and members more comely than any beautiful and lovely body. “What then,” someone says, “is the head of virtue?” Humility. Therefore Christ too begins from it, saying, “Blessed are the poor.” This head does not have tresses and curls, but such beauty as to draw God to itself. “For on whom shall I look,” it says, “but on the meek and lowly, and him who trembles at my words?” And, “My eyes are on the meek of the earth.” And, “The Lord is near to the broken in heart.” This head, instead of hair, (…) a golden (…) and a spiritual altar: “For a sacrifice to God is a broken spirit.” This is the mother of wisdom. If anyone has this, he will have the rest too. Do you see a head such as you have never seen? Do you wish to see the face too, or rather to learn of it? Learn then meanwhile its color, ruddy and blooming and full of grace, and learn from what it is composed. From what then is it composed? From modesty and blushing. Therefore someone also says, “Before a modest man grace will go forth.” This pours much beauty over the other members too. Even if you mix countless colors, you will not produce such (…) beauty. And if you wish to see the eyes too, see them drawn with exactness by orderliness and chastity. Therefore they become so beautiful and sharp-sighted as to see the Lord himself. “For blessed,” he says, “are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” And its mouth is wisdom and understanding and the knowledge of spiritual hymns. And its heart is experience of the Scriptures, and the keeping of exact doctrines, and love for humanity, and kindness. And as without this heart it is not possible to live, so without that other it is not possible ever to be saved. For from there all good things are born. It has feet and hands too, the displays of good works; it has a soul too, godliness; it has a golden breast too, stronger than adamant, courage; and it is easier to capture everything than to break this breast. And the breath in the brain and heart is love.

Do you wish me to show you the image in actual deeds too? Consider, I pray you, this very evangelist. And though we do not have his whole life written down, yet even from a few things it is possible to see his image shining through. That he was humble and broken in heart, hear him calling himself a tax collector after the gospel; that he was merciful too, see him stripping off everything and following Jesus; and that he was godly is clear from his doctrines. And his understanding too it is easy to see from the gospel he composed, and his love, for he cared for the world; and his display of good works from the throne on which he is going to sit; and his courage, from his returning rejoicing from the presence of the council. Let us emulate this virtue, then, and above all humility and almsgiving, without which it is not possible to be saved. And the five virgins show this, and with them the Pharisee. For without virginity it is possible to see the kingdom, but without almsgiving impossible; for this belongs to the necessary things, and to those that hold the whole together. Not without reason, then, have we called it the heart of virtue. But this heart, unless it supplies breath to all, is quickly quenched. As a spring too, if it keeps its streams to itself, grows putrid, so do the rich, when they hold their possessions to themselves. For this reason in common speech too we say, “Great is the rot of wealth with so-and-so,” and we do not say, “Great is the abundance, great the treasure.” For indeed it is a rot, not only of the possessors, but of the wealth itself. For garments laid by are spoiled, and gold rusts, and grain is eaten away; and the soul of the one who has these things, more than all of them, is rusted and rotted by its cares. And if you wish to bring out into the midst the soul of a covetous man, like a garment eaten by countless worms and having nothing sound, so you will find it bored through on every side by cares, rotted by sins, rusted. But the soul of the poor man is not such (I mean the voluntarily poor man), but it gleams like gold, it shines like a pearl, it blooms like a rose. For there is no moth there, there is no thief there, there is no worldly care; but as angels, so these live. Do you wish to see the beauty of this soul? Do you wish to learn well the wealth of this poverty? It does not command men, but commands demons; it does not stand by a king, but stands by God; it does not serve as a soldier with men, but serves with angels; it does not have two chests and three and twenty, but such abundance that it counts the whole world as nothing. It does not have a treasure, but heaven. It does not need slaves, or rather it has the passions as slaves, it has as slaves the thoughts that rule kings. For the thought that gives orders to him who wears the purple cowers before this man and does not dare to look him in the face. But a kingdom and gold and all such things he laughs at like children’s toys, and like hoops and knucklebones and balls, so he thinks all these things contemptible. For he has an adornment which those who play with these things cannot even see. What then could be better than this poor man? He has heaven at any rate for his floor. And if the floor is such, consider the roof. “But he does not have horses and carriages.” For what need has he of these, who is going to ride on the clouds and to be with Christ? Considering these things, then, both men and women, let us seek that wealth and the abundance that cannot be captured, so that we may also attain the kingdom of heaven, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And it came to pass, when Jesus had finished these parables, he departed from there.” Why did he say “these”? Because he was going to speak others too. And why does he move from place to place? Wishing to sow the word everywhere. “And coming into his own country, he taught them in their synagogue.” And what does he now call his own country? To me it seems, Nazareth. “For he did not do many mighty works there,” it says; but in Capernaum he did signs; therefore he also said, “And you, Capernaum, who are exalted to heaven, will be brought down to Hades; for if the mighty works done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day.” And having come there, he holds back from the signs, so as not to kindle them into greater envy, nor to condemn them more heavily as their unbelief increased; but he puts forward teaching, which holds no less wonder than the signs. For these utterly senseless men, when they ought to have wondered and been astonished at the power of what was said, on the contrary make light of him because of the one who was thought to be his father; and that though they had many examples of these things in former times, and had seen noble sons of obscure fathers. For David was the son of a humble farmer, Jesse; and Amos the son of a goatherd and himself a goatherd; and Moses the lawgiver too had a father very much inferior to himself. They ought then for this reason above all to have worshiped and been astonished, that being of such parents he uttered such things; for it was clear that it was not from human training but from divine grace; but from the very things for which they ought to have wondered, from these they despise him. And he frequents the synagogues continually, so that, if he always spent his time in the wilderness, they might not accuse him the more as splitting off and warring against their polity. Astonished then and at a loss, they said, “From where has this man this wisdom and these mighty works?”, calling either the signs mighty works, or the wisdom itself. “Is not this the carpenter’s son?” Then the wonder is greater and the astonishment more. “Is not his mother called Mary? And his brothers James and Joses and Simon and Judas? And his sisters, are they not all with us? From where then has this man all these things? And they were offended at him.” Do you see that he was speaking in Nazareth? “Are not his brothers,” it says, “so-and-so and so-and-so?” And what of this? “For from this above all you ought to have been led to faith.” But envy is an evil thing, and often falls foul of itself. For the things that were wonderful and marvelous and able to draw them, these offended them. What then does Christ say to them? “A prophet is not without honor,” he says, “except in his own country and in his own house.” “And he did not do many mighty works,” it says, “because of their unbelief.” And Luke says, “And he did not do many signs there.” And yet it was likely that he would do them. For if being wondered at was advancing for him (for even then he was wondered at), for what reason did he not do them? Because he was looking not to his own display but to their advantage. Since then this was not advancing, he overlooked his own glory, so as not to increase their punishment. And yet see after how long a time he came to them, and with how great a display of signs; but not even so did they bear it, but were again inflamed with envy. For what reason then did he do even a few signs? So that they might not say, “Physician, heal yourself”; so that they might not say, “He is our enemy and foe, and overlooks his own people”; so that they might not say, “If signs had been done, we too would have believed.” For this reason he both did them and held back: the one, that he might fulfill his own part; the other, that he might not condemn them more heavily. And consider the power of what was said, seeing that even though held by envy they still wondered. But as in the case of the works they do not find fault with what is done but invent causes that do not exist, saying, “He casts out the demons by Beelzebul,” so here too they do not blame the teaching but take refuge in the meanness of his family. But consider, I pray you, the teacher’s gentleness, how he does not insult them, but says with great mildness, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own country.” And he did not stop even there, but added, “and in his own house”; it seems to me that he added this hinting at his own brothers too.

And in Luke he also sets down examples of this, saying that neither did Elijah come to his own people, but to the foreign widow; nor was any other leper healed by Elisha but the foreigner Naaman; and the Israelites neither received benefits nor conferred them, but the strangers. And he says these things showing everywhere their evil habit, and that nothing new happens in his case. “At that time Herod the tetrarch heard the report of Jesus.” For King Herod, this man’s father, who killed the children, had died. And not without purpose does the evangelist mark the time, but so that you may learn the tyrant’s pride and carelessness. For he did not learn the things about him at the beginning, but after a very long time. For such are those in power and clothed with much pomp: they learn these things late, because they take no great account of them. But consider, I pray you, how great a thing virtue is, that he fears him even when he is dead, and from fear even philosophizes about resurrection. “For he said,” it says, “to his servants, ‘This is John, whom I killed; he has risen from the dead, and for this reason these powers are at work in him.’” Do you see the fear intensified? For not even then did he dare to speak it out abroad, but even then he speaks to his own servants. But nevertheless this opinion too was a soldier’s opinion, and unreasonable. For many rose from the dead, and none did anything of this kind. And the words seem to me to come from both vanity and fear. For such are irrational souls; they often admit a mixture of contrary passions. And Luke says that the crowds said, “This is Elijah, or Jeremiah, or one of the ancient prophets”; but he, as though saying something wiser than the others, said this. And it is likely that at first, to those who said that he was John (for many said this too), he denied it, and said, “I killed him,” boasting and priding himself. For Mark and Luke too say that he said, “I beheaded John.” But when the rumor had prevailed, then he too says the same things as the many. Then the evangelist recounts the history for us too. And why did he not bring it in as a principal matter? Because their whole business was to tell the things of Christ, and they made no other thing a by-work, except when it was going to contribute again to the same end. So they would not have mentioned the history now either, except because of Christ, and because Herod said that he had risen. And Mark says that Herod greatly honored the man, and that while being reproved. So great a thing is virtue. Then, recounting it, he speaks thus: “For Herod had seized John and bound him and put him in prison because of Herodias, the wife of Philip his brother. For John said to him, ‘It is not lawful for you to have her.’ And wishing to kill him, he feared the crowd, because they held him as a prophet.” And for what reason does John say nothing to her, but to the man? Because he was the one with more authority. And see how inoffensive he makes the accusation, as though recounting history rather than bringing an accusation. “But when Herod’s birthday was kept,” it says, “the daughter of Herodias danced in the midst and pleased Herod.” O devilish banquet! O satanic spectacle! O lawless dance, and the reward of the dance more lawless still! For a murder more accursed than all murders was dared, and he who was worthy to be crowned and proclaimed was slaughtered in the midst, and the trophy of the demons was set up on the table. And the manner of the victory was worthy of what was done. “For the daughter of Herodias danced,” it says, “in the midst, and pleased Herod. Whereupon he promised with an oath to give her whatever she might ask. And she, being prompted by her mother, says, ‘Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist.’” The charge is double: both that she danced, and that she pleased, and pleased so much as even to receive murder as her reward. Do you see how cruel, how insensible, how senseless he was? He makes himself liable by an oath, and makes her mistress of the request. And when he saw that the evil had come to pass, he was grieved, it says; and yet from the beginning he had bound him. For what reason then is he grieved? Such is virtue: even among the wicked it is worthy of wonder and praise. But O the madness of that woman! When she ought to have wondered at him, when she ought to have worshiped him, because he defended her when she was outraged, she even helps to contrive the drama, and lays the snare, and asks a satanic favor. “But he feared because of the oaths,” it says, “and those reclining with him.” And how did you not fear the more grievous thing? For if you feared to have witnesses of perjury, much more ought you to have feared to have so many witnesses of so lawless a slaughter.

And since I think that many do not know the ground of the charge from which the murder was born, it is necessary to state this too, so that you may learn the lawgiver’s wisdom. What then was the old law which Herod trampled on and John defended? The wife of one who died childless had to be given to his brother. For since death was an evil without consolation, and everything was done on behalf of life, he legislates that the living brother should marry her, and that the child born should be called by the name of the dead man, so that his house might not fall. For if the dead man was not even going to leave children, which is the greatest consolation for death, the grief was going to be incurable. For this reason the lawgiver devised this comfort for those deprived of children by nature, and commanded that the child born be reckoned to the dead man. But when there was a child, this marriage was no longer permitted. “And for what reason?” someone says. “For if it was lawful for another, much more for the brother.” By no means. For he wishes kinship to be extended, and the occasions of intimacy with one another to be many. Why then, when he died childless, did not another marry her? Because in that way the child would not have been thought to be the departed man’s; but now, when the brother sows, the device became credible. And besides, another man was under no necessity to establish the house of the dead man; but this man held the claim that came from kinship. Since then Herod married his brother’s wife, who had a child, for this reason John accuses him, and accuses him with measure, displaying gentleness together with boldness. But consider, I pray you, how the whole spectacle was satanic. For first, it was made up of drunkenness and luxury, from which nothing sound could come. Second, it had corrupt spectators, and a host more lawless than all. Third, the pleasure was unreasonable. Fourth, the girl, on whose account the marriage was lawless, who ought even to have been hidden, since her mother was outraged through her, comes in parading herself, and the virgin outdoes all harlots. And the time too contributes no little to the accusation of this lawlessness. For when he ought to have given thanks to God that on that day he had brought him into the light, then he dares those lawless things; when he ought to have released one in bonds, then he adds slaughter to the bonds. Hear, you virgins, or rather you married women too, as many as consent to behave so unseemly at the weddings of others, leaping and jumping and putting our common nature to shame. Hear, you men too, as many as pursue costly banquets full of drunkenness, and fear the devil’s pit. For so mightily did he then take that wretched man as to make him swear to give even the half of his kingdom. For Mark says this, that he swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, up to half of my kingdom.” At so much did he value his own rule, so utterly once for all did he become a captive of passion, as to give it up for a dance. And why do you wonder if these things happened then, when even now, after so much philosophy, many give up even their souls for the dancing of these effeminate youths, without even the necessity of an oath? For being made captives by pleasure, they are led like cattle wherever the wolf drags them. Which that madman too then suffered, being mad in the two utmost ways: both in making her mistress, mad as she was and drunk with passion, and refusing nothing; and in binding the thing with the necessity of an oath. But lawless as he was, the woman was more lawless than all, both than the girl and than the tyrant. For she was the architect of all the evils and wove the whole drama, she who above all ought to have been grateful to the prophet. For the daughter, persuaded by her, both behaved shamefully and danced and asked for the murder; and Herod was netted by her. Do you see how justly Christ said, “He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me”? For if she had kept this law, she would not have transgressed so many laws, she would not have committed this bloody murder. For what could be worse than this brutality? To ask murder as a favor, a lawless murder, a murder in the middle of a supper, a murder publicly and shamelessly? For she did not come privately and speak about these things, but publicly, and, throwing off the mask, with bare head, and taking the devil as her advocate, so she says what she says. For he both made her win approval in dancing and then captured Herod. For where there is dancing, there is the devil. For God did not give us feet for this, but that we might walk in good order; not that we might behave shamefully, not that we might leap like camels (for they too are unpleasant when they dance, let alone women), but that we might dance with the angels. For if the body is shameful when it behaves so unseemly, much more the soul. Such are the dances of the demons; such are the jests of the ministers of the demons.

And consider the request itself: “Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist.” Do you see her who had put off all blushing, who had become wholly the devil’s? She even mentions his dignity, and not even so is she ashamed, but as though speaking of some dish, so she asks that that sacred and blessed head be brought in on a platter. And she does not even give a reason, for she had none to give; but simply asks to be honored by the misfortunes of others. And she did not say, “Bring him in here and slaughter him”; for she would not have borne his boldness of speech when he was about to die. For she feared to hear the awesome voice even of one being slaughtered; for not even when about to be beheaded would he have kept silence. For this reason she says, “Give me here on a platter”; for “I long to see that tongue silent.” For she was eager not only to be rid of his reproofs, but also to trample on him and jeer at him as he lay there. And God bore it, and neither sent a thunderbolt from above to burn up that shameless face, nor commanded the earth to open and receive that evil banquet; at once crowning the righteous man the more, and leaving great consolation to those who afterward suffer something unjustly. Let us hear, then, as many of us as suffer terrible things at the hands of wicked men while living in virtue. For then too God bore that the man in the wilderness, the man in the leather girdle, the man in the garment of hair, the prophet, the one greater than the prophets, the one who had none greater among those born of women, should even be slaughtered, and by a licentious girl and a corrupt harlot, and that while he was defending the divine laws. Reckoning these things, then, let us bear nobly all that we may suffer. For then too this bloodthirsty and lawless woman had as much power as she desired to avenge herself on the one who had grieved her, and fulfilled all her anger, and God allowed it. And yet he had said nothing to her, nor accused her, but blamed the husband only. But her conscience was a bitter accuser. Therefore she raved into greater evils, pained and stung, and put all to shame together, herself, her daughter, her departed husband, her living adulterer, and strove to outdo her former deeds. “For if you are pained,” she says, “that he commits adultery, I make him a murderer too, and make him the slayer of his accuser.” Hear, as many of you as are excited about women more than is right. Hear, as many of you as offer oaths about uncertain things, and make others masters of your destruction, and dig a pit for yourselves. For so this man too perished. For he expected her to ask a request worthy of the banquet, and, being a girl, at a feast and a banquet and a festival, to ask some bright and pleasing favor, not to ask for a head; and he was deceived. But nevertheless none of these things will stand in his defense. For even if she had acquired the soul of men who fight wild beasts, yet he ought not to have been deceived, nor to have served such tyrannical commands. For first, who would not have shuddered seeing that sacred head dripping with blood laid out at the supper? But not the lawless Herod, nor his more accursed wife. For such are women who play the harlot: bolder and crueler than all. For if we shudder hearing these things, what is it likely that that sight then worked? What did those reclining with them suffer, seeing a freshly slaughtered head dripping blood in the midst of the banquet? But that bloodthirsty woman, fiercer than the Furies, suffered nothing at this sight, but even exulted; and yet, if from nothing else, from the sight alone it was likely that she would have become numb. But that murderess, thirsting for the blood of prophets, suffered nothing of the kind. For such is sexual immorality: it makes women not only licentious but also murderous. Those at any rate who desire to commit adultery are prepared even for the slaughter of the husbands they wrong; and not one only, nor two, but they are ready to dare countless murders. And many are witnesses of these dramas. Which she too then did, expecting at last to escape notice and to hide her daring. But the very opposite came about; for afterward John cried out the more loudly.

But vice looks only to the present, like those in fever when they ask unseasonably for cold water. For if she had not slaughtered her accuser, her daring would not have been so uncovered. The disciples at any rate, when he threw him into prison, said nothing of the kind; but when he killed him, then they were compelled to state the cause too. For they wished to hide the adulteress, and did not want to make a show of the misfortunes of their neighbors; but when they fell into the necessity of telling the history, then they tell the whole daring deed. For so that no one might suspect an evil cause of the slaughter, as in the case of Theudas and Judas, they are compelled to state the occasion of the murder too. So the more you wish to cover sin over in this way, the more you make a show of it. For sin is not hidden by the addition of sin, but by repentance and confession. But behold the evangelist, how inoffensively he recounts everything, and, as far as he can, even composes a defense. For on Herod’s behalf he says, “because of the oaths and those reclining with him,” and that “he was grieved”; and about the girl, that she was “prompted by her mother,” and that she brought the head to her mother, as if he said, “She was fulfilling that woman’s command.” For all the righteous grieve not for those who suffer evil but for those who do it, since these above all are the ones who suffer evil. For John was not wronged, but these who contrived these things so. Let us too imitate these men, and not trample on the sins of our neighbors, but cover them over as far as is right. Let us take up a philosophic soul. For the evangelist too, speaking of a harlot and bloodthirsty woman, was as inoffensive as was possible. For he did not say, “by the bloodthirsty and accursed woman,” but, “prompted by her mother,” calling her by the more auspicious names. But you both insult and speak evil of your neighbor, and you could never endure to mention a brother who has grieved you as he mentioned the harlot, but with great brutality and with reproaches you call him the wicked one, the villain, the hypocrite, the fool, and many other names more grievous than these. For we become more savage, and speak as though about a man of another race, finding fault, reviling, insulting. But not so the saints; rather they mourn those who sin more than they curse them. This let us too do, and let us weep for Herodias and for those who emulate her. For many such banquets take place now too; and if John is not killed, yet the members of Christ are, and far more grievously. For those who dance now do not ask for a head on a platter, but for the souls of those reclining. For when they make them slaves, and lead them into lawless loves, and set harlots against them like fortresses, they do not take off the head, but slaughter the soul, making them adulterers and effeminate men and fornicators. For you will surely not tell me that, flushed with wine and drunk, and seeing a woman dancing and speaking shamefully, you feel nothing toward her and are not carried away to profligacy, overcome by pleasure. And you suffer that awful thing, making the members of Christ the members of a harlot. For even if the daughter of Herodias is not present, yet the devil who then danced through her dances now through these, and goes away having taken captive the souls of those reclining. And if you are able to stay clear of drunkenness, yet you share in another most grievous sin; for such banquets are full of many robberies. For do not look at the meats set before you, nor at the cakes, but consider from where they have been gathered, and you will see that it is from spite and covetousness and violence and robbery. “But these things are not from such sources,” someone says. God forbid! I do not wish it either. However, even if they are clean of these, not even so are costly suppers free from charges. Hear at any rate how the prophet accuses even apart from these things, saying thus: “Woe to those who drink strained wine, and anoint themselves with the finest ointments.” Do you see how he accuses luxury too? For here he does not blame covetousness, but only prodigality.

And you eat beyond measure, while Christ does not have even what he needs; you eat various cakes, he not even dry bread; you drink Thasian wine, but to him you have not given even a cup of cold water; you lie on a soft and embroidered couch, while he is perishing with cold. Therefore, even if the suppers are clean of covetousness, even so they are accursed, because you do everything beyond need, while to him you do not give even what he needs, and that while you luxuriate in his own possessions. But if you were the guardian of a child, and, having taken his property, you overlooked him in the utmost distress, you would have countless accusers, and would pay the penalty under the laws; and having taken the things of Christ and spending them so idly, do you think you will not give account? And I say these things not about those who bring harlots to their tables (for I have no word for them, any more than for dogs), nor about those who are covetous and fill their bellies with others’ goods (for neither have I anything in common with them, any more than with pigs and wolves), but about those who enjoy their own substance but do not share it with others, about those who simply spend their inheritance. For neither are these outside accusation. For how, tell me, will you escape accusation and charges, when your parasite is filled and your dog standing by, while Christ seems to you not worthy even of these things? When the one receives so much for laughter, while the other, for the kingdom of heaven, receives not even the smallest part of this? And the one, so that he may say something witty, goes away filled, while this one, who has taught us things without learning which we would differ in nothing from dogs, is not counted worthy even of the same things as that man? Do you shudder hearing it? Then shudder at the deeds. Cast out the parasites, and make Christ recline with you. If he shares your salt and your table, he will be gentle when he judges you; he knows how to respect a table. For if robbers know, much more the Master. Consider at any rate that harlot, how he justified her at a table, and reproaches Simon, saying, “You gave me no kiss.” For if he feeds you when you do not do these things, much more will he repay you when you do them. Do not look at the poor man, that he comes dirty and squalid; but consider that Christ through him sets foot in your house; and cease from your cruelty and the harsh words with which you always wash down those who come to you, calling them impostors, idlers, and other things more grievous than these. And consider, when you say these things, what works the parasites accomplish? How do they benefit your house? “They make my lunch pleasant, surely.” And how is it pleasant, when they are slapped and speak shameful things? And what is more unpleasant than this, when you strike one made in the image of God, and gather delight for yourself from the insult to him, making your house a theater and filling your banquet with mimes, and imitating, you the well-born and free man, those who are shaved on the stage? For there too there is laughter and slapping. Do you call these things pleasure, tell me, which are worthy of many tears, of many laments and groans? And when you ought to throw them into an earnest life, when you ought to exhort them to their duty, you lead them on to perjuries and disorderly words, and call the thing delight, and think that what procures Gehenna is an occasion of pleasure? For when they are at a loss for witty words, they finish the whole business with oaths and perjuries. Are these things then worthy of laughter, and not of lamentations and tears? And who having sense would say so?

And I say these things not forbidding them to be fed, but not for such a reason. For let the feeding have love for humanity as its ground, not cruelty; mercy, not insult. Because he is poor, feed him; because Christ is fed, feed him; not because he brings in satanic words and puts his own life to shame. Do not look at him laughing outwardly, but examine his conscience, and then you will see him cursing himself countless times, and groaning and lamenting. And if he does not show it, this too is because of you. Let your table companions, then, be poor and free men, not perjurers, nor mimes. And if you wish to require of them a recompense for their food too, bid them, if they see anything improper being done, to rebuke, to exhort, to help in the care of the house, in the management of the servants. Have you children? Let them be common fathers to them; let them share the management with you; let them bring you the gains that are dear to God. Throw them into spiritual trade. And if you see one in need of protection, order them to help, bid them serve. Through these hunt for strangers, through these clothe the naked, through these send to the prison, release the necessities of others. Let them give you this recompense for their food, which both benefits you and them and brings no condemnation. Through these things friendship too is drawn tighter. For now, even if they seem to be loved, they are nevertheless ashamed, as living idly with you; but if they accomplish these things, they themselves will be easier in mind, and you will feed them more gladly, as not spending in vain, and they will be with you with boldness and with fitting freedom, and your house, instead of a theater, will become a church for you, and the devil will flee, and Christ will come in, and the choir of the angels. For where Christ is, there the angels are too; and where Christ and the angels are, there is heaven, there is a light brighter than this light of the sun. And if you wish to reap another comfort from them too, bid them, when you are at leisure, take books and read the divine law. They will serve you in these things more gladly than in those. For these things make both you and them more dignified, but those put all alike to shame: you as an insolent man and a drunkard, them as wretched and gluttonous. For if you feed them for insult, it is more grievous than if you had killed them; but if for their benefit and gain, it is again more useful than if you had brought back men being led away to death. And now you put them to shame more than the servants, and the servants have more boldness and a freer conscience than these; but then you will make them equal to the angels. Free both them and yourself, then, and taking away the name of parasites, call them table companions; and casting out the name of flatterers, give them the name of friends. For this reason God made friendships, not for the harm of those loved and those who love, but for their good and profit. But these friendships are more grievous than any enmity. For from enemies, if we are willing, we even gain; but from these we are of necessity harmed in every way. Do not then keep friends who are teachers of harm; do not keep friends who are lovers of the table rather than of friendship. For all such, if you put an end to the luxury, put an end to the friendship too; but those who are with you for virtue remain continually, bearing every unevenness. But the race of parasites often even takes revenge on you, and puts an evil reputation upon you. From this at any rate I know many free men who have incurred evil suspicions, some of sorcery, others of adulteries and the corruption of boys. For when they have no work, but live their life idly, they are suspected by many of rendering the same services as the boys. Freeing ourselves, then, from an evil reputation, and before all from the Gehenna to come, and doing what seems good to God, let us put an end to this devilish custom, so that whether we eat or drink we may do all to the glory of God, and enjoy the glory that comes from him; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“[When Jesus heard it,] he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place apart; and when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from all the cities.” See how everywhere he withdraws: both when John was delivered up, and when he was slain, and when the Jews heard that he was making more disciples. For he wishes to manage most things in a more human way, since the time did not yet call for him to lay bare his Godhead plainly. That is why he also told the disciples to tell no one that he is the Christ; for he wished this to become better known after the resurrection. Hence toward those of the Jews who for the time disbelieved he was not very severe, but even ready to pardon. And having withdrawn, he does not go off to a city but into the desert, and in a boat, so that no one might follow. But consider, I pray you, how John’s disciples were from then on more closely attached to Jesus. For it is they who reported to him what had happened; for indeed, leaving everyone, they take refuge with him from now on. Thus, along with the calamity, he also brought to success, in no small measure, what he had already arranged through that answer of his. But why did he not withdraw before they reported it, although he knew what had happened even before they reported it? To show through all things the truth of the incarnation. For he wished this to be confirmed not only by what was seen but also by deeds, because he knew the devil’s malice, and that he would do anything to destroy this belief. He then withdraws for this reason; but the crowds do not leave him even so, but follow, fastened to him, and not even the deed done to John frightened them. So great a thing is longing, so great a thing is love; thus it conquers all things and beats back dangers. That is why they also received their reward at once. “For when he went out,” it says, “Jesus saw a great crowd, and had compassion on them, and healed their sick.” For although their attendance on him was great, yet what he did surpassed every recompense for their zeal. That is why he gives mercy as the cause of such healing, an intense mercy; and he heals them all. And he does not demand faith here. For by coming to him, and by leaving the cities, and by seeking him diligently, and by staying with him even when hunger pressed them, they show their faith. And he is about to feed them too. And he does not do this of himself, but waits to be asked, as I said, keeping this rule everywhere: not to rush first upon miracles, but to be called. And why did none of the crowds come forward and dare to ask on their behalf? They revered him exceedingly, and did not even feel their hunger, for longing to stay near him. But neither did his disciples come and say, “Feed them”; for they were still rather imperfect. But what? “When it was evening,” it says, “his disciples came to him, saying, ‘The place is deserted, and the hour is already past; send the crowds away, so that they may go and buy themselves food.’” For if even after the miracle they forgot what had happened, and after the baskets thought he was speaking of loaves when he called the teaching of the Pharisees leaven, much more, having had as yet no experience of such a sign, would they not have expected any such thing to happen. And yet he had just before healed many sick; but nevertheless not even from this did they expect the matter of the loaves: so imperfect were they still. But consider, I pray you, the wisdom of the teacher, how he calls them on clearly to believe. For he did not say at once, “I feed them”; for it would not have been readily received. But what? “But Jesus,” it says, “said to them, ‘They have no need to go away; you give them something to eat.’” He did not say, “I give them,” but, “you give.” For they still regarded him as a man. But they were not roused even so, but still speak with him as with a man, saying, “We have nothing but five loaves and two fish.” That is why Mark too says that they did not understand what was said, for their heart was hardened. Since then they were still crawling on the ground, he then brings in his own part, and says, “Bring them here to me.” For even if the place is deserted, yet he who feeds the world is present; and even if the hour is past, yet he who is not subject to the hour is speaking with you. And John also says that they were barley loaves, not telling this in passing, but teaching us to trample on the pride of extravagance. Such also was the table of the prophets. “Taking then the five loaves and the two fish, and having commanded the crowds,” it says, “to sit down on the grass, he looked up to heaven and blessed, and broke and gave to his disciples, and the disciples to the crowds; and they all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the fragments, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.”

Why did he look up to heaven and bless? He had to be believed both that he is from the Father and that he is equal to him. But the proofs of these seemed to conflict with one another. For his doing everything with authority showed his equality; but that he was from the Father they would not have been persuaded otherwise, unless he acted with great lowliness, referring all things to him and calling on him in what he did. For this reason he neither did these things alone nor those alone, so that both might be confirmed; and now he works wonders with authority, now praying. Then, lest what happened should again seem a contradiction, in the lesser things he looks up to heaven, but in the greater he does everything with authority; so that you may learn that even in the lesser he acts so not as one who is given strength from elsewhere, but as honoring the one who begot him. When, at any rate, he forgave sins, and opened paradise, and brought in the robber, and with great abundance of power set aside the old law, and raised countless dead, and bridled the sea, and exposed the secrets of men, and fashioned an eye—which are achievements of God alone and of no one else—nowhere does he appear praying; but when he caused the loaves to well up, which was far less than all these, then he looks up to heaven: at once establishing what I said, and at once teaching us not to touch a table until we have given thanks to the one who provides us with this food. And why does he not make it out of nothing? To stop the mouth of Marcion and Manichaeus, who make the creation foreign to him, and to teach by his very works that all visible things too are his works and creatures, and to show that he is the one who gives the fruits, who said in the beginning, “Let the earth bring forth the herb of grass,” and, “Let the waters bring forth creeping things with living souls.” For this is no less than that. For even if those things came from nothing, yet still these came from water; and it is no less to bring forth fruit from earth and living creeping things from waters than to make so many loaves from five loaves, and again from fish; and this was a sign that he rules both earth and sea. For since he was always working his miracles on the sick, he works also a common benefaction, so that the many might not only be spectators of what happened to others, but might themselves enjoy the gift. And what seemed wonderful to the Jews in the wilderness (for they said, “Can he give bread also, or prepare a table in the wilderness?”), this he displays by his works. That is why he leads them into the desert, so that the miracle might be entirely beyond suspicion, and no one might think that some village lying near had brought anything to the table. That is why the evangelist mentions the hour too, not only the place. And we learn another thing as well: the disciples’ self-denial in necessities, and how they despised food. For being twelve, they had only five loaves and two fish: so incidental were bodily things to them, and they held fast only to spiritual things. And they did not cling even to the little they had, but when asked they gave it up. From this we must be taught that even if we have little, we must give this too to those in need. At any rate, when commanded to bring the five loaves, they do not say, “And where shall our own food come from? How shall we relieve our own hunger?” but they obey at once. Besides what has been said, as it seems to me, he makes it from what lay at hand for this reason, to lead them to faith; for they were still rather weak. That is also why he looks up to heaven. For of the other signs they had many examples, but of this one none. Taking them, then, he broke them, and gave them out through the disciples, honoring them by this; and not only honoring them, but so that, when the miracle had happened, they might not disbelieve it, nor forget it when it was past, since their own hands bore witness. That is why he lets the crowds first feel their hunger, and waits for these first to come and ask; and through them he makes the people sit down, and through them he distributes, wishing to secure each of them beforehand by their own confession and their own deeds. That is why he also takes the loaves from them, so that the testimonies to what happened might be many, and they might have reminders of the miracle. For if even after these things happened they forgot, what would they not have suffered had he not arranged these things too? And he commands them to sit down on a bed of grass, teaching the crowds self-denial. For he wished not only to feed their bodies but also to instruct their souls. So by the place, and by giving nothing more than loaves and fish, and by setting the same before all and making it common, and providing no more to one than to another, he taught humility, and self-control, and love, and to be equally disposed toward one another, and to regard all things as common. “And having broken, he gave to the disciples, and the disciples to the crowds.” He broke the five loaves and gave them, and the five welled up in the disciples’ hands. And he does not stop the miracle even there, but made it overflow; and overflow not with whole loaves but with fragments, to show that these were the remnants of those loaves, and so that those who were absent might learn what had happened. That is why he let the crowds become hungry, so that no one might think what happened was an illusion. That is why he made twelve baskets remain over, so that Judas too might carry one. For he could indeed have quenched their hunger, but the disciples would not have known his power, since this had happened also in the time of Elijah. So greatly, at any rate, were the Jews amazed at him because of this that they even wished to make him king, though at the other signs they nowhere did this. What word, then, could set forth how the loaves welled up? how they streamed out in the desert? how they sufficed for so many? (for they were five thousand, besides women and children, which was the greatest praise of the people, that both women and men attended on him); how the remnants came about? (for this too was no less than the former); and that they were so many as to make baskets equal in number to the disciples, and that there was an overflow, not of loaves only but of fragments, and neither more nor less? Taking, then, the fragments, he gave them not to the crowds but to the disciples; for the crowds were in a more imperfect state than the disciples. And having worked the sign, he at once compelled the disciples to get into the boat and go before him to the other side, while he sent the crowds away. For even if, while present, he might seem to have produced an illusion and not to have done it in truth, surely he could not seem so when absent. That is why, committing what had happened to a strict test, he bade those who had received the reminders and the proof of the signs to separate from him. And besides, when he does great things he sends away both the crowds and the disciples, teaching us nowhere to pursue the glory that comes from the many, and not to drag a multitude after us. And when it says, “he compelled,” it shows the disciples’ great attachment to him. And he sent them away, ostensibly on account of the crowds, but in fact because he himself wished to go up the mountain. And he did this, again teaching us neither to mingle with crowds continually nor always to flee the multitude, but to do each usefully, and to change from one to the other as need requires. Let us too, then, learn to attend on Jesus, but not for the giving of things of sense, so that we may not be reproached as the Jews were. For, “You seek me,” he says, “not because you saw signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled.” That is why he does not work this sign continually, but only twice, so that they might be taught not to be slaves to the belly, but to hold fast continually to spiritual things. To these, then, let us too hold fast, and let us seek the heavenly bread, and having received it, let us cast away all worldly care. For if they left houses and cities and kinsmen and everything, and stayed in the desert, and did not withdraw though hunger pressed them, much more ought we, who approach such a table, to show greater self-denial, and to love spiritual things, and to seek things of sense after these. For they too were blamed, not because they sought him for the bread, but because they sought him for this alone, and for this above all. For if one despises the great gifts and clings to the small, he falls from those as well, which the giver wishes him to despise; just as, if we love the former, he adds these besides. For these are an addition to those: so cheap and small are these when compared with those, even if they are great. Let us not, then, be eager about these, but let us regard both the gaining and the losing of them as indifferent; as Job too neither clung to them when he had them nor sought them when they were gone. For money is called chrēmata for this reason, not that we may bury it, but that we may use it as we ought. And as each craftsman has his own skill, so also the rich man. He does not know how to work bronze, nor to build ships, nor to weave, nor to build houses, nor anything else of the kind; let him then learn to use his wealth as he ought, and to show mercy to those in need, and he will know a craft better than all those. For this is higher than all those crafts. Its workshop is built in heaven. It has its tools not of iron and bronze, but of goodness and of the will. Of this craft Christ is the teacher, and his Father. For, “Be merciful,” he says, “as your Father who is in heaven.” And what is wonderful is that, though it is so much better than the others, it needs neither labor nor time to be mastered: it is enough to will it, and the whole is accomplished. But let us see also what its end is. What, then, is its end? Heaven, the good things in heaven, that unspeakable glory, the spiritual bridal chambers, the bright lamps, the life with the Bridegroom, and the other things which no word nor mind can set forth. So here too there is great difference between it and the others. For most of the crafts serve us for the present life, but this one also for the life to come. If it surpasses so far the crafts that are necessary to us for the present—medicine, I mean, and building, and others of the kind—much more does it surpass the others, which, if one examined them closely, one would say are not even crafts. Hence I for my part would not even call the other, superfluous ones crafts. For where are cookery and sauce-making useful to us? Nowhere; rather they are utterly useless and harmful, ruining body and soul, by bringing in with great ostentation luxury, the mother of all diseases and passions. And not only these: I would not even call painting or embroidery a craft, for they only throw us into superfluous expense. For the crafts ought to supply and produce what is necessary and what holds our life together. For this is why God gave us wisdom too, that we might find the means by which we can sustain our life. But having figures made, whether on walls or on garments, where is that useful? Tell me. For this reason it was needful to cut away much of the craft of shoemakers and of weavers. For they have carried most of it off into vulgarity, corrupting what is necessary in it, mixing bad craft with craft; which building also has suffered. But just as I call this a craft so long as it builds houses and not theaters, and produces what is necessary and not what is superfluous, so too weaving, so long as it makes garments and coverings, but does not imitate spiders’ webs and pour out great laughter and unspeakable silliness, I call a craft. And that of the shoemakers, so long as it makes shoes, I will not deprive of the name of craft; but when it leads men into the fashions of women, and makes them effeminate and soft through their shoes, we rank it with the harmful and superfluous, and will not even call it a craft. And I know that I seem to many to be petty in busying myself with these things; yet I will not on that account desist. For this is the cause of all evils, that these sins too are thought small, and for that reason are neglected. “And what,” someone says, “could be a more trivial sin than to have a shoe that is ornamented and glittering and fitted close to the foot, if indeed it seems right to call this a sin at all?” Do you wish, then, that I let loose my tongue on it, and show how great its indecency is—and you will not be angry? Or rather, even if you are angry, I care little. For you are the cause of this folly, you who do not even consider it a sin, and so compel us to enter upon an accusation of this prodigality.

Come then, let us examine it, and see what sort of evil it is. When you sew into your shoes the silken threads which it is not seemly to weave even into garments, how much insult, how much laughter do these things deserve? But if you despise our verdict, hear the voice of Paul, forbidding these things with great vehemence, and then you will perceive how laughable they are. What then does he say? “Not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly clothing.” What pardon, then, could you deserve, when Paul does not permit the married woman to have costly garments, and you carry this effeminacy even to your shoes, and contrive countless things for the sake of this ridiculous disgrace? For ships are built, and rowers are enlisted, and a bowman and a helmsman, and a sail is spread, and the open sea is sailed; and the merchant, leaving wife and children and country, gives up his very life to the waves, and comes to the land of the barbarians, and endures countless dangers for these threads, so that you, after all that, may take them and sew them onto your shoes and beautify the leather. And what could be worse than this folly? But the old ways were not such; they befitted men. Hence I for my part expect that, as time goes on, the young men among us will wear even women’s shoes, and not be ashamed. And what is more grievous, the fathers see these things and are not indignant, but even think the matter indifferent. Do you want me to tell you what is more grievous still, that these things are done while there are many poor? Do you want me to bring into the midst Christ hungry, naked, wandering everywhere, in chains? And how many thunderbolts would you not deserve, overlooking him when he lacks necessary food, while you beautify hides with so much zeal? And he, when he gave laws to his disciples, did not even permit them to have shoes at all; but we not only cannot bear to walk barefoot, but not even shod as one ought to be shod. What then could be worse than this disorder? What more ridiculous? For the thing belongs to a soul that is effeminate, and hard and cruel, and meddlesome and busy about vanities. For when will he be able to attend to anything necessary, who is occupied with these superfluities? When will such a young man bear to take care of his soul, or even to consider that he has a soul? For he will be petty who is compelled to admire such things, and cruel who neglects the poor because of them, and empty of virtue who spends all his zeal on them. For he who fusses over the quality of threads, and the bloom of colors, and the ivy-tendrils made of such weaving, when will he be able to look up to heaven? When will he admire the beauty there, who is excited by the beauty of hides and stoops to the ground? God stretched out heaven and kindled the sun, drawing your eyes upward; but you force yourself to bend downward and to the earth like the swine, and you obey the devil. For this wicked demon devised this indecency, leading you away from that beauty. That is why he dragged you here; and God, showing heaven, is outdone by the devil showing hides—or rather not even hides, for these too are God’s works, but effeminacy and bad craft. And the young man goes about bending down to the earth, he who was commanded to contemplate the things in the heavens, priding himself on these more than if he had achieved some great thing, and walking on tiptoe in the marketplace, and thereby begetting for himself superfluous griefs and despondency, lest he soil them with mud when it is winter, lest he cover them with dust when summer has come. What are you saying, man? You have thrown your whole soul into the mud through this prodigality, and you overlook it as it is dragged along the ground, and over shoes you are in such an agony? Learn their use, and respect the verdict you yourself pass on them. For shoes were made to tread mud and mire and every stain on the ground. But if you cannot bear this, take them and hang them from your neck, or put them on your head.

And you laugh as you hear this; but I am moved to weep over these people’s madness and their zeal about these things. For they would more gladly soil their body with mud than those hides. Petty, then, they become in this way, and lovers of money again in another. For one accustomed to be mad and zealous about such things needs much expense and much income for garments and for everything else. And if he has a lavish father, he becomes all the more a captive, intensifying this absurd desire; but if a stingy one, he is compelled to disgrace himself in other ways, so as to gather gold for such expenses. Hence many of the young have even sold their youthful bloom, and become parasites of the wealthy, and submitted to other servile ministries, buying in return the means of satisfying such desires. That such a one, then, will be both a lover of money and petty, and slower than all men about necessary things, and will be compelled to commit many sins, is plain from this; and that he is cruel and vainglorious, no one will deny either. Cruel, when on seeing a poor man he seems, out of his longing for finery, not even to have seen him, but adorns these things with gold while he overlooks that man perishing of hunger; vainglorious, when even in small things he is trained to hunt the glory that comes from onlookers. For I do not think a general prides himself so much on his armies and his trophies as dissolute young men do on the adornment of their shoes, on their trailing garments, on the cut of their hair; and yet all these are the works of other craftsmen. But if they do not stop being vainglorious over what belongs to others, when will they stop over what is their own? Shall I speak of other things still more grievous than these, or are even these enough for you? Then I must end the discourse here; for even these things I have said because of the contentious, who say that the matter is nothing out of place. And I know that many of the young will not even attend to what is said, being once for all drunk with the passion; yet I ought not on that account to keep silent. For fathers who have sense and are still sound will be able to bring them, even against their will, to fitting decorum. Do not, then, say, “Nothing comes of this, and nothing of that”; for this, this has ruined everything. For they ought to be trained from this point too, and made dignified by the things that seem small, great-souled, superior to outward show; so we shall find them approved in great things also. For what is cheaper than learning the letters? Yet from these come orators and sophists and philosophers; and if they are ignorant of these, they will never know those either. These things have been said by us not to young men only, but also to women and girls. For they too are liable to such charges, and much more, inasmuch as modesty befits a virgin. Consider, then, what was said to those as said to you also, so that we may not take up the same things again. For it is time now to close the discourse with prayer. All of you, then, pray with us that the young men of the church especially may be able to live in decorum, and to come to an old age that befits them. For those who do not live so, it is not good even to come to old age; but those who even in youth have grown old in character, I pray, may come to a very deep gray age, and become fathers of approved children, and gladden those who begot them, and above all God who made them, and drive out every disease, not only that in shoes or in garments, but every other as well. For as untilled land is, such also is youth neglected, bringing forth many thorns from many sides. Let us, then, apply the fire of the Spirit, and burn up these wicked desires, and plough up the fields, and make them ready to receive the seed, and let us show the young men among us to be more self-controlled than the old men elsewhere. For this is the wonderful thing, when self-control shines out in youth; for one who is self-controlled in old age would not have much reward, since his age gives him complete security. But the marvel is to enjoy a calm amid waves, and not to be burned in a furnace, and not to be licentious in youth. Thinking, then, on these things, let us emulate that blessed Joseph, who shone through all these things, so that we too may attain the same crowns as he; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And having sent the crowds away, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. And when evening came, he was there alone. But the boat was already in the middle of the sea, tormented by the waves; for the wind was against them.” Why does he go up on the mountain? Teaching us that the desert and solitude are good when we must converse with God. That is why he constantly goes off into deserted places, and there often spends the whole night in prayer, teaching us to seek in our prayers the undisturbed quiet that comes both from the time and from the place. For the desert is the mother of stillness, and a calm, and a harbor, freeing us from all tumults. He, then, went up there for this reason; but the disciples are buffeted by the waves again, and endure a storm like the earlier one. But then they suffered this having him in the boat; now they are by themselves, alone. For gently and little by little he leads them on to greater things and trains them to bear all things nobly. That is why, when they were first about to be in danger, he was present, though asleep, so as to give them comfort readily; but now, leading them on to greater endurance, he does not even do this, but goes away, and lets the storm be roused in the middle of the sea, so that they might not expect hope of safety from anywhere; and he leaves them buffeted the whole night, rousing, as I think, their hardened heart. For such is the fear which the storm and the hour together produce. And along with compunction he cast them into a greater longing for himself and into continual remembrance of him. That is why he did not come to them at once; “for in the fourth watch of the night,” it says, “he came to them walking on the sea,” teaching them not to seek quickly a release from the dangers that press on them, but to bear nobly what befalls them. At any rate, just when they expected to be delivered, their fear was heightened again. “For when the disciples saw him,” it says, “walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, ‘It is a ghost’; and they cried out for fear.” For he always does this: when he is about to end dangers, he brings on others harder and more fearful; which is what happened then too. For besides the storm, the sight also troubled them no less than the storm. That is why he neither dispelled the darkness nor made himself plain at once, anointing them, as I said, by the continuance of these terrors, and training them to be steadfast. This he did also with Job: for when he was about to end [the fear and] the trial, he then let the end become harder—I mean not because of the death of his children and the words of his wife, but because of the reproaches of his servants and those of his friends. And when he was about to snatch Jacob from his hardships in a foreign land, he let the turmoil be stirred up and grow greater. For his father-in-law overtook him and threatened death, and after him his brother, coming next, hung over him the danger of the utmost extremity. For since it is not possible to be tried both for a long time and severely, when the righteous are about to come out of their contests, he, wishing them to gain more, intensifies the exercises. This he did with Abraham too, setting as the last contest that of his son. For so even unbearable things will be bearable, when they are brought on at the very door, with deliverance close at hand. This, then, he did on that occasion too, and Christ did not reveal himself before they cried out. For the more their agony was intensified, the more gladly they welcomed his presence. Then, when they cried out, it says, “Jesus at once spoke to them, saying, ‘Take heart; it is I; do not be afraid.’” This word dissolved their fear and made them take courage. For since they did not recognize him by sight, both because of the strangeness of his walking and because of the hour, he makes himself known by his voice. What then does Peter do, he who is everywhere fervent and always leaps ahead of the others? “Lord, if it is you,” he says, “command me to come to you on the waters.” He did not say, “Pray and entreat,” but, “Command.” Do you see how great his fervor is? How great his faith? And yet from this he often runs into danger, from seeking what is beyond his measure. For here too he sought something very great, from love alone, not for display. For he did not say, “Command me to walk on the waters,” but what? “Command me to come to you.” For no one loved Jesus so much. This he did after the resurrection too: he could not bear to come with the others, but leapt ahead. And he shows not only his love but also his faith. For he believed not only that Jesus himself can walk on the sea, but that he can also lead others on it; and he longs to be near him quickly. “And he said, ‘Come.’ And Peter got down out of the boat and walked on the waters and came to Jesus. But seeing the wind strong, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, saying, ‘Lord, save me.’ And Jesus at once stretched out his hand and caught hold of him, and says to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’” This is more wondrous than the former. That is why it comes after that. For when he had shown that he rules the sea, he then advances the sign to something more marvellous. For then he only rebuked the winds; but now he both walks himself and grants to another to do this; which, had he bidden it at the beginning, Peter would not have accepted in the same way, because he did not yet possess so much faith.

Why, then, did Christ permit him? For if he had said, “You cannot,” Peter, being fervent, would have contradicted him again. That is why he convinces him by the facts, so that for the future he may be sober. But not even so does he hold out. Having come down, then, he is tossed about; for he was afraid. And the surge caused this, but the wind produced the fear. But John says that they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going, showing this very thing; so that when they were about to reach the land, he went up into the boat. Having come down from the boat, then, Peter went toward him, rejoicing not so much in walking on the waters as in coming to him. And having prevailed over the greater, he was about to suffer harm from the lesser, from the force of the wind, I mean, not of the sea. For such is human nature: often achieving great things, it is put to shame in lesser ones; as Elijah suffered over Jezebel, as Moses over the Egyptian, as David over Bathsheba. So too this man: while his fear was still at its height he dared to step on the waters, but against the onset of the wind he could no longer stand, and that though he was near Christ. So nothing is gained by being near Christ, if one is not near him by faith. And this showed also the difference between the teacher and the disciple, and it consoled the others. For if they were indignant over the two brothers, much more would they have been here; for they had not yet been granted the Spirit. But afterward they were not such. At any rate, everywhere they yield the first place to Peter, and in the public speeches they put him forward, although he was more unlettered than the others. And why did he not command the winds to cease, but himself stretched out his hand and caught hold of him? Because his faith was needed. For when our part fails, God’s part also stops. Showing, then, that it was not the onset of the wind but that man’s little faith which caused his overturning, he says, “Why did you doubt, you of little faith?” So that, had his faith not grown weak, he would easily have stood even against the wind. That is why, even after catching hold of him, he lets the wind blow, showing that it does no harm when faith is firmly fixed. And as when a nestling has left the nest before its time and is about to fall, its mother carries it on her wings and brings it back to the nest, so too Christ did. “And when they had got into the boat, then the wind ceased.” Before this they said, “What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?” But now not so. “For those in the boat,” it says, “came and worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’” Do you see how little by little he was leading them all to what is higher? For from his walking on the sea, and from his bidding another do this, and from his saving him when in danger, their faith was now great. For then he rebuked the sea, but now he does not rebuke it, showing his power in another and a greater way. That is why they also said, “Truly you are the Son of God.” What then? Did he rebuke them for saying this? Quite the contrary: he even confirmed what was said, healing those who came to him with greater authority, and not as before. “And when they had crossed over,” it says, “they came to the land of Gennesaret. And when the men of that place recognized him, they sent into all that surrounding region, and brought to him all who were sick, and begged him that they might only touch the fringe of his garment; and as many as touched it were made well.” For they did not come to him as before, drawing him into their houses and seeking the touch of his hand and commands given by words; but in a far loftier and more spiritual manner, and with greater faith, they drew down healing. For the woman with the flow of blood had taught them all this wisdom. And the evangelist, showing that he had come to those parts after a long time, says that the men of the place, recognizing him, sent into the surrounding region and brought to him those who were sick. But nevertheless the time not only did not weaken their faith, but even made it greater and kept it in its prime. Let us too, then, touch the fringe of his garment; or rather, if we wish, we have him whole. For indeed his body too is set before us now; not his garment only, but his body: not only to touch, but also to eat and to be filled. Let us, then, approach with faith, each of us having some infirmity. For if those who touched the fringe of his garment drew out so much power, how much more those who hold him whole? But to approach with faith is not only to receive what is set before us, but also to touch it with a pure heart, to be so disposed as approaching Christ himself. For what if you do not hear a voice? Yet you see him lying there; or rather you hear his voice also, as he speaks through the evangelists.

Believe, then, that even now it is that supper at which he himself reclined. For that one differs in nothing from this. For it is not that a man performs this one, and he himself that one; but he himself performs both this and that. When, then, you see the priest handing it to you, do not think it is the priest who does this, but that it is Christ’s hand that is stretched out. For just as when he baptizes, it is not he who baptizes you, but it is God who holds your head with invisible power, and neither angel nor archangel nor anyone else dares to approach and touch it, so it is now also. For when God begets, the gift is his alone. Do you not see those who adopt sons here, how they do not entrust the matter to servants, but are present themselves at the court? So God too did not entrust his gift to angels, but is present himself, commanding and saying, “Call no one father on earth”; not that you may dishonor those who begot you, but that you may set before all of them the one who made you and enrolled you among his own children. For he who gave the greater thing, that is, set himself before you, will much more not disdain to distribute his body to you. Let us hear, then, both priests and people, of what we have been counted worthy; let us hear, and shudder. He has given us to be filled with his holy flesh; he has set himself before us sacrificed. What defense, then, shall we have, when, eating such food, we commit such sins? when, eating a lamb, we become wolves? when, feeding on a sheep, we seize by force like the lions? For this mystery commands us to be clean always not only from robbery but even from mere enmity. For this mystery is a mystery of peace; it does not permit us to lay claim to money. For if he did not spare himself for our sake, what should we deserve if we spare our money and do not spare our soul, for which he did not spare himself? To the Jews, then, God bound a yearly remembrance of his benefits in their feasts; but to you, so to speak, every day through these mysteries. Do not, then, be ashamed of the cross; for these are our solemn things, these are our mysteries; with this gift we are adorned, in this we take pride. Even if I say that he stretched out heaven, spread out the earth and the sea, sent prophets and angels, I shall say nothing equal to it. For the sum of good things is this, that he did not spare his own Son, so as to save the servants who had become estranged. Let no Judas, then, approach this table, no Simon; for both of these perished through love of money. Let us flee, then, this abyss, and let us not think it enough for our salvation if, having stripped widows and orphans, we offer at the table a golden cup set with jewels. For if you wish to honor the sacrifice, offer your soul, for whose sake it was also sacrificed; make this golden. But if it remains worse than lead and potsherd, while the vessel is golden, what is the gain? Let us not, then, consider this only, how we may offer golden vessels, but how we may offer them also from honest labors. For these are more precious even than gold, those that are free of covetousness. For the church is not a goldsmith’s shop or a silversmith’s workshop, but an assembly of angels; that is why we need souls, for indeed God accepts these things for the sake of the souls. That table then was not of silver, nor was the cup golden from which Christ gave his disciples his own blood; but all those things were precious and awesome, because they were full of the Spirit. Do you wish to honor Christ’s body? Do not overlook him naked; and do not honor him here with silken garments while outside you overlook him perishing from cold and nakedness. For he who said, “This is my body,” and confirmed the thing by his word, is the same who said, “You saw me hungry and did not feed me,” and, “Inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these, neither did you do it to me.” For this body needs no coverings, but a pure soul; but that one needs much care. Let us learn, then, to be wise, and to honor Christ as he himself wishes. For to the one honored, the sweetest honor is that which he himself wishes, not that which we think. For Peter too thought to honor him by forbidding him to wash his feet; but what he did was not honor, but the opposite. So you too honor him with this honor which he himself enacted into law, spending your wealth on the poor. For God has no need of golden vessels, but of golden souls.

And I say this not to forbid such offerings being made, but asking that along with these, and before these, you do almsgiving. For he accepts these too, but those much more. For here only the one who offered is benefited, but there also the one who received. Here the thing may seem to be even an occasion of vainglory, but there it is all mercy and love for mankind. For what is the use, when his table is full of golden cups, while he himself perishes of hunger? First fill him when he is hungry, and then out of your abundance adorn his table also. You make a golden cup, and you do not give a cup of cold water? And what is the use? You prepare gold-spangled coverings for the table, and to him you do not provide even necessary shelter? And what is the gain from this? For tell me, if you saw someone lacking necessary food, and, neglecting to relieve his hunger, you only covered his table with silver, would he thank you, or rather be indignant? What again, if, seeing him clothed in rags and freezing with cold, you neglected to give him a garment and built golden columns, saying you did it in his honor, would he not say that you were mocking him, and think it an insult, and the worst of insults? Reckon this to be so with Christ too, when he goes about a wanderer and a stranger, needing a roof; and you, neglecting to receive him, adorn floor and walls and the capitals of columns, and hang up silver chains for lamps, but will not even look at him bound in prison. And I say this not forbidding you to be generous in these things, but urging you to do these along with those, or rather those before these. For no one was ever accused for not doing these; but for those, Gehenna is threatened, and unquenchable fire, and punishment with the demons. Do not, then, while adorning the house, overlook your brother in distress; for he is a more proper temple than that. And these treasures unbelieving kings and tyrants and robbers will be able to take; but whatever you do for your brother when he is hungry and a stranger and naked, not even the devil will be able to plunder, but it will lie in a treasury that cannot be robbed. Why, then, does he himself say, “The poor you have always with you, but me you do not always have”? For this very reason we must show mercy most of all, because we do not always have him hungry, but only in the present life. But if you wish to learn the whole meaning of what was said, listen: this was said not to the disciples, even if it seems so, but on account of the weakness of the woman. For since she was still in a rather imperfect state, and they were perplexing her, he said this to restore her. For that he said this to comfort her, he added, “Why do you trouble the woman?” For that we have him always with us, he says, “Behold, I am with you all the days, to the end of the age.” From all this it is plain that these things were said for no other reason than that the disciples’ rebuke might not wither the woman’s faith, which had just then sprouted. Let us not, then, bring forward now what was said for a particular purpose; but having read all the laws about almsgiving laid down by him in the New and in the Old Testament, let us show great zeal for this thing. For this cleanses sins: “Give alms, and all things will be clean for you.” This is greater than sacrifice: “For I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.” This opens the heavens: “For your prayers and your alms have gone up as a memorial before God.” This is more necessary than virginity; for so those virgins were cast out of the bridal chamber, so the others were brought in. Knowing all these things, let us sow generously, that we may reap with greater abundance and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory to the ages. Amen.

“Then there come to Jesus the scribes and Pharisees from Jerusalem, saying, ‘Why do your disciples transgress the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands when they eat bread.’ But he answered and said to them, ‘Why do you also transgress the commandment of God because of your tradition? For God commanded, saying, “Honor your father and your mother,” and, “He who speaks evil of father or mother, let him surely die.” But you say, “Whoever says to his father or mother, ‘It is a gift, whatever you might have gained from me,’ he shall not honor his father or his mother.” And you have made void the commandment of God because of your tradition.’” “Then”: when? When he had worked his countless signs, when he had healed the sick by the touch of his fringe. For that is why the evangelist marks the time, to show their unspeakable wickedness, which yielded to nothing. And what does “the scribes and Pharisees from Jerusalem” mean? They were scattered in all the tribes and divided into twelve parts; but those who held the capital were more wicked than the others, inasmuch as they enjoyed greater honor and had acquired great arrogance. But see, I pray you, how they are caught by their very question. For they do not say, “Why do they transgress the law of Moses?” but, “the tradition of the elders.” From this it is plain that the priests were introducing many innovations, although Moses had charged them with much fear and with great threatening neither to add nor to take away. “For you shall not add,” he says, “to the word which I command you this day, and you shall not take away from it.” But they innovated none the less; such was this too, that one must not eat with unwashed hands, and the baptizing of cups and bronze vessels, and their baptizing themselves. For just when, as time went on, they ought to have been freed from such observances, then they bound them the more with more of them, fearing lest someone should take away their authority, and wishing to be more feared, as being themselves lawgivers. The thing therefore went so far in lawlessness that their own commandments were kept while God’s were transgressed; and they had such power that the matter became a ground of accusation. This was a double charge against them: both that they innovated, and that they avenged their own rules so strictly while taking no account of God’s. And passing over the rest, the pots and the bronze vessels (for they were ridiculous), they bring forward the one that seemed to have more reason than the others, wishing, as it seems to me, to provoke him to anger. That is why they mentioned the elders too, so that by seeming to despise them he might give them a hold against himself. But it is worth examining first why the disciples ate with unwashed hands. For what reason, then, did they eat so? Not making a point of it, but now disregarding superfluous things and attending to necessary ones, having no rule either about washing or not washing, but doing either as it happened. For those who despised even necessary food, how should they have made these things a matter of zeal? Since, then, it often happened that this came about by chance, as when they ate in the desert, as when they plucked the ears of grain, they bring it forward as a charge—they who always pass over great things and make much account of superfluous ones. What then does Christ do? He did not stand on this point or make a defense, but at once brings a countercharge, pulling down their boldness of speech, and showing that one who sins greatly ought not to be exact with others about small things. “You who ought to be accused,” he says, “do you accuse?” But observe how, whenever he wishes to set aside one of the legal rules, he does it in the manner of a defense; which he did on that occasion too. For he does not come at once to the transgression, nor say, “It is nothing”; for then he would have made them bolder; but first he cuts off their boldness, bringing into the midst a far greater charge and turning it upon their own head. And he neither says that the disciples do well to transgress, so as not to give them a hold; nor does he condemn what was done, so as not to confirm the rule; nor again does he accuse the elders as lawless and polluted, for then they would have turned away from him as a reviler and an insulter; but leaving all these aside he goes another way. And he seems to rebuke those who had come, but he strikes at those who made these laws; nowhere mentioning the elders, but in his accusation of these men bringing those down too, and showing that the sin is double: that they do not obey God, and that they do this for the sake of men; as if he said, “This is what has ruined you, obeying the elders in everything.” He does not say it so, but he hints at this very thing by answering them thus: “Why do you also transgress the commandment of God because of your tradition? For God commanded, ‘Honor your father and your mother,’ and, ‘He who speaks evil of father or mother, let him surely die.’ But you say, ‘Whoever says to his father or mother, “It is a gift, whatever you might have gained from me,” he shall not honor his father and his mother.’ And you have made void the commandment of God because of your tradition.”

And he did not say, “of the elders,” but “your”; and, “you say”; and he did not say, “the elders,” so as to make his word less offensive. For since they wished to show that the disciples were lawless, he shows that it is they who are doing this, while the disciples are free of the charge. For what was enjoined by men is not law (that is why he calls it tradition), and by men who were lawless above all. And since commanding men to wash their hands was not contrary to the law, he brings into the midst another tradition, one that is contrary to the law. What he says is something like this: they taught the young, under a show of piety, to despise their fathers. How, and in what way? If one of the parents said to his son, “Give me this sheep that you have, or the calf, or something else of the kind,” they would say, “This is a gift to God, whatever you wish to gain from me, and you cannot take it.” And from this a double evil arose. For they did not offer it to God, and they robbed their parents in the name of the offering, insulting their parents for God’s sake and God for their parents’ sake. But he does not say this at once; first he reads out the law, by which he shows that it wishes parents to be greatly honored. “For honor,” it says, “your father and your mother, that you may live long on the earth”; and again, “He who speaks evil of father or mother, let him surely die.” But he, passing over the reward set for those who honor their parents, sets down the more fearful part, I mean the punishment threatened to those who dishonor them, wishing both to strike these men with dismay and to draw those who have sense; and he shows thereby that they deserve death. For if he who dishonors with a word is punished, much more you who do it by deed, and not only dishonor but also teach others to do so. You, then, who ought not even to live, how do you accuse the disciples? And what wonder is it if you commit such insults against me, who am for the time unknown, when you are seen doing such things toward the Father too? For everywhere he both says and shows that it was with God himself that they began this madness. Some, however, interpret “It is a gift, whatever you might have gained from me” differently: that is, “I do not owe you honor, but I do you a favor if I honor you.” But Christ would not have mentioned such an insult. And Mark makes this plainer, saying, “Corban, whatever you might have gained from me,” which does not mean a gift or a dowry but is properly called an offering. Having shown, then, that those who trample on the law would not be justified in accusing others for transgressing a commandment of the elders, he shows this same thing also from the prophet. For since he had convicted them vehemently, he goes further, which he does everywhere, bringing the Scriptures into the midst, and showing by this too that he is in agreement with God. And what does the prophet say? “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. And in vain they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.” Do you see a prophecy agreeing exactly with what was said, and proclaiming their wickedness from of old? For what Christ now charged, Isaiah too said long before: that they despise the things of God (“For in vain they worship me,” he says), but make much account of their own (“teaching as commandments the doctrines of men”). Rightly then the disciples do not keep these. Having given them, then, a mortal blow, and having heightened the accusation by the facts, by their own verdict, and by the prophet, he says nothing more to them, since they were incorrigible, but turns his word to the crowds, to bring in a teaching that is lofty and great and full of much wisdom; and taking occasion from that, he now weaves in the greater thing, casting out the observance of foods. But see when. When he had cleansed the leper, when he had set aside the sabbath, when he had shown himself king of land and sea, when he had given laws, when he had forgiven sins, when he had raised the dead, when he had given them many proofs of his Godhead, then he speaks about foods.

For the whole of Judaism is held together by this; and if you take this away, you have taken away the whole. For from this he shows that circumcision too must be set aside. But he himself does not introduce this directly, since it was older than the other commandments and was held in greater esteem; but he enacts it through his disciples. For it was so great a thing that even the disciples, wishing to abolish it after so long a time, first observe it, and so put an end to it. But see how he brings in the law. “For he called the crowds and said to them, ‘Hear and understand.’” For he does not simply declare it to them, but first makes his word readily accepted by the honor and the attention he shows them (for this the evangelist made clear by saying, “having called”), and then also by the timing. For after the refutation of those men and his victory over them, and the accusation from the prophet, then he begins his lawgiving, when they would also more easily accept what was said. And he does not simply call them, but also makes them more attentive. For he says, “Understand,” that is, “Consider, rouse yourselves”; for such is the law about to be written. For if they set aside the law, and that out of season, for their own tradition, and you listened to them, much more ought you to listen to me, who at the fitting time am leading you on to a greater wisdom. And he did not say, “The observance of foods is nothing,” nor, “Moses commanded badly,” nor, “He did it by way of concession”; but in the manner of exhortation and counsel, taking his testimony from the nature of things, he says, “Not what goes into the mouth defiles a man, but what comes out of the mouth,” taking refuge in nature itself, and legislating and declaring. And hearing this, those men made no reply, nor did they say, “What are you saying? When God has given countless commands about the observance of foods, do you legislate such things?” But since he had silenced them thoroughly, not only by refuting them but also by bringing their deceit into the open, and by exposing what they did in secret, and uncovering the hidden things of their mind, they went away silenced. But consider, I pray you, how he does not yet dare plainly to strike down the rule of foods. That is why he did not say, “foods,” but, “Not what goes in defiles a man,” which it was natural to suspect was said also about unwashed hands. For he was speaking about foods, but it would have been understood about these too. For so strong was the observance of foods that even after the resurrection Peter said, “By no means, Lord, for I have never eaten anything common or unclean.” For even if he said this on account of others, and to leave himself a defense toward those who accused him, to show that he both objected and was not even so allowed, nevertheless it shows that the scruple about the matter was great. That is why he himself also did not speak openly about foods at the beginning, but said, “what goes into the mouth”; and again, when he seemed later to speak more plainly, he veiled it at the end, saying, “But to eat with unwashed hands does not defile a man,” so that he might seem to have taken his starting point from this, and to be speaking about it for the present. That is why he did not say, “But to eat foods does not defile a man,” but spoke as if about that matter, so that those men might have nothing to say against him. “Hearing these things, then,” it says, “the Pharisees were offended,” not the crowds. “For his disciples came,” it says, “and said to him, ‘Do you know that the Pharisees were offended when they heard the saying?’” And yet nothing had been said to them. What then does Christ do? He did not remove the offense for them, but rebuked them, saying, “Every plant which my heavenly Father has not planted will be rooted up.” For he knows both how to disregard offenses and how not to disregard them. Elsewhere, at any rate, he says, “But so that we may not offend them, cast a hook into the sea”; but here he says, “Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both will fall into a pit.” Now the disciples said this not only as being grieved for those men, but also as being somewhat troubled themselves. But since they did not dare to say this in their own person, they wished to learn it under the account of others. For that this is so, hear how afterward the fervent Peter, who everywhere is beforehand, comes and says, “Explain this parable to us,” revealing the trouble in his soul, and not daring to say openly, “I am offended,” but asking to be freed from his trouble by the explanation; that is why he was also rebuked. What then does Christ say? “Every plant which my heavenly Father has not planted will be rooted up.” Those who are sick with the disease of the Manichaeans say this was said about the law; but what was said before stops their mouths. For if he were speaking about the law, how did he defend it above and fight for it, saying, “Why do you transgress the commandment of God because of your tradition?” And how does he bring the prophet into the midst? But it is about these men themselves and their traditions that he says this. For if God said, “Honor your father and your mother,” how is what was said by God not a plant of God? And what follows also shows that it was said about them and their traditions. At any rate, he added, “They are blind guides of the blind.” But if he were saying this about the law, he would have said, “It is a blind guide of the blind.” But he did not say so; he said, “They are blind guides of the blind,” freeing the law from the charge and turning the whole upon these men. Then, also detaching the multitude from them, as being about to fall into the pit because of them, he says, “If the blind lead the blind, both will fall into a pit.” It is a great evil to be blind; but being such, not to have one to lead you by the hand, and to take the place of a guide, is a double and triple charge. For if for the blind man to have no guide is dangerous, much more is it so for him to wish to be a guide to another. What then does Peter do? He does not say, “What is this that you have said?” but asks as of something full of obscurity. And he does not say, “Why have you spoken against the law?” for he was afraid of being thought to be offended; but he says it is a matter of obscurity. But that it was not a matter of obscurity, but that he was offended, is plain; for it had nothing obscure. That is why he also rebukes him, saying, “Are you also still without understanding?” For the crowds perhaps did not even understand what was said; but it was they who had been offended. That is why at the beginning, as if asking on behalf of the Pharisees, they wished to learn; but when they heard him threaten a great threat and say, “Every plant which my heavenly Father has not planted will be rooted up,” and, “They are blind guides of the blind,” they were checked. But he who is everywhere fervent cannot bear to keep silent even so, but says, “Explain this parable to us.” What then does Christ do? He answers very rebukingly: “Are you also still without understanding? Do you not yet perceive?” And he said this and rebuked them to cast out their prejudice; yet he did not stop there, but adds other things, saying, “that everything that goes into the mouth passes into the belly and is cast out into the drain; but what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and that defiles a man. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, acts of sexual immorality, thefts, blasphemies, false witness; these are what defile a man; but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile a man.” Do you see how vehemently and rebukingly he deals with them? Then he establishes what was said from our common nature, and with a view to their healing. For when he says, “passes into the belly and is cast out into the drain,” he still answers according to Jewish lowliness of thought. For he says that it does not remain but goes out. And yet, even if it remained, it would not make one unclean. But they were not yet able to hear this. For this reason the lawgiver too allows so much time as it remains within, but when it comes out, no longer. At any rate, he commands that one bathe in the evening and be clean, measuring the time of digestion and of excretion. But the things of the heart, he says, remain within, and defile when they come out, and not only while they remain. And he puts first the evil thoughts, which was a Jewish way of putting it; and he does not yet make his refutation from the nature of the things, but from the offspring of the belly and of the heart, and from the fact that the one remains and the other does not. For the one, entering from outside, goes out again; but the other is born within, and defiles when it comes out, and then the more when it comes out. For they were not yet able, as I said, to hear these things with fitting wisdom. But Mark says that he said these things “making all foods clean.” Yet he did not declare it plainly, nor say, “But to eat such and such foods does not defile a man”; for they would not have endured to hear him so plainly. That is why he also added, “But to eat with unwashed hands does not defile a man.” Let us learn, then, what the things are that defile a man; let us learn, and flee them. For in the church too we see such a custom prevailing among the many: they are zealous to come in with clean garments, and to wash their hands; but how they may present a clean soul to God they take no account. And I say this not forbidding the washing of hands or mouth, but wishing that we wash as is fitting, not with water only, but instead of water with the virtues. For the filth of the mouth is evil-speaking, blasphemy, reviling, angry words, obscene talk, laughter, coarse jesting. If, then, you are conscious that you utter none of these and are not soiled with this filth, approach with confidence; but if you have received these stains countless times, why do you labor in vain, rinsing your tongue with water while carrying about in it this deadly and harmful filth?

For tell me, if you had dung and mud on your hands, would you dare to pray? Not at all. And yet that does no harm, while this is ruin. How then are you scrupulous in indifferent things, but careless in forbidden ones? “What then,” someone says, “must one not pray?” One must, but not while defiled, nor having such mud on oneself. “What then, if I have been overtaken?” someone says. Cleanse yourself. How, and in what way? Weep, groan, give alms, make your apology to the one you have insulted, reconcile him to yourself by these means, scour your tongue, so that you may not provoke God the more. For if someone who had filled his hands with dung took hold of your feet like that in supplication, not only would you not listen to him, but you would even kick him with your foot. How then do you dare to approach God like this? For the tongue is the hand of those who pray, and by it we take hold of God’s knees. Do not, then, defile it, lest he say to you too, “Even if you multiply your supplication, I will not listen.” For “death and life are in the power of the tongue”; and, “By your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.” Guard your tongue, then, more than the pupil of your eye. The tongue is a royal horse. If you put a bridle on it and teach it to step in good rhythm, the king will rest upon it and sit on it; but if you let it be carried along unbridled and leap about, it becomes a vehicle of the devil and the demons. You do not dare to pray when you come from intercourse with your own wife, although this is not even a fault; but when you come from reviling and insult, which brings on Gehenna, do you stretch out your hands before you have cleansed yourself well? And how do you not shudder? Tell me. Have you not heard Paul saying, “Marriage is honorable, and the bed undefiled”? But if, rising from the undefiled bed, you do not dare to come to prayer, how, coming from the devil’s bed, do you call on that awesome and fearful name? For it is a devilish bed to wallow in insults and revilings. And like some wicked adulterer, anger unites with us with great pleasure, casting deadly seeds into us, making us bring forth devilish enmity, and working everything contrary to marriage. For marriage makes the two become one flesh; but anger divides into many parts those who were united, and splits and cuts up the very soul. So that you may approach God with confidence, then, do not receive anger when it comes upon you and wishes to unite with you, but drive it away like a mad dog. For so Paul too commanded: “lifting up,” he says, “holy hands, without anger and disputing.” Do not put your tongue to shame; for how will it plead for you when it has lost its own confidence? But adorn it with gentleness; with humility make it worthy of the God who is entreated; fill it with blessing, with much almsgiving. For it is possible to give alms with words too: “For a word is better than a gift”; and, “Answer the poor man peaceably with meekness.” And all the rest of the time adorn it with the telling of the divine laws: “For let all your discourse be in the law of the Most High.” Having adorned ourselves thus, let us approach the King and fall on our knees, not with the body only, but also with the mind. Let us consider whom we approach, and for what, and what we wish to accomplish. We approach God, whom the seraphim, seeing, turned away their faces, not bearing his brightness; whom the earth, seeing, trembles. We approach God, “who dwells in unapproachable light.” And we approach for deliverance from Gehenna, for the forgiveness of sins, for the remission of those unbearable punishments, for the attaining of heaven and the good things there.

Let us fall down, then, both with body and with mind, that he himself may raise us up as we lie there; let us speak with all gentleness and meekness. “And who is so wretched and miserable,” someone says, “as not to be gentle in prayer?” He who prays with a curse, and fills himself with anger, and cries out against his enemies. For if you wish to accuse, accuse yourself. If you wish to whet and sharpen your tongue, do it against your own sins. And do not say what evil another has done you, but what you have done to yourself; for this above all is evil. For no one else will be able to wrong you unless you wrong yourself. So if you wish to go against those who wrong you, go first against yourself; no one prevents you. But if you go against another, you go away having suffered a greater wrong. And what wrong at all have you to speak of? That so-and-so insulted you, and robbed you, and surrounded you with dangers? But this is not to be wronged; rather, if we are sober, it is to be benefited in the greatest things. For the one who is wronged is he who has done such things, not he who suffered them. And this above all is the cause of all evils, that we do not even know who it is that is wronged and who it is that does wrong. For if we knew this well, we should never have wronged ourselves, nor prayed against another, having learned that it is impossible to suffer evil from another. For it is not being robbed but robbing that is evil. So if you have robbed, accuse yourself; but if you have been robbed, pray even for the robber, because he has benefited you in the greatest things. For even if such was not the intention of the one who did it, you were benefited in the greatest things, if you bear it nobly. For him both men and the divine laws call wretched; but you, the one wronged, they crown and proclaim victor. For if someone in a fever snatched from someone a vessel holding water, and was deprived of his harmful desire, we would not say that the one from whom it was snatched was wronged, but the one who snatched it; for he increased the fever and made the disease worse. Reckon this, then, about the covetous and money-loving man too. For he too has a fever, much worse than that man’s, and by this robbery he has kindled his own flame. And if a madman snatched a sword from anyone and killed himself, who again was the one wronged? He from whom it was snatched, or he who snatched it? It is plain that it was he who snatched it. So, then, in the robbery of money too, let us give this same verdict. For what a sword is to a madman, that wealth is to the money-lover, or rather even worse. For the madman, having taken the sword and thrust it through himself, is released from his madness and no longer receives a second blow; but the money-lover each day receives countless wounds worse than that, not releasing himself from his madness, but intensifying it more; and the more wounds he receives, the more he furnishes occasion for other, worse blows. Considering these things, then, let us flee this sword, let us flee this madness, so that, even if late, we may come to our senses. For this virtue too must be called self-control, no less than that which is so called by all. For there the wrestling is against the tyranny of one desire; but here one must overcome many and manifold desires. For nothing, nothing is more senseless than the slave of money. He thinks he rules, while he is ruled; he thinks he is master, while he is a slave; and putting chains on himself, he rejoices; making the wild beast more savage, he is glad; and being made a captive, he exults and leaps for joy; and seeing a mad dog springing upon his soul, when he ought to bind it and waste it with hunger, he even gives it abundant food, so that it may spring the more and be more fearful. Considering all these things, then, let us loose the chains, let us slay the wild beast, let us drive out the disease, let us cast out this madness, so that we may enjoy calm and pure health, and, sailing with great delight into the tranquil harbor, may attain the eternal good things; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And Jesus went out from there and withdrew into the region of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman came out from those borders and cried out to him, saying, ‘Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is badly possessed by a demon.’” But Mark says that he could not be hidden when he had come into the house. And why did he go into those parts at all? When he had freed them from the observance of foods, then he also opens a door to the Gentiles, advancing step by step; just as Peter too, after first being commanded to set aside this law, is sent to Cornelius. But if someone should say, “How then, after saying to the disciples, ‘Do not go into the way of the Gentiles,’ does he accept this woman?” first we would say this: that what he commanded the disciples, he himself was not bound by; and second, that he did not go there to preach either; which Mark also hinted at when he said that he both hid himself and was not hidden. For just as not running to them first belonged to the due order of things, so to drive away those who came to him was unworthy of his love for mankind. For if he ought to pursue those who fled, much more ought he not to flee those who pursued him. See, then, how the woman is worthy of every benefaction. For she did not dare to come to Jerusalem, being afraid and counting herself unworthy. For that she would have gone there were it not for this is plain both from her present earnestness and from her coming out of her own borders. Some, interpreting allegorically, say that when Christ came out of Judea, then the church dared to approach him, she too coming out of her own borders. “For forget,” it says, “your people and your father’s house.” For Christ came out of his borders, and the woman out of hers, and so they were able to meet one another. “For behold,” it says, “a Canaanite woman came out of her borders.” The evangelist accuses the woman, to show the wonder and to proclaim her the more. For when you hear “Canaanite,” remember those lawless nations, who overturned even the laws of nature from their foundations. And having remembered them, consider also the power of Christ’s coming. For those who were cast out so that they might not pervert the Jews, these appeared so much more fit than the Jews that they came out of their borders and approached Christ, while those drove him away even when he came to them. Having come to him, then, she says nothing else but, “Have mercy on me,” and by her crying she gathers a great crowd of spectators around. For it was a pitiable sight to see a woman crying out with so much feeling, and a woman who was a mother, and pleading for her daughter, and a daughter in so bad a state. For she did not dare to bring the possessed girl into the teacher’s sight, but leaving her lying at home, she herself makes the supplication. And she states only the affliction, and adds nothing more; nor does she drag the physician to her house, as that royal official did, saying, “Come and lay your hand on her,” and, “Come down before my child dies.” But having described the calamity and the severity of the disease, she puts forward the Master’s mercy, and cries aloud; and she does not say, “Have mercy on my daughter,” but, “Have mercy on me.” “For she is without feeling of the disease, but I am the one who suffers countless terrors, I who am sick with full awareness, who am mad with full knowledge.” “But he did not answer her a word.” What is this new and strange thing? The Jews, even when ungrateful, he leads on, and when blaspheming he exhorts, and when tempting him he does not let them go; but this woman, who runs to him and entreats and begs, who was brought up neither in the law nor in the prophets, and who shows such reverence, he does not even think worthy of an answer. Whom would this not have offended, seeing things happen contrary to his fame? For they had heard that he went about the villages healing; but this woman who has come he beats off. And whom would not the affliction have bent, and the supplication she made for a daughter in so bad a state? For she did not come as one who was worthy, nor as one demanding a debt, but she begged for mercy, and only lamented her own calamity, and is not even thought worthy of an answer. Perhaps many of those who heard were offended; but she was not offended. And why do I say “of those who heard”? For I think that the disciples themselves were moved at the woman’s calamity, and were troubled and disheartened. But nevertheless, even though troubled, they did not dare to say, “Grant her the favor”; but “the disciples came and asked him, saying, ‘Send her away, for she is crying out after us.’” For we too … But Christ says, “I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

What then did the woman do, when she heard this? Did she fall silent and withdraw? Or did she slacken her eagerness? Not at all; rather she pressed on the more. But we do not do so; when we do not obtain, we withdraw, when for that very reason we ought to press on the more. And yet whom would not what was then said have thrown into perplexity? His silence was enough to cast her into despair, but his answer did so much more. For to see her advocates too at a loss along with her, and to hear that the thing was even impossible, threw her into unspeakable perplexity. But nevertheless the woman was not at a loss; but when she saw that her patrons had no power, she became shameless with a good shamelessness. For before this she did not even dare to come into his sight (“for she is crying out,” it says, “behind us”); but when it was likely that she would go farther away, being at a loss, then she even comes nearer, and worships him, saying, “Lord, help me.” What is this, woman? Have you more confidence than the apostles? More strength? “Confidence and strength,” she says, “not at all; I am even full of shame; but nevertheless I put forward my very shamelessness in place of supplication; he will respect my boldness.” And what is this? Did you not hear him say, “I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”? “I heard,” she says, “but he himself is Lord.” That is why she did not say, “Entreat and beg,” but, “Help me.” What then does Christ do? Not even with this was he content, but he heightens her perplexity again, saying, “It is not good to take the children’s bread and give it to the little dogs.” And when he counted her worthy of a word, then he struck her more heavily than by his silence. And he no longer puts the cause on another, nor says, “I was not sent”; but the more she intensified her supplication, the more he too intensifies his refusal. And he no longer calls them sheep, but children, and her a little dog. What then does the woman do? From his very words she weaves her defense. “For if I am a little dog,” she says, “I am not a stranger.” Rightly did Christ say, “For judgment I came.” The woman shows wisdom and displays all endurance and faith, and that while being insulted; but they, though healed and honored, repay him with the opposite. “For that food is necessary for the children,” she says, “I too know; yet neither am I excluded, being a little dog. For if it is not lawful to take, neither is it lawful to share the crumbs; but if one must share even a little, then neither am I excluded, even if I am a little dog; rather, in this way above all I have a share, if I am a little dog.” For this reason Christ put her off; for he knew that she would say this. For this reason he refused the gift, to show her wisdom. For if he had not been going to give, neither would he have given afterward, nor would he have stopped her mouth again. But as he does with the centurion, saying, “I will come and heal him,” so that we may learn that man’s reverence and hear him say, “I am not worthy that you should come under my roof”; and as he does with the woman with the flow of blood, saying, “I know that power has gone out from me,” to make her faith manifest; and as with the Samaritan woman, to show how not even when reproved does she withdraw: so too here. For he did not wish so great a virtue of a woman to be hidden. So what he said did not belong to one who insults, but to one who calls her forth and uncovers the treasure stored within. But consider, I pray you, along with her faith, her humility too. For he called the Jews children; but she was not content with this, but even named them masters: so far was she from being pained at the praises of others. “For even the little dogs,” she says, “eat of the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Do you see the woman’s understanding, how she did not even dare to contradict, nor was she stung by the praises of others, nor indignant at the insult? Do you see her vigor? He said, “It is not good”; but she said, “Yes, Lord.” He called them children; but she, masters. He named her a little dog; but she added also the dog’s work. Do you see her humility? Hear the boasting of the Jews: “We are the seed of Abraham, and have never been in bondage to anyone”; and, “We were born of God.” But not so this woman; she calls herself a little dog, and those masters; and for this very reason she became a child. What then does Christ say? “O woman, great is your faith.” For this is why he put her off, so that he might proclaim this word, so that he might crown the woman. “Let it be done for you as you wish.” What he says is something like this: “Your faith can accomplish even greater things than these; but let it be done for you as you wish.” This is akin to that voice which said, “Let the heaven be made,” and it was made. “And her daughter was healed from that hour.” Do you see how she too contributed not a little to the healing of her daughter? For this is why Christ did not say, “Let your little daughter be healed,” but, “Great is your faith; let it be done for you as you wish,” so that you may learn that the words were not said idly or in flattery, but that the power of faith was great. At any rate, he committed the exact test and proof of it to the outcome of the events. For her little daughter was healed at once.

But consider, I pray you, how when the apostles were defeated and did not succeed, she succeeded. So great a thing is perseverance in prayer. For in our own affairs he wishes rather to be asked by us, guilty as we are, than by others on our behalf. And yet those men had more confidence, but she showed great endurance. And by the outcome he also made his defense to the disciples for his delay, and showed that he had good reason not to consent when they asked. “And Jesus went on from there and came beside the sea of Galilee; and he went up on the mountain and sat there. And great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, the maimed, the dumb, and they cast them at his feet; and he healed them, so that the crowds marveled, seeing the dumb speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing; and they glorified the God of Israel.” Sometimes he himself goes about, sometimes he sits waiting for the sick, and brings the lame up onto the mountain. And they no longer touch even his garment, but rise to something higher, casting themselves at his feet; and they showed a double faith, both by climbing the mountain while lame and by needing nothing else but only to be cast at his feet. And the wonder was great and astonishing, to see those who were carried walking, the disabled needing no one to lead them by the hand. For the multitude of those healed and the ease of the cure amazed them. Do you see how he healed the woman with so much delay, but these at once? Not because these were better than she, but because she was more faithful than they. That is why in her case he puts off and delays, displaying her vigor; but to these he gives the gift at once, stopping the mouths of the unbelieving Jews and cutting off every excuse of theirs. For the greater the benefits one receives, the more liable one is to punishment for being ungrateful and not being made better even by the honor. That is why the rich, if they are wicked, are punished more than the poor, because not even in prosperity did they become gentle. For do not tell me that they gave alms. For if they did not give in proportion to their substance, not even so will they escape. For almsgiving is judged not by the measure of what is given, but by the generosity of the will. But if these pay the penalty, much more those who are excited about superfluities, who build houses of three and four stories but despise the hungry, who cultivate avarice but neglect almsgiving. But since the discourse has fallen upon almsgiving, come, let us take up today that discourse on love for mankind which I left unfinished three days ago. Do you remember, when I was speaking the other day about the fussiness over shoes, and that vain labor, and the effeminacy of the young, that our discourse then turned from almsgiving to those charges? What, then, were the things put forward then? That almsgiving is a kind of craft, having its workshop in heaven, and its teacher not a man but God. Then, inquiring what is a craft and what is not, we fell upon vain labors and bad crafts, among which we mentioned also this craft of shoemaking. Do you recall it? Come, then, let us take up today too what was said then, and show how almsgiving is a craft and better than all crafts. For if it is proper to a craft to end in something useful, and nothing is more useful than almsgiving, it is plain that it is both a craft and better than all crafts. For it does not make shoes for us, nor weave garments, nor build houses of clay; but it procures eternal life, and snatches us from the hands of death, and makes us illustrious in both lives, and builds the mansions in heaven and those eternal tents. It does not let our lamps be quenched, nor let us appear at the wedding with soiled garments, but washes them and makes them whiter than snow. “For though your sins be as scarlet, I will make them white as snow.” It does not let us fall where that rich man fell, nor hear those fearful words, but leads us by the hand into Abraham’s bosom. And yet of the crafts of this life each has received one achievement: farming, for instance, to feed; weaving, to clothe; or rather not even this, for it is not enough by itself to supply us with what is its own.

And if you wish, let us examine farming first. For if it does not have smithing, so as to borrow from it mattock and ploughshare and sickle and axe and many other things; and carpentry, so as to fix a plough and make a yoke and a wagon for threshing the ears of grain; and leatherworking, so as to make a strap; and building, so as to build a stall for the ploughing oxen and houses for the farmers who sow; and woodcutting, so as to cut timber; and after all these, baking—it is nowhere. So too weaving, when it makes anything, calls many crafts along with it, so that they may join with it in the work at hand; and if they are not present and do not stretch out a hand, it too stands at a loss like that one. And each of the crafts needs another. But when we must show mercy, we need nothing else; it needs only the will. But if you should say that it needs money, and houses, and garments, and shoes, read those words of Christ which he spoke about the widow, and cease from this anxiety. For even if you are very poor, and one of those who beg, if you put in two mites, you have accomplished the whole; and if you give a barley cake, having only this, you have reached the end of the craft. Let us, then, take up this science and practice it successfully. For it is better to know this than to be a king and to wear a diadem. For this is not its only advantage, that it needs no others, but it also accomplishes varied things, many and of every kind. For it builds houses that remain forever in heaven, and it teaches those who have succeeded in it how they may escape the deathless death; and it gives you treasures that are never spent but escape every harm, that from robbers, that from worms, that from moths, and that from time. And yet if someone had taught you this one thing only about wheat, what would you not have given to be able to keep your grain unspoiled for many years? But behold, this craft teaches you not about wheat only but about all things, and shows how your possessions, your soul, and your body may remain unspoiled. And why must I tell one by one all the achievements of this craft? For it teaches you how you may become like God, which is the sum of all good things. Do you see how its work is not one but many? Needing no other craft, it builds houses, weaves garments, prepares treasures that cannot be spoiled, makes us overcome death and master the devil, makes us like God. What, then, could be more useful than this craft? For the others, besides what has been said, are also dissolved together with the present life, and when the craftsmen are sick they appear nowhere, and they are unable to preserve their works, and they need labor and much time and countless other things; but this one appears most of all when the world has passed away; when we die, then above all it shines forth, and shows the works it has wrought; and it needs neither time nor labor nor any other such toil, but works even when you are sick and old, and goes abroad with you into the life to come, and never leaves you. It makes you more powerful even than sophists and orators. For those who are esteemed in those crafts have many who envy them; but those who shine in this one have countless who pray for them. And those stand before the judgment seat of men, pleading for the wronged, and often for the wrongdoers too; but this stands beside the judgment seat of Christ, not only pleading, but persuading the judge himself to plead for the one on trial and to cast his votes in his favor; and even if he has sinned countless times, it crowns him and proclaims him victor. “For give alms, and all things will be clean.” And why do I speak of things to come? For even in the present life, if we asked men which they want more, that there be many sophists and orators, or merciful and loving men, you will hear them choose the second, and very reasonably. For if eloquence were taken away, life would suffer no harm; for indeed it held together for a long time before eloquence existed; but if you take away showing mercy, all is gone and perishes. And as one cannot sail the sea when harbors and anchorages have been silted up, so neither can this life hold together if you take away mercy and pardon and love for mankind.

That is why God did not entrust these things to reasoning alone, but sowed many parts of it also in the sovereign power of nature. So fathers have mercy on their children, so mothers, so children on their parents; and not among men only, but among all the irrational creatures too; so brothers on brothers, and kinsmen, and relatives; so man on man. For we have even from nature a certain inclination to mercy. That is why we are indignant on behalf of those who are wronged, and are bent with pity when we see people slaughtered, and weep when we see people mourning. For since God greatly wishes this to be achieved, he bade nature contribute much to it, showing that this is something he earnestly desires. Thinking on these things, then, let us bring ourselves and our children and our relatives into the school of almsgiving, and let a man learn this before all things, since this is what a man is. “For a great thing is man, and a merciful man is precious”; so that if he does not have this, he has fallen even from being a man. This makes men wise. And why do you wonder if this is what a man is? This is what God is: “Be merciful,” he says, “as your Father.” Let us learn, then, to be merciful for all these reasons, but most of all because we ourselves too need much mercy. And let us not count as living that time in which we do not show mercy. But by almsgiving I mean that which is clean of covetousness. For if he who is content with his own and shares with no one is not merciful, how is he merciful who takes what belongs to others, even if he gives countless gifts? For if merely to enjoy one’s own possessions is inhumanity, much more to take away besides. If those who have done no wrong are punished because they did not share, much more those who also take what is others’. Do not, then, say this, that one man is wronged and another is shown mercy. For this is the dreadful thing. For the one wronged ought himself to be the one shown mercy; but as it is, wounding some, you heal those whom you did not wound, when you ought to heal those, or rather not to wound at all. For the lover of mankind is not the one who strikes and heals, but the one who cures those struck by others. Cure, then, your own evils, not those of others; or rather do not strike at all, nor throw down (for this is the act of one who mocks), but raise up those who have been thrown down. For it is not possible to heal the evil that comes from covetousness by the same measure of almsgiving. For if you gain an obol by covetousness, you need not an obol again for almsgiving to take away the wound from covetousness, but a talent. That is why the thief, when caught, pays back fourfold; and the one who robs by violence is worse than the one who steals. But if that one must give four times what he stole, the robber must give ten times and much more; and it is well if even so he can make amends for his injustice; for he will not even then reap the fruit of almsgiving. That is why Zacchaeus says, “I will restore fourfold whatever I have taken by false accusation, and half of my possessions I will give to the poor.” But if under the law one must give fourfold, much more under grace; if the thief, much more the robber. For here along with the loss there is also great insult. So that even if you give a hundredfold, you have not yet given the whole. Do you see that I did not speak in vain when I said that even if you seize an obol and give a talent besides, you hardly heal it even so? But if, doing this, you hardly heal it, when you reverse the order, and seize whole estates and give a little, and not even to those who were wronged but to others in their place, what defense will you have? What pardon? What hope of salvation? Do you wish to learn how much evil you do by showing mercy in this way? Hear the Scripture saying, “As one who kills a son before his father’s eyes, so is he who brings a sacrifice from the goods of the poor.” Having written this threat, then, on our minds, let us depart; let us write it on our walls, on our hands, on our conscience, everywhere, so that this fear, at least, flourishing in our mind, may keep our hands from daily murders. For robbery is worse than murder, wasting the poor man away little by little. So that we may be clean of this pollution, let us meditate on these things with ourselves and with one another. For so we shall be both more eager for mercy and receive pure rewards for it, and enjoy the eternal good things, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“But Jesus called his disciples to him and said, ‘I have compassion on the crowd, because they have already stayed with me three days and have nothing to eat; and I do not wish to send them away fasting, lest they faint on the way.’” Above, too, when he was about to work this sign, he first healed those maimed in body; and here he does the same thing: from the healing of the blind and the lame he enters again upon this. But why did the disciples say then, “Send the crowds away,” and not say it now, and that though three days had passed? Either because they themselves had now become better, or because they saw that the people did not much feel their hunger; for they were glorifying God for what was being done. But see how now too he does not come straight to the miracle, but calls them forth to it. For the crowds, who had come for healing, did not dare to ask for the loaves; but he, the lover of mankind and the provident one, gives even to those who do not ask, and says to the disciples, “I have compassion, and I do not wish to send them away fasting.” For lest they should say that they came with provisions, he says, “They have already stayed with me three days,” so that even if they came with something, it has been used up. For this reason he himself did not do it on the first and second day, but when everything had been used up by them, so that, having first been in need, they might receive what was done with greater eagerness. That is why he says, “lest they faint on the way,” showing both that they had come from far away and that nothing was left them. “And if you do not wish to send them away fasting, why do you not work the sign?” So that by this question and the answer he might make the disciples more attentive, and they might show their faith by coming to him and saying, “Make loaves.” But not even so did they understand the reason of the question; hence afterward he says to them, as Mark says, “Are your hearts so hardened? Having eyes, do you not see, and having ears, do you not hear?” For if this were not so, why does he speak to the disciples, and show that the crowds deserve to be benefited, and add also the mercy he himself feels? And Matthew says that after this he also rebuked them, saying, “You of little faith, do you not yet perceive, nor remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets you took up? Nor the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many hampers you took up?” So well do the evangelists agree with one another. What then do the disciples do? They still crawl on the ground, although he had done countless things so that that miracle might be remembered, both by the question, and by the answer, and by making them servers, and by distributing the baskets; but they were still rather imperfect. That is why they say to him, “Where are we to get so many loaves in the wilderness?” Both before this and now they mention the wilderness, saying this themselves from weak reasoning, but by this too making the sign free from suspicion. For lest anyone should say, as I have already said, that they got them from some village nearby, the place is acknowledged, so that the miracle may be believed. That is why he works both the former sign and this one in a wilderness, far from the villages. Understanding none of this, the disciples said, “Where are we to get so many loaves in the wilderness?” For they thought he had said this as one about to command them to feed the people—very foolishly. For it was for this reason that he said the other day too, “You give them something to eat,” so as to bring them to the point of entreating him. But now he does not even say this, “You give them something to eat,” but what? “I have compassion, and I do not wish to send them away fasting,” bringing them nearer and stirring them up more, and granting them to see clearly so as to ask these things of him. For the words were those of one showing that he is able not to send them away fasting, and displaying his authority; for the words “I do not wish” are those of one who shows this. But since they spoke of the multitude, and the place, and the wilderness (“for where,” they say, “are we to get so many loaves in the wilderness as to fill so great a crowd?”), and not even so understood what was said, he then brings in his own part, and says to them, “How many loaves have you?” And they say, “Seven, and a few small fish.” And they no longer say, “But what are these among so many?” as they had said before. So, even if they did not grasp the whole, nevertheless they were rising little by little. For he too, rousing their minds by this, asks in the same way as before, so that by the manner of the question he might remind them of what had already happened. But as you have seen their imperfection from this, so learn also the wisdom of their mind, and admire their love of truth, how they, writing themselves, do not hide their own shortcomings, and those great ones. For it was no ordinary fault, when this sign had just happened, to forget it so quickly; that is why they are also rebuked.

And along with this consider also their other wisdom, how they were superior to the belly, how they were trained not to make much account of the table. For being in the wilderness and staying there three days, they had seven loaves. The rest, then, he does in the same way as before: for he makes them sit down on the ground, and makes the loaves well up in the disciples’ hands. “For he commanded,” it says, “the crowds to sit down on the ground. And taking the seven loaves and the fish, having given thanks he broke them and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples to the crowd.” But the end is no longer the same. “For they all ate,” it says, “and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the fragments, seven hampers full. And those who ate were four thousand men, besides women and children.” But why then, when there were five thousand, were twelve baskets left over, but here, with four thousand, seven hampers? For what reason, why were the remnants fewer, though those fed were not so many? We may say, then, either that the hampers were larger than the baskets; or, if not that, that so the sameness of the sign might not cast them into forgetfulness again, he rouses their memory by the difference, so that from the variation they might remember both that one and this. That is why then he makes the baskets of remnants equal in number to the disciples, but now the hampers equal to the loaves, by this too displaying his unspeakable power and the ease of his authority, that it is possible for him to work such wonders both in this way and in another. For it was no small power to keep the number both then and now, when there were five thousand then and four thousand now, and to allow the remnants to be neither fewer nor more, then than the baskets and now than the hampers, though the number of those fed was different. And the end, too, is like the former. For then too he sent the crowds away and departed in a boat, and now; and John too says this. For since no sign made them follow him so much as the miracle of the loaves, and they wished not only to follow but even to make him king, fleeing the suspicion of seizing power he springs away after this wonder; and he does not even go off on foot, so that they may not follow, but embarks in the boat. “And having sent away the crowds,” it says, “he got into the boat and came to the region of Magdala. And the Pharisees and Sadducees came and asked him to show them a sign from heaven. But he says, ‘When it is evening, you say, “Fair weather, for the sky is red”; and in the morning, “Stormy today, for the sky is red and lowering.” You know how to discern the face of the sky, but you cannot discern the signs of the times. An evil and adulterous generation seeks a sign, and no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah the prophet.’ And he left them and went away.” But Mark says that when they came and argued with him, he sighed deeply in his spirit and says, “Why does this generation seek a sign?” And yet the question deserved anger and indignation; but nevertheless the lover of mankind, the provident one, is not angry, but pities and laments them as being incurably sick, and tempting him after so great a proof of his power. For they did not ask in order to believe, but in order to catch him. For if they had come as people who would believe, he would have given it. For he who said to the woman, “It is not good,” and afterward gave, would much more have granted it to these. But since they did not ask in order to believe, that is why elsewhere he also calls them hypocrites, because they said one thing and thought another. For if they had believed, they would not even have asked. And it is plain from another point too that they did not believe: when rebuked and refuted they did not stay, nor say, “We do not know, and we seek to learn.” And what sign from heaven were they asking for? To stop the sun, or bridle the moon, or bring down thunderbolts, or change the air, or something else of the kind. What then does he say to this? “You know how to discern the face of the sky, but you cannot discern the signs of the times.” Do you see his meekness and gentleness? For he did not, as before, only refuse and say, “It will not be given to it,” but also gives the reason why he does not give it, although they were not asking in order to learn. What then is the reason? “As in the sky,” he says, “there is one sign of storm and another of fair weather, and no one seeing the sign of storm would look for calm, nor in calm and fair weather for storm, so too you must reason about me. For this time of my coming is one thing, and the one to come another. Now there is need of these signs on earth; but those in heaven are stored up for that time. Now I have come as a physician; then I shall be present as a judge. Now I have come to seek what has strayed; then, to demand an account. That is why I came secretly; but then I shall come with great publicity, rolling up the heaven, hiding the sun, not letting the moon give its light. Then the powers of the heavens will be shaken, and the appearing of my coming will be like lightning, which appears suddenly to all. But now is not the time for these signs; for I have come to die and to suffer the utmost. Have you not heard the prophet saying, ‘He will not strive, nor cry aloud, nor will his voice be heard outside’; and another again, ‘He will come down like rain upon a fleece’?”

“And if they speak of the signs in Pharaoh’s time, an enemy had to be got rid of then, and rightly those things happened; but for one who has come to friends there is no need of these signs. And how shall I give the great signs, when the small are not believed?” I call them small with regard to display; since in power these were much greater than those. For what could be equal to forgiving sins, and raising a dead man, and driving out demons, and fashioning a body, and setting right all the rest? But see their hardened heart, how, hearing that no sign will be given them except the sign of Jonah the prophet, they do not ask. And yet, knowing the prophet and all that happened to him, and hearing this a second time, they ought to have inquired and learned what in the world was meant; but, as I said, they do not do these things from a desire to learn. That is why he too left them and went away. “And when his disciples,” it says, “came to the other side, they had forgotten to take loaves. And Jesus said to them, ‘Take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.’” And why did he not say plainly, “Beware of the teaching”? He wishes to remind them of what had happened; for he knew they had forgotten. But simply to accuse them did not seem reasonable; whereas taking occasion from them and so rebuking them made the charge acceptable. And why did he not rebuke them then, when they said, “Where are we to get so many loaves in the wilderness?” For it seemed a fitting time to say this then. So as not to seem to rush at the sign. And besides, he did not wish to accuse them before the crowds, nor to win glory before them. And now the accusation is more reasonable, because after the miracle had happened twice they were still such. That is why he rebukes them after working another miracle too; for he brings into the midst what they were reasoning. And what were they reasoning? “Because we did not take loaves,” it says. For they were still excited about the Jewish purifications and the observances of foods. That is why for all these reasons he also attacks them more vehemently, saying, “Why do you reason among yourselves, you of little faith, because you have taken no loaves? Do you not yet perceive or understand? Is your heart hardened? Having eyes, do you not see; having ears, do you not hear? Do you not remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets you took up? Nor the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many hampers you took up?” Do you see intensified indignation? For nowhere else does he appear to have rebuked them so. Why then does he do this? To cast out again the prejudice about foods. That is why then he only said, “Do you not perceive or understand?” but here also, with great rebuke, “You of little faith,” he says. For gentleness is not good everywhere. For as he gave them confidence, so he also rebukes, managing their salvation by this variety. But see both the great rebuke and the gentleness. For as if almost defending himself to them for rebuking them vehemently, he says, “Do you not yet perceive the five loaves, and how many baskets you took up? And the seven loaves, and how many hampers you took up?” That is why he gives the number both of those fed and of the remnants, at once leading them to remember what was past and making them more attentive for the future. And that you may learn how much the rebuke availed, and how it roused their sleeping mind, hear what the evangelist says. For when Jesus had said nothing more, but had rebuked them and added only this, “How is it that you do not perceive that I did not speak to you about loaves, but told you to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees?” he added, saying, “Then they understood that he did not tell them to beware of the leaven of bread, but of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees”; and that though he did not explain it. See how many good things the rebuke worked. For it led them away from the Jewish observances, and, careless as they were, … freed them from their little faith, so that they were not afraid nor trembled if ever they seemed to have few loaves, nor worried about hunger, but disregarded all these things. Let us not, then, flatter those under us everywhere, nor seek to be flattered by those over us. For the human soul needs both these remedies. That is why God so governs the affairs of the whole world, doing now this, now that, and lets neither good things be permanent nor painful things be by themselves. For as there is now night, now day, and now summer, now winter, so too with us: now grief, now pleasure; now sickness, now health. Let us not, then, wonder when we are sick, since we ought to wonder also when we are well; nor be troubled when we are in pain, since we might as well be troubled when we rejoice. For all things happen according to nature and in due sequence. And why do you wonder if these things happen to you? For one may see this happening even with those saints. And that you may learn this, let us bring into the midst the life you think was especially full of pleasure and free from troubles. Do you wish us to examine Abraham’s life from its beginnings? What then did he hear at once? “Go out from your land and from your kindred.” Do you see a painful thing commanded? But see the good thing that follows too: “and come into the land which I will show you, and I will make you a great nation.” What then? When he came into the land and reached the harbor, did his troubles stop? Not at all; but again others harder than the former follow: famine, and removal, and the seizure of his wife; and after these other good things awaited him: the plague on Pharaoh, and his release, and the honor, and those many gifts, and the return home. And all the rest too has such a chain, woven of good and painful things. And such things happened with the apostles too. That is why Paul said, “who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction.” “What is that to me,” someone says, “who am always in grief?” Do not be ungrateful and thankless; for it is impossible for anyone to be continually in pain; for nature does not suffice for it. But since we wish to be always in joy, for that reason we think we are always in grief. And not for this reason only, but because we immediately forget the good and pleasant things but always remember the painful ones, for that reason we say we are in grief. For it is not possible for a human being to be always in grief. And if you wish, let us examine both the life of luxury, soft and dissolute, and the burdensome, wearisome and painful one. For we shall show you that the former too has its griefs and the latter its relief. But do not be troubled. Let there be set in the midst a prisoner, and another, a young king, an orphan who has inherited a great estate; and let there be set also a hired laborer, toiling the whole day, and another living continually in luxury. Do you wish, then, that we first tell the despondencies of the one living in luxury? Consider how his mind is likely to be storm-tossed, when he desires a glory beyond him, when he is despised by his servants, when he is insulted by inferiors, when he has countless accusers and slanderers of his extravagance. And the rest, all that is likely to happen in such wealth, it is not even possible to tell: the enmities, the offenses, the accusations, the losses, the plots of the envious, who, when they cannot transfer his wealth to themselves, drag at the young man and tear him on every side and stir up countless storms against him. Do you wish me to tell also the pleasure of this hired laborer? He is free from all these things; even if someone insults him, he is not pained, for he thinks himself greater than no one; he does not fear for his money; he eats with pleasure, he sleeps with much contentment. Those who drink Thasian wine do not enjoy such luxury as he does, going to the springs and enjoying those streams. But that other man’s state is not such. And if what has been said does not satisfy you, so that I may make the victory greater, come, let us compare the king and the prisoner; and you will often see the latter in pleasure, playing and leaping, but the former in diadem and purple despondent, and having countless cares, and dead with fear. For it is not, it is not possible to find anyone’s life free from grief, nor yet without a share of pleasure; for our nature would not suffice for it, as I said before. And if one rejoices more and another grieves more, this happens through the one who grieves himself, when he is small-souled, not through the nature of things. For if we wished to rejoice continually, we have many occasions. For if we lay hold of virtue, nothing will grieve us any more. For it holds out good hopes to those who possess it, and makes them pleasing to God and esteemed among men, and implants unspeakable pleasure. For even if virtue involves labor in its achievement, yet the conscience fills one with great gladness, and puts within so much pleasure as no word will be able to set forth. For what do you think is sweet in the present life? A costly table, and health of body, and glory and wealth? But if you compare these sweet things with that pleasure, they will be more bitter than anything, unbearable when set beside it. For nothing is sweeter than a good conscience and good hope. And if you wish to learn this, let us examine one who is about to depart from here, or one who has grown old; and reminding him of the costly table he enjoyed, and of glory and honor, and of the good works he once worked and did, let us ask in which he rejoices more; and we shall see him ashamed and covering his face at the former, but soaring and leaping at the latter. So Hezekiah too, when he fell sick, did not remember a costly table, nor glory, nor kingship, but righteousness. “For remember,” he says, “how I walked before you in a straight way.” See Paul too leaping for joy at these things and saying, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith.” “For what else had he to say?” someone says. Many things, and more than these: the honors with which he was honored, the escorts he enjoyed, and the great attention paid him. Or do you not hear him saying, “You received me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus,” and, “If possible, you would have dug out your eyes and given them to me,” and that for his life they laid down their own necks? But he brings none of these into the midst, but the labors and the dangers and the crowns for them; and very reasonably. For these things are left here, but those go abroad with us; and of these we shall give account, but for those we shall demand reward. Do you not know how on the last day sins wring the soul? How they stir the heart from its depths? Then, then, when these things happen, the memory of good works, standing by like fair weather in a storm, consoles the troubled soul. For if we are sober, this fear will always be present to us even while we live; but since we are insensible, it will certainly come upon us when we are cast out of here. For the prisoner too is most in pain when they bring him out to the court; then most of all he trembles, when he is near the tribunal, when he must give account. That is why one may then hear many telling of terrors and fearful sights, the sight of which those departing can no longer bear, and lying there they shake the bed itself with great violence and look fearfully at those present, the soul thrusting itself inward and shrinking from being torn from the body, and not bearing the sight of the angels coming. For if we are frightened when we look at men, when we see threatening angels and stern powers coming, what shall we not suffer, as the soul is dragged from the body and drawn away, lamenting much, idly and in vain? For that rich man too mourned much after he departed, but gained nothing. Picturing all these things to ourselves and turning them over, then, so that we may not suffer the same, let us keep the fear that comes from them in its vigor, so that we may escape the punishment that comes from the facts and attain the eternal good things; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father, together with the holy and life-giving Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“[Now when] Jesus [came] into the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, ‘Who do men say that I, the Son of Man, am?’” Why has he named the founder of the city? Because there is another too, Caesarea of Strato. And he asks them not in that one but in this, leading them far away from the Jews, so that, freed from all fear, they might say with boldness everything that was in their mind. And why did he not ask their own opinion at once, but that of the many? So that, having told the opinion of those, and then being asked, “But who do you say that I am?”, they might be raised by the manner of the question to a higher conception, and not fall into the same lowliness as the many. That is why he does not inquire of them at the beginning of his preaching either; but when he had done many signs, and had spoken with them about many and lofty doctrines, and had given many proofs of his Godhead and of his oneness of mind with the Father, then he puts this question to them. And he did not say, “Who do the scribes and Pharisees say that I am?”—although these often came to him and argued with him—but, “Who do men say that I am?”, examining the unbiased opinion of the people. For even if it was much lower than it should have been, yet it was free of wickedness; but that other was full of much malice. And showing how greatly he wishes the incarnation to be confessed, he says, “the Son of Man,” calling his Godhead by this name, as he does often elsewhere too. For he says, “No one has ascended into heaven except the Son of Man, who is in heaven”; and again, “When you see the Son of Man ascending where he was before.” Then, when they said, “Some John the Baptist, others Elijah, others Jeremiah or one of the prophets,” and had brought their mistaken opinion into the midst, he then added, “But who do you say that I am?”, calling them on by the second question to imagine something greater about him, and showing them that the first verdict falls far short of his worth. That is why he seeks another from them, and brings on a second question, so that they might not fall in with the many, who, since they saw signs greater than human, thought him a man, but one who had appeared after a resurrection, as Herod too said. But he, leading them away from this suspicion, says, “But who do you say that I am?”, that is, “you who are always with me and see me working wonders, and who have yourselves done many mighty works through me.” What then does the mouth of the apostles, Peter, do, he who is everywhere fervent, the leader of the band of the apostles? When all were asked, he answers. And when he asked the people’s opinion, they all told what was asked; but when he asked theirs, Peter leaps forward and anticipates them, and says, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” What then does Christ say? “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed it to you.” And yet, had he not confessed him as genuine Son, begotten of the Father himself, this would not have been the work of revelation; if he thought him to be one of the many, what was said would not have deserved a blessing. For before this, too, those in the boat said after the storm they had seen, “Truly he is the Son of God,” and they were not blessed, although they spoke truly. For they did not confess such a sonship as Peter did; they thought him a true son as one of the many, distinguished above the many, but not of the very essence. And Nathanael too said, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God, you are the King of Israel”; and not only is he not blessed, but he is even corrected by him as having said what fell far short of the truth. At any rate he added, “Because I said to you that I saw you under the fig tree, do you believe? You will see greater things than these.” Why then is this man blessed? Because he confessed him as genuine Son. That is why in their case he said nothing of the kind, but in this one he also shows who revealed it. For lest it should seem to the many, since he was an ardent lover of Christ, that his words came from friendship and flattery and a disposition seeking to please him, he brings into the midst the one who sounded it in his soul, so that you may learn that Peter uttered it, but the Father dictated it, and that you may believe that what was said is no longer a human opinion but a divine doctrine. And why does he not declare it himself, nor say, “I am the Christ,” but establishes this through the question, bringing them to confess it? Because so it was then both more fitting and necessary for him, and it drew them the more to faith in what was said. Do you see how the Father reveals the Son, how the Son the Father? “For no one knows the Father,” he says, “except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.” It is not possible, then, to learn the Son from another than the Father, nor to learn the Father from another than the Son. So from this too their equality of honor and sameness of essence is plain. What then does Christ say? “You are Simon, the son of Jonah; you shall be called Cephas.” “For since you have proclaimed my Father,” he says, “I too name the one who begot you”; all but saying, “As you are the child of Jonah, so I am of my Father.” For otherwise it would have been superfluous to say, “You are the son of Jonah”; but since he had said “Son of God,” to show that he is Son of God in the same way as that man is son of Jonah, of the same essence as the one who begot him, he therefore added this. “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church,” that is, on the faith of his confession. By this he shows that many were now about to believe, and he raises his mind and makes him a shepherd. “And the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.” And if they shall not prevail against it, much less against me. “So do not be troubled when you are about to hear that I shall be delivered up and crucified.” Then he speaks of another honor too: “And I will give you the keys of the heavens.” What is, “And I will give you”? “As the Father gave you to know me, so I too will give.” And he did not say, “I will entreat the Father,” although the display of authority was great and the greatness of the gift unspeakable; but, “I will give you.” What do you give? Tell me. “The keys of the heavens, that whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in the heavens, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in the heavens.” How then is it not his to give the sitting on the right hand and on the left, when he says, “I will give you”? Do you see how he himself leads Peter up to a lofty conception of him, and reveals himself, and shows that he is the Son of God through these two promises? For what belongs to God alone—to loose sins, and to make the church unshakable amid so great an onset of waves, and to show a man, a fisherman, firmer than any rock while the whole world makes war on him—these he himself promises to give; as the Father said, speaking to Jeremiah, that he would make him “like a pillar of bronze and like a wall”; but that one for one nation, this one in every part of the world. I would gladly ask, then, those who wish to diminish the Son’s dignity: which gifts are greater, those which the Father gave to Peter, or those which the Son gave? For the one granted Peter the revelation of the Son; but the Son granted him to sow the knowledge of the Father and of himself in every part of the world, and entrusted to a mortal man authority over all things in heaven by giving him the keys; he who extended the church into every part of the world and made it stronger than heaven. “For heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” How then is he less who gave such things, who accomplished such things? And I say this not dividing the works of Father and Son—“for all things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being”—but stopping the shameless tongue of those who dare such things.

But see his authority in everything: “I tell you, you are Peter; I will build the church; I will give you the keys of the heavens.” “And then,” having said this, “he charged them to tell no one that he was the Christ.” And why did he charge them? So that, when the things that gave offense had been removed, and the cross had been accomplished, and the rest of his sufferings completed, and there was no longer anything to interrupt and cloud the faith of the many in him, the fitting opinion of him might be imprinted pure and unshaken on the minds of the hearers. For his power had not yet shone out clearly. That is why he wished to be proclaimed by them at the time when the truth of the facts would be plain and the strength of what was done would support what was said by the apostles. For it was not the same to see him now working wonders in Palestine, now insulted and driven out (especially when the cross was about to follow the wonders being done), and to see him worshiped and believed in every part of the world, and suffering no longer any such thing as he suffered. That is why he says to tell no one. For what has once taken root and then been torn up, if planted again, would hardly be retained among the many; but what, once fixed, has remained unshaken and been harmed from no side, easily springs up and grows to greater increase. For if those who had enjoyed many signs and shared in so many unspeakable mysteries were offended merely by hearing of it—or rather not they alone, but even Peter, the leader of all—consider what the many were likely to suffer, learning that he is the Son of God, and seeing him crucified and spat upon, not knowing the hidden meaning of these mysteries, nor having received the Holy Spirit. For if he said to the disciples, “I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now,” much more would the rest of the people have fallen away, if the summit of these mysteries had been revealed to them before the fitting time. That is why he forbids them to tell it. And that you may learn how important it was for them to learn the full teaching afterward, when the things that gave offense had passed, learn it from this very leader. For this same Peter, who after so many signs proved so weak as even to deny him and to fear a worthless servant girl, when the cross had come to pass and he had received clear proofs of the resurrection, and there was nothing left to offend and trouble him, held the teaching of the Spirit so unshaken that he sprang upon the people of the Jews more fiercely than a lion, although dangers and countless deaths were threatened. Rightly, then, did he command them not to tell the many before the cross, since he did not dare to put everything even into those who were to teach before the cross. “For I have many things to say to you,” he says, “but you cannot bear them now.” And of what was said by him they were ignorant of many things, which he did not make plain before the cross. At any rate, when he rose, then they knew some of the things that had been said. “From that time he began to show them that he must suffer.” “From that time”: when? When he had fixed the doctrine in them, when he had brought in the beginning of the Gentiles. But not even so did they understand what was said; “for the saying,” it says, “was hidden from them”; and they were as it were in a kind of obscurity, not knowing that he must rise. That is why he dwells on the hard things and enlarges his discourse, to open their mind and make them understand what in the world is being said. “But they did not understand, but the saying was hidden from them, and they were afraid to ask him”—not whether he would die, but how and in what way, and what in the world this mystery is. For they did not know what this rising was, and they thought it much better not to die. That is why, while the others were troubled and perplexed, again Peter, being fervent, alone dares to speak about these things; and not even he openly, but “taking him aside,” that is, separating himself from the rest of the disciples, he says, “Mercy on you, Lord; this shall never happen to you.” What in the world is this? He who had obtained a revelation, who had been called blessed, so quickly fell and stumbled as to fear the passion? And what wonder is it that one who had not received a revelation about these things should suffer this? For that you may learn that he did not utter those words of himself either, see how in these matters, which had not been revealed to him, he is troubled and overturned, and though hearing countless times he does not know what in the world is being said. For that he is the Son of God he had learned; but what the mystery of the cross and of the resurrection is had not yet become plain to him. “For the saying,” it says, “was hidden from them.” Do you see that he rightly commanded them not to tell the others? For if it so troubled those who had to learn it, what would the rest not have suffered? He himself, however, showing that he is so far from coming to the passion unwillingly, both rebuked Peter and called him Satan.

Let all who are ashamed of the passion of Christ’s cross listen. For if the leader, even before he had learned everything clearly, was called Satan for feeling this, what pardon could they have who, after so great a proof, deny the incarnation? For when one so blessed, who confessed such things, hears such words, consider what those will suffer who afterward set aside the mystery of the cross. And he did not say, “Satan spoke through you,” but, “Get behind me, Satan.” For it was the desire of the adversary that Christ should not suffer. That is why he rebuked him with such vehemence, since he knew that both he and the others especially feared this and would not readily accept it. That is why he also reveals what was in his mind, saying, “You are not minding the things of God, but the things of men.” What is, “You are not minding the things of God, but the things of men”? He, examining the matter by human and earthly reasoning, thought this shameful and unfitting for him. Striking at him, then, he says, “My suffering is not unfit … … listened to what was said, freed from the carnal mind, you would have known that this above all is fitting for me. For you think that suffering is unworthy of me; but I tell you that my not suffering belongs to the devil’s purpose”; quieting his agony by the opposite. For just as with John, who thought it unworthy of him that he should be baptized by him, he persuaded him to baptize him by saying, “Thus it is fitting for us,” and with Peter himself, when he was forbidding him to wash his feet, by saying, “You have no part with me unless I wash your feet,” so here too he restrained him by the opposite, and by the vehemence of his rebuke quieted his fear about the suffering. Let no one, then, be ashamed of the solemn symbols of our salvation, and of the sum of good things, through which we both live and are what we are; but let us carry about the cross of Christ like a crown. For indeed all that concerns us is accomplished through it. If one must be born again, the cross is present; if one is to be fed with that mystical food, if one is to be ordained, if one is to do anything else whatever, everywhere this symbol of victory stands by us. That is why we inscribe it with great zeal on houses, and on walls, and on windows, and on the forehead, and on the mind. For this is the sign of the salvation wrought for us, and of our common freedom, and of the forbearance of our Master. “For he was led like a sheep to the slaughter.” When, then, you make the sign, consider the whole purpose of the cross, and quench anger and all the other passions. When you make the sign, fill your forehead with great boldness, make your soul free. And you surely know what the things are that give freedom. That is why Paul too, leading us to this, I mean to the freedom that befits us, led us on so, reminding us of the cross and the blood of the Master: “For you were bought with a price,” he says; “do not become slaves of men.” Consider, he says, the price paid down for you, and you will be no man’s slave; calling the cross the price. For one must not simply trace it with the finger, but first with the will, with great faith. And if you imprint it so on your face, none of the unclean spirits will be able to stand near you, seeing the knife by which he received his wound, seeing the sword by which he received the mortal blow. For if we shudder when we see the places where the condemned are beheaded, consider what the devil will suffer, seeing the weapon by which Christ dissolved all his power and cut off the dragon’s head. Do not, then, be ashamed of so great a good, so that Christ may not be ashamed of you when he comes with his glory, and the sign appears before him, shining above the very ray of the sun. For the cross comes then, sending forth a voice by its very appearance, and pleading before the whole world on behalf of the Master, and showing that he left undone nothing of what was his to do. This sign, both in the time of our forefathers and now, has opened doors that were shut; this has quenched deadly drugs; this has dissolved the power of hemlock; this has healed the bites of venomous beasts. For if it broke the gates of Hades, and spread open the vaults of heaven, and renewed the entrance into paradise, and cut the sinews of the devil, what wonder is it if it prevailed over deadly drugs and wild beasts and other such things?

Engrave this, then, on your mind, and embrace the salvation of our souls. For this cross saved and converted the world, drove out error, brought back truth, made earth heaven, made men angels. Because of it the demons are no longer fearful but contemptible; nor is death death, but sleep; because of it all that wars against us has been thrown to the ground and trampled underfoot. If, then, someone says to you, “Do you worship the crucified one?” say with a bright voice and a glad face, “I do worship him, and I will never cease to worship him.” And if he laughs, weep for him, because he is mad. Give thanks to the Master that he has benefited us with such things as one cannot even learn without revelation from above. For this is why that man laughs too, because “the natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit.” For children too feel this, when they see something great and wonderful; and if you bring a child into the mysteries, he will laugh. To these children the Greeks are like; or rather they are even more imperfect than these, and therefore more wretched, because not at an untimely age but at full age they feel as infants do; hence they are not even worthy of pardon. But let us, with a bright voice, shouting loud and high, cry out and say—and when all the Greeks are present, with all the greater boldness—that the cross is our boast, and the sum of all good things, and our confidence, and our whole crown. I would wish … “… has been crucified …, and I to the world”; but I cannot, held down as I am by various passions. That is why I exhort both you and, before you, myself, to be crucified to the world, and to have nothing in common with the earth, but to love the country above, and the glory and the good things from there. For we are soldiers of a heavenly King, and have put on spiritual arms. Why, then, do we take up the life of hucksters and vagabonds, or rather of worms? For where the king is, there the soldier too must be. For we have become soldiers not of one far off, but of one near. For the king on earth would not bear that all should be in the palace, nor at his side; but the King of the heavens wishes all to be near his royal throne. “And how is it possible,” you say, “for those who are here to stand beside that throne?” … being of the earth, was where the seraphim are, where the cherubim are, and nearer to Christ than these shield-bearers of the king. For these turn their eyes in many directions; but nothing distracted that man or drew him aside, but he kept his whole mind intent upon the King. So, if we wish, this is possible for us too. For if he were separated by place, you might well be at a loss; but if he is present everywhere, he is near to the one who is zealous and intent. That is why the prophet too said, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me”; and God himself again: “I am a God at hand, and not a God far off.” As, then, sins separate us from him, so righteous deeds bring us together with him. “For while you are still speaking,” he says, “I will say, ‘Here I am.’” What father would ever so listen to his offspring? What mother is so ready, standing continually, lest her children should call her? There is no one, no father, no mother; but God stands continually waiting, in case any of his servants should ever call him, and never, when we have called as we ought, has he failed to hear. That is why he says, “While you are still speaking”: I do not wait for you to finish, and at once I hear. Let us, then, call him as he wishes to be called. And how does he wish it? “Loose,” he says, “every bond of injustice, undo the knots of violent contracts, tear up every unjust document. Break your bread to the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house. If you see one naked, cover him, and do not overlook those of your own seed. Then your light shall break forth early, and your healings shall spring up quickly, and your righteousness shall go before you, and the glory of God shall clothe you. Then you shall call on me, and I will hear you; while you are still speaking I will say, ‘Here I am.’” “And who,” someone says, “can do all these things?” And who cannot? Tell me. For what is difficult in what has been said? What is laborious? What is not easy? For they are so far from being only possible, they are even easy, that many have gone beyond the measure of what was said, not only tearing up unjust contracts, but stripping themselves of all they had; receiving the poor not only with roof and table, but toiling even with the sweat of their body to feed them; benefiting not only kinsmen but even enemies.

And what at all is difficult in what has been said? For he did not say, “Cross the mountain, pass over the sea, dig up so many and so many acres of land, remain without food, put on sackcloth”; but, “Share with your own, share your bread, tear up the documents unjustly drawn up.” What is easier than these? Tell me. But if you think them difficult, consider, I pray you, the prizes too, and they will be easy for you. For as kings at the horse races set out crowns and prizes and garments before those who compete, so too Christ places the prizes in the midst of the stadium, holding them out as through many hands, the words of the prophet. And kings, even if they are kings ten thousand times over, being men, and having wealth that is spent and generosity that is used up, are ambitious to make a few things look many; that is why, entrusting each item to one of their servants, they bring them out so into the midst. Our King does the opposite: having gathered them all together, since he is exceedingly rich and does nothing for display, he sets them out so in the midst; and when they are unfolded they will be boundless, and will need many hands to hold them. And that you may learn this, examine each of them with care. “Then shall your light break forth early,” he says. Does this gift seem to you to be one thing? But it is not one; it holds many within it, both prizes and crowns and other rewards. And if you wish, let us unfold it and show all the wealth, as far as we are able to show it; only do not grow weary. And first let us learn what “shall break forth” means. For he did not say, “shall appear,” but, “shall break forth,” showing us its speed and abundance, and how greatly he longs for our salvation, and how these good things are in travail to come forth themselves, and press on, and nothing will hold back their unspeakable rush; by all which he shows their abundance and the boundlessness of his wealth. And what is “early”? That is, not after you have been in trials, nor after the onset of evils, but it even anticipates them. For as with fruits we call “early” what appears before its season, so here too, showing again the speed, he spoke so, as above he said, “While you are still speaking I will say, ‘Here I am.’” And what light does he mean, and what in the world is this light? Not this light of the senses, but another, far better, which shows us heaven, the angels, the archangels, the cherubim, the seraphim, the thrones, the dominions, the principalities, the powers, the whole host, the royal courts, the tents. For if you are counted worthy of that light, you will both see these things and be delivered from Gehenna, and from the venomous worm, and from the gnashing of teeth, and from the bonds that cannot be loosed, and from the distress and the affliction, and from the darkness without a gleam, and from being cut in two, and from the river of fire, and from the curse, and from the places of pain; and you will depart where pain and grief have fled away, where joy is great, and peace, and love, and delight, and gladness; where there is eternal life, and unspeakable glory, and indescribable beauty; where there are the eternal tents, and the unspeakable glory of the King, and those good things “which eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and which have not entered into the heart of man”; where there is the spiritual bridal chamber, and the bridal halls of the heavens, and the virgins who have bright lamps, and those who have the wedding garment; where the Master’s possessions are many, and the royal treasuries. Do you see how great the prizes are, and how many he displayed through one saying, and how he gathered them all together? So too, if we unfold each of the following sayings, we shall find great abundance and a boundless sea. Shall we still put off, then, tell me, and hesitate to have mercy on those in need? No, I beg you; but even if we must throw away everything, even if we must be cast into fire, even if we must brave the sword, even if we must leap upon knives, even if we must suffer anything whatever, let us bear all things easily, so that we may obtain the garment of the kingdom of the heavens and that unspeakable glory; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“[Then] Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross [and follow me].’” “Then”: when? When Peter said, “Mercy on you; this shall never happen to you,” and heard, “Get behind me, Satan.” For he was not content with the rebuke alone, but, wishing to show abundantly both the absurdity of what Peter had said and the gain from the passion, he says: “You say to me, ‘Mercy on you; this shall never happen to you’; but I say to you that not only is hindering me and being displeased at my passion harmful and ruinous to you, but you will not even be able to be saved unless you yourself are always prepared to die.” For so that they might not think suffering unworthy of him, he teaches them the gain of the thing not only by what went before but also by what follows. In John, then, he says, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit”; but here, working it out abundantly, he extends the discourse about the necessity of dying not only to himself but also to them. “For so great is the gain of this thing that even in your case not wishing to die is a dreadful thing, but being ready for it is good.” But this he makes clear by what follows; for the present he works it out from one part. And see how he also makes his word free of compulsion. For he did not say, “Whether you wish or not, you must suffer this”; but how? “If anyone wishes to come after me. I do not force, I do not compel, but I make each one master of his own choice; that is why I say, ‘If anyone wishes.’ For I call to good things, not to evil and burdensome ones, not to punishment and vengeance, that I should compel. For the very nature of the thing is enough to draw one.” And by saying this he drew them the more. For he who uses force often turns people away; but he who leaves the hearer master draws him the more. For gentle treatment is stronger than force. That is why he himself said, “If anyone wishes.” “For great,” he says, “are the good things that I give you, and such that people should run to them willingly.” For if someone were offering gold and setting out a treasure, he would not invite with force. And if not with force to those things, much more to the good things in the heavens. For if the nature of the thing does not persuade you to run, you are not worthy even to receive it, nor, if you receive it, will you rightly know what has been received. That is why Christ does not compel, but exhorts, sparing us. For since they seemed to be murmuring much privately, troubled at what had been said, he says: “There is no need of trouble and confusion. If you do not think that what was said is the cause of countless good things, even when it happens to you, I do not force, nor do I compel; but if anyone wishes to follow, him I call. For do not think that following is what you are doing now in coming after me. You need many labors, many dangers, if you are to come after me. For you must not, Peter, because you have confessed me Son of God, expect crowns for that alone, and think that this is enough for your salvation, and from now on enjoy security, as though you had done everything. For I could indeed, being the Son of God, not even let you experience dangers; but I do not wish it, for your sake, so that you too may contribute something and become more approved.” For neither, if someone were president of the games and had an athlete who was his friend, would he wish to crown him by favor alone, but also for his own labors; and for this reason most of all, because he loves him. So too Christ: those whom he loves most, these he most wishes to be distinguished also by their own efforts, not by his help alone. But see how he also makes his word not burdensome. For he does not set the dangers around them alone, but sets the teaching before the whole world in common, saying, “If anyone wishes”: whether woman or man, whether ruler or subject, let him come this way. And he seems to have said one thing, but the things said are three: “let him deny himself,” and, “let him take up his cross,” and, “let him follow me”; and two are joined together, while one is set by itself. But let us see first what denying oneself is. Let us first learn what denying another is, and then we shall know what denying oneself is. What, then, is denying another? He who denies another, a brother, say, or a servant, or anyone whatever, even if he sees him being flogged, or bound, or led away, or suffering anything whatever, does not stand by him, does not help, is not moved, feels nothing toward him, as being once for all estranged from him. So, then, he wishes us not to spare our body, so that even if they flog, even if they drive us out, even if they burn us, even if they do anything whatever, we may not spare it. For this is to spare it. For fathers too spare their children when, handing them over to teachers, they bid them not to spare them. So too Christ did not say, “Let him not spare himself,” but more intensely, “Let him deny himself”; that is, let him have nothing in common with himself, but let him give himself up to dangers, to contests, and be disposed as though another were suffering these things. And he did not say, “Let him deny,” but, “Let him utterly deny,” showing again by this small addition the great excess. For this is more than that.

“And let him take up his cross.” This comes from the former. For so that you may not think that one must deny oneself only as far as words and insults and reproaches, he says how far one must deny oneself: that is, as far as death, and a shameful death. That is why he did not say, “Let him utterly deny himself as far as death,” but, “Let him take up his cross,” showing the shameful death; and that one must do this not once nor twice, but throughout the whole of life. “For carry this death about continually,” he says, “and be ready every day for slaughter. For since many have despised money and luxury and glory, but have not disregarded death, but feared dangers, I wish my contestant,” he says, “to wrestle even to blood, and the contest to go as far as slaughter; so that even if one must endure death, even a shameful death, even an accursed death, even under an evil suspicion, he may bear all nobly, and exult in this the more.” “And let him follow me.” For since it is possible to suffer and yet not follow, when one does not suffer for his sake (for robbers too suffer many hard things, and grave-robbers and sorcerers), so that you may not think the nature of the sufferings enough, he adds the reason for the sufferings. And what is this? That in doing and suffering these things you may follow him; that you may endure all things for his sake; that you may have the rest of virtue too. For this too is shown by “let him follow me”: so as to display not only courage in dangers, but also self-control, and gentleness, and all wisdom. For this is to follow as one ought: both to care for the rest of virtue, and to suffer all things for his sake. For there are those who follow the devil and suffer these things, and give up their lives for his sake; but we do so for the sake of Christ, or rather for our own sake; they, to harm themselves both here and there, but we, to gain both lives. How then is it not the height of folly not to show even the same courage as those who are perishing, and that when we are about to reap so many crowns? And yet Christ is present to help us, but no one helps them. He had, then, already given this command too, when he sent them out, saying, “Do not go into the way of the Gentiles; for I send you as sheep in the midst of wolves,” and, “You will be brought before governors and kings”; but now more intensely and more severely. For then he spoke only of death, but here he also mentioned the cross, and a continual cross. “For let him take up his cross,” he says; that is, let him carry it continually and bear it. And this he is accustomed to do everywhere, not from the beginning nor at the outset, but bringing in the greater of his commands gently and little by little, so that the hearers may not be startled. Then, since what was said seemed severe, see how he consoles it by what follows, and sets out prizes exceeding the sweat; and not prizes only, but also the wages of wickedness. And on these he dwells more than on those, since the giving of good things does not so much bring the many to their senses as the threat of severe things. See, at any rate, how he both begins from this and ends in it. “For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it,” he says, “but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will a man be profited, if he gains the whole world and forfeits his life? Or what will a man give in exchange for his life?” What he says is something like this: “I give these commands not because I do not spare you, but because I spare you exceedingly.” For he who spares his child destroys him; but he who does not spare saves him. Which a wise man too said, that “if you beat your son with a rod, he will not die, but you will deliver his soul from death”; and again, “He who pampers his son will bind up his wounds.” This happens also in an army. For if the general, sparing his soldiers, commands them to stay inside continually, he will also destroy along with them those inside. “So that this may not happen to you too,” he says, “you must be drawn up for continual death. For now too a hard war is about to be stirred up. Do not, then, sit inside, but go out and fight; and if you fall in the battle line, then you have lived.” For if in wars of the senses the one drawn up for slaughter is more esteemed than the others, and harder to capture, and more fearful to the enemy, though the king for whom he takes up arms cannot raise him after death, much more in these wars, where the hopes of resurrection are so great, he who exposes his life to death will find it: in one way, because he will not quickly be captured; in a second, because even if he falls, he will lead it by the hand to a greater life.

Then, since he had said, “He who wishes to save it will lose it, but whoever loses it will save it,” and had set down salvation and destruction both there and here, so that no one might think this destruction and that one equal, or the salvations, but might learn clearly that the difference between that salvation and this is as great as between destruction and salvation, he establishes these things once for all also from the opposite. “For what is a man profited,” he says, “if he gains the whole world but forfeits his life?” Do you see how the wrong kind of saving of life is destruction, and worse than any destruction, inasmuch as it is incurable, since there is nothing left to buy it back? “For do not tell me,” he says, “that the one who escaped such dangers saved his life; but along with his life set down the whole world too, and what more has he from it, when his life is lost?” For tell me, if you saw your servants in luxury but yourself in the worst evils, would you gain anything from being a master? Not at all. Reckon this, then, about the soul too, when, while the flesh lives in luxury and wealth, it awaits the destruction to come. “What will a man give in exchange for his life?” Again he dwells on the same point. “For have you another life to give in place of your life?” he says. “For if you lose money, you will be able to give money; or a house, or slaves, or anything else of your possessions; but if you lose your life, you will not be able to give another life in its place; but even if you have the world, even if you are king of the whole world, you will not be able, paying down all the world’s goods along with the world itself, to buy a single life.” And what wonder is it if this happens with the soul? For one may see it happening with the body too. Even if you wear countless diadems, but have a body sickly by nature and incurable, you will not be able, even if you give your whole kingdom, to set this body right, even if you add countless bodies, and cities, and money. Reckon so, then, about the soul too, or rather much more about the soul; and, letting all else go, spend all your zeal on it. Do not, then,

… while caring for the things of others, neglect yourself and what is yours; which everyone now does, like those who work the mines. For they have no benefit from this work, nor from the wealth; but even great harm, both because they run risks in vain and because they run risks for others, reaping nothing from that sweat and those deaths. These too many now imitate, who mine wealth for others; or rather they are more wretched than these, inasmuch as Gehenna awaits us after these labors. For death stops the sweat of those men; but for us death becomes the beginning of countless evils. But if you should say that you enjoy your labors by being rich, show me your soul gladdened, and then I am persuaded. For the soul is the more sovereign part of us. But if the body is fattened while that wastes away, its prosperity is nothing to you; just as, when the maidservant is merry, the handmaid’s prosperity is nothing to the mistress who is perishing, nor the fine adornment of the robe to the weakness of the flesh. But Christ will say to you again, “What will a man give in exchange for his life?”, commanding you to turn up and down about that, and to take account of it alone. Having struck fear by this, then, he consoles them also from the good things. “For the Son of Man,” he says, “is about to come in the glory of his Father with his holy angels, and then he will repay each according to his deeds.” Do you see how the glory of Father and Son is one? And if the glory is one, it is plain that the essence too is one. For if within one essence there is a difference of glory (“for one is the glory of the sun, and another the glory of the moon, and another the glory of the stars; for star differs from star in glory,” although the essence is one), how could those whose glory is one be thought to be of a different essence? For he did not say, “in such glory as the Father,” so that you might again suspect some variation; but, showing exactness, he says that he will come “in that very glory,” so that it is understood to be one and the same. “Why then are you afraid, Peter,” he says, “hearing of death? For then you will see me in the glory of the Father. And if I am in glory, so are you. For your lot does not end with the present life; but another, better portion will succeed for you.” Yet having spoken of the good things, he did not stop there, but mixed in the fearful ones too, bringing into the midst that judgment seat, and the accounts that cannot be excused, and the verdict that cannot be bribed, and the judgment that cannot be deceived. Yet he did not let his word appear gloomy only, but mixed it also with good hopes. For he did not say, “Then he will punish those who have sinned,” but, “He will repay each according to his conduct.” And he said this reminding not only sinners of punishment, but also those who have done right of prizes and crowns. But he said these things so as also to encourage good men; but I always shudder when I hear them, for I am not among those who are crowned. And I think that others too share our fear and agony. For whom is this word not enough to terrify, once it has entered his conscience, and to make him shudder, and to persuade him that we need sackcloth and a more intense fasting than the people of the Ninevites? For our discourse is not about the overthrow of a city and a common death, but about eternal punishment and the fire that is not quenched.

That is why I praise and admire the monks who have occupied the deserts, both for other reasons and because of this saying. For they, after their midday meal, or rather after their supper (for they never know a midday meal, since they know that the present time is one of mourning and fasting)—after supper, then, saying certain hymns of thanksgiving to God, they also remember this saying. And if you wish to hear the hymns themselves, so that you too may say them continually, I will recite to you that whole sacred song. Its words, then, are these: “Blessed is God, who feeds me from my youth, who gives food to all flesh: fill our hearts with joy and gladness, that always having all sufficiency we may abound in every good work, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom be glory, honor and might to you with the Holy Spirit to the ages. Amen. Glory to you, Lord; glory to you, Holy One; glory to you, King, for you have given us food for gladness. Fill us with the Holy Spirit, that we may be found well-pleasing before you and not be put to shame, when you repay each according to his works.” The whole hymn, then, deserves admiration, but especially this ending. For since the table and food tend to relax and weigh down, they put this saying on the soul like a kind of bridle, reminding it, at the time of relaxation, of the time of judgment. For they have learned what Israel suffered from a costly table: “For he ate,” it says, “and grew fat, and the beloved kicked.” That is why Moses also said, “When you have eaten and drunk and been filled, remember the Lord your God.” For after that table those lawless deeds were dared by them. Take care, then, that you too do not suffer something like this. For even if you do not sacrifice sheep and calves to stone or gold, take care that you do not sacrifice your own soul to anger, that you do not sacrifice your salvation to sexual immorality or to other such passions. For this reason those men too, fearing these precipices, when they have enjoyed their table, or rather their fast (for their table is a fast), remind themselves of the fearful judgment seat and of that day. And if those who discipline themselves with fasts, and sleeping on the ground, and vigils, and sackcloth, and countless other things, still need this reminder, when shall we be able to live in decency, we who set out tables that carry countless shipwrecks, and do not pray at all, neither at the beginning nor at the end? So, then, to undo these shipwrecks, let us bring that hymn into the midst and unfold it all, so that, seeing the gain from it, we too may sing it continually at table, and check the leapings of the belly, bringing the ways and laws of those angels into our own houses. For you ought to go there and reap these things; but since you will not, at least through our words hear this spiritual melody, and let each say these words after table, beginning so: “Blessed is God.” For at once they fulfill the apostolic law which commands, “Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” Then the thanksgiving is made not for that one day alone, but for the whole of life: “who feeds me,” it says, “from my youth.” And from this there is teaching in wisdom: since God feeds us, we must not be anxious. For if a king promised to supply you with daily food from his own storehouses, you would from then on have taken courage; much more, when God supplies it, and all things flow to you as from springs, must you be freed from every care. For this is why they also say these things, so as to persuade both themselves and those whom they make disciples to strip off every worldly anxiety. Then, so that you may not think they offer this thanksgiving for themselves alone, they go on to say, “who gives food to all flesh,” giving thanks for the whole world; and like fathers of the whole world, so they offer praises for all, and anoint themselves for genuine brotherly love. For they cannot hate those for whom they give thanks to God because they are fed. Do you see love brought in through the thanksgiving, and worldly anxiety cast out, both by what went before and by this? For if he feeds all flesh, much more those devoted to him; if those bound by worldly cares, much more those freed from them. This too Christ established when he said, “Of how many sparrows are you of more value?” And he said this, teaching us not to trust in wealth and land and seeds. For it is not these that feed us, but the word of God. By these words they also stop the mouths of the Manichaeans and of the followers of Valentinus, and of all who are sick with their diseases. For he is surely not evil who sets out his own goods for all, even for those who blaspheme him. Then the petition: “Fill our hearts with joy and gladness.” What sort of joy, then, do they mean? Not that of this life? God forbid; for if they wanted this, they would not have occupied the mountain peaks and the deserts and put on sackcloth; but they mean that joy which has nothing in common with the present life, the joy of the angels, the joy above. And they do not ask for it simply, but with great intensity: for they do not say, “Give,” but, “Fill”; and they do not say, “us,” but, “our hearts.” For this above all is the heart’s joy: “for the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace.” For since sin brought in grief, they ask that righteousness be planted in them through joy; for otherwise joy could not arise. “That always having all sufficiency we may abound in every good work.” See them fulfilling that saying of the Gospel which says, “Give us this day our daily bread,” and asking even this for the sake of spiritual things. “For that we may abound,” it says, “in every good work.” They did not say, “that we may do only what is owed,” but, “even more than what is commanded”; for this is what “that we may abound” means. And from God they seek sufficiency in necessities, but they themselves wish to obey not just sufficiently, but with great abundance, and in all things. This belongs to grateful servants, to wise men: always and in all things to abound. Then, again reminding themselves of their own weakness, and that nothing noble can be done without the help from above, having said, “that we may abound in every good work,” they add, “in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom be glory, honor and might to you to the ages. Amen,” weaving the end like the beginning by thanksgiving.

Then again they seem to begin from a fresh opening, but they hold to the same discourse. Just as Paul too, at the opening of a letter, having ended in a doxology, and having said, “according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be glory to the ages, amen,” begins again the subject about which he was writing; and again elsewhere, having said, “they worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed to the ages, amen,” he did not end his discourse, but begins again. Let us not, then, blame these angels either as acting out of order, because, having ended in a doxology, they begin the sacred hymns again. For they follow apostolic laws, beginning from a doxology and ending in it, and after this ending opening again. That is why they say, “Glory to you, Lord; glory to you, Holy One; glory to you, King, for you have given us food for gladness.” For we must give thanks not only for great things but also for small. And they give thanks for these too, putting to shame the heresy of the Manichaeans and all who say that the present life is evil. For so that you may not, because of their extreme self-denial and their disregard of the belly, suspect them of loathing food, as is the case with those who strangle themselves, they teach you by the prayer that it is not from loathing God’s creatures that they abstain from most things, but because they are practicing wisdom. And see how from the thanksgiving for what has already been given they also entreat for greater things, and do not stay with the things of this life, but ascend above the heavens and say, “Fill us with the Holy Spirit.” For it is not possible to be approved as one ought without being filled with that grace; just as it is not possible to do anything noble or great without enjoying the help of Christ. As, then, having said, “that we may abound in every good work,” they added, “in Christ Jesus,” so here too they say, “Fill us with the Holy Spirit, that we may be found well-pleasing before you, and not be put to shame.” Do you see how for the things of this life they do not pray but only give thanks, while for spiritual things they both give thanks and pray? “For seek,” he says, “the kingdom of the heavens, and all these things will be added to you.” But consider also another wisdom of theirs. “For that we may be found,” it says, “well-pleasing before you, and not be put to shame.” “For we do not care about shame before the many,” it says; “but whatever men may say about us, laughing, reproaching, we do not even turn round; our whole struggle is not to be put to shame then.” And when they say this, they bring in also the river of fire, and the prizes and the rewards. They did not say, “that we may not be punished,” but, “that we may not be put to shame.” For this is much more fearful to us than Gehenna, to seem to have offended the Master. But since this does not frighten the many and the coarser sort, they add, “when you repay each according to his works.” Do you see how much these strangers and sojourners have benefited us, these citizens of the desert, or rather citizens of the heavens? For we are strangers to the heavens and citizens of the earth; but they the opposite. And after this hymn, filled with great compunction and with many hot tears, they go so to sleep, taking only so much of it as to rest a little. And again they turn the nights into days, passing them in thanksgivings and the singing of psalms. And not men only, but women too practice this wisdom, overcoming the weakness of their nature by the abundance of their eagerness. Let us men, then, be ashamed at their vigor, and cease being melted into the present things, the shadow, the dreams, the smoke. For indeed the greater part of our life is spent in insensibility. For the first age is full of much folly; and the age that travels toward old age withers again all the sense in us; and small is the middle part that can enjoy luxury with full sense; or rather not even that shares in it purely, since countless cares and labors spoil it. That is why I beg you, let us seek the unshakable and immortal good things, and the life that never has old age. For it is possible even for one who lives in the city to emulate the wisdom of the monks; it is possible for one who has a wife and is busy in a household both to pray and to fast and to feel compunction. For those too who were instructed by the apostles at the beginning lived in the cities, yet showed the piety of those who have occupied the deserts; and others again presided over workshops, like Priscilla and Aquila. And all the prophets had wives and households, like Isaiah, like Ezekiel, like the great Moses; and they were not harmed at all in virtue by this. Emulating these, then, let us too give thanks to God, let us hymn him continually, and let us care for self-control and the other virtues, and bring the wisdom of the deserts into the cities, so that we may appear both well-pleasing to God and approved by men, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory, honor, might to the Father, together with the holy and life-giving Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Truly, truly I say to you, there are some of those standing here who will not taste death until they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.” For since he had spoken much about dangers and death, and about his own passion, and the slaughter of the disciples, and had laid on them those severe commands, and these were in the present life and at hand, while the good things were in hopes and expectations—for example, that those who lose their life save it, that he will come in the glory of his Father, that he will repay the prizes—wishing to give full assurance also to their sight, and to show what that glory is with which he is about to come, as far as it was possible for them to learn, he shows and reveals it to them even in the present life, so that they might no longer grieve at their own death or at the Master’s, and especially Peter, who was in pain. And see what he does. Having spoken about Gehenna and the kingdom (for by saying, “He who finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses it for my sake will find it,” and by saying, “He will repay each according to his conduct,” he made both of these plain), having spoken, then, about both, he shows the kingdom to their sight, but not Gehenna. Why? Because if they had been some others, coarser, this too would have been necessary; but since they were approved and right-minded, he leads them on by the more pleasant things. And not for this reason alone does he show this, but also because this was more fitting for him. Yet he does not pass over that part either; but there are places where he brings the very realities of Gehenna almost before the eyes, as when he brings in the picture of Lazarus, and mentions the one who demanded the hundred denarii, and the one clothed in filthy garments, and many others. “And after six days he takes with him Peter and James and John.” But another says “after eight,” not contradicting this one, but agreeing with him exactly. For the one counted both the very day on which he spoke and that on which he led them up; but the other only the days between these. But consider, I pray you, how Matthew shows wisdom, not hiding those who were preferred to himself. John too does this in many places, recording with great truthfulness the special praises of Peter. For the band of these saints was everywhere free of envy and vainglory. Taking, then, the leaders, “he brings them up onto a high mountain by themselves; and he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his garments became white as the light. And there appeared to them Moses and Elijah talking with him.” Why does he take these alone? Because they were superior to the others. And Peter showed his superiority by loving him greatly; John, by being greatly loved; and James, by the answer he gave together with his brother, saying, “We are able to drink the cup”; and not by his answer alone, but also by his deeds, both the others and those by which he fulfilled what he said. For he was so vehement and so heavy upon the Jews that even Herod thought it would be the greatest gift he could grant to the Jews if he killed him. And why does he not lead them up at once? So that the other disciples might not feel something human. That is why he does not even name those who were about to go up. For the others would have very much wished to follow, since they were going to see a pattern of that glory, and they would have been pained as overlooked. For even if he showed it in a rather bodily way, yet the thing aroused great desire. Why, then, does he even foretell it? So that from what he foretold they might become more ready to learn about the vision, and, filled with a more vehement desire through the counting of the days, they might come with a sober and attentive mind. And why does he bring Moses and Elijah into the midst? One could give many reasons; and first this one: since the crowds were saying, some Elijah, others Jeremiah, others one of the ancient prophets, he brings the leaders, so that from this too they might see the difference between the servants and the Master, and that Peter was rightly praised for confessing him the Son of God. After that one may give another reason too. For since they continually accused him of transgressing the law, and thought him a blasphemer, as appropriating a glory not belonging to him, the Father’s, and said, “This man is not from God, because he does not keep the sabbath,” and again, “For a good work we do not stone you, but for blasphemy, and because you, being a man, make yourself God,” so that it might be shown that both charges were from envy, and that he is free of both, and that what was done was neither a transgression of the law nor his calling himself equal to the Father an appropriation of a glory not belonging to him, he brings into the midst those who shone in each of these. For Moses gave the law, and the Jews could reason that he would not have overlooked its being trampled underfoot, as they thought, nor would he have served one who transgressed it and was an enemy of the one who laid it down. And Elijah was zealous for the glory of God; and if he had been an adversary of God, and called himself God, making himself equal to the Father, not being what he said and doing this unfittingly, he would not have stood by him and obeyed him.

One may give yet another reason besides those mentioned. What is it? That they might learn that he has authority over death and life, and rules the things above and the things below. That is why he brings into the midst both the one who had died and the one who had not yet suffered this. The fifth reason (for this is the fifth, in addition to those mentioned) the evangelist himself has revealed. And what was it? To show the glory of the cross, and to comfort Peter and the others who feared the passion, and to raise up their minds. For when they came they were not silent, but “spoke,” it says, “of the glory which he was about to fulfil in Jerusalem,” that is, of the passion and the cross; for so they always call it. And not in this way alone did he anoint them, but also by the very virtue of the men, which he required of them most of all. For since he had said, “If anyone wishes to come after me, let him take up his cross and follow me,” he brings into the midst those who had been ready to die for what pleased God and for the people entrusted to them. For each of these, losing his life, found it. For each of them spoke boldly to tyrants, the one to the Egyptian, the other to Ahab; and on behalf of ungrateful and disobedient men; and by those very men who were being saved by them they were brought into the utmost danger; and each of them wished to free them from idolatry; and each of them was an unlearned man: for the one was slow of speech and weak of voice, and the other too was rather rustic in his ways. And both kept voluntary poverty with great strictness: for Moses possessed nothing, nor did Elijah have anything more than his sheepskin; and this in the time of the old covenant, and without having received so great a grace of signs. For if Moses divided the sea, yet Peter walked on the water, and was able to move mountains, and set right bodily diseases of every kind, and drove out savage demons, and by the shadow of his body worked those great wonders, and changed the whole world. And if Elijah too raised a dead man, yet these raised countless dead, and that before they had yet been counted worthy of the Spirit. For this reason too, then, he brings them into the midst. For he wished them to emulate those men’s leadership of the people, and their vigor, and their inflexibility; and to be gentle like Moses, and zealous like Elijah, and caring like both. For the one endured a three years’ famine for the sake of the Jewish people; and the other said, “If you will forgive them their sin, forgive; otherwise blot me too out of the book which you have written.” All these things he reminded them of by the vision. For he brought them in glory … not that they should stop at their measure, but that they should go beyond those bounds. At any rate, when they said, “Shall we bid fire come down from heaven?” and mentioned Elijah as having done this, he says, “You do not know what spirit you are of,” anointing them for forbearance by the difference in the gift. And let no one think that we condemn Elijah as imperfect; we do not say this, for he was very perfect; but in his own times, when the minds of men were more childish, they needed this training too. For Moses too was perfect in this respect; but nevertheless more is required of these than of him too. “For unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter into the kingdom of the heavens.” For they were not entering Egypt, but the whole world, worse disposed than the Egyptians; nor were they to converse with Pharaoh, but to box with the devil himself, the tyrant of wickedness. For their contest was both to bind him and to plunder all his goods; and they did this not by splitting a sea but an abyss of ungodliness, through the rod of Jesse, which had far harder waves. See, at any rate, how many things frightened men: death, poverty, disgrace, countless sufferings; and they trembled at these more than the Jews then trembled at that sea. But nevertheless he persuaded them to brave all these things, and to pass over as on dry land with all safety. To train them for all these things, then, he brought forward those who had shone in the old covenant. What then does the fervent Peter say? “It is good for us to be here.” For since he had heard that he must go away to Jerusalem and suffer, still fearing and trembling for him even after the rebuke, he does not dare to come and say the same thing again, “Mercy on you”; but from that fear he hints at the same things again in other words. For since he saw the mountain, and the great seclusion and solitude, he reasoned that he had great safety from the place; and not only from the place, but also from his no longer going away to Jerusalem; for he wishes him to be there continually; that is why he also mentions tents. “For if this should happen,” he says, “we shall not go up to Jerusalem; and if we do not go up, he will not die; for he said that it was there that the scribes would set upon him.” But he did not dare to say it so; but wishing to arrange this, he said, “It is good for us to be here” in safety, where Moses too is present, and Elijah: Elijah who brought down fire on the mountain, and Moses who entered the darkness and spoke with God; and no one will even know where we are.

Do you see the fervent lover of Christ? For do not look into this, that the manner of his entreaty was not well considered, but how fervent he was, how he burned for Christ. For that he did not say these things trembling so much for himself, when Christ foretold his coming death and the attack on him, hear what he says: “I will lay down my life for you”; and, “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And see how he risked himself even in the midst of the dangers themselves. At any rate, when so great a crowd stood round, not only did he not flee, but even drew his sword and cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant. So he did not consider his own case, but trembled for his teacher. Then, since he had spoken decisively, he checks himself, and, thinking that he might be rebuked again, he says, “If you wish, let us make three tents here, one for you, and one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” What are you saying, Peter? Did you not a little while ago set him apart from the servants? Do you again number him with the servants? Do you see how very imperfect they were before the cross? For even if the Father had revealed it to him, yet he did not keep hold of the revelation continually, but was troubled by his agony—not only this one I spoke of, but also another, that arising from that vision. At any rate, the other evangelists, making this plain, and showing that the confusion of mind with which he spoke these things came from that agony, said: Mark, that “he did not know what to say, for they were terrified”; and Luke, after saying, “Let us make three tents,” added, “not knowing what he said.” Then, showing that he and the others were held by great fear, he says, “They were heavy with sleep; and when they were fully awake they saw his glory,” here calling “sleep” the great stupor that came upon them from that vision. For as eyes are darkened by excessive brightness, so they suffered then. For it was not night but day, and the overwhelming radiance weighed down the weakness of their eyes. What then? He himself says nothing, nor Moses, nor Elijah; but he who is greater than all and more worthy of belief, the Father, sends forth a voice from the cloud. Why from the cloud? So God always appears: “For cloud and darkness are round about him”; and, “He sits on a light cloud”; and again, “He who makes the clouds his chariot”; and, “A cloud took him up out of their sight”; and, “one like a son of man coming on the clouds.” So that they might believe, then, that the voice is borne from God, it comes from there. And the cloud was bright. “For while he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them. And behold, a voice from the cloud saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; listen to him.’” For when he threatens, he shows a dark cloud, as on Sinai: “for Moses entered,” it says, “into the cloud and into the darkness, and the smoke went up like vapor”; and the prophet, speaking of his threatening, says, “dark water in clouds of the air.” But here, since he did not wish to frighten but to teach, there was a bright cloud. And Peter said, “Let us make three tents”; but he showed a tent not made with hands. That is why there was smoke and the vapor of a furnace there, but here unspeakable light and a voice. Then, to show that it was not said of any one of the three indifferently, but of Christ alone, when the voice was borne, those men were taken out of the way. For if it had been said of any one of them indifferently, this one would not have remained alone when the two were separated. Why then did the cloud not take up Christ alone, but all? If it had taken up Christ alone, he would have been thought to have uttered the voice himself. That is why the evangelist too, guarding against this very thing, says that the voice was from the cloud, that is, from God. And what does the voice say? “This is my beloved Son.” And if beloved, do not be afraid, Peter. For you ought already to have known his power and to have been fully assured about the resurrection; but since you do not know, at least take courage from the Father’s voice. For if God is mighty, as indeed he is mighty, it is plain that the Son is likewise. Do not, then, fear the dangers. But if you do not yet accept this, at least consider that he is both Son and loved. “For this,” he says, “is my beloved Son.” And if he is loved, do not be afraid. For no one gives up one whom he loves. Do not, then, be troubled; even if you love him countless times, you do not love him as much as the one who begot him. “In whom I am well pleased.” For he loves him not only because he begot him, but also because he is equal to him in all things and of one mind with him. So the love is double, or rather triple: because he is Son, because he is beloved, because he is well pleased in him. And what is “I am well pleased”? … “I am satisfied,” because he is made equal to him in all things exactly, and there is one will in him and in the Father, and, remaining Son, he is in all things one with the one who begot him. “Listen to him.” So that even if he wishes to be crucified, do not oppose him. “And when they heard it, they fell on their faces and were greatly afraid. And Jesus came and touched them and said, ‘Rise, and do not be afraid.’ And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only.”

How was it that they were struck with terror on hearing this? And yet before this too such a voice was borne at the Jordan, and a crowd was present, and no one suffered anything of the kind; and again afterward, when they even said it had thundered; but not even then did they undergo anything of the kind. How then did they fall on the mountain? Because there was solitude and height and great stillness, and a transfiguration full of awe, and pure light, and a cloud spread out; all of which threw them into great agony. And astonishment gathered from every side, and they fell, at once afraid and worshiping. But so that the fear, remaining long, might not drive out their memory, he at once dissolved their agony, and he is seen alone, and he commands them to tell this to no one until he has risen from the dead. “For as they were coming down from the mountain, he commanded them to tell the vision to no one until he had risen from the dead.” For the greater the things said about him, the harder they were for the many to accept then; and the offense of the cross was heightened the more by this. That is why he bids them keep silent; and not simply so, but reminding them again of the passion, and all but telling them the reason for which he commanded them to be silent. For he did not command them to tell no one ever, but until he had risen from the dead. And keeping silent about the hard part, he shows only the good part. What then? Were they not going to be offended afterward? Not at all. For what was in question was the time before the cross. For afterward they were also counted worthy of the Spirit, and had the voice of the signs pleading for them, and everything they said was from then on readily accepted, the facts proclaiming his might more clearly than a trumpet, and no such offense intervening in what was done. Nothing, then, is more blessed than the apostles, and especially the three, who were counted worthy to be under the same roof with the Master even in the cloud. But if we wish, we too shall see Christ, not as they did then on the mountain, but much more brightly. For he will not come later in this way. For then, sparing the disciples, he opened only so much of his brightness as they could bear; but later he will come in the very glory of the Father, not with Moses and Elijah only, but with the boundless army of the angels, with the archangels, with the cherubim, with those boundless multitudes, not with a cloud over his head, but with heaven itself rolled up. For as with judges, when they judge in public, those standing by draw back the curtains and show them to all, so then too all will see him seated, and all human nature will stand by, and he himself will answer them in his own person; and to some he will say, “Come, you blessed of my Father; for I was hungry and you gave me food”; and to others he will say, “Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will set you over many.” And giving the opposite verdict, he answers some, “Depart into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels”; and others, “You wicked and slothful servant.” And some he will cut in two and hand over to the torturers; others he will command to be bound hand and foot and cast into the outer darkness. And after the axe the furnace will follow, and what is thrown out of the dragnet will fall there. “Then the righteous will shine like the sun”; or rather more than the sun. And so much is said, not because their light will be only so much, but because we know no star brighter than this one, and he wished to set forth the future brightness of the saints from what is familiar. For on the mountain too, when he said that he shone like the sun, he spoke so for the same reason. For that the light was greater than the comparison, the disciples showed by falling. For if the light had not been unmixed but equal to the sun, they would not have fallen, but would easily have borne it. The righteous, then, will shine like the sun, and then above the sun; but sinners will suffer the utmost. Then there will be no need of records, of proofs, of witnesses; for he himself is all: the one who judges, and witness, and proof, and judge. For he knows all things clearly: “for all things are naked and laid bare to his eyes.” No rich man, no poor man, no ruler, no weakling, no wise man, no unwise, no slave, no free man will appear there; but, these masks being broken, the examination of works alone will remain. For if in the law courts, when someone is tried for tyranny or murder or whatever it may be, even if he is a prefect, even if a consul, whatever he is, all his dignities fly away, and the convicted man pays the utmost penalty, much more will this be so there.

So that this may not happen, then, let us put off the filthy garments, let us put on the armor of light, and the glory of God will clothe us. For what is burdensome in the commands? What is not easy? Hear the prophet saying it, at any rate, and then you will know how easy it is. “Not even if you bend your neck like a ring, and spread sackcloth and ashes under you, not even so will you call it an acceptable fast; but loose every bond of injustice, undo the knots of violent contracts.” See the prophet’s wisdom. For having first set down the burdensome things and removed them, he asks that we be saved by the easy ones, showing that God does not need labors but obedience. Then, showing that virtue is easy, but wickedness heavy and burdensome, he establishes this from the bare names. For wickedness is a bond and a knot, he says; but virtue is release and loosing from all these. “Tear up every unjust document”: so he calls the bills of interest and of loans. “Send away the crushed in release,” the afflicted. For such is the debtor: when he sees the lender, his mind is broken, and he fears him more than a wild beast. “Bring the homeless poor into your house; if you see one naked, cover him, and do not overlook those of your own seed.” In our discourse the other day, then, describing the prizes, we showed the wealth that comes from these things; but now let us see whether any of the commands is difficult and exceeds our nature. But we shall find nothing of the kind, but quite the opposite: these have great ease, but the things of wickedness much sweat. For what is more troublesome than lending at interest, and worrying about interest and contracts, and demanding sureties, and fearing and trembling about pledges, about the principal, about the documents, about the interest, about the guarantors? For such are the things of this life. For this seeming and contrived security is more rotten than anything and suspect; but showing mercy is easy, and frees one from every care. Let us not, then, make a trade of other people’s misfortunes, nor huckster our love for mankind. And I know that many hear these words with displeasure; but what is the gain of silence? For even if I keep silent and do not trouble you at all with words, it is impossible by this silence to free you from punishment; but quite the contrary comes of it: the vengeance is intensified, and such silence procures punishment not for you alone but for me too. What, then, is the charm of words, when it does not help deeds but even harms them? What is the gain in delighting with a word and grieving in fact? In pleasing the ear and punishing the soul? That is why it is necessary to grieve you here, so that we may not pay the penalty there. For indeed a dreadful disease, beloved, dreadful and needing much treatment, has fallen upon the church. For those who are commanded not even to treasure up from honest labors, but to open their houses to those in need, reap profit from the poverty of others, devising a respectable robbery, a well-excused covetousness. For do not tell me of the laws of those outside; since the tax collector too fulfills the law of those outside, but nevertheless is punished. This we too shall suffer, unless we cease wearing out the poor and using their need and necessity as an occasion for shameless huckstering. For you have money for this reason, to relieve poverty, not to trade on poverty; but you, under pretext of consolation, make the misfortune greater, and sell your love for mankind for money. Sell it—I do not forbid—but for the kingdom of the heavens. Do not take a small price for so great an achievement, interest at one in a hundred, but that immortal life. Why are you poor and needy and petty, selling great things for little, for money that perishes, when you should sell them for a kingdom that always remains? Why, leaving God, do you make human gains? Why, passing by the one who is rich, do you trouble the one who has nothing, and leaving the one who repays, do you make contracts with the ungrateful? He wishes to repay; but this one is even displeased when he repays. This one hardly repays the hundredth; but he a hundredfold, and eternal life. This one with insults and revilings; he with praises and acclamation. This one stirs up envy against you; he even weaves crowns for you. This one hardly here; but he both there and here. Is this not, then, the height of folly, not even to know how to make a profit? How many have lost even the principal because of interest! How many have fallen into dangers because of interest! How many have thrown both themselves and others into the utmost poverty because of their unspeakable covetousness!

For do not tell me that he is glad to receive it, and is grateful for the loan. This happens because of your cruelty. For Abraham too, giving up his wife to the barbarians, himself contrived that the plot should be readily accepted; yet not willingly, but because of fear of Pharaoh. So too the poor man, since you do not think him worthy even of this, is compelled to be grateful even for cruelty. But you seem to me, even if you were to free him from dangers, to demand of him a fee for this deliverance. “Away with it,” you say, “God forbid.” What are you saying? Freeing him from the greater thing, you do not wish to demand money; but for the lesser you show such inhumanity? Do you not see how great a punishment is laid down for the thing? Do you not hear that even in the Old Testament this was forbidden? But what is the argument of the many? “Having taken the interest, I give it to a poor man,” he says. Hush, man; God does not want such sacrifices. Do not play the sophist with the law. It is better not to give to a poor man than to give from this source. For the money gathered from honest labors you often make lawless through its wicked offspring; as if one were to force a good womb to bear scorpions. And why do I speak of the law of God? Do you not yourselves call it filth? And if you who make the gains vote so, consider what verdict God will give about you. And if you wish to ask the lawgivers outside too, you will hear that to them also the thing seems a sign of the utmost shamelessness. Those, at any rate, who are in high office and in the great … … not to disgrace themselves with such gains; but there is a law for them that forbids such gains. How then is it not worthy of shuddering, if you do not render even so much honor to the commonwealth of the heavens as the lawgivers to the senate of the Romans, but heaven will count for less with you than earth, and you are not even ashamed of the senselessness of the thing? For what could be more senseless than this, unless one tried to sow without earth and rain and plough? That is why those who devised this wicked farming reap tares, which are handed over to the fire. For are there not many just trades: those of fields, of flocks, of herds, of cattle, of the hands, of the care of possessions? Why do you rave and act madly, farming thorns to no purpose? “But the fruits of the earth have failures, hail and blight and floods.” But not so many as interest has. And whatever such things happen, the loss concerns the yield; the principal stands, the field. But here many have often suffered shipwreck in the principal; and even before the loss they are in continual despondency. For the lender never enjoys what he has, nor is he glad at it; but when the interest is brought, he does not rejoice that there has been income, but grieves that the interest has not yet equalled the principal. And before this evil offspring is fully born, he compels it too to bear, making the interest principal, and forcing it to bring forth the untimely and abortive offspring of vipers. For such is interest: more than those wild beasts it devours and tears the souls of the wretched. This is the bond of injustice; this is the knot of violent contracts. “For I give,” he says, “not that you may receive, but that you may repay more.” And God does not command even what is given [to be demanded back]: “For give,” he says, “to those from whom you do not expect to receive”; but you demand even more than what was given, and what you did not give you compel the borrower to pay down as owed. And you think that your substance increases from this; but in place of substance you kindle the unquenchable fire. So that this may not happen, then, let us cut out the wicked womb of interest, let us stop up these lawless birth pangs, let us dry up this deadly belly, and pursue only the true and great gains. And what are these? Hear Paul saying, “Great gain is godliness with contentment.” Let us be rich, then, in this wealth alone, so that we may enjoy security here and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And his disciples asked him, saying, ‘Why then do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?’” So they did not know this from the Scriptures, but those men explained it to them, and this saying was current among the ignorant people, as also about the Christ. That is why the Samaritan woman too said, “The Messiah is coming; when he comes, he will tell us all things”; and they themselves asked John, “Are you Elijah, or the prophet?” For the saying prevailed, as I said, both that about the Christ and that about Elijah, but it was not interpreted by them as it ought to have been. For the Scriptures speak of two comings of Christ, this one which has taken place and the one to come; and Paul, showing these, said, “The saving grace of God has appeared, training us that, denying ungodliness and worldly desires, we should live soberly and righteously and godly.” Here is the one; hear how he shows the other too. For having said this, he added, “awaiting the blessed hope and the appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.” And the prophets too mention both; of the one, however, the second, they say that Elijah will be the forerunner. For of the first John was the forerunner, whom Christ also called Elijah, not because he was Elijah, but because he fulfilled his ministry. For as that man will be the forerunner of the second coming, so this one was of the first. But the scribes, confusing these things and perverting the people, mentioned to the people only that one, the second coming, and said, “If this man is the Christ, Elijah ought to have come before him.” That is why the disciples too say, “How do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” That is why also the Pharisees, sending to John, asked, “Are you Elijah?” nowhere mentioning the first coming. What, then, is the solution which Christ brought in? That Elijah comes then, before my second coming; and now too Elijah has come—so calling John. In this way Elijah came. But if you seek the Tishbite, he is coming. That is why he also said, “Elijah indeed comes, and will restore all things.” What all things? Those which the prophet Malachi spoke of. “For I will send you,” he says, “Elijah the Tishbite, who will restore the heart of the father to the son, lest I come and strike the earth utterly.” Do you see the exactness of the prophetic word? For since Christ called John Elijah because of their sharing in the ministry, so that you may not think that this is what the prophet too is saying now, he added also his country, saying, “the Tishbite”; and John was not a Tishbite. And along with this he sets another mark, saying, “lest I come and strike the earth utterly,” showing his second, fearful coming. For at the first he did not come to strike the earth. “For I came not,” he says, “to judge the world, but to save the world.” Showing, then, that the Tishbite comes before that coming which brings judgment, he said this. And at the same time he teaches also the reason of his coming. And what is the reason? That he may come and persuade the Jews to believe in Christ, and that they may not all utterly perish when he comes. That is why he himself too, referring them to that remembrance, says, “and will restore all things,” that is, will correct the unbelief of the Jews who are found then. That is why he spoke very exactly. For he did not say, “He will restore the heart of the son to the father,” but “of the father to the son.” For since the Jews were fathers of the apostles, he says this: that he will restore to the doctrines of their sons, that is, of the apostles, the hearts of the fathers, that is, the mind of the race of the Jews. “But I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not know him, but did to him whatever they wished. So also the Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands. Then they understood that he had spoken to them of John.” And yet neither the scribes said this nor the Scriptures; but since they had now become sharper and more attentive to what was said, they quickly understood. And whence did the disciples know this? He had already told them before, “He is Elijah who is to come”; and here, that he has come; and again, that “Elijah comes and will restore all things.” But do not be troubled, nor think the saying has gone astray, if he said at one time that he will come and at another that he has come. For all these things are true. For when he says, “Elijah indeed comes and will restore all things,” he means Elijah himself, and the conversion of the Jews that will take place then; but when he says, “who is to come,” he calls John Elijah after the manner of his ministry. For the prophets too called each of the approved kings David, and the Jews “rulers of Sodom” and “sons of Ethiopians,” from their ways. For as that man will be forerunner of the second coming, so this one was of the first.

And not for this reason only does he everywhere name him Elijah, but to show that he is in full agreement with the Old Testament, and that this coming too was according to prophecy. That is why he also adds again that “he came, and they did not know him, but did to him all they wished.” What is “all they wished”? They cast him into prison, they insulted him, they killed him, they brought his head on a platter. “So also the Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands.” Do you see how he again reminds them of the passion at the right moment, giving them great consolation from the passion of John? And not by this alone, but also by working great miracles at once. For whenever he speaks of the passion, he at once works wonders, both after these words and before them; and one may find this by observing it in many places. “Then,” at any rate, it says, “he began to show that he must go away to Jerusalem and be killed and suffer many things.” Then: when? When he had been confessed to be the Christ and the Son of God. Again on the mountain, when he had shown them the wonderful sight and the prophets had spoken of his glory, he reminded them of the passion. For having told the story of John, he added, “So also the Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands.” And a little after, again, when he had cast out the demon which the disciples could not cast out. For then too, “while they were staying in Galilee,” it says, “Jesus said to them that the Son of Man is about to be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise.” And he did this, cutting away the excess of their grief by the greatness of the miracles, and consoling them in every way; as here too, by the remembrance of John’s death, he gave them great comfort. But if someone should say, “Why then did he not raise Elijah and send him now too, if he testifies that so many good things come from his coming?”, we shall say that even now, thinking that Christ was Elijah, they did not believe in him. “For some,” he says, “say you are Elijah, others Jeremiah.” And between John and Elijah there was no difference except the time alone. “How then will they believe then?” someone says. For “he will restore all things,” not only because he is well known, but also because by that day the glory of Christ will have spread further, and be plainer to all than the sun. When, then, after such an opinion and expectation has gone before, that man comes preaching the same things as this one, and himself too proclaiming Jesus, they will more readily accept what is said. And when he says, “They did not know him,” he also makes a defense for his own case. And not in this way only does he console them, but also by showing that he suffers unjustly at their hands what he suffers, and by covering over the painful things with two signs, the one on the mountain and the one about to happen. Hearing these things, they do not ask him when Elijah comes, either pressed down by despondency at the passion, or afraid. For in many places, when they see that he does not wish to say something plainly, they then keep silent. At any rate, when, as they were staying in Galilee, he said, “The Son of Man is about to be delivered up, and they will kill him,” Mark adds that they did not understand the saying and were afraid to ask him; and Luke, that it was veiled from them, so that they should not perceive it, and they were afraid to ask him about the saying. “And when they came to the crowd, a man came to him, kneeling to him, and saying, ‘Lord, have mercy on my son, for he is moonstruck and suffers terribly; for he often falls into the fire, and often into the water; and I brought him to your disciples, and they could not heal him.’” This man the Scripture shows to be very weak in faith; and this is plain from many things: from Christ’s saying, “All things are possible to him who believes”; and from the one who came saying himself, “Help my unbelief”; and from Christ’s commanding the demon never to enter him again; and from the man’s saying again to Christ, “If you can.” “And if his unbelief,” someone says, “was the cause of the demon’s not coming out, why does he blame the disciples?” To show that it was possible for them often to heal even without those who bring the sick having faith. For as the faith of the one who brought was often enough for receiving even from lesser persons, so the power of those who worked often sufficed to work wonders even when those who came did not believe. And both of these are shown in the Scriptures. For those with Cornelius drew down the grace of the Spirit by their own faith; and in the case of Elisha, when no one believed, a dead man rose. For those who threw him in threw him not from faith but from cowardice, simply and at random, fearing the raiding band, and fled; and the man thrown in was dead; and by the power of the holy body alone the dead man rose. From this it is plain that here the disciples too were weak; but not all, for the pillars were not present there. But see this man’s ingratitude also from another point, how before the crowd he pleads with Jesus against the disciples, saying, “I brought him to your disciples, and they could not heal him.” But he, freeing them from the charges before the people, reckons the greater part to that man. “For, O faithless and perverse generation,” he says, “how long shall I be with you?”—directing this not to that man’s person alone, so as not to put the man at a loss, but also to all the Jews. For it is likely that many of those present were offended and thought unfitting things about them. And when he says, “How long shall I be with you?”, he shows again that death is welcome to him and a thing desired, and his departure longed for; and that what is heavy is not being crucified but being with them. Yet he did not stop at the charges; but what does he say? “Bring him here to me.” And he himself asks him how long he has had it, both defending the disciples and leading that man to good hope, and to believe that there will be deliverance from the evil for him. And he lets him be convulsed, not for display (since, when a crowd was gathering, he even rebuked the demon), but for the father’s sake; so that when he saw the demon troubled merely by being called, he might at least so be led to faith in the miracle to come. And since that man said, “from childhood,” and, “If you can, help me,” he says, “All things are possible to him who believes,” again turning the charge back upon him. And when the leper said, “If you will, you can make me clean,” bearing witness to his authority, he praised him and confirmed what was said, saying, “I will; be clean.” But when this man uttered something unworthy of his power, saying, “If you can, help me,” see how he corrects it, as not rightly said. For what does he say? “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.” What he says is something like this: “There is in me such abundance of power that I can make others too work these wonders. So if you believe as you should, you yourself too can heal,” he says, “both this boy and many others.” And having said this, he freed the possessed boy. But consider his providence and beneficence not only from this, but also from that time during which he allowed the demon to be inside. For if the man had not then too enjoyed much providence, he would long ago have perished. For “it cast him into the fire,” it says, “and into the water.” And one who dared this would certainly have killed him, had not God, even in so great a madness, put a strong bridle on it; as also in the case of those naked men who ran in the deserts and cut themselves with stones. And if he calls him moonstruck, do not be troubled; for the voice is that of the possessed boy’s father. How then does the evangelist too say that he healed many who were moonstruck? Calling them by the opinion of the many. For the demon, to slander the element, both attacks those it has seized and lets them go according to the courses of the moon; not that the moon is at work—away with that!—but he does this mischief himself to slander the element. That is why a mistaken opinion has prevailed among the foolish, and, deceived, they call such demons so; for this is not true. “Then the disciples came to him privately and asked why they could not cast out the demon.” They seem to me to have been in agony and afraid that they had lost the grace with which they had been entrusted. For they had received authority against unclean demons. That is why they ask, coming to him privately—not from shame (for if the deed had come out and they had been convicted, it was superfluous to be ashamed of confessing it in words), but because they were about to ask him about a hidden and great matter. What then does Christ say? “Because of your unbelief,” he says. “For if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible to you.” But if you should say, “Where did they move a mountain?”, I would say that they did far greater things, raising countless dead. For it is not the same to move a mountain and to drive death from a body. And it is said that after them certain saints, much less than they, moved even mountains when need called. Hence it is plain that these too would have moved them if need had called. But if no need arose then, do not blame them. And besides, he himself did not say, “You will certainly move them,” but that you will be able to do this too. And if they did not move them, it was not because they could not (for how could they, who were able to do greater things?), but because they did not wish to, because no need arose. And it is likely that this too happened and was not written; for not all the wonders they worked were written. At that time, however, they were in a much more imperfect state. What then? Did they not have even this faith then? They did not; for they were not always the same. For Peter too is now called blessed and now rebuked; and the others too are mocked by him for their folly, when they did not understand the saying about the leaven. And it happened then too that the disciples were weak; for they were in a more imperfect state before the cross. And by faith here he means the faith of the signs; and he mentions mustard, to show its unspeakable power. For even if mustard seems small in bulk, yet in power it is stronger than all. Showing, then, that even the least of genuine faith can do great things, he mentioned mustard; and not only did he stop there, but he added mountains too, and went further. “For nothing,” he says, “will be impossible to you.”

But here too admire their wisdom and the power of the Spirit: their wisdom, because they did not hide their own shortcoming; the power of the Spirit, because those who did not have even a grain of mustard seed he so raised up little by little as to make rivers and springs of faith rise up in them. “But this kind does not go out except by prayer and fasting”—meaning the whole kind of demons, not only that of the moonstruck. Do you see how he is already laying down beforehand for them the teaching on fasting? For do not tell me, from rare cases, that some have cast them out even without fasting. For even if one might say this of those who rebuked them, of one perhaps or two, yet it is impossible for one who suffers this ever to be freed from this madness while living in luxury. For the one sick with such things needs this above all. “And yet if faith is needed,” someone says, “why is fasting needed?” Because along with faith it too brings in no small strength. For it implants great wisdom, and makes an angel out of a man, and boxes against the bodiless powers; but not by itself: prayer too is needed, and prayer first. See, at any rate, how many good things come from both. For he who prays as he ought, and fasts, does not need much; and he who does not need much would not become a lover of money; and he who is not a lover of money is also more ready for almsgiving. He who fasts is light and winged, and prays with sobriety, and quenches wicked desires, and propitiates God, and humbles the soul when it is lifted up. That is why the apostles too almost always fasted. He who prays with fasting has double wings, lighter than the winds themselves. For he does not yawn and stretch and grow numb in prayer, as the many do; but he is more vehement than fire, and higher than the earth. That is why such a one is above all hostile and an enemy to the demons. For nothing is more powerful than a man who prays genuinely. For if a woman was able to bend a cruel ruler, one who neither feared God nor respected man, much more will he draw God to him who continually waits on him, and masters his belly, and casts out luxury. But if your body is too weak to fast continually, yet it is not weak for prayer, nor feeble for disregarding the belly. For even if you cannot fast, you can avoid luxury; and this is no small thing, nor far from fasting, but this too is enough to pull down the madness of the devil. For nothing is so dear to that demon as luxury and drunkenness, since it is the spring and mother of all evils. Through it, at any rate, he once cast the Israelites into idolatry; through it he kindled the Sodomites to lawless loves. “For this,” it says, “was the iniquity of Sodom: in pride, and in fullness of bread, and in plenty they lived in wantonness.” Through it he has destroyed countless others and handed them over to Gehenna. For what evil does luxury not work? It makes swine out of men, and worse than swine. For the swine wallows in mud and feeds on dung; but this man eats a more loathsome table than that, devising lawless unions and lawless loves. Such a one differs in nothing from one possessed; for he is shameless and mad in the same way. And the possessed man we pity, but this one we turn away from and hate. Why? Because he draws on himself a madness of his own choosing, and makes his mouth and eyes and nostrils and everything, in a word, into sewers. And if you were to see the inside too, you would see the soul as in a storm and frost, frozen and numb, unable to help the vessel because of the excess of the storm. I am ashamed to say how many evils men and women suffer from luxury; I leave it to their own conscience, which knows these things more exactly. For what is more shameful than a drunken woman, or one at all carried away? For the weaker the vessel, the greater the shipwreck, whether she is free or a slave. For the free woman behaves indecently in the midst of a theater of slaves, and the slave woman again likewise among the slaves; and they cause the gifts of God to be blasphemed by the foolish. Many, at any rate, I hear saying, when these misfortunes happen, “Let there be no wine.” O folly! O madness! When others sin, do you find fault with the gifts of God? And how great a madness is this! Did the wine, man, do this evil? Not the wine, but the intemperance of those who enjoy it wrongly. Say, then, “Let there be no drunkenness, let there be no luxury”; but if you say, “Let there be no wine,” you will say, going on little by little, “Let there be no iron, because of the murderers; no night, because of the thieves; no light, because of the informers; no woman, because of adulteries”; and you will, in a word, do away with everything.

But do not act so; for this belongs to a satanic mind; and do not slander the wine, but the drunkenness; and taking this man himself when he is sober, sketch for him all his indecency, and say to him: Wine was given that we might be glad, not that we might behave indecently; that we might laugh, not that we might be laughed at; that we might be healthy, not that we might be sick; that we might correct the weakness of the body, not that we might cast down the strength of the soul. God honored you with the gift; why do you outrage yourself by excess? Hear what Paul says: “Use a little wine for your stomach’s sake and your frequent ailments.” And if that saint, held by sickness and enduring illnesses one after another, did not partake of wine until his teacher permitted it, what pardon could we have, who are drunk in health? To him he said, “Use a little wine for your stomach’s sake”; but to each of you who are drunk he will say, “Use little wine because of your acts of sexual immorality, because of your frequent obscene talk, because of the other wicked desires that drunkenness is wont to beget.” But if you do not wish to abstain for these reasons, at least abstain because of the despondency and the nausea that come from it. For wine was given for gladness: “for wine,” it says, “gladdens the heart of man”; but you ruin even this excellence of it. For what kind of gladness is it not to be in one’s own mind, and to have countless pains, and to see everything going round, and to be seized with dizziness, and, like those in a fever, to need people to soak one’s head with oil? These things are said by me not to all; or rather to all—not because all are drunk, God forbid—but because those who are not drunk take no thought for those who are. That is why I address myself rather to you who are healthy; for the physician too, leaving the sick, speaks to those sitting beside them. To you, then, I direct my word, begging you never to be caught by this passion, and to draw up those who have been caught, so that they may not appear worse than the irrational animals. For these seek nothing beyond need; but these men have become more irrational even than they, overstepping the bounds of moderation. For how much better than these men is the ass! How much better the dog! For each of these animals, and of all the others too, whether it needs to eat or to drink, knows sufficiency as its limit, and does not go beyond need; and even if countless people press it, it will not bear to go out into excess. So in this you are worse than the irrational animals, not in the judgment of the healthy only, but in your own too. For that you have judged yourselves more worthless than dogs and asses is plain from this: these irrational animals you do not compel to take food beyond measure, and if someone asks why, you will say, “So as not to harm them”; but to yourself you do not show even this care. So you consider yourself cheaper even than those, and you overlook yourself continually storm-tossed. For not on the day of drunkenness only do you suffer the harm of drunkenness, but also after that day. And as when a fever has passed the damage of the fever remains, so when drunkenness has gone, the surge of drunkenness turns about both in the soul and in the body; and the wretched body lies loosened, like a vessel after a shipwreck; but the soul, more miserable than it, even after the body has been loosed, rouses the storm and kindles the desire, and when it seems to be sober, then above all it is mad, imagining wine and jars and cups and mixing bowls. And as in a storm, when the surge has ceased, the damage from the storm remains, so it is here too. For as there with the cargo, so here too there is a jettisoning of all good things. If it finds self-control, if modesty, if understanding, if gentleness, if humility, drunkenness throws them all into the sea of lawlessness. But what follows is no longer alike. For there, after the jettisoning, the vessel is lightened; but here it is weighed down more. For in place of that wealth it takes in sand and salt water and all the refuse of drunkenness, which at once sinks the vessel together with the passengers and the helmsman. So that we may not suffer these things, then, let us free ourselves from the storm. It is not possible with drunkenness to see the kingdom of the heavens. “For do not be deceived,” it says; “no drunkards, no revilers will inherit the kingdom of God.” And why do I speak of the kingdom? For with drunkenness one cannot even see present things. For drunkenness turns our days into nights and light into darkness; and with their eyes open the drunk do not even see what is at their feet. And this is not the only dreadful thing, but along with these they also suffer another, most grievous penalty, enduring continually senseless despondency, madness, sickness, laughter, reproach. What pardon, then, is there for those who pierce themselves with so many evils? There is none. Let us flee, then, the disease, so that we may attain both the good things here and those to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And while they were staying in Galilee, Jesus said to them, ‘The Son of Man is about to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise.’ And they were greatly grieved.” For so that they might not say, “Why do we stay here continually?”, he speaks to them again about the passion; and hearing this, they did not even wish to see Jerusalem. See, at any rate, how, though Peter had been rebuked, and Moses and Elijah had spoken with him about it and called the thing glory, and the Father had sent forth a voice from above, and so many signs had happened, and the resurrection was at the doors (for he did not say he would remain long in death, but that he would rise on the third day), not even so did they bear it, but were grieved; and not simply, but greatly. This happened because they did not yet know the force of what was said; which Mark and Luke hinted at when they said, the one, that “they did not understand the saying and were afraid to ask him”; the other, that “it was veiled from them, so that they should not perceive it, and they were afraid to ask him about the saying.” And yet, if they did not understand, how were they grieved? Because they were not ignorant of everything; but that he would die they knew, hearing it continually; but what this death was, and that it would quickly be dissolved and would work countless good things, this they did not yet know clearly, nor what this resurrection was, but were ignorant of it; that is why they grieved; for they clung very much to their teacher. “And when they came to Capernaum, those who collected the double drachma came to Peter and said, ‘Does your teacher not pay the double drachma?’” And what is this double drachma? When God killed the firstborn of the Egyptians, he then took the tribe of Levi in their place. Then, since the number of the tribe was less than the firstborn among the Jews, he commanded a shekel to be paid in place of those lacking from the number; and besides, from that time a custom prevailed that the firstborn should pay this tax. Since, then, Christ was a firstborn, and Peter seemed to be first among the disciples, they come to him. For, as it seems to me, they demanded it city by city; that is why they came to him in his home country, since Capernaum was thought to be his home country. And they did not dare to come to him, but to Peter; and not even to him with much vehemence, but rather gently. They spoke not accusing but asking: “Does your teacher not pay the double drachma?” For they did not yet have the fitting opinion of him, but were disposed toward him as toward a man; yet they paid him a certain respect and honor because of the signs that had gone before. What then does Peter say? “Yes,” he says. And to them he said that he pays; but to him he did not say it, perhaps blushing to speak to him about these things. That is why the gentle one, who knows all things clearly, anticipates him and says, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do the kings of the earth take toll or tribute? From their sons, or from strangers?” And when he said, “From strangers,” he said, “Then the sons are free.” For so that Peter might not think he says this because he had heard it from them, he anticipates him, both showing this very thing and giving him boldness, since he was hesitant to speak first about these things. What he says is something like this: “I am free from paying tribute. For if the kings of the earth do not take it from their sons but from their subjects, much more must I be exempt from this demand, being the son not of an earthly king but of the King of the heavens, and myself a king.” Do you see how he distinguished the sons and those who are not sons? But if he were not a son, he brought in the example of the kings in vain. “Yes,” someone says, “a son, but not a genuine one.” Then not a son; and if not a son, not genuine either, not his own, but a stranger. But if a stranger, the example has no force of its own. For he speaks not simply of sons, but of genuine and own sons, who share the kingdom with those who begot them. That is why, by way of contrast, he set down the strangers, calling strangers those not born of them, and their own those whom they had begotten of themselves. But consider this too, how he confirms from this also the knowledge revealed to Peter. And not even here did he stop, but by his condescension too he shows this same thing, which was a mark of great wisdom. For having said this, he says, “But so that we may not offend them, go, cast a hook into the sea, and take the first fish that comes up, and you will find in it a stater; take that and give it to them for me and for you.” See how he neither refuses the tax nor simply commands it to be paid, but having first shown that he is not liable, then he gives it: the one so that those men might not be offended, the other so that these might not. For he does not give it as owing it, but as setting right their weakness.

Elsewhere, however, he disregards the offense, when he was speaking about foods, teaching us to know the times at which we must take thought for those who are offended, and those at which we must disregard them. And by the very manner of the giving he shows himself again. For why does he not command him to give from what was stored up? So that, as I said, in this too he might show that he is God of all, and that he rules the sea as well. For he had shown it already too, by rebuking it and by commanding this same Peter to walk on the waves; and he shows the same thing now too, in another way, but in this also producing great amazement. For it was no small thing to foretell from those depths that the first fish to come up would be the one paying the tax, and, casting his command like a net into that abyss, to bring up the one carrying the stater; but it belonged to a divine and unspeakable power to make even the sea bring gifts in this way, and to show its subjection on every side: both when, raging, it fell silent, and when, savage as it was, it received its fellow servant, and now again, when it settles accounts on his behalf with those who demand payment. “And give it to them,” he says, “for me and for you.” Do you see the surpassing honor? See also the wisdom of Peter’s mind. For Mark, his disciple, does not appear to have written this chapter, because it showed the great honor paid to him; but the denial he too wrote, while the things that made him illustrious he passed over in silence, perhaps because his teacher begged him not to speak great things about him. And he said, “for me and for you,” since he too was a firstborn. And as you were amazed at Christ’s power, so admire also the disciple’s faith, that he obeyed in so impossible a matter. For it was utterly impossible by nature. That is why, rewarding his faith, he joined him to himself in the payment of the tax. “At that hour the disciples came to Jesus, saying, ‘Who then is greater in the kingdom of the heavens?’” The disciples felt something human; that is why the evangelist also marks it, saying, “At that hour,” when he had preferred him above all. For of James and John too, one was a firstborn, but he did nothing of the kind for them. Then, being ashamed to confess the feeling they had, they do not say openly, “Why have you preferred Peter to us?” and, “Is he greater than we?” for they were ashamed; but they ask indefinitely, “Who then is greater?” For when they saw the three preferred, they felt nothing of the kind; but when the honor had come round to the one, then they were pained. And not this only, but gathering together many other things too, they kindled the feeling. For he had said to him, “To you I will give the keys,” and, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah,” and here, “Give it to them for me and for you”; and seeing also his great boldness in general, they were irritated. And if Mark says that they did not ask but reasoned among themselves, this is not contrary to that. For it is likely that they did both this and that, and that they felt this before on another occasion, once and twice, but then both spoke it out and reasoned among themselves. But do not look only at the fault; consider this too: first, that they seek none of the things here; then, that afterward they laid aside even this feeling and yield the first place to one another. But we cannot reach even their shortcomings, nor do we seek who is greater in the kingdom of the heavens, but who is greater in the kingdom of the earth, who is wealthier, who more powerful. What then does Christ do? He uncovers their conscience, and answers the feeling, not simply the words. “For having called a child,” it says, “he said, ‘Unless you turn and become like this child, you will not enter the kingdom of the heavens.’” “For you,” he says, “inquire who is greater and quarrel about first places; but I say that the one who has not become lower than all is not worthy even of entering there.” And well does he both bring in the example, and not only bring it in, but also set the child in the midst, shaming them by the very sight and persuading them to be humble and unaffected like this. For the child is pure of envy and vainglory and love of first places, and possesses the greatest virtue, simplicity and what is unaffected and humble. So there is need not of courage only, nor of prudence, but of this virtue too, humility I mean, and simplicity. For even in the greatest matters our salvation limps if these are not present with us. The child, whether insulted or beaten, honored or glorified, is neither vexed nor envious at the one, nor lifted up by the other.

Do you see how he again calls us to natural excellences, showing that these can be achieved by choice, and stops the wicked madness of the Manichaeans? For if nature is evil, why does he draw the examples of wisdom from it? And he seems to me to have set in the midst a child who was very much a child, free of all these passions. For such a child is free of arrogance, and love of glory, and envy, and contentiousness, and all such passions; and having many virtues, simplicity, humility, freedom from meddling, it is lifted up by none of them; which is a twofold wisdom, to possess these things and not to be puffed up by them. That is why he brought it forward and set it in the midst; and he did not close his word there, but carries this exhortation further, saying, “And whoever receives one such child in my name receives me.” “For not only,” he says, “if you yourselves become such will you receive a great reward; but also if you honor others like this for my sake, I appoint the kingdom as your recompense for the honor shown them.” Or rather he sets down what is much greater, saying, “receives me.” “So greatly desired by me is what is humble and unaffected.” For by “child” here he means people who are simple and humble in this way, and cast aside by the many and despised. Then, making his word more acceptable still, he commends it not from the honor only but also from the punishment, adding and saying, “And whoever causes one of these little ones to stumble, it is better for him that a millstone turned by an ass be hung around his neck and that he be drowned in the depth of the sea.” “For as those who honor these for my sake have heaven,” he says, “or rather an honor greater than the kingdom itself, so those who dishonor them (for this is what causing them to stumble means) will pay the utmost penalty.” And if he calls insult “stumbling,” do not wonder; for many of the small-souled have been made to stumble in no ordinary way by being overlooked and insulted. Heightening, then, and increasing the charge, he sets down the harm that comes from it. And he no longer shows the punishment from the same things, but displays its unbearableness from things familiar to us. For when he wishes especially to strike the coarser sort, he brings sensible examples. That is why here too, wishing to show that they will undergo a great punishment, and to strike at the arrogance of those who spurn them, he brought into the midst a sensible punishment, that of the millstone and the drowning. And yet it would have followed from the former to say, “He who does not receive one of these little ones does not receive me,” which was more bitter than any punishment; but since for the very insensible and coarse this, though fearful, did not strike home so well, he sets down a millstone and drowning. And he did not say, “A millstone will be hung around his neck,” but, “It is better for him to undergo this,” showing that another evil harder than this awaits him; and if this is unbearable, much more that. Do you see how he made the threat fearful from both sides, making it plainer by comparison with a familiar example, and by the excess beyond it making one imagine it much greater than what is seen? Do you see how he tore up the mind of arrogance by the roots? How he healed the sore of vainglory? How he taught us nowhere to love first places? How he persuaded those who desire first places to pursue everywhere the last rank? For nothing is worse than arrogance. It drives men even out of their natural wits, and brings on them the reputation of fools, or rather makes them exceedingly foolish. For as, if someone three cubits tall forced himself to be higher than the mountains, or even thought so, and stretched himself up as though he overtopped their summits, we shall seek no other proof of his folly; so too when you see a man who is arrogant and thinks himself better than all, and considers it an insult to live with the many, do not seek any further proof to see his madness. For he is much more ridiculous than those who are fools by nature, inasmuch as he makes this disease willingly. And not in this only is he wretched, but also because he falls insensibly into the very pit of wickedness. For when will such a man recognize sin as he ought? When will he perceive that he does wrong? For the devil takes him like a wicked slave and a captive and goes off, and leads and carries him about, slapping him on every side and surrounding him with countless insults. For he brings them then to such folly as to persuade them to be proud even over their children and wives, and over their own ancestors. And others, on the contrary, he makes puffed up by the obscurity of their ancestors; than which what could be more senseless, when from opposite causes they swell alike, the one because they had humble fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers, the others because they had illustrious and famous ones? How then could one humble the swelling of each? To those, by saying: Go further back than your grandfathers and great-grandfathers, and you will perhaps find many cooks and donkey drivers and hucksters; and to these, who are puffed up by the humbleness of their ancestors, the opposite again: that you too, going further back than your ancestors, will see many far more illustrious than you.

For that nature runs this course, come, let me show you from the Scriptures too. Solomon was the son of a king, and of an illustrious king; but his father was of humble and obscure people, and his grandfather on the mother’s side likewise; for he would not have given his daughter to a common soldier. And if you go further back again from these humble people, you will see the family more illustrious and more royal. So too with Saul; so with many others one may find this happening. Let us not, then, be proud from this source. For what is lineage? Tell me. Nothing but a mere name, empty of reality; and this you will know on that day. But since that day is not yet present, come, let us persuade you from present things too that there is no superiority from this. For if war overtakes us, or famine, or anything else, all these puffings-up of noble birth are exposed; if sickness comes, or plague, it does not know how to distinguish the rich man from the poor, the famous from the obscure, the nobly born from the one who is not; nor does death, nor the other changes of fortune; but all things rise up against all alike, and, if one must say something surprising, against the rich more. For the less practiced they are in these things, the more they are destroyed when caught by them. And fear too is greater among the rich. For these above all tremble at rulers, and at the people no less than at the rulers, but even much more; many such houses, at any rate, both the anger of the people and the threat of rulers have overturned alike. But the poor man is free of both these waves. So, letting this nobility go, if you wish to show me that you are noble, show me the freedom of your soul, such as that blessed man had, and that though he was poor, who said to Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have the wife of your brother Philip”; such as was possessed by the one who was such before him and will be such after him, who said to Ahab, “It is not I who trouble Israel, but you and your father’s house”; such as the prophets had, such as all the apostles. But the souls of those who are slaves to wealth are not such; but like those who are under countless tutors and executioners, so they do not even dare to raise their eyes and speak boldly for virtue. For love of money and of glory and of other things, a fearful thing to look upon, makes them servile and flatterers. For nothing so destroys freedom as being entangled in the affairs of this life and clothed with what seems splendid. For such a man has not one master, nor two or three, but countless. And if you wish to count them too, let us bring forward one of those who are esteemed in the palace, and let him have very much money, and great power, and an outstanding country, and illustrious ancestry, and let him be looked up to by all. Let us see, then, whether this man is not the most servile of all; and let us set against him not simply a slave, but a slave of a slave; for many servants too have slaves. This slave of a slave, then, has one master. What then, if he is not free? Still he has one, and looks only to what pleases that one. For even if his master’s master seems to rule him, yet for the time he obeys one alone; and if things are well between him and that one, he will pass his whole life in security. But this man has not one or two only, but many and harsher masters. And first he is anxious about the ruler himself. … And it is not the same to have a cheap master and a king whose ears are filled by many, now becoming theirs, now those others’. This man, even if he is conscious of nothing against himself, suspects all: those who serve with him, those ranked under him, his friends, and his enemies. “But this one too,” someone says, “fears his master.” But how is it the same to have one or many who frighten one? Or rather, if one examined it closely, he will not find even one. How and in what way? That man has no one who wishes to cast him out of this servitude and bring himself in; hence he has no one plotting against him in these things; but these have no other zeal than to shake the one who is more esteemed and more loved by the ruler. That is why he must flatter all, the greater, his equals, his friends. For where there is envy and love of glory, sincere friendship has no strength. For as craftsmen of the same trade cannot love one another exactly and genuinely, so neither can those of equal rank who love the same things in the affairs of this life. Hence there is much war within too. Do you see a swarm of masters, and of harsh masters? Do you want me to show you another, harsher than this? All those after him hasten to get before him; those before him, to prevent him from coming near and passing them.

But O the wonder! I promised to show masters, but our discourse, advancing and contending, has done more than the promise, showing enemies instead of masters, or rather the same people both enemies and masters. For they are courted as masters, but they are fearful as enemies, and plot as foes. When, then, one has the same people as lords and as foes, what could be worse than this misfortune? The slave, even if he is commanded, yet enjoys care and goodwill from those who command him; but these are both commanded and warred against, and stand against one another; and this is so much worse than those in battles, inasmuch as they stab secretly, and under the mask of friends do the work of enemies, and often win esteem from the misfortune of others. But our affairs are not such; but if one fares badly, many grieve with him; if he is esteemed, many rejoice with him. Does not the apostle say this? “For whether one member suffers,” he says, “all the members suffer with it; or one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.” And at one time he who gave this exhortation said, “For what is my hope or joy? Is it not even you?”; at another, “For now we live, if you stand fast in the Lord”; at another, “Out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you”; and, “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?” Why, then, do we still endure the surge, and the waves outside, and do not run to this calm harbor, and, leaving the names of good things, walk toward the realities themselves? For glory and power and wealth and esteem and all such things are names among those people, but among us realities; just as the painful things, death and dishonor and poverty and all such, are names among us, but realities among them. And if you wish, let us bring first into the midst glory, which among them is lovely and longed for by all. And I do not say that it is short-lived, nor that it is quickly quenched; but show it to me when it is in flower. Do not take away the harlot’s paints and pencillings, but bring her into the midst adorned and show her to us, so that then I may expose her ugliness. You will surely mention the pomp, and the throng of rod-bearers, and the herald’s voice, and the obedience of the peoples, and the silence of the many, and the striking of all who meet him, and his being looked at by all. Are not these the splendid things? Come, then, let us examine whether these are not superfluous and a useless opinion only. For in what does that man become better from these, according to the body or the soul? For this is what a man is. Will he be taller from this, or stronger, or healthier, or swifter, or will he acquire sharper and clearer senses? But no one could say this. Let us go, then, to the soul, in case we find there some gain added from this. What then? Will such a man be more self-controlled, gentler, more understanding from this attention? Not at all, but quite the opposite. For what happens with the body does not happen here too. For there the body gains nothing toward its own excellence; but here this is not the only dreadful thing, that it reaps nothing good, but that the soul even receives much wickedness from it. For it is carried off by it into arrogance and vainglory and folly and anger and countless such defects. “But he rejoices,” someone says, “and exults in these things, and is made bright.” You have told me the summit of the evils and the incurability of the disease. For he who rejoices in these things would not easily wish to be freed even from the cause of the evils, but has walled off for himself the road to healing through the pleasure. So this is the most dreadful thing, that he is not even pained, but even rejoices, while his diseases increase. For rejoicing is not good everywhere; since thieves too rejoice in stealing, and the adulterer in corrupting his neighbor’s marriage, and the covetous man in robbing, and the murderer in killing. Let us not, then, look at whether he rejoices, but at whether it is over something useful; and let us consider whether we shall not find his joy to be such as that of the adulterer and the thief. For why, tell me, does he rejoice? Because of the glory from the many, and because he can be puffed up and looked at? And what could be more wicked than this desire and than this absurd love? And if it is not wicked, stop mocking the vainglorious and soaking them with countless jibes; stop cursing the arrogant and the haughty. But you would not endure to. So they themselves too deserve countless accusations, even if they have countless rod-bearers. And I have said these things about the more tolerable rulers; since the majority we shall find sinning more than robbers and murderers and adulterers and grave-robbers, from not using their office well. For they steal more shamelessly than those, and slaughter more recklessly, and are licentious much more lawlessly, and they dig through not one wall, but countless estates and houses, having great ease from their authority. And they serve a most grievous slavery, bowing to their passions and trembling at all who are privy to their deeds. For he alone is free, and he alone a ruler, and more royal than kings, who is freed from the passions. Knowing these things, then, let us pursue true freedom, and free ourselves from the wicked slavery; and let us count blessed neither the swelling of office nor the tyranny of wealth nor anything else of the kind, but virtue alone. For so we shall both enjoy the security here and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Woe to the world because of the stumbling blocks. For it is necessary that stumbling blocks come; but woe to that man through whom the stumbling block comes.” “And if it is necessary that stumbling blocks come,” perhaps one of the opponents might say, “why does he lament the world, when he ought to help and stretch out a hand? For that is the part of a physician and a protector; but this belongs to anyone.” What then should we say to so shameless a tongue? And what do you seek equal to this healing? For being God, he became man for your sake, and took the form of a slave, and underwent all the utmost things, and left undone nothing of what was his part. But since nothing more came of it for the ungrateful, for this reason he laments them, because after so great a healing they remained in their sickness. As if someone, when a sick man who had enjoyed much care would not obey the laws of medicine, should lament and say, “Woe to so-and-so for his sickness, which he increased by his own carelessness.” But there nothing comes of lamenting; whereas here even this is a form of healing, to foretell what will be and to lament it. For many, often, though advised, were not benefited at all, but when lamented, they recovered. That is why he set “woe” especially, rousing them and making them anxious and preparing them to be watchful. And along with this he shows also his goodwill toward those very men, and his gentleness, in that he laments even those who opposed him, not only being displeased with them, but correcting them both by the lament and by the prediction, so as to win them back. “And how is this possible?” someone says. “For if it is necessary that stumbling blocks come, how is it possible to escape them?” Because it is necessary that stumbling blocks come, but it is not altogether necessary to perish. Just as a physician might say (for nothing prevents us from using the same example again), “It is necessary that such a disease come on, but it is not necessary that the one who takes heed be altogether destroyed by the disease.” And he said this, as I said, rousing the disciples too along with the others. For so that they might not doze, as though sent out to peace and an untroubled life, he shows many wars standing over them, from outside and from inside. Which Paul too showed when he said, “fightings without, fears within,” and, “in dangers among false brothers”; and to the Milesians he said, “And from among yourselves men will arise speaking perverse things.” And he himself said, “A man’s enemies will be those of his own household.” And when he says “necessity,” he does not say this abolishing the self-determination of our authority, nor the freedom of choice, nor subjecting life to some necessity of circumstances, but he foretells what will certainly be; which Luke expressed in another word, saying thus: “It is impossible that stumbling blocks should not come.” And what are stumbling blocks? The hindrances of the right road. So too those on the stage call those who are clever at these things, who twist their bodies, by this name. His prediction, then, does not bring the stumbling blocks—away with that!—nor do they happen because he foretold them; but because they were certainly going to be, for this reason he foretold them; so that if those who bring them had not wished to do wickedness, they would not have come; and if they were not going to come, they would not have been foretold. But since those men did wickedly and were incurably sick, they came; and he foretells what is going to be. “And if those men had been corrected,” someone says, “and there had been no one bringing the stumbling blocks, would not this saying have been convicted of falsehood?” Not at all; for neither would it have been said. For if all were going to be corrected, he would not have said, “It is necessary that they come”; but since he foreknew that they would be incorrigible of themselves, for this reason he said that they would certainly come. “And why did he not destroy them?” someone says. Why should they have been destroyed? For the sake of those who are harmed? But those who are harmed do not perish from that source, but from their own carelessness. And the virtuous show this, who not only are not wronged at all by it, but even gain the greatest things; such was Job, such Joseph, such all the righteous and the apostles. And if many perish, it is through their own sleep. For if it were not so, but destruction came from the stumbling blocks, all ought to have perished. But if there are those who escape, let him who does not escape blame himself. For stumbling blocks, as I said, both rouse and make sharper, and whet not only the one who is on guard, but also the one who has fallen, if he rises quickly; for they make him safer and harder to capture. So if we are sober, we reap no small gain from this, being continually watchful. For if, when there are enemies and so many temptations pressing on us, we sleep, what would we be if we lived in security? And if you wish, consider the first man. For if, having lived a short time, perhaps not even a whole day, in paradise and enjoyed delight, he went so far in wickedness as even to imagine equality with God, and to think the deceiver a benefactor, and not to keep one commandment, what would he not have done if he had lived the rest of his life free from hardship?

But when we say these things, they object again with other things, asking, “And why did God make him such?” God did not make him such—away with that!—since then he would not have punished him either. For if we do not blame our servants for things of which we are the cause, much less the God of all. “But where did this come from?” someone says. From himself and his own carelessness. What does “from himself” mean? Ask yourself. For if the wicked are not wicked of themselves, do not punish your servant, nor rebuke your wife when she sins, nor beat your son, nor blame your friend, nor hate the enemy who abuses you; for all these deserve to be pitied, not punished, if they do not do wrong of themselves. “But I cannot be so wise,” someone says. And yet when you see that the cause is not theirs but another necessity, you can be wise. When, at any rate, a servant held by sickness does not do what was commanded, you not only do not blame him, but even pardon him. So you yourself are witness that one thing is his and another is not his. So here too, if you knew that he was wicked through being made so, you would not only not have blamed him, but would even have pardoned him. For surely you do not pardon because of sickness, and would not have pardoned because of God’s making him, if he had been made such from the beginning. And from another side too it is easy to stop the mouths of such people; for the abundance of truth is great. For why did you ever blame a servant because he is not handsome in face, because he is not tall in body, because he has no wings? Because these things belong to nature. So he is freed from the charges that belong to nature, and no one will contradict this. When, then, you blame, you show that the sin is not of nature but of choice. For if, in the things for which we do not blame, we testify that the whole belongs to nature, it is plain that in the things for which we rebuke, we show that the fault belongs to choice. Do not, then, bring perverse reasonings into the midst, nor sophisms and tangles cheaper than spiders’ webs; but answer me this again: did God make all men? It is plain to everyone. How then are not all equal in respect of virtue and of wickedness? Whence the good and kind and gentle? Whence the worthless and wicked? For if these things do not need will but belong to nature, how are some this and others that? For if all are wicked by nature, no one could be good; and if good by nature, no one wicked. For if the nature of all men is one, all ought to be one in this respect, whether they were to be this or that. And if we should say that by nature some are good and others wicked, which would make no sense, as we have shown, these things ought to be unchangeable; for the things of nature are unchangeable. Consider: all are mortal and subject to suffering, and no one is impassible, however much he contends. But now we see many becoming worthless from good, and good from worthless, some by carelessness, others by zeal; which above all shows that these things are not of nature. For natural things neither change nor need zeal to be acquired. For as we need no labor to see and hear, so neither would we need sweat in virtue, if it were allotted to nature itself. And why would he make the worthless, when he could make all good? “Whence, then, are evils?” someone says. Ask yourself; for my part is to show that they are not of nature nor from God. “Then they arise of themselves?” someone says. Not at all. “But are they unbegotten?” Hush, man, and leap away from this madness, honoring God and evils with one honor, and that the highest honor. For if they are unbegotten, they will also be strong, and will not be able to be torn up or to pass into non-existence. For that the unbegotten is indestructible is plain to everyone.

And whence are there so many good men, when wickedness has so much power? How are the begotten stronger than the unbegotten? “But God will destroy them,” someone says. When? And how will he destroy things equal in honor and in strength and, as one might say, of the same age? O the wickedness of the devil! How great an evil has he invented! With what blasphemy has he persuaded them to surround God! Under what pretext of piety has he devised another blasphemous doctrine! For wishing to show that evil is not from him, they brought in another wicked doctrine, saying that evils are unbegotten. “Whence, then, are evils?” someone says. From willing and not willing. “And whence is willing and not willing itself?” From ourselves. But you are doing the same thing in asking as if, when I asked you, “Whence is seeing and not seeing?” and you said, “From shutting the eyes and not shutting them,” you should ask again, “And whence is shutting and not shutting?” and then, having heard, “From ourselves and from willing,” you should seek again another cause. For evil is nothing else than disobeying God. “Whence, then,” someone says, “did man find this?” Was it hard to find this? Tell me. For neither do I say that this is difficult; but whence did he wish to disobey? From carelessness. For being master of both, he inclined rather to this. But if you are still at a loss, and grow dizzy hearing these things, I will ask you nothing difficult or intricate, but a simple and clear question. Have you ever been wicked, and have you also at some time been good? What I mean is this. Have you at some time mastered a passion, and been caught again by a passion? Have you fallen into drunkenness, and mastered drunkenness? Have you at some time been angry, and not been angry? Have you overlooked a poor man, and not overlooked him? Have you at some time committed sexual immorality, and become chaste again? Whence, then, are all these things? Tell me, whence? For if you do not say it, I will say it. That at one time you were zealous, exerting yourself, but afterward you slackened and grew careless. For with those who are desperate and wholly in wickedness, and are insensible and mad, and do not wish even to hear what corrects them, I will not even speak about wisdom; but with those who are sometimes in this and sometimes in that, I will gladly speak. Have you at some time seized what did not belong to you, and afterward, broken by pity, shared even your own with one in need? Whence, then, this change? Is it not plain that it is from your will and choice? It is plain; and there is no one who would not say this. That is why I beg you to be zealous and to hold fast to virtue, and you will have no need of these questions. For evils are only names, if we wish. Do not, then, ask whence evils are, nor be at a loss; but having found that they come from carelessness alone, flee evils. And if someone says that these things are not from us, when you see him angry with a servant, and provoked with his wife, and blaming his child, and condemning those who wrong him, say to him: How then did you say that evils are not from us? For if they are not from us, why do you blame? Say again: Do you revile and insult of yourself? For if not of yourself, let no one be angry with you; but if of yourself, then evils are from you and from your carelessness. And what? Do you think there are some good men? For if no one is good, whence have you this name? Whence the praises? But if there are good men, it is plain that they will rebuke the wicked. But if no one is wicked willingly, nor of himself, the good will be found rebuking the wicked unjustly, and they too will be wicked again in this way. For what could be worse than subjecting the guiltless to charges? But if they remain good in our eyes even while rebuking, and this above all is a proof of their goodness, it is plain even to the very foolish from this too that no one was ever wicked by necessity. And if after all this you still ask, “Whence are evils?”, I would say: from carelessness, from idleness, from keeping company with the wicked, from despising virtue; from this come both evils and some people’s asking whence evils come. For of those who do right, no one asks these things, none of those who choose to live gently and soberly; but those who dare wicked things, and wish to devise some senseless consolation through these words, weave spiders’ webs. But let us tear these up not by words only but also by deeds. For these things are not of necessity. For if it were of necessity, he would not have said, “Woe to the man through whom the stumbling block comes.” For he laments only those who are wicked by choice. And if he says “through whom,” do not wonder. For he says this not as though another brought it in through him, but as though he arranged the whole. For Scripture knows how to say “through whom” for “by whom,” as when it says, “I have gotten a man through God,” setting down not the second cause but the first. And again, “Is not the interpretation of them through God?” and, “God is faithful, through whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son.”

And that you may learn that it is not of necessity, hear also what follows. For after lamenting, he says, “If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut them off and throw them from you. For it is better for you to enter into life lame or maimed than having two hands and feet to be thrown into the fire. And if your right eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out. It is better for you to enter into life with one eye than having two eyes to be thrown into the furnace of fire”—not saying this about limbs, away with that! but about friends, about relatives, whom we hold in the rank of necessary limbs. This he said above too, and he says it now. For nothing is so harmful as wicked company. For what necessity cannot do, friendship often can, both for harm and for benefit. That is why he commands with great vehemence to cut off those who harm us, hinting at these who bring the stumbling blocks. Do you see how he warded off the harm that would come from the stumbling blocks? By foretelling that they will certainly come, so as to find no one in carelessness, but expecting them to be sober; by showing that they are great evils (for he would not simply have said, “Woe to the world because of the stumbling blocks,” but to show the great ruin from them); by lamenting again more strongly the one who brings them in. For to say, “but woe to that man,” was a sign of great punishment. And not this only, but by adding the example he increased the fear. Then he is not content with these, but also shows the way by which one might escape the stumbling blocks. And what is it? “The wicked,” he says, “even if they are very dear friends to you, cut off from your friendship.” And he gives an unanswerable reason. For if they remain friends, you will not gain them, and you will destroy yourself besides; but if you cut them off, you will at least reap your own salvation. So if anyone’s friendship harms you, cut him off from you. For if we often cut away many of our own limbs, when they are incurable and harm the rest, much more must we do this with friends. But if evils were by nature, all this exhortation and counsel would be superfluous, superfluous the guarding by what has been said. But if it is not superfluous, as indeed it is not, it is plain that wickedness is of the will. “See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.” He calls little ones not those who are truly little, but those thought so by the many: the poor, the despised, the unknown (for how could he be little who is worth the whole world? how could he be little who is a friend of God?), but those considered such in the opinion of the many. And he speaks not only of many, but even of one, by this again walling off the harm of the many stumbling blocks. For as fleeing the wicked, so honoring the good has the greatest gain; and there would be a double safety for the one who takes heed: one from cutting off the friendships of those who cause stumbling, another from holding these saints in care and honor. Then he makes them worthy of respect from another side too, saying that “their angels always see the face of my Father in heaven.” From this it is plain that the saints have angels, and indeed all men. For the apostle too says of the woman that she “ought to have authority on her head because of the angels”; and Moses: “He set the bounds of the nations according to the number of the angels of God.” But here he speaks not only of angels, but of angels who are pre-eminent. And when he says, “the face of my Father,” he means nothing else than their greater confidence and great honor. “For the Son of Man came to save what was lost.” Again he sets down another reason, greater than the former, and joins a parable, by which he brings in the Father also as wishing these things. “For what do you think?” he says. “If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them goes astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine and go to the mountains and seek the one that is straying? And if he happens to find it, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that did not go astray. So it is not the will before your Father that one of these little ones should perish.” Do you see by how many means he leads us to the care of our humbler brothers? Do not, then, say, “So-and-so is a coppersmith, a shoemaker, a farmer, a fool,” and despise him. For so that you may not suffer this, see by how many means he persuades you to be moderate and drives you to the care of these. He set a child before them, and says, “Become like the children,” and, “Whoever receives such a child receives me,” and, “Whoever causes one to stumble” will suffer the utmost. And he was not content with the example of the millstone, but added also the “woe,” and commanded such people to be cut off, even if they are to us in the rank of hands or eyes. And from the angels again, entrusted with these humble brothers, he makes them worthy of respect; and from his own will and passion (for when he says, “The Son of Man came to save what was lost,” he points to the cross too, as Paul also says, speaking of a brother, “for whom Christ died”); and from the Father, that it does not please him either that one should perish; and from common custom, that the shepherd, leaving the saved, seeks the lost one, and when he finds the one that strayed, he greatly rejoices at the finding and saving of it.

If, then, God so rejoices over the little one that is found, how do you despise those whom God earnestly cares for, when you ought to give up even your very life for one of these little ones? “But he is weak and humble.” For this very reason, then, one must do everything above all so as to save him. For he himself too, leaving the ninety-nine sheep, went after that one, and the salvation of so many could not overshadow the loss of the one. And Luke says that he even carried it on his shoulders, and that there was greater joy over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous. And both by leaving the saved for it and by rejoicing more over it, he showed his great zeal for it. Let us not, then, neglect such souls. For all these things were said for this purpose. For by threatening that one who has not become a child will not set foot in the heavens at all, and by mentioning the millstone, he brought down the pride of the boastful; for nothing is so hostile to love as arrogance; by saying, “It is necessary that stumbling blocks come,” he made them watchful; by adding, “woe to him through whom the stumbling block comes,” he prepared each to take care that it should not come through himself. And by commanding to cut off those who cause stumbling, he made salvation easy; and by commanding not to despise them, and commanding not simply but vehemently (“For see,” he says, “that you do not despise one of these little ones”), and by saying that “their angels see the face of my Father,” and, “for this I came,” and, “my Father wishes this,” he made those who ought to care for them more zealous. Do you see what a wall he drew around them, and how much zeal he shows for the despised and the perishing, both threatening incurable evils to those who trip them up, and promising great good things to those who care for and look after them, and bringing the example again from himself and from the Father? Let us too imitate him, refusing nothing of what seems humble and toilsome for our brothers’ sake; but even if we must serve, even if he for whom this is done is little, even if humble, even if the thing is laborious, even if we must cross mountains and precipices, let all be bearable for the salvation of our brother. For a soul is so precious to God that he did not spare even his own Son. That is why I beg you, as soon as dawn appears, going out from the house, let us have this one aim and this zeal before all, to stretch out a hand to those lying below, and especially to those of our own household; for our own virtue is not enough for salvation; … to snatch one who is in danger—I do not mean only this danger of the senses (for this is not even a danger), but the danger of the soul, which is brought upon men by the devil. For the merchant, to increase his substance, crosses the sea; and the craftsman, to add to what he has, does everything. Let us too, then, not be content with our own salvation alone, since we ruin even this. For in war and battle the soldier who looks only to this, how he may save himself by flight, destroys the others too along with himself; just as the brave one, who takes up arms for the others too, saves himself along with the others. Since, then, our affairs too are a war, the bitterest of all wars, and a battle line and a fight, let us be drawn up in the battle line as our King commanded, prepared for slaughter and blood and deaths, looking to the salvation of all, anointing those who stand, and raising those who lie fallen. For many of our brothers lie in this battle line with wounds, streaming with blood, and there is no one to tend them, none of the people, no priest, no one else, no comrade, no friend, no brother; but each of us looks to his own things. That is why we also cripple our own. For the greatest confidence and esteem is not to look to one’s own things. For this reason we are weak and easily overcome both by men and by the devil, because we seek the opposite of this, and do not protect one another with our shields, nor are we fenced about with love according to God; but we seek other grounds of friendship for ourselves, some from kinship, others from acquaintance, others from partnership, others from being neighbors; and we are friends from every ground rather than from piety, when friendships ought to be joined from this alone. But now the opposite happens: sometimes we become friends with Jews and Greeks rather than with the children of the church.

… , someone says; “for the one is wicked, the other good and gentle.” What are you saying? Do you call your brother wicked, you who are commanded not even to call him Raca? And are you not ashamed, nor do you blush, to expose your brother, your own member, one who shared the same birth pangs with you, who partook of the same table? But if you have a brother according to the flesh, even if he does countless evils, you are eager to cover him, and you think that you too share in the disgrace when he is disgraced; but your spiritual brother, whom you ought to free from slander, you surround with countless accusations? “He is wicked and hard to bear,” you say. Then for this reason become his friend, so that you may stop him from being such, so that you may change him, so that you may bring him back to virtue. “But he is not persuaded,” someone says, “nor does he accept counsel.” How do you know? “For I exhorted him,” you say, “many times.” How many times? “Once and twice.” Bless me! Is this “many times”? For if you had done this all your time, ought you to have grown weary and given up? Do you not see how God continually exhorts us through the prophets, through the apostles, through the evangelists? What then? Have we achieved everything, and been persuaded in everything? Not at all. Did he then stop exhorting? Did he fall silent? Does he not say every day, “You cannot serve God and mammon,” and yet with many the abundance and tyranny of money increases? Does he not cry every day, “Forgive, and it will be forgiven you,” and we become more savage? Does he not continually exhort us to master desire and to be superior to wicked pleasure, while many wallow in this sin more than swine? But nevertheless he does not stop speaking. Why, then, do we not reckon these things with ourselves, and say that God too speaks to us and does not stop doing this, although we disobey him much? That is why he said, “Few are those who are saved.” For if our own virtue is not enough for salvation, but we must depart having others with us too, when we save neither ourselves nor others, what shall we suffer? Whence shall we have hope of salvation any more? But why do I charge these things, when we take no account even of those who live with us, wife and children and servants, but we are anxious about one thing in place of another, like drunken men: that our servants may become more and serve us with much zeal, that our children may receive a large inheritance from us, that our wife may have gold and costly garments and estates; and nowhere do we take thought for themselves, but only for what is theirs? For we provide neither for the wife, but for the things of the wife; nor for the child, but for the things of the child. And we do the same as if someone, seeing a house in bad condition and its walls leaning, neglected to set them up again and built great enclosing walls round it outside; or, when a body was sick, did not care for it, but wove golden garments for it; or, when the mistress was in a bad state, cared for the maidservants and the looms and the furnishings in the house and the rest, leaving her to lie and groan. For this happens now too: when our soul is in a bad and wretched state, raging, reviling, desiring absurdly, vainglorious, rebellious, dragged along the ground, and torn by so many wild beasts, we neglect to drive away its passions and take thought for house and servants. And if a bear escapes unnoticed, we shut our houses and run through the lanes so as not to meet the beast; but now, when not one beast but many such thoughts tear our soul, we do not even perceive it. And in the city we take such care as to shut up the beasts in a desert place and in cages, and we keep them bound not near the council chamber of the city, nor near the law courts, nor near the palace, but somewhere far away; but in the soul, where the council chamber is, where the palace is, where the law court is, the beasts are let loose, crying and making uproar around the very mind and the royal throne. That is why everything is turned upside down, and everything is full of confusion, within and without, and each of us differs in nothing from a city in uproar under the raid of barbarians; and it is the same as if, when a serpent attacks a nest of sparrows, they flutter about, full of confusion, but have nowhere to put an end to their agony. That is why I beg you, let us kill the serpent, let us shut up the beasts, strangle them, slaughter them, and hand over these wicked thoughts to the sword of the Spirit, so that the prophet may not threaten us too with such things as he threatened that city, that onocentaurs will dwell there, and hedgehogs, and serpents. For there are, there are men worse than onocentaurs, living as in a desert and kicking; and the greater part of the youth among us is such. For having wild desires, so they leap, so they kick, going about unbridled, and using their zeal for nothing that is needful. And the fathers are to blame, who compel the colt-breakers to train their own horses with much care, and do not let the colt’s age go on untamed for long, but put on the bridle and all the rest from the beginning; but their own young men they overlook for a long time going about unbridled and without self-control, disgracing themselves with sexual immorality and dice and the pastimes of the lawless theaters, when before sexual immorality they ought to give them to a wife, a self-controlled and very wise wife; for she will lead her husband away from the most absurd pastime and will be in place of a bridle to the colt. For sexual immorality and adultery come from nowhere else than from the young being unrestrained. For if he has a sensible wife, he will take care both of his house and of his reputation and good name. “But he is young,” someone says. I know it too. For if Isaac, being forty years old, took his bride, spending all that age in virginity, much more ought the young under grace to practice this wisdom. But what am I to do? You will not bear to take care of their self-control, but you overlook them being disgraced, defiled, becoming polluted, not knowing that the gain of marriage is to keep the body pure; and if this is not so, there is no benefit in marriage. But you do the opposite: when they are filled with countless stains, then you lead them to marriage, idly and in vain. “For one must wait,” someone says, “so that he may become esteemed, so that he may shine in civic affairs.” But of the soul you take no account; you overlook it cast aside. That is why everything is full of confusion and disorder and tumult, because the soul is a side matter, because necessary things are neglected, while cheap things receive much forethought. Do you not know that you can give your son no such favor as to keep him pure from the uncleanness of sexual immorality? For nothing is equal to the soul. “For what is a man profited,” he says, “if he gains the whole world but forfeits his soul?” But the love of money has overturned and cast down everything, and thrust out the exact fear of God, seizing the souls of men as a tyrant seizes a citadel. That is why we neglect both our children’s salvation and our own, looking to one thing only, how, becoming richer, we may leave wealth to others, and they again to others, and those after them to those after them, becoming mere conveyors of our possessions and money, but not masters. Hence comes great folly; hence the free are held in less honor than slaves. For slaves we rebuke, if not for their own sake, then for our own; but the free do not enjoy even this care, but are cheaper to us even than these. And why do I speak of slaves? For children are held in less honor even than cattle, and we care more for asses and horses than for children. If someone has a mule, great is the concern to find the best muleteer, and one who is not a thief, not a drunkard, not unskilled in the craft; but if we must set a tutor over a child’s soul, we choose simply and at random whoever comes along. And yet there is no other craft greater than this. For what is equal to ordering a soul and molding the mind of a young man? For the one who has this skill must be more exact than any painter and any sculptor. But we take no account of this, but look to one thing only, that he may be trained in speech. And this too again we have made our zeal for the sake of money. For he learns to speak not so that he may be able to speak, but so that he may make money; so that if it were possible to be rich even without this, we would take no account even of this. Do you see how great is the tyranny of money? How it has seized everything, and drags all wherever it wishes, binding them like slaves and cattle? But what is the gain to us from so many charges? For we strike at it with words, but it masters us by deeds. Yet not even so shall we stop striking at it with the words of our tongue. For if something more comes of it, both we and you have gained; but if you remain in the same state, our part is wholly accomplished. May God free you from this disease, and grant us to boast in you; for to him be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“If your brother sins against you, go, reprove him between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother.” For since he had stretched out a vehement word against those who cause stumbling, and frightened them from every side, so that those who are made to stumble might not in this way become careless in their turn, and, thinking that the whole has been thrown on others, fall into another wickedness, giving themselves airs and wishing to be courted in everything, and run aground on arrogance, see how he checks them too again, and commands the reproof to take place between the two alone, so that he may not make the accusation heavier by the testimony of more people, and the other, becoming more reckless, remain incorrigible. That is why he says, “between you and him alone.” “And if he listens, you have gained your brother.” What is “if he listens”? If he condemns himself, if he is persuaded that he sinned. “You have gained your brother.” He did not say, “You have sufficient vengeance,” but, “You have gained your brother,” showing that the loss from enmity is common to both. For he did not say, “He has gained himself only,” but, “You too have gained him”; by which he showed that both you and he were suffering loss before this, the one losing his brother, the other his own salvation. This he exhorted also when he sat on the mountain, at one time bringing the one who had caused grief to the one grieved and saying, “If you are standing at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, go, be reconciled to your brother”; at another bidding the one wronged to forgive his neighbor: for he taught us to say, “Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors.” But here he devises yet another way. For he brings not the one who caused grief, but the one grieved, to the other. For since the one who did wrong would not readily come to make his defense, being ashamed and blushing, he draws this one to him; and not simply, but so as to set right what had happened. And he does not say, “Accuse,” nor, “Rebuke,” nor, “Demand satisfaction and account,” but, “Reprove,” he says. For that man is held, as by a kind of stupor, drunk with anger and shame; but you, who are healthy, must go to him who is sick, and make the court private and the healing easy to accept. For “reprove” means nothing else than “remind him of the sin, tell him what you suffered from him”; and this very thing, if it is done as it should be, is the part of one who is pleading the other’s cause and drawing him strongly to reconciliation. What then if he disobeys and is stubbornly disposed? “Take with you one or two more, so that every word may be established on the mouth of two witnesses.” For the more shameless and reckless he is, the more we must hasten to the healing, not to anger and indignation. For a physician too, when he sees the disease hard to yield, does not withdraw nor become impatient, but then prepares himself the more; which he commands us to do here too. “For since you have appeared weaker alone, become stronger by the addition. For the two are enough to convict the one who has sinned.” Do you see how he seeks not only the interest of the one grieved but also that of the one who caused the grief? For the one wronged is this one, who has been taken by the passion, he who is sick and weak and ailing. That is why he often brings the one to the other, now alone, now with others; and if he persists, with the church as well. “Tell it to the church,” he says. And if he were seeking only this man’s interest, he would not have commanded us to forgive seventy times seven times one who repents; he would not have set over him so often so many correctors of his passion; but he would have let him go when he remained uncorrected from the first meeting; but as it is, he commands us to treat him once and twice and three times, now alone, now with two, now with more. That is why with regard to those outside he says nothing of the kind, but, “If someone strikes you on the right cheek,” he says, “turn to him the other also”; but here not so. For what Paul says when he says, “What have I to do with judging those outside?”, while commanding us both to reprove the brothers and to turn away from them and to cut off those who do not obey, so that they may be put to shame—this he too does here, legislating these things about the brothers; and he sets over him three teachers and judges, to teach him what was done in the time of his drunkenness. For even if he is the one who spoke and did all those absurd things, yet he needs others to teach him, just as the drunken man does. For anger and sin are more apt to put one beside oneself than any drunkenness, and set the soul in greater madness. Who, at any rate, was more understanding than David? But nevertheless when he sinned he did not perceive it, desire holding all his reasonings and filling his soul as with smoke. That is why he needed a lamp from the prophet, and words reminding him of what he had done. That is why here too he brings these to the one who has sinned, to speak with him about what he has done. And why does he command this man to reprove him, and not another? Because he would bear this one more gently, the one who was wronged, who was grieved, who was abused. For one does not bear being reproved about the one insulted by another in the same way as by the one insulted himself, especially when he alone reproves him. For when the one who ought to demand justice from him appears to be caring for his salvation, he above all will be able to shame him. Do you see how this is done not for the sake of vengeance but of correction? That is why he does not command him to take the two at once, but when he himself has failed; and not even then does he let a crowd loose on him, but makes the addition only as far as two, or even one; but when he despises these too, then he brings him out to the church. So great is the care he takes that the sins of our neighbors should not be paraded. And yet he could have commanded this from the beginning; but so that this might not happen, he did not command it, but legislates this after a first and second exhortation. And what is, “On the mouth of two or three witnesses every word will be established”? “You have sufficient testimony,” he says, “that you did all your part, that you left undone nothing of what was yours to do.” “But if he does not listen to these either, tell it to the church,” that is, to those who preside. “And if he does not listen even to the church, let him be to you as the Gentile and the tax collector.” For from then on such a one is incurably sick. But consider, I pray you, how everywhere he sets the tax collector as an example of the greatest wickedness. For above too he says, “Do not even the tax collectors do the same?”; and going on again, “The tax collectors and the harlots go before you into the kingdom of the heavens,” that is, those utterly condemned and sentenced. Let those hear who leap upon unjust gains, who count interest upon interest. And why did he rank him with these? Consoling the one wronged and frightening that man. Is this, then, the only punishment? No; but hear also what follows: “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in the heavens.” And he did not say to the president of the church, “Bind such a one,” but, “If you bind,” entrusting the whole to the one grieved himself; and the bonds remain unloosed. So he will suffer the utmost terrors; but it is not the one who brought him who is to blame, but the one who would not be persuaded. Do you see how he bound him with double necessities, both by the punishment here and by the vengeance there? And he threatened these things so that they might not happen, but that, fearing both the casting out from the church and the danger from the bond and being bound in heaven, he might become gentler. And knowing these things, if not from the beginning, at least by the number of the courts he will put away his anger. For this reason he set up a first and a second and a third tribunal, and did not cut him off at once, so that if he disobeys the first, he may yield to the second; and if he spurns that, he may fear the third; and if he takes no account of this, he may be struck with terror at the punishment to come, and at the verdict and sentence from God. “Again I say to you, that if two of you agree on earth about anything whatever that they ask, it will be done for them by my Father who is in the heavens. For where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them.” Do you see how from another side too he dissolves enmities, and removes petty-mindedness, and brings us together with one another, not only by the punishment mentioned, but also by the good things that come from love? For having threatened those things against contentiousness, he sets here the great prizes of agreement, if indeed those who agree persuade even the Father about what they ask, and have Christ in their midst. Are there, then, nowhere two who agree? Yes, in many places, perhaps even everywhere. How then do they not obtain everything? Because the causes of failure are many. For often they ask what is not expedient. And why do you wonder if certain others do, when even Paul experienced this, when he heard, “My grace is sufficient for you; for my power is made perfect in weakness”? Or they are unworthy of those who heard these things, and do not contribute their own part; and he seeks those who are like those men; that is why he says “of you,” the virtuous, those who display an angelic way of life. Or they pray against those who have grieved them, seeking vengeance and punishment, which is forbidden: “For pray,” he says, “for your enemies.” Or, sinning without repentance, they ask for mercy, which it is impossible to receive, not only if they ask themselves, but even if others who have great confidence before God entreat for them; as Jeremiah, praying for the Jews, heard, “Do not pray for this people, for I will not hear you.” But if all is present, and you ask what is expedient, and contribute everything of your own, and lead an apostolic life, and have concord and love toward your neighbor, you will obtain what you ask; for the Master is a lover of mankind.

Then, since he had said, “by my Father,” to show that he himself is the giver, and not only the one who begot him, he added, “For where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them.” What then? Are there not two or three gathered in his name? There are, but rarely. For he does not mean simply the gathering, nor does he seek this only, but above all, as I said before, also the rest of virtue along with this; and then he demands this very thing too with great exactness. What he says is something like this: “If anyone holds me as the chief ground of his friendship with his neighbor, I will be with him, if he is virtuous in other things too.” But now we see the majority having other grounds of friendship. For one loves because he is loved; another because he was honored; another because so-and-so has been useful to him in some other matter of this life; another for some other such reason; but for Christ’s sake it is hard to find anyone loving his neighbor genuinely and as he ought. For most are bound to one another by the affairs of this life. But Paul did not love so, but for Christ’s sake; that is why, even when he was not loved as he loved, he did not dissolve his love, since he had laid down a strong root for his affection. But not so now; but examining everything, we shall find among the many that anything produces friendship rather than this. And if someone gave me authority to make this examination in so great a multitude, I would have shown that most are bound to one another by worldly grounds. And this is plain from the causes that produce enmity. For since they are joined to one another by these perishable things, for this reason they are neither warm toward one another nor lasting; but insult, and loss of money, and envy, and love of vainglory, and everything of the kind, when it comes, cuts the affection. For it does not find the root spiritual. For if it were such, nothing of this life would have dissolved spiritual things. For love for Christ’s sake is firm and unbreakable and impregnable, and nothing will be able to tear it apart: not slanders, not dangers, not death, nor any other such thing. For even if one who loves so suffers countless things, looking to the ground of his love, he will not withdraw. For he who loves because he is loved, if he suffers anything unpleasant, dissolves his love; but he who [loves] from there … “love never fails.” For what can you say? … But this too makes you love the more, if you love for Christ’s sake. For the things that overturn love in other cases, here become what builds it up. How? First, because such a one is the cause of rewards for you; second, because one so disposed needs more help and much care. For this reason one who loves so does not inquire into family, nor country, nor wealth, nor love toward himself, nor anything else of the kind; but even if he is hated, even if insulted, even if slain, he remains loving, having a sufficient ground for loving, Christ; hence he stands fixed, firm, unshakable, looking to him. For Christ too so loved his enemies, the ungrateful, the insolent, the blasphemers, those who hated him, those who did not even wish to see him, those who preferred wood and stones to him, loving them with the highest love, beyond which none other can be found. “For greater love than this no one has,” he says, “that one lay down his life for his friends.” And see how he continues to care for those who crucified him and committed such outrages against him. For he speaks to the Father about them, saying, “Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And afterward he sent the disciples to them too. This love, then, let us too emulate; let us look to it, so that, becoming imitators of Christ, we may attain both the good things here and those to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Then Peter came to him and said, ‘Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?’ Jesus says to him, ‘I do not say to you up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.’” Peter thought he was saying something great; and so, as if being generous, he added, “up to seven times.” “For this thing,” he says, “that you commanded us to do, how often shall I do it? For if a man is always sinning, and always, when reproved, repents, how often do you bid us bear with him? For to the one who does not repent and does not condemn himself you set a limit, saying, ‘Let him be to you as the Gentile and the tax collector’; but to this one no longer: you commanded us to receive him. How often, then, must I bear with him when he is reproved and repents? Is seven times enough?” What then does Christ, the loving and good God, say? “I do not say to you up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven”: not setting down a number here, but what is endless, continual, and forever. For just as “ten thousand times” means “often,” so also here. For “the barren has borne seven,” says Scripture, meaning many. So he did not shut forgiveness up within a number, but showed that it is continual and forever. This at any rate he also showed by the parable set next. For lest he should seem to some to be enjoining great and burdensome things by saying “seventy times seven,” he added this parable, at once leading them on to what he had said, and humbling the one who thought highly of himself over it, and showing that the thing is not heavy but even very easy. For this reason he brought his own love for mankind into the middle, so that by the comparison, he says, you may learn that even if you forgive seventy times seven, even if you pardon your neighbor absolutely all his sins continually, as much as a drop of water falls short of the boundless sea, so much, or rather far more, does your love for mankind fall short of the boundless goodness of God, of which you stand in need, since you are about to be judged and to give account. Therefore he also went on to say, “The kingdom of heaven is like a man, a king, who wished to settle accounts with his servants. And when he had begun to settle, one debtor of ten thousand talents was brought to him. And since he did not have the means to pay, he commanded that he be sold, and his wife and his children and all that he had.” Then, when this man had enjoyed his love for mankind, he went out and began to choke a fellow servant who owed him a hundred denarii, and by this he so moved his master that he caused him to be thrown into prison again, until he should pay the whole. Do you see how great the difference is between sins against man and sins against God? As great as the difference between ten thousand talents and a hundred denarii, or rather far more. And this comes about both from the difference of the persons and from the continuity of the sins. For when a man is looking on, we hold back and shrink from sinning; but though God sees us every day, we do not abstain, but do and say everything without fear. And not from this alone, but also from the benefits and the honor we have enjoyed, our sins become more grievous. And if you wish to learn how our sins against him are ten thousand talents, or rather even far more, I will try to show it briefly. But I fear that I may give greater license to those who incline to vice and love to sin continually, or may cast the more reasonable into despair, and they may say what the disciples said, “Who can be saved?” Yet even so I will speak, in order to make those who pay attention more secure and more reasonable. For those who are incurably diseased and past feeling do not leave their own sloth and wickedness even without these words; and if they should take from this a further occasion of carelessness, the cause is not what is said but their own insensibility; while what is said will be able to check and prick those who pay attention the more. And the more reasonable, when they see the mass of their sins and learn also the power of repentance, will cling to it the more. Therefore it is necessary to speak. I will speak, then, and set down the sins, both those we commit against God and those against men; and I will set down not our private ones but the common ones; the private ones let each add from his own conscience. And I will do this after first setting down the benefits of God. What then are the benefits? He made us when we were not, and made all visible things for our sake: heaven, sea, earth, air, all that is in them, animals, plants, seeds (for we must cut it short because of the boundless sea of his works). He breathed into us a soul, into us alone of the things on earth, and such a soul; he planted a paradise, gave a helper, set us over all the irrational creatures, crowned us with glory and honor. After this, when man had become ungrateful toward his benefactor, he counted him worthy of a greater gift.

For do not look only at this, that he cast him out of paradise; consider also the gain that came of it. For after casting him out of paradise, and working those countless good things and carrying out his manifold dispensations, he even sent his own Son on behalf of those who had been benefited and who hated him, and opened heaven to us, and threw paradise itself wide open, and made us sons, us the enemies, the ungrateful. Therefore it is fitting now to say, “O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!” And he gave us also baptism for the forgiveness of sins, and release from punishment, and the inheritance of the kingdom; and he promised countless good things to those who do right, and stretched out his hand, and poured out the Spirit into our hearts. What then? After so many and so great good things, how ought we to be disposed? If we died every day for him who loves us so, would we pay what is due, or rather would we lay down the smallest part of the debt? By no means; for this too would again turn out to our own gain. How then are we disposed, we who ought to be so disposed? Every day we outrage his laws. But do not be indignant if I lay my tongue on those who sin; for I shall accuse not you only but myself also. Where then do you wish me to begin? From the slaves? From the free? From the soldiers? From private persons? From the rulers? From the ruled? From the women? From the men? From the old? From the young? From which age? From which class? From which rank? From which occupation? Do you wish me to make my beginning from the soldiers? What sins do they not commit every day, insulting, reviling, raging, making a trade of other people’s misfortunes, like wolves, never clean of offenses, unless one were to say that the sea too is without waves? For what passion does not trouble them? What disease does not besiege their soul? Toward their equals they are jealously disposed, and envious, and vainglorious; toward those under them, grasping; toward those who have lawsuits and run to them as to a harbor, hostile and perjured. How many robberies among them, how many acts of greed, how many false accusations and frauds, how many slavish flatteries! Come then, let us apply the law of Christ to each of these. “He who says to his brother, ‘Fool,’ shall be liable to the Gehenna of fire.” “He who looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery with her.” “Unless one humbles himself like the child, he shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.” But these men even cultivate arrogance, and toward those subject to them, handed over to them, trembling before them and fearing them, they become harsher than a wild beast, doing nothing for Christ’s sake but everything for the belly, for money, for vainglory. Is it possible to number in words the offense of their deeds? What could one say of their mockeries, their laughter, their untimely talk, their obscenities? As for greed, one cannot even speak of it. For as the monks in the mountains do not even know what greed is, so neither do these, but in the opposite way to them. The former do not know the passion because they are far from the disease; these do not even perceive how great the evil is because they are thoroughly drunk with it. So completely has this vice thrust out virtue and tyrannizes, that among those madmen it is not even thought to be a grave charge. But do you wish us to leave these and go to others more reasonable? Come then, let us examine the class of craftsmen and handworkers. For these above all seem to live by just labors and their own sweat. But these too, when they do not take heed to themselves, gather many evils to themselves from it. For they bring the injustice of selling and buying into the work of just labors, and often add oaths and perjuries and lies to their greed, and are occupied with worldly affairs alone and remain nailed to the earth; and they do everything in order to make money, but take no great pains to share with those in need, always wishing to increase what they have. What could one say of the revilings over such things, the insults, the loans, the interest, the contracts full of much fraud, the shameless trading? But do you wish us to leave these too and go to others, those who are thought to be more just? Who then are these? Those who own lands and reap the wealth of the earth. And what could be more unjust than these? For if one examines how they treat the wretched and miserable farmers, he will find them more savage than barbarians. On men wasting away with hunger and toiling their whole life long they lay continual and unbearable dues, and treat their bodies rather as if they were stones, not allowing them to breathe even a little; and whether the land yields or does not yield, they strain them alike and grant them no indulgence at all. What could be more pitiable than this, when, after toiling through the whole winter, worn out by frost and rain and sleepless nights, they go away with empty hands, still in debt besides, and dreading and shuddering more than at this hunger and shipwreck at the tortures of the stewards, the draggings, the demands, the arrests, and the inexorable compulsory services? What could one say of the trading they carry on with them, the frauds they practice on them, filling winepresses and vats from their labors and sweat, but not allowing them to bring home even a small measure, but drawing off the whole crop into the jars of their own lawlessness and tossing them a little silver for it? And they devise new kinds of interest, not sanctioned even by the laws of the Greeks, and draw up bonds for loans full of much cursing. For they force their way to demanding not a hundredth of the whole but half of the whole, and this from one who has a wife and is rearing children, a man, and filling both the threshing floor and the winepress by his own labors. But they consider none of these things. Therefore it is fitting now to bring forward the prophet and say, “Be astonished, O heaven, and shudder, O earth,” to what savagery the human race has run riot! I say these things not as finding fault with crafts, or farming, or soldiering, or lands, but with ourselves. For Cornelius too was a centurion, and Paul a tentmaker, and he practiced his craft even after his preaching; and David was a king, and Job enjoyed estates and much revenue; and none of these things was a hindrance to any of them with regard to virtue. Considering all these things, then, and reckoning up the ten thousand talents, let us at least from this hasten to forgive our neighbors those few and paltry debts. For we have to give account of the commandments entrusted to us, and we cannot pay everything, whatever we do. For this reason God gave us an easy and ready way to repayment, one able to cancel all those debts: I mean not bearing grudges. That we may learn this well, let us hear the whole parable, going through it in order. “There was brought to him,” it says, “one debtor of ten thousand talents. And since he had nothing to pay, he commanded that he be sold, and his wife and his children.” For what reason? Tell me. Not from cruelty or inhumanity, for the loss would come back on himself again, since she too was his slave; but from unspeakable … For he wishes to frighten him by this threat, in order to bring him to supplication, not in order that he should be sold. For if he had done it for this purpose, he would not have consented to his request, nor would he have granted him the favor. Why then did he not do this before the reckoning, and remit the debt? Wishing to teach him from how great debts he was setting him free, so that at least in this way he might become gentler toward his fellow servant. For if, even after learning the mass of his debt and the greatness of the pardon, he went on choking his fellow servant, had he not first trained him with such remedies, to what lengths of cruelty would he not have gone? What then does the man say? “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.” “And the lord of that servant, moved with compassion, released him and forgave him the loan.” Do you see again the excess of his love for mankind? The servant asked only for a delay and a postponement; but he gave more than he asked, the remission and pardon of the whole loan. For he wished to give it even from the beginning; but he did not wish the gift to be his alone, but also the fruit of this man’s supplication, so that he might not go away uncrowned. For that the whole was his, even though this man fell down and begged, the cause of the pardon shows, “moved with compassion,” it says, “he forgave him.” But even so he wished him also to seem to contribute something, so that he might not be utterly put to shame, and so that, having been trained in his own misfortunes, he might become forgiving to his fellow servant.

Up to this point, then, he is good and acceptable: he confessed, and promised to pay the debt, and fell down and entreated, and condemned his own sins, and recognized the greatness of the debt. But what follows is unworthy of what went before. For going out at once, not after a long time but at once, with the benefit still ringing in his ears, he abused the gift and the freedom granted him by the master for wickedness. “For finding one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii, he began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay me what you owe.’” Did you see the master’s love for mankind? Did you see the servant’s cruelty? Hear, you who do these things for the sake of money. For if one must not do so for sins, much less for money. What then does the other say? “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.” But he did not respect even the words by which he himself had been saved (for he too, by saying these words, was freed from the ten thousand talents), and did not recognize the harbor by which he had escaped shipwreck; the posture of supplication did not remind him of the master’s love for mankind; but casting all those things out through greed and cruelty and resentment, he was harsher than any wild beast, choking his fellow servant. What are you doing, man? Do you not perceive that you are making the demand of yourself, thrusting the sword against yourself, and revoking the sentence and the gift? But he considered none of these things, nor remembered his own case, nor gave way; and yet the supplication was not over equal sums. For the one entreated over ten thousand talents, the other over a hundred denarii; and the one entreated his fellow servant, the other his master; and the one received complete pardon, the other asked for delay. And not even this did he give, “for he threw him into prison.” “And when his fellow servants saw it, they accused him to the master.” Not even to men was this pleasing, still less to God. So those who owed nothing shared the pain. What then does the master say? “Wicked servant, I forgave you all that debt because you entreated me; ought not you also to have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?” See again the master’s gentleness. He pleads with him and makes his defense, when he is about to overturn his gift; or rather it was not he who overturned it, but the one who received it. Therefore he says, “I forgave you all that debt because you entreated me; ought not you also to have had mercy on your fellow servant?” For even if the thing seems heavy to you, you ought to have looked at the gain too, that which had come and that which was to come. Even if the command was burdensome, you ought to have thought of the prize; not that that man had grieved you, but that you had provoked God, whom you reconciled by mere supplication. And if even so it is burdensome to you to become a friend to the one who grieved you, it is far heavier to fall into Gehenna; and if you had set this against that, then you would have known that the former is far lighter. And when he owed ten thousand talents, he did not call him wicked, nor insult him, but had mercy on him; but when he became ungrateful toward his fellow servant, then he says, “Wicked servant.” Let us hear, we who are greedy; for the word is addressed to us too. Let us hear, we who are merciless and cruel, that it is not to others that we are cruel, but to ourselves. When then you wish to bear a grudge, consider that you bear it against yourself, not against another; that you are binding fast your own sins, not your neighbor’s. For you, whatever you do to him, you do as a man, and in the present life; but God not so: he will punish you more severely, and with the punishment of the next world. “For he delivered him up until he should pay what was owed,” that is, forever, for he will never pay. For since you did not become better through the benefit, it remains for you to be corrected by punishment. And yet “the gifts and the free favors are without repentance”; but wickedness had such power as to break even this law. What then is worse than bearing grudges, when it is seen overturning so great and so divine a gift? And he did not simply deliver him up, but in anger. For when he commanded that he be sold, the words were not of anger (and so he did not even carry it out), but an occasion of the greatest love for mankind; but now the sentence is one of much indignation, and of punishment and chastisement. What then does the parable mean? “So also my Father will do to you,” he says, “if you do not each forgive your brother his trespasses from your hearts.” He does not say “your Father,” but “my Father.” For it is not fitting that God should be called the Father of one so wicked and so hateful to men.

He asks two things here, then: that we condemn our own sins, and that we forgive others; and the former for the sake of the latter, that this may be done more easily (for he who considers his own sins will be more forgiving to his fellow servant); and that we forgive not merely with the mouth, but from the heart. Let us not, then, thrust the sword against ourselves by bearing grudges. For what harm has the one who grieved you done you as great as what you will do to yourself by remembering your anger and drawing upon yourself the sentence from God that condemns you? For if you are sober and wise, the evil will come round upon his head, and it is he who will suffer harm; but if you remain indignant and resentful, then you yourself will undergo the injury, not from him but from yourself. Do not say, then, that he insulted you and slandered you and did you countless wrongs; for the more you say, the more you show him to be a benefactor. For he gave you an occasion to wash away your sins; so that the greater the wrong he has done you, the greater the forgiveness of sins he becomes the cause of for you. For if we are willing, no one will be able to wrong us; even our enemies will benefit us greatly. And why do I speak of men? What could be more wicked than the devil? Yet even from him we have a great occasion of good repute, and Job shows it. And if the devil has become an occasion of crowns, why do you fear a man who is an enemy? See then how much you gain by bearing your enemies’ abuse meekly. First and greatest, release from sins; second, endurance and patience; third, gentleness and love for mankind. For he who does not know how to be angry with those who grieve him will be far more serviceable to those who love him. Fourth, to be continually free from anger, to which nothing could be equal. For he who is free from anger is plainly delivered also from the despondency that comes of it, and will not spend his life in vain labors and pains. For he who does not know how to hate does not know how to grieve either, but will enjoy delight and countless good things. So we punish ourselves by hating others, just as we benefit ourselves by loving. Besides all this, you will be respected even by your enemies themselves, even if they are demons; or rather, so disposed, you will no longer even have an enemy. And, greatest and first of all, you gain the love of God: if you have sinned, you will obtain pardon; if you have done right, you will gain greater boldness. Let us achieve, then, not hating anyone, so that God too may love us; so that, even if we are liable for ten thousand talents, he may be moved with compassion and have mercy. But you have been wronged by him? Then pity him, do not hate him; weep and lament, do not turn away. For it is not you who have offended God, but he; you, on the other hand, have even won good repute, if you bear it. Consider that Christ, when about to be crucified, rejoiced for himself, but wept for those who were crucifying him. So we too ought to be disposed; and the more we are wronged, the more we ought to lament those who wrong us. For to us many good things come from it, but to them the opposite. But he insulted and struck you before everyone? Then before everyone he shamed and dishonored himself, and opened the mouths of countless accusers, and wove you more crowns, and gathered many heralds of your long-suffering. But he slandered you to others? And what of that, when it is God who will demand the account, and not those who heard? For he has added to himself a cause of punishment, so that he must give account not only for his own deeds but also for what he said about you. And he slandered you to men, but he himself has been slandered before God. And if this is not enough for you, consider that your Master too was slandered, both by Satan and by men, and to those who were most loved by him; and his Only-begotten again suffered the same. Therefore he said, “If they called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more those of his household.” And not only did that wicked demon slander him, but he was even believed; and he slandered him not with ordinary reproaches but with the greatest reproaches and charges. For he said that he had a demon, and was a deceiver, and an enemy of God. But did you suffer evil after doing good? For this reason above all lament and grieve for the one who did it, but rejoice for yourself, that you have become like God, “who makes his sun rise on the evil and the good.” And if imitating God is beyond you (though not even this is hard for one who is sober), yet if it seems to you too great, come, let us lead you to your fellow servants: to Joseph, who suffered countless things and did good to his brothers; to Moses, who after countless plots prayed for them; to blessed Paul, who could not even count what he suffered from them, and yet wished to be accursed for them; to Stephen, who while being stoned entreated that this sin be forgiven them. Considering all these things, cast out all anger, so that God may forgive us too all our trespasses, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father and the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And it came to pass, when Jesus had finished these words, he departed from Galilee and came to the borders of Judea beyond the Jordan.” He had continually left Judea because of their envy; now at last he spends time there, since the Passion was about to take place. He does not yet go up to Jerusalem, however, but to the borders of Judea. “And when he came, great crowds followed him, and he healed them.” He does not continually spend his time either in teaching by words or in working signs, but does now this, now that, varying the means of salvation for those who waited on him and followed him, so that from the signs he might appear a trustworthy teacher in what he said, and from the teaching of his words he might heighten what came from the signs; and this was to lead them by the hand to the knowledge of God. But consider this too, I pray you: how the disciples pass over whole crowds in a single word, not reporting by name each of those who were healed. For they did not say “such a one and such a one,” but “many,” teaching us to avoid boasting. And Christ healed, benefiting both those people and through them many others; for the correction of their infirmity became for others an occasion for the knowledge of God. But not for the Pharisees: for this very reason they grow more savage and come to him testing him. For since they could not lay hold of what was being done, they put problems to him. “For they came to him, testing him, and said, ‘Is it lawful for a man to put away his wife for any cause?’” O what folly! They thought to silence him by their questions, though they had already received proof of this power of his. When, for instance, they disputed much about the sabbath, when they said that he blasphemes, when they said that he has a demon, when they rebuked the disciples for walking through the grainfields, when they disputed about unwashed hands, everywhere he sewed up their mouths, stopped their shameless tongue, and so sent them away. Yet even so they do not desist. Such a thing is wickedness, such a thing is envy, shameless and reckless: even if it is silenced ten thousand times, ten thousand times it attacks again. But consider, I pray you, the malice in the very manner of the question. For they did not say to him, “You commanded not to put away a wife” (for he had already spoken about this law); yet they did not mention those words, but started from there, and thinking to make the snare greater, and wishing to drive him into the necessity of contradicting the law, they do not say, “Why did you lay down such and such a law?” but as though nothing had been said, they ask, “Is it lawful?” expecting that he had forgotten what he had said; and they were ready, if he said, “It is lawful to put away,” to set against him what he himself had said, and to say, “How then did you say the contrary?” and if he said the same as before, to set against him the law of Moses. What then does he do? He did not say, “Why do you test me, you hypocrites?” though he says this later; but here he does not say it. Why ever not? That along with his power he might show his gentleness as well. For he neither always keeps silent, lest they should think they escape notice, nor always rebukes, so that he may teach us to bear everything gently. How then does he answer them? “Have you not read that he who made them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and his mother and shall be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? So they are no longer two, but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let no man separate.” See the Teacher’s wisdom. For when asked, “Is it lawful?” he did not at once say, “It is not lawful,” lest they should be thrown into confusion and disturbed; but before the verdict he made this plain by his argument, showing that this too is his Father’s command, and that he enjoined these things not in opposition to Moses but in full agreement with him. And see him arguing strongly not only from the creation but also from God’s command. For he did not say only that he made one man and one woman, but that he also commanded this, that the one man be joined to the one woman. For if he had wished a man to put away this one and bring in another, after making one man he would have formed many women. But as it is, both by the manner of the creation and by the manner of the legislation he showed that one man must live with one woman always, and never break the bond. And see how he says, “He who made them from the beginning made them male and female”: that is, they came from one root and came together into one body; “for the two shall become one flesh.” Then, making it a fearful thing to find fault with this legislation, and fixing the law firm, he did not say, “Do not tear apart, then, or separate,” but, “What God has joined together, let no man separate.” “And if you put forward Moses, I tell you of Moses’ Master, and besides this I rely on the time also. For God from the beginning made them male and female; and this law is the older one, even if it seems to be introduced by me now, and it was laid down with great earnestness.” For he did not simply bring the woman to the man, but also commanded him to leave mother and father; and he did not legislate simply that he should go to the woman, but that he should be joined to her, by the very manner of the expression showing that they cannot be torn apart. And he was not content even with this, but sought a still greater union: “for the two,” he says, “shall become one flesh.” Then, after he had read out the old law, introduced both by deeds and by words, and had shown it worthy of trust because of the one who gave it, he himself from then on interprets and legislates with authority, saying, “So they are no longer two, but one flesh.” As then it is an accursed thing to cut flesh, so it is unlawful to separate a wife. And he did not stop at this, but brought in God as well, saying, “What therefore God has joined together, let no man separate,” showing that what is done is both against nature and against the law: against nature, because one flesh is cut in two; against the law, because when God has joined them and commanded that they not be separated, you set yourselves to do this. [2] What then ought they to have done after this? Should they not have been silent and praised what was said? Should they not have marveled at his wisdom? Should they not have been astonished at his agreement with the Father? But they do none of these things; rather, as though contending for the law, they say, “Why then did Moses command to give a certificate of divorce and to put her away?” And yet this was not for them to put forward now, but for him to put to them. Nevertheless he does not press his advantage, nor does he say to them, “I am no longer answerable for this”; but he resolves this too. And indeed, if he had been a stranger to the old covenant, he would not have contended on Moses’ behalf; he would not have argued from the things done once at the beginning; he would not have been eager to show that his own teaching agreed with the old. And yet Moses commanded many other things too, both about foods and about the sabbath; why then do they nowhere put him forward as here? Because they wished to rouse the mass of husbands against him. For this was a matter of indifference to the Jews, and all of them did it. For this reason, though so many things had been said on the mountain, they now remembered this commandment alone. Nevertheless the ineffable Wisdom makes a defense for these things too, and says, “Moses, because of your hardness of heart,” legislated so. And he does not let Moses remain under accusation either, since he himself had given him the law; but he frees him from the charge and turns the whole back on their own head, as he does everywhere. For when they blamed the disciples for plucking the ears of grain, he shows that they themselves are guilty; and when they charged them with transgression over not washing their hands, he shows that they are the transgressors; and in the matter of the sabbath, and everywhere, and here likewise. Then, since what had been said was hard to bear and brought great blame on them, he quickly leads his argument back again to the ancient law, saying what he had said before also: “But from the beginning it was not so”; that is, God from the beginning legislated the opposite to us by his deeds. For lest they should say, “How is it clear that Moses said this because of our hardness?” from there again he silences them. For if this law had been the primary one and beneficial, that other would not have been given from the beginning; God would not have fashioned as he fashioned, nor said such things. “But I say to you that whoever puts away his wife, except for a matter of sexual immorality, and marries another, commits adultery.” For since he had silenced them, he now legislates with authority, as in the case of foods, as in the case of the sabbath. For in the case of foods too, after he had routed them, he then addressed the crowds, saying that what goes in does not defile the man; and in the case of the sabbath, after silencing them, he says, “So it is lawful to do good on the sabbath”; and here he does this very thing. But what happened there happened here also. For as there, when the Jews had been silenced, the disciples were troubled and came to him with Peter and said, “Explain this parable to us,” so now too, being troubled, they said, “If such is the case of the man, it is better not to marry.” For now they understood what was said better than before. That is why they were silent then, but now, since there had been objection and answer, and question and inquiry, and the law had appeared more clearly, they question him. They do not dare to contradict him openly, but they bring forward what seemed heavy and burdensome in it, saying, “If such is the case of the man with his wife, it is not better to marry.” For it seemed very grievous to have a wife full of every vice, and to bear with an untamed wild beast shut up in the house forever. And that you may learn that this troubled them greatly, Mark, making it plain, said that they spoke to him privately. [3] But what does “if such is the case of the man with his wife” mean? That is, if he was joined to her for this, that they should be one; or this: if the husband will incur blame for these things, and in every case breaks the law by putting her away, it is easier to fight against the desire of nature and against oneself than against a wicked woman. What then does Christ say? He did not say, “Yes, it is easier, so do it,” lest they should think that the thing is a law; but he added, “Not all receive it, but those to whom it is given,” extolling the thing and showing that it is great, and in this way drawing them on and encouraging them. But see here a contradiction. He says that this is a great thing; they, that it is easier. For both had to happen: it had to be acknowledged by him as great, in order to make them more eager; and it had to be shown from what they themselves said to be easier, so that in this way too they might rather choose virginity and self-control. For since speaking of virginity seemed burdensome, by the constraint of this law he brought them to that desire. Then, showing that it is possible, he says, “There are eunuchs who were born so from their mother’s womb; and there are eunuchs who were made eunuchs by men; and there are eunuchs who made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven,” by these words leading them secretly to choose the thing, and establishing that this virtue is possible, and all but saying, “Consider: if you were such by nature, or had suffered this very thing at the hands of those who commit such outrages, what would you have done, deprived of the enjoyment and without a reward? Give thanks to God, then, now, that you undergo with reward and crowns what those men undergo without crowns; or rather not even this, but something far lighter, upheld by hope and by the consciousness of your achievement, and not having desire surging in the same way.” For cutting off a member does not know how to calm such waves and make a calm so well as the bridle of reason; or rather, reason alone. For this reason, then, he brought those others in, in order to anoint these for the contest; since if he were not establishing this, what is the point of his speaking about the other eunuchs? And when he says that they made themselves eunuchs, he does not mean the cutting off of members (away with the thought!) but the destruction of evil thoughts. For the man who cuts off the member is even liable to a curse, as Paul says: “I wish those who unsettle you would even cut themselves off.” And very reasonably. For such a man dares the deeds of murderers, and gives an occasion to those who slander God’s creation, and opens the mouths of the Manichees, and commits the same lawlessness as those among the Greeks who mutilate themselves. For cutting off the members has from the beginning been a work of demonic activity and satanic plotting, in order that they might slander God’s work, in order that they might maltreat this living creature, in order that, reckoning everything not to the will but to the nature of the members, most people might sin without fear, as though they were not answerable, and might harm this living creature doubly, both by maiming its members and by hindering the will’s eagerness for good things. These things the devil legislated, introducing besides what has been said another evil doctrine as well, and from here preparing the way for the teaching about fate and necessity, and everywhere maltreating the freedom given us by God, and persuading people that evils are natural, and from this sowing secretly many other evil doctrines, even if not openly. Such are the devil’s poisons. Therefore I beg you to flee such lawlessness. For besides what has been said, the force of desire does not become gentler by this, but even harsher. For the seed in us has its springs elsewhere, and surges from elsewhere. And some say that that frenzy arises from the brain, others from the loins; but I would say that it comes from nowhere else than from an undisciplined mind and a neglected understanding: if this is self-controlled, there is no harm from the natural motions. Having spoken, then, of the eunuchs, those who are eunuchs idly and in vain unless they too are self-controlled in their thinking, and of those who keep virginity for the sake of heaven, he adds again, “He who is able to receive it, let him receive it,” making them more eager by showing that the achievement is surpassing, and not allowing the thing to be shut up within the compulsion of a law, because of his ineffable gentleness. And he said this when he had shown clearly that it was possible, so that the will’s ambition might be the greater.

And if it is a matter of the will, how was it that at the beginning he said, “Not all receive it, but those to whom it is given”? So that you might learn that the contest is great, not so that you might suspect some compulsory allotment. For it is given to those who are willing. He spoke so to show that much help from above is needed by one who enters this arena, help that the one who is willing will certainly enjoy. For it is his custom to use this expression whenever the achievement is great, as when he says, “To you it has been given to know the mysteries.” And that this is true is plain also from the present passage. For if it belongs to the gift from above alone, and those who keep virginity contribute nothing themselves, he promised them the kingdom of heaven needlessly, and needlessly distinguished them from the other eunuchs. But see, I pray you, how from what some do wickedly others gain. For the Jews went away having learned nothing (for they did not ask in order to learn), but the disciples gained even from this. “Then little children were brought to him, that he might lay his hands on them and pray; and the disciples rebuked them. But he said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.’ And he laid his hands on them and went away from there.” And why did the disciples drive the children away? For the sake of dignity. What then does he do? Teaching them to be modest and to trample on worldly pride, he both takes them and embraces them, and promises the kingdom to such as these, as he had said before also. Let us too, then, if we wish to become heirs of heaven, acquire this virtue with great care. For this is the summit of philosophy, to be guileless with understanding; this is the angelic life. For the soul of a little child is clean of all the passions. It bears no grudge against those who have hurt it, but goes to them as to friends, as though nothing had happened. And however often it is whipped by its mother, it seeks her and prefers her to all. Even if you show it a queen with a diadem, it does not prefer her to its mother clothed in rags, but would rather see her in these than the queen in her finery. For it knows how to tell what is its own from what is another’s not by poverty and wealth, but by love. And it seeks nothing beyond what is necessary, but only to be filled from the breast, and then it leaves the nipple. The little child is not grieved at what grieves us, such as loss of money and things of that kind; nor again does it rejoice at what we rejoice in, these perishable things; it is not excited by bodily beauty. That is why he said, “For of such is the kingdom of heaven,” so that we may achieve by choice what little children have by nature. For since the Pharisees did what they did from nothing else than malice and arrogance, for this reason he bids the disciples again and again to be simple, both hinting at those men and instructing these. For nothing so lifts one up to boastfulness as office and precedence. Since, then, the disciples were going to enjoy great honor throughout the whole world, he forestalls their mind, not allowing them to feel anything merely human, nor to demand honors from the crowd, nor to have people clear the way before them. For even if these things seem small, they are the causes of great evils. So at any rate the Pharisees, trained up in them, fell into the very crown of evils, seeking the greetings, the first seats, the places in the middle; for from these they ran aground on the mad love of glory, and then from there on ungodliness. For this reason, then, they went away having drawn a curse on themselves by testing him, but the children went away with a blessing, as being free of all these things. Let us too, then, become like the little children, and be infants in wickedness. For it is not possible, it is not possible, to see heaven otherwise; but the deceitful and wicked man must certainly fall into Gehenna. And even before Gehenna we shall suffer the worst things here. “For if you become evil,” it says, “you alone will drain the evils; but if good, it will be for yourself and for your neighbor.” Consider, at any rate, how this happened also in the case of those of old. For there was nothing more wicked than Saul, nor anything simpler and more guileless than David. Which, then, was the stronger? Did not David twice take him into his hands, and when he had the power to kill him, refrain? Did he not have him caught as in a net and a prison, and spare him? And this when others were urging him on, and when he himself had countless charges to bring against him; yet nevertheless he let him go away safe. And yet the one was pursuing him with his whole army, while the other was with a few desperate fugitives, wandering and changing from place to place; yet the fugitive overcame the king, because the one fought with simplicity, the other with wickedness. For what could be more wicked than that man, who tried to kill the one who commanded his armies and carried all his wars to success, who endured the toils of the victory and the trophies, but brought the crowns to him?

For such is envy: it always plots against its own good things, and wastes away the one who has it, and surrounds him with countless calamities. That wretched man, at any rate, until David withdrew, did not break out into that pitiable cry, lamenting and saying, “I am in great distress, and the foreigners are making war against me, and the Lord has departed from me.” Until he was separated from David, he did not fall in war, but was both in safety and in glory; for the general’s glory passed to the king. For the man was not given to tyranny, nor did he try to throw him from the throne, but achieved everything for him and was devotedly disposed toward him; and this is plain also from what came after. For while he was ranked under him, one of those who do not examine closely might perhaps reckon these things to the law of subordination; but when he had taken himself out of that man’s kingdom, what was there any longer to restrain him and persuade him to keep from war against him? Or rather, what was there that did not provoke him to the slaughter? Had not the other been wicked toward him once and twice and many times? Had he not been treated well by David? Had he not nothing to accuse him of? Were not his own safety and kingdom dangerous and insecure while Saul lived? Did he not have to wander continually and flee, and tremble for his very life, while that man lived and ruled? Yet none of these things compelled him to bloody his sword; but seeing him asleep, and bound, and alone, and in the midst of his own men, and touching his head, while many were rousing him and saying that such an opportunity was God’s verdict, he both rebuked those who urged him on and refrained from the murder, and sent him away safe and sound; and as though he were rather his bodyguard and shield-bearer, not his enemy, he even accused the army of betraying the king. What could equal this soul? What could equal that gentleness? This can be seen even from what has been said; but far more from what is done now. For when we learn our own worthlessness, then we shall know more exactly the virtue of those saints. Therefore I beg you to run to emulate them. For if you love glory, and for this reason plot against your neighbor, you will enjoy it all the more when you spit on it and keep from the plotting. For as the love of money is contrary to making money, so to obtaining glory the love of glory is contrary. And if you wish, let us examine each point. For since we have no fear of Gehenna, nor much thought for the kingdom, come, let us lead you on at least from things present. Who are the ridiculous? Tell me. Are they not those who do anything for the sake of the glory that comes from the many? And who are praiseworthy? Are they not those who spit on the praise that comes from the many? If, then, to love vainglory is shameful, and the vainglorious man cannot hide that he loves it, he will certainly be shameful, and his love of glory has become for him the cause of dishonor. And not only in this is he disgraced, but also in being compelled to do many shameful things, full of the utmost servility. And just as men are accustomed to be harmed in their gain most of all by the disease of the love of gain (they fall for many frauds, at any rate, and small gains bring great losses, which is why this saying has prevailed as a proverb), so also for the lustful man the passion becomes a hindrance to enjoying pleasure. Those, at any rate, who are very much given to it and are slaves to women, these above all women lead about like slaves, and would never deign to treat them as men, slapping them, spitting on them, leading them and dragging them about everywhere, giving themselves airs, and only ever giving orders. So also nothing is lower and more dishonored than the man who is arrogant, mad for glory, and thought to be lofty. For the human race is contentious, and sets itself against nothing so much as against a boaster, a man who looks down on others, a slave of glory. And that man himself, in order to keep up the show of his arrogance, displays the conduct of slaves toward the many, flattering, courting, serving a slavery harder than that of any slave bought with money. Knowing all these things, then, let us lay these passions aside, so that we may not both pay the penalty here and be punished there without end. Let us become lovers of virtue. For so we shall both reap the greatest good things here, even before the kingdom, and when we have departed there we shall share in the eternal good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And behold, one came up and said to him, ‘Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?’” Some accuse this young man of being deceitful and wicked, and of coming to Jesus to test him. I would not decline to call him a lover of money and a slave to wealth, since Christ too exposed him as such; but deceitful, by no means, both because it is not safe to venture judgments on what is hidden, especially charges, and because Mark has removed this suspicion. For he says that he ran up and knelt and entreated him, and that Jesus, looking at him, loved him. But great is the tyranny of money, and this is plain from this: even if we are virtuous in everything else, it ruins all the rest. With reason, then, Paul said that it is the root of all evils: “For the love of money is the root of all evils,” he says. Why then did Christ answer him in this way, saying, “No one is good”? Because he had come to him as to a mere man, one of the many, a Jewish teacher; for this reason he converses with him as a man. For in many places he answers according to the opinions of those who come to him, as when he says, “We worship what we know,” and, “If I bear witness about myself, my witness is not true.” When, then, he says, “No one is good,” he does not say this to exclude himself from being good (away with the thought!); for he did not say, “Why do you call me good? I am not good,” but, “No one is good,” that is, no one among men. And when he says this very thing, he does not say it to deprive men of goodness either, but by way of contrast with the goodness of God. That is why he added, “except one, God.” And he did not say, “except my Father,” so that you may learn that he had not revealed himself to the young man. So also earlier he called men evil, saying, “If you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children.” For there too he called them evil not as condemning the whole of human nature for wickedness (for he says “you,” not “you men”), but comparing the goodness in men with the goodness of God, he named them so; and for this reason too

he added, “how much more will your Father give good things to those who ask him.” “And what was the urgency,” someone says, “or what the use, that he should answer him in this way?” He leads him up little by little, and teaches him to be free of all flattery, drawing him away from earthly things and fastening him to God, and persuading him to seek the things to come, and to know what is truly good, the root and source of all, and to refer the honors to him. For when he says too, “Do not call anyone teacher on earth,” he says this by way of contrast with himself, and so that they may learn what the first principle of all things is. For the young man had shown no small eagerness so far, having fallen into such a longing; and when of the others some came to test him, and others came on account of diseases, their own or other people’s, he himself came and conversed about eternal life. For the soil was rich and fat, but the multitude of thorns choked the seed. Consider, at any rate, how prepared he was up to this point to obey the commands. “What shall I do,” he says, “to inherit eternal life?” So ready was he to carry out what would be said. And if he had come to test him, the evangelist would have made this plain to us too, as he does in the case of the others, as in the case of the lawyer. And even if he had kept silent, Christ would not have let him escape notice, but would have exposed him plainly, or at least hinted at it, so that he might not seem to have deceived him and gone unnoticed, and so be harmed. If he had come to test him, he would not have gone away grieved at what he heard. Not one of the Pharisees, at any rate, ever felt this; they grew savage when they were silenced. But this man did not; he goes away downcast, which was no small sign that he had not come with an evil intention but with a weaker one, and that he desired life but was held fast by another, most grievous passion. When, then, Christ said, “If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments,” he says, “Which?” not testing him (God forbid!), but thinking that there were some others besides those of the law that would gain him life; which was the mark of one who desired it greatly. Then, when Jesus had told him those of the law, he says, “All these I have kept from my youth.” And he did not stop even here, but asks again, “What do I still lack?” which itself too was a sign of his intense desire. And it is no small thing either that he thought he still lacked something, and did not consider what had been said enough to obtain what he desired. What then does Christ say? Since he was about to enjoin something great, he sets out the prizes first, and says, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” [2] Do you see how many prizes, how many crowns he sets for this race? If he had been testing him, he would not have said these things to him. But as it is, he both speaks so as to draw him on, and shows him that the reward is great, and leaves the whole to his own will, by every means overshadowing what seemed heavy in the exhortation. Therefore, even before mentioning the contest and the toil, he shows him the prize, saying, “If you wish to be perfect,” and then he says, “Sell your possessions and give to the poor,” and at once again the prizes: “You will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” For to follow him is a great recompense. “And you will have treasure in heaven.” For since the talk was about money, and he was urging him to strip himself of everything, he shows that he is not taking away what he has, but adding to what he has, and has given more than he commanded him to give up; and not only more, but so much greater as heaven is than earth, and still more. And he said “treasure” to show the abundance of the recompense, its permanence, its security, as far as it was possible to hint at it to the hearer by human things. It is not enough, then, to despise money; one must also feed the poor, and above all follow Christ: that is, do everything he commands, be ready for slaughter and for daily death. “For if anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” So this command, to pour out one’s very blood, is far greater than throwing away money; but being rid of money contributes not a little to it. “But when the young man heard, he went away grieved.” Then, as if showing that he had suffered nothing unnatural, the evangelist says, “For he had great possessions.” For those who have little are not held fast in the same way as those who are drowned in great abundance; for then the passion becomes more vehement. As I never cease to say, the addition of what comes in kindles the flame the more, and makes those who acquire poorer, if indeed it sets them in greater desire and makes them feel their want the more. See, at any rate, here too what strength the passion showed. For the one who came with joy and eagerness, when Christ bade him throw away his money, it so overwhelmed and weighed down that he could not even answer about giving these things up, but went away silent, downcast and gloomy. What then does Christ say? “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven!” not finding fault with money, but with those who are held fast by it. And if a rich man enters with difficulty, much more the grasping man. For if not giving away one’s own is a hindrance to the kingdom, consider how much fire taking what belongs to others heaps up. But why did he say to the disciples, who were poor and possessed nothing, that a rich man will enter with difficulty? Teaching them not to be ashamed of poverty, and as it were making his defense to them for not having allowed them to possess anything. And having said “hard,” he goes on to show that it is even impossible; and not simply impossible, but impossible to an intensified degree; and this he made plain by the example of the camel and the needle. “It is easier,” he says, “for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” From this it is shown that no ordinary reward awaits those who are rich and are able to live by philosophy. That is why he said that it is God’s work, to show that the one who is going to achieve this needs much grace. When the disciples, at any rate, were troubled, he said, “With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” And why are the disciples troubled, being poor, and very poor? Why then are they disturbed? Grieving for the salvation of others, and having great affection for all, and having already taken on the heart of teachers. So at any rate they trembled and were afraid for the whole world at this sentence that they needed much comfort. For this reason he first looked at them and said, “The things impossible with men are possible with God,” and not simply possible, but abundantly so. For with a gentle and mild look he consoled their shuddering minds and dispelled their anguish (for this the evangelist showed by saying, “looking at them”); then by his words too he relieves them, bringing God’s power into the middle and so making them take courage. And if you wish to learn the manner too, and how the impossible might become possible, listen. For he did not say, “The things impossible with men are possible with God,” so that you might fall back and abstain as from things impossible, but so that, considering the greatness of the achievement, you might leap at it readily, and, calling on God to help you in these noble contests, might obtain life. [3] How then might this become possible? If you throw away what you have, if you empty out your money, if you stand apart from the evil desire. For that he does not reckon it to God alone, but said this to show the magnitude of the achievement, hear what follows. For when Peter said, “Behold, we have left everything and followed you,” and asked, “What then will there be for us?” having fixed their reward, he added, “And everyone who has left houses, or fields, or brothers, or sisters, or father, or mother, will receive a hundredfold, and will inherit eternal life.” So the impossible becomes possible. “But how,” someone says, “might this very thing happen? How is it possible for one who has once been drowned in such a desire for money to come up again?” If he begins to empty out from what he has, and to cut off what is superfluous. For so he will advance further, and will thereafter run more easily. Do not, then, seek the whole at once, but quietly and little by little climb this ladder that leads you up to heaven, if the whole at once seems hard to you. For as those who have a fever, with sharp bile overflowing within them, when they throw in food and drink, not only do not quench the thirst but even kindle the flame, so also lovers of money, when they throw money onto this evil desire, sharper than that bile, inflame it the more. For nothing stops it so much as standing apart for a while from the desire for gain, just as sparing food and purging stop the sharp bile. “And how will this itself come about?” he says. If you consider that while you are rich you will never stop thirsting and wasting away with the desire for more; but if you are rid of what you have, you will be able to stop this disease too. Do not, then, heap up more, so that you may not pursue what cannot be overtaken, and be incurably diseased, and be more pitiable than all men in raging so. For answer me: whom would we say is tormented and in pain, the one who desires costly food and drink and cannot enjoy them as he wishes, or the one who has no such desire? Plainly the one who desires but cannot partake of what he desires. For this is so painful, to desire and not enjoy, to thirst and not drink, that Christ too, wishing to depict Gehenna for us, depicted it in this way, and brought in the rich man roasting so: desiring a drop of water and not having it, he was punished in this way. So the one who despises money has stopped the desire; but the one who wishes to be rich and heap up more has kindled it the more, and it never stops; but even if he gets ten thousand talents, he desires as many more; and if he obtains these, again he longs for twice as many others; and going on, he prays that the mountains and the earth and the sea and everything might become gold for him, raging with a strange and fearful madness that can never be quenched in this way. And that you may learn that this evil is stopped not by addition but by subtraction: if you had ever conceived an absurd desire to fly and be carried through the air, how would you have quenched this absurd desire, by fashioning wings and constructing other instruments, or by persuading your reason that it desires impossible things and must attempt none of them? Plainly by persuading your reason. “But that,” someone says, “is impossible.” But this too is more impossible, to find a limit to this desire. For it is easier for men to fly than to stop the passion by adding more. For when the things desired are possible, one can be consoled by enjoying them; but when they are impossible, one thing alone must be striven for, to lead ourselves away from the desire, since otherwise it is not possible to recover the soul. That we may not suffer pain needlessly, then, let us leave the love of money, which grieves us continually and never endures to be quiet, and shift our anchorage to another love, one that both makes us blessed and is very easy, and let us desire the treasures above. For there the toil is not so great, and the gain is unspeakable, and it is not possible for one who is in any way watchful and sober and disdains things present to fail; just as for one who serves them and has given himself up to them once for all it is wholly necessary to fall away from those. [4] Considering all these things, then, cast out the evil desire for money. For you could not say this either, that it gives things present while depriving you of things to come (though even if this were so, it would be the utmost chastisement and punishment); but as it is, not even this is so. For besides Gehenna, and before that Gehenna, it casts you here too into a harsher punishment. For this desire has overturned many houses, and stirred up grievous wars, and compelled men to end their life by a violent death; and before these misfortunes it ruins the nobility of the soul, and has often made the one who has it cowardly, unmanly, reckless, a liar, a false accuser, a robber, grasping, and everything that is worst. But perhaps, seeing the gleam of silver, and the multitude of servants, and the beauty of buildings, and the court paid in the marketplace, you are bewitched? What then could be the cure for this evil wound? If you consider how these things dispose your soul, how they make it dark and desolate and shameful and ugly; if you reckon with how many evils these things were acquired, with how many toils they are guarded, with how many dangers; or rather, they are not even guarded to the end, but when they have escaped the grasp of everyone else, death comes and often carries them off into the hands of your enemies, while it takes you away destitute, dragging none of these things with you, except only the wounds and sores which the soul has received from them and departs with. When, then, you see someone shining outwardly in his garments and his great retinue, open up his conscience, and you will find many cobwebs within and will see much dust. Think of Paul, of Peter; think of John, of Elijah; or rather of the Son of God himself, who had nowhere to lay his head. Become an imitator of him and of his servants, and picture their unspeakable wealth. And if after looking up a little from these things you should be darkened again, as in a shipwreck when a storm comes on, hear the sentence of Christ which says that it is impossible for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. And set against this sentence the mountains and the earth and the sea; and if you like, make everything gold in imagination; you will see nothing equal to the loss that comes to you from there. And you speak of so many and so many acres of land, and ten and twenty houses, or even more, and so many baths, and a thousand slaves, or twice as many, and carriages inlaid with silver and spangled with gold; but I say this: if each of you rich men, leaving this poverty (for these things are poverty compared with what I am about to say), possessed a whole world, and each of them had as many men as there now are everywhere on land and sea, and each the inhabited world, and earth and sea, and buildings everywhere, and cities and nations, and on every side gold flowed to him instead of water, instead of springs, I would not say that those who were so rich were worth three obols, if they fell from the kingdom. For if now, when they lose their money, they are in pain, what then, when they come to perceive the loss of those unspeakable good things? What will be enough to console them then? There is nothing. Do not, then, speak to me of abundance of money, but consider how great the loss that those who love it undergo through it, losing heaven in exchange for these things, and suffering the same as if someone, fallen from the greatest honor in the palace, and owning a heap of dung, should pride himself greatly on it. For the heap of money differs in nothing from that heap; or rather that one is even better. For the one is useful for farming and for heating a bath and for other such things, but buried gold for none of these. And would that it were only useless! But as it is, it even lights many furnaces for its owner, if he does not use it as he ought; at any rate, countless evils spring from it. That is why those outside called the love of money the citadel of evils, but blessed Paul far better and more expressively called it the root of all evils. Considering all these things, then, let us learn to emulate what is worth emulating: not splendid buildings, nor costly lands, but men who have great boldness toward God, who are rich in heaven, the masters of those treasures, the truly rich, who are poor for Christ’s sake; so that we may obtain the eternal good things, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Peter said to him, ‘Behold, we have left everything and followed you; what then will there be for us?’” What “everything,” O blessed Peter? The rod? The net? The boat? The craft? Is this what you call “everything”? “Yes,” he says; “but I do not say these things out of ambition, but in order by this question to bring in the multitude of the poor.” For since the Lord had said, “If you wish to be perfect, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven,” lest one of the poor should say, “What then? If I have no possessions, can I not be perfect?” Peter asks, so that you, the poor man, may learn that you are in no way the worse off for this. Peter asks, so that you may not be in doubt from having learned it from Peter (for he was still imperfect and without the Spirit), but may take courage, having received the verdict from Peter’s Teacher. For just as we often make others’ affairs our own when we speak on their behalf, so the apostle also did, bringing this question to him on behalf of the whole world. For that he knew his own case clearly is plain from what was said earlier: having already received from here the keys of heaven, he had far more reason to be confident about what is there. And see how exactly he answers, as Christ had required. For Christ had asked these two things of the rich man: to give his possessions to the poor, and to follow. For this reason Peter too sets down these two things, leaving and following: “Behold, we have left everything,” he says, “and followed you.” For the leaving came about for the sake of following, and the following was made easier by the leaving, and he was making them confident and joyful about the leaving. What then does Christ say? “Truly I say to you, that you who have followed me, in the regeneration, when the Son of Man sits on the throne of his glory, you also will sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.” What then? Will Judas too sit there, someone says? By no means. How then, someone says, does he say, “You will sit on twelve thrones”? How will the promise be fulfilled? Hear how and on what principle. There is a law laid down by God, read out to the Jews through Jeremiah the prophet, which says this: “At last I will speak concerning a nation and a kingdom, to root up and destroy; and if that nation turns from its evils, I too will repent of the evils that I planned to do to them. And at last I will speak concerning a nation and a kingdom, to build up and to plant; and if they do evil before me, so as not to listen to my voice, I too will repent of the good things that I spoke of doing for them.” “For I keep the same custom in the case of good things too,” he says. “For even if I say I will build up, but they make themselves unworthy of the promise, I will no longer do it.” This happened in the case of the man who was formed: “The dread of you,” it says, “and the fear of you shall be upon the beasts”; and it did not come about, for he made himself unworthy of the rule; as also Judas did. For lest some should despair at the sentences of punishment and become harder, or simply grow more careless because of the promises of good things, he heals both by what has been said, saying this: “Even if I threaten, do not despair, for you can repent and undo my sentence, like the Ninevites; and even if I promise something good, do not relax because of the promise. For if you prove unworthy, my having promised will not help you at all, but will rather punish you; for I promise to one who is worthy.” For this reason then too, in speaking to the disciples, he did not promise simply; for he did not say “you” only, but added, “you who have followed me,” so as both to exclude Judas and to draw those who came after. For it was said neither to them alone, nor to Judas, who had by then become unworthy. To the disciples, then, he promised things to come, saying, “You will sit on twelve thrones,” for they were now more exalted and sought nothing of things present; but to the others he promises the things here too. “And everyone,” he says, “who has left brothers, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or fields, or house for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfold in this age, and will inherit eternal life.” For lest some, hearing the “you,” should think that this was a special privilege

of the disciples (I mean enjoying the greatest things and the first places in the world to come), he extended the saying, and spread the promise over the whole earth, and confirms the things to come by the things present. And with the disciples too, at the beginning, when they were in a more imperfect state, he spoke from the things present. For when he drew them away from the sea, and removed them from their craft, and bade them leave the boat, he did not mention heaven or thrones but the affairs of this world, saying, “I will make you fishers of men”; but when he had made them more exalted, then at last he speaks of the things there as well. [2] And what does “judging the twelve tribes of Israel” mean? That is, condemning. For they are not going to sit as judges; but just as he said that the queen of the South would condemn that generation, and the Ninevites too will condemn them, so too will these. For this reason he did not say “the nations and the world,” but “the tribes of Israel.” For since the Jews and the apostles had been brought up in the same laws and customs and way of life, when the Jews say, “We could not believe in Christ for this reason, that the law prevented us from receiving his precepts,” he will bring these men into the middle, men who received the same law and believed, and will condemn all those; as he had already said, “Therefore they shall be your judges.” “And what great thing did he promise them,” someone says, “if these too will have what the Ninevites and the queen of the South have?” Well, first, he promised them many other things before, and promises them afterward too, and this is not the only prize. And besides, he hinted at something more than those in this too. For of those he said simply, “The men of Nineveh will rise up and condemn this generation,” and, “The queen of the South will condemn it”; but of these, not simply so. But how? “When the Son of Man sits on the throne of his glory, then you also will sit on twelve thrones,” he says, showing that they will reign with him and share in that glory. “For if we endure, we shall also reign with him.” For the thrones do not mean sitting (for he alone is the one who will sit and judge), but by the thrones he indicated honor and unspeakable glory. To these men, then, he said this; but to all the rest, eternal life and a hundredfold here. And if to the rest, much more to these, both these things and the things in this age. And this at any rate came to pass. For after leaving rod and net, they held the possessions of all with authority, the prices of houses and lands, and the very bodies of the believers. For many often chose even to be slaughtered for them, as Paul bears witness for many when he says, “If possible, you would have torn out your eyes and given them to me.” And when he says, “Everyone who has left wife,” he does not mean that marriages should simply be torn apart; but as he said about the soul, “He who loses his soul for my sake will find it,” not that we should kill ourselves, nor that we should already here separate it from the body, but that we should prefer godliness to everything, so he says this of wife and brothers too. And he seems to me to be hinting at the persecutions here as well. For since there were many fathers dragging their children to ungodliness, and wives their husbands, “When they command these things,” he says, “let them be neither wives nor fathers”; as Paul too said, “But if the unbeliever separates, let him separate.” Having raised the minds of all, then, and persuaded them to be confident both for themselves and for the whole world, he added, “But many who are first will be last, and the last first.” And this, though it is said without limitation and about many others too, is said also about these, and about the Pharisees who disobeyed; as he said before also, “Many will come from east and west and will recline with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, but the sons of the kingdom will be thrown out.” Then he adds a parable too, anointing those who had come late for great eagerness. “For the kingdom of heaven,” he says, “is like a man, a householder, who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. And having agreed with them for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And at the third hour he saw others standing idle, and to them too he said, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and whatever is right I will give you.’ And about the sixth and ninth hour he did likewise. And about the eleventh hour he saw others standing idle, and he says to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle the whole day?’ And they say to him, ‘No one has hired us.’ He says to them, ‘You also go into my vineyard, and whatever is right you will receive.’ And when evening came, the lord of the vineyard says to his steward, ‘Call the laborers and give them their wages, beginning from the last to the first.’ And when those about the eleventh hour came, they each received a denarius. And the first thought that they would receive more, and they too each received a denarius. And on receiving it they grumbled against the householder, saying, ‘These last worked one hour, and you have made them equal to us who bore the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he answered one of them and said, ‘Friend, I do you no wrong; did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what is yours and go; I wish to give to this last one as to you. Or is it not lawful for me to do what I wish with my own? Or is your eye evil because I am good?’ So the last will be first, and the first last; for many are called, but few chosen.” [3] What does this parable mean for us? For the beginning does not agree with what is said at the end, but shows quite the opposite. For in it he shows all enjoying the same things, and not some cast out and others brought in; yet both before the parable and after it he said the opposite, that the first will be last and the last first, that is, first even before the first themselves, the first not remaining first but becoming last. For to show that this is what he means, he added, “For many are called, but few chosen,” so as doubly both to sting the one group and to console and encourage the other. But the parable does not say this; it says that they will be equal to those who were approved and had toiled much. “For you have made them equal to us,” it says, “who bore the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” What then does the parable say? For this must first be made clear, and then we shall resolve that difficulty. By the vineyard he means God’s injunctions and commandments; by the time of working, the present life; by the laborers, those called in different ways to the commandments; by the early morning and the third, sixth, ninth and eleventh hours, those who came forward at different ages and were approved. But the question is this: whether the first, who had been brilliantly approved and had pleased God and had shone through the whole day by their labors, are held fast by the last of vices, malice and envy. For seeing the others enjoying the same things, they say, “These last worked one hour, and you have made them equal to us who bore the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” And though they were going to suffer no loss nor be diminished in their own wages, they were annoyed and indignant at others’ good things, which was the mark of envy and malice. And what is more, the householder, justifying himself to them and making his defense to the one who said these things, convicts him of wickedness and the utmost malice, saying, “Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what is yours and go; I wish to give to the last as to you. Is your eye evil because I am good?” What then is established by these things? For one can see this same thing in other parables too. For the son who was approved is brought in suffering this very thing, when he saw his prodigal brother enjoying great honor, and more than he himself. For just as these enjoyed more by receiving first, so he too was honored more greatly by the abundance of what was given; and the approved son himself bears witness to these things. What then is there to say? There is no one in the kingdom of heaven who argues his rights in this way or makes such charges (away with the thought!); for that place is pure of envy and malice. For if while they are here the saints even give their lives for sinners, much more when they see them enjoying these things there do they rejoice and consider the good things their own. Why, then, did he shape the saying so? What was said was a parable; therefore one must not busy oneself over everything in the parables word for word, but learn the aim for which it was composed, gather that, and inquire no further. What then does it intend? To make more eager those who change and become better in extreme old age, and not to let them think they have less. For this reason he brings in others too, annoyed at their good things, not to show those men wasting away and stung (away with the thought!), but to teach that these had enjoyed such great honor as could even give birth to envy in others. We too often do this, saying, “So-and-so blamed me because I counted you worthy of such honor,” though we have neither been blamed nor wish to slander that person, but in this way to show the greatness of the gift that the other enjoyed. But why did he not hire them all at once? As far as it depended on him, he hired all; but if they did not all obey at the same time, the will of those called made the difference. For this reason some are called early in the morning, some at the third, some at the sixth, some at the ninth hour, and some at the eleventh, when they were going to obey. Paul too, making this plain, said, “But when it pleased him who set me apart from my mother’s womb.” And when was it pleasing? When he was going to obey. For he himself wished it from the beginning; but since Paul would not have yielded, it pleased him then, when he too was going to be persuaded. So also he called the robber, though he could have called him earlier too; but he would not have obeyed. For if Paul would not have obeyed from the beginning, much more the robber. And if these say, “No one has hired us,” first, as I said, one must not busy oneself over everything in the parables; and here it is not the householder who appears saying this, but they; and he does not refute them, so as not to perplex them but to draw them on. For that he called all, as far as depended on him, from the first hour, the parable too made plain, saying that he went out early in the morning to hire. [4] From every side, then, it is plain to us that the parable is addressed both to those who took hold of virtue from their earliest youth and to those who did so in old age and late: to the former, that they may not be arrogant nor reproach those of the eleventh hour; to the latter, that they may learn that it is possible to recover everything even in a short time. For since he had been speaking of earnestness, and of throwing away money, and of despising all one has, and this needed much vigor and youthful eagerness, kindling in them the flame of love and making their resolve strong, he shows that it is possible even for those who come later to receive the wage of the whole day. But he does not say it so, lest he again make them arrogant; but he shows that the whole is of his love for mankind, and that because of it they will not fall short, but they too will enjoy the unspeakable good things. And this above all is what he wishes to establish by this parable. And if he adds, “So the last will be first, and the first last; for many are called, but few chosen,” do not be surprised. For he does not say this as a conclusion drawn from the parable, but he says this: that just as this happened, so that will happen too. For here the first did not become last, but all enjoyed the same things beyond hope and beyond expectation. And just as this turned out beyond hope and expectation, and those who came after became equal to those before, so also what is more than this and more surprising will happen: the last will even come before the first, and the first after them. So the one thing is different from the other. And he seems to me to say these things hinting at the Jews, and at those of the faithful who shone at the beginning but later neglected virtue and were carried backward; and again at those who came up out of wickedness and outstripped many. For we see such changes happening both in faith and in life. Therefore, I beg you, let us take great pains both to stand in the right faith and to display the best life. For if we do not add a life worthy of the faith, we shall pay the utmost penalty. And blessed Paul showed this from the times of old, when he said, “All ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink,” and added that they were not saved, “for they were laid low in the wilderness.” And Christ showed it also in the Gospels, when he brought in some who had cast out demons and prophesied, and were led away to punishment. And all his parables too, such as that of the virgins, of the net, of the thorns, of the tree that bears no fruit, require the virtue that comes from works. For he speaks seldom about doctrines (for the matter needs no toil), but often, or rather everywhere, about life; for the war against this is continual, and so is the toil. And why do I speak of the whole of conduct? For even a part of it neglected brings great evils. For example, almsgiving neglected casts those who lack it into Gehenna; and yet this is not the whole of virtue, but a part of it. Yet even so the virgins were punished for not having this; and for this the rich man was roasted; and those who did not feed the hungry are condemned for this with the devil. Again, not reviling is a very small part of it; yet if it is lacking in us, many evils will follow, and it shuts us out of heaven; and so with almsgiving, and with not judging nor emulating transgressors; this too casts out those who have not achieved it. “For whoever says to his brother, ‘Fool,’ shall be liable to the Gehenna of fire.” Again, chastity too is a part; yet without it no one will see the Lord. “For pursue peace,” he says, “and holiness, without which no one will see the Lord.” And humility likewise is a portion of virtue; yet even if one accomplishes other good things but does not achieve this, he is unclean before God. And this is plain from the Pharisee, who, though abounding in countless good things, lost everything by this. And I have something more than these to say again. For not only does one of them neglected shut heaven to us, but even if it is done, yet not with the fitting exactness and abundance, it does this very thing again. “For unless your righteousness abounds,” he says, “more than that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” So even if you give alms, but not more than they, you will not enter. “And how much alms did they give?” someone says. This is the very thing I wish to say now, so that those who do not give may be roused to give, and those who give may not think highly of themselves but may make an addition. What then did they give? A tenth of all they had, and again another tenth, and after this a third; so that they gave nearly a third of their substance, for three tenths put together make this. And besides these, firstfruits too, and firstborn, and many other things, such as the offerings for sins, those for purifications, those at feasts, those in the jubilee, those in the cancelling of debts and the releasing of servants, and in loans free of interest. And if the one who gave a third of what he had, or rather a half (for with these, those other things put together make a half), if then the one who gives a half does nothing great, of what will the one who does not give even a tenth be worthy? With reason he said, “Few are those who are saved.”

Let us not, then, neglect the care of our life. For if one part of it neglected brings such destruction, when we are liable on every side to the condemning sentence, how shall we escape the punishment? What penalty shall we not pay? “And what hope of salvation have we,” someone says, “if each of the things enumerated threatens us with Gehenna?” I say so too; yet if we pay attention, it is possible to be saved, preparing the remedies of almsgiving and healing our wounds. For oil does not strengthen the body so much as love for mankind strengthens the soul, and makes it unconquerable by all and impregnable to the devil. For wherever he takes hold, he slips off, since this oil does not allow his grips to settle on our backs. With this oil, then, let us anoint ourselves continually. For it is a ground of health, a supply of light, a source of cheerfulness. “But so-and-so,” someone says, “has so many and so many talents of gold, and gives nothing away.” And what is that to you? For so you will appear the more admirable, when out of poverty … admired, not because they gave, but because they gave even while in want. Do not look to these men, then, but to the common Teacher of all, who had nowhere to lay his head. “And why,” someone says, “does so-and-so and so-and-so not do this?” Do not judge another, but free yourself from the charge. For the punishment is greater when you both accuse others and do not do it yourself, when, judging others, you yourself are again liable to the same judgment. For if we are not permitted to judge others even when we are doing right, much less when we are stumbling. Let us not, then, judge others, nor look to others who are careless, but to Jesus, and let us take our examples from there. “Was it I who did you good? Was it I who redeemed you, that you should look to me? It is another who has given you these things. Why do you leave the Master and look to your fellow servant?” Have you not heard him saying, “Learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart”? And again, “Whoever wishes to be first among you, let him be the servant of all”; and again, “Just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.” And after this again, so that you may not stumble over the careless among your fellow servants and remain in negligence, drawing you away from them he says, “I have given you myself as an example, that as I have done, you also should do.” “But I have no teacher of virtue among those I live with, no one able to lead me to these things.” Then the praise is greater, the commendation higher, that without even having teachers you have become admirable. For this is possible and very easy, if we wish; and those who first achieved these things show it, such as Noah, Abraham, Melchizedek, Job, and all the men of their time; to whom we must look every day, and not to these men whom you never cease envying and carrying about in your gatherings. For I hear people saying nothing else everywhere but these words: “So-and-so has acquired so many acres of land; so-and-so is rich; he is building.” Why do you gape outside, man? Why do you look at others? If you wish to look at others, look at those who do right, who are approved, who fulfill the law with exactness, not at those who have offended and are dishonored. For if you look at these, you will gather many evils from it, falling into carelessness, into arrogance, into condemning others; but if you count up those who do right, you will lead yourself into humility, into earnestness, into compunction, into countless good things. Hear what the Pharisee suffered, because he left those who did right and looked at the one who had stumbled; hear and be afraid. See how David became admirable, because he looked to his forefathers who lived in virtue. “For I am a sojourner,” he says, “and a stranger, as all my fathers were.” For he and all those of his time left aside those who had sinned and considered those who had been approved. Do this too. For you do not sit as judge of what others have done amiss, nor as examiner of others’ sins; you were commanded to judge yourself, not others. “For if we judged ourselves,” he says, “we would not be judged; but when we are judged, we are disciplined by the Lord.” But you have overturned the order, demanding no account of yourself for great or small faults, while busily examining those of others with exactness. But let us no longer do this; rather, leaving this disorder, let us set up a court within ourselves for the sins committed within ourselves, becoming ourselves the accusers and judges and executioners of our offenses. And if you wish to busy yourself with others’ affairs too, examine their good deeds, not their sins; so that, both from the memory of our own offenses and from emulation of what others achieve, and from standing before the inexorable court, being pricked in conscience every day as by a goad, and leading ourselves into humility and greater earnestness, we may obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And as Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside on the way and said to them, ‘Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death and hand him over to the Gentiles to mock and to scourge and to crucify; and on the third day he will be raised.’” He does not go up to Jerusalem all at once on coming from Galilee, but first works miracles and silences the Pharisees, and speaks to the disciples about poverty (“If you wish to be perfect,” he says, “sell your possessions”), and about virginity (“He who is able to receive it, let him receive it”), and about humility (“For unless you turn and become like the children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven”), and about the recompense of things here (“For whoever has left houses, or brothers, or sisters, a hundredfold in this age”), and about the rewards there (“and he will inherit eternal life,” he says); then at last he approaches the city, and when about to go up, he speaks again about his Passion. For since it was likely that they would forget it, because they did not want it to happen, he continually reminds them, exercising their mind by the frequency of the reminder and cutting short their grief. And he speaks to them privately, of necessity; for the word about these things ought not to be spread to many, nor spoken plainly, since nothing more would have come of it. For if the disciples were troubled on hearing these things, much more the mass of the many. “What then? Was it not told to the many?” someone says. It was told to the many too, but not so plainly. “For destroy this temple,” he says, “and in three days I will raise it up”; and, “This generation seeks a sign, and no sign will be given it except the sign of Jonah”; and again, “Yet a little while I am with you, and you will seek me and not find me.” But to the disciples not so; rather, as he spoke the other things more plainly, so he said this too. And why was it said even to the many, if they did not understand the force of what was said? So that they might learn afterward that he went to the Passion foreknowing it and willingly, not in ignorance nor under compulsion. And to the disciples he foretold it not for this reason only, but, as I said, so that, exercised by expectation, they might bear the Passion easily, and it might not trouble them greatly by coming upon them unprepared. For this reason at the beginning he spoke only of his death; but when they had practiced and been exercised, he adds the other things too, for example that they will hand him over to the Gentiles, that they will mock and scourge him: for this reason, and also so that when they saw the sad things come to pass, they might expect the resurrection too from them. For he who did not hide what grieves, and what seems shameful, would reasonably be believed about the good things too. And consider, I pray you, how wisely he arranges the matter by the timing too. For he did not tell them at the beginning, so as not to throw them into confusion, nor at the very moment, so as not to disturb them by this either; but when they had received sufficient proof of his power, when he had given them great promises about eternal life, then he puts in the word about these things too, once, twice and many times, weaving it into his miracles and his teaching. And another evangelist says that he also brought forward the prophets as witnesses; and another says that they themselves did not understand what was said, but the saying was hidden from them, and that they were amazed as they followed him. “Then the gain of the prediction is taken away,” someone says. “For if they did not know what they heard, they could not expect it either; and not expecting it, they could not be exercised by hope.” But I say something even more perplexing than this: if they did not know, how were they grieved? For another evangelist says that they were grieved. If they did not know, how were they grieved? How did Peter say, “Be merciful to yourself; this shall not happen to you”? What then is there to say? That he would die, they knew, even if they did not clearly understand the mystery of the dispensation; but they did not clearly understand the resurrection either, nor what he was going to achieve, and this was hidden from them. For this reason they were also pained. For they had seen others raised by others; but someone raising himself, and so raising himself as never to die again, they had never seen. This, then, they did not understand, though it was often said; nor did they clearly understand what this death itself was, and how it would come. That is why they were amazed as they followed him; and not for this reason only, but, it seems to me, he also astonished them by speaking about the Passion.

Yet none of these things made them take courage, though they continually heard about the resurrection. For besides the death, this above all troubled them, hearing that they would mock and scourge him, and all such things. For when they thought of the miracles, the demoniacs he had freed, the dead he had raised, all the other wonders he worked, and then heard these things, they were astounded that the one who did those things would suffer these. For this reason they fell into perplexity, and now believed, now disbelieved, and could not understand what was said. So little, at any rate, did they clearly grasp what was said that the sons of Zebedee at once came to him and spoke with him about precedence. “We wish,” they say, “that one may sit at your right hand and one at your left.” How then does this evangelist say that the mother came? Probably both happened. For they took their mother with them, to make the supplication stronger and so to put Christ to shame into consenting. For that what I said is true, and the request was rather theirs, and that out of shame they put forward the one who bore them, see how Christ directs his words to them. But rather let us learn first what they ask, and from what intention, and from where they came to this. From where, then, did they come to this? They saw themselves honored beyond the others, and expected from this to obtain this request too. But what is it that they ask? Hear another evangelist revealing this clearly. For because he was near Jerusalem, he says, and they thought that the kingdom of God was about to appear at once, they asked these things. For they thought that it was at the doors, and a kingdom of the senses, and that once they enjoyed what they asked for they would undergo none of the painful things. For they did not seek it for its own sake only, but also as a means of escaping hardships. Therefore Christ first leads them away from these thoughts, bidding them await slaughter and dangers and the utmost terrors. “For can you,” he says, “drink the cup that I am drinking?” But let no one be troubled that the apostles were so imperfectly disposed. For the cross had not yet been accomplished, the grace of the Spirit had not yet been given. If you wish to learn their virtue, learn about them afterward, and you will see them above every passion. For this reason he reveals their shortcomings, so that afterward you may know what they became by grace. That they asked for nothing spiritual, then, and had no notion of the kingdom above, is plain from this. But let us see too how they come forward and what they say. “We wish,” they say, “that whatever we ask of you, you will do for us.” And Christ says to them, “What do you wish?” not because he did not know, but to compel them to answer and lay bare the sore, and so apply the remedy. And they, blushing and ashamed, since they had come to this from a human passion, took him privately apart from the disciples and asked him. “For they went ahead,” it says, so that it might not become plain to the others, and so they said what they wished. And they wished, as I think, since they had heard, “You will sit on twelve thrones,” to receive the first place of that seating. And that they had more than the others they knew; but they feared Peter, and they say, “Say that one may sit at your right hand and one at your left”; and they press him, saying, “Say it.” What then does he do? Showing that they asked nothing spiritual, nor would they have dared to ask so much if they had known what they were asking, he says, “You do not know what you are asking”: how great, how wonderful, how surpassing even the powers above. Then he adds, “Can you drink the cup that I am about to drink, and be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” Do you see how at once he led them away from their supposition, speaking to them of the opposite? “For you speak to me of honor and crowns,” he says, “but I speak to you of contests and sweat. For this is not the time of prizes, nor will that glory of mine appear now; the present is a time of slaughter and wars and dangers.” And see how by the manner of the question he both urges them on and draws them. For he did not say, “Can you be slaughtered? Can you pour out your blood?” But how? “Can you drink the cup?” Then, drawing them, he says, “that I am about to drink,” so that by fellowship with him they might become more eager. And he calls it a baptism again, showing that a great cleansing of the world would come from what was taking place. “They say to him, ‘We can.’” Out of eagerness they at once promised, not even knowing what they said, but expecting to hear what they had asked. What then does he say? “My cup you will drink, and with the baptism with which I am baptized you will be baptized.” He prophesied great good things to them; that is, “You will be counted worthy of martyrdom, and you will suffer what I suffer; you will end your life by a violent death, and in this you will share with me. But to sit at my right hand and at my left is not mine to give, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.”

Having lifted up their souls and made them more exalted, and made them unconquerable by grief, he then corrects their request. But what is it that is now said? For two things are asked by many: one, whether to sit at his right hand has been prepared for some; the other, whether the Lord of all has no power to give it to those for whom it has been prepared. What then is the meaning of what was said? Let us resolve the first, and then the second too will be clear to those who ask. What then is this? No one will sit at his right hand or at his left. For that throne is inaccessible to all; I do not mean men only, and saints and apostles, but also angels and archangels and all the powers above. Paul at any rate sets it down as a privilege of the Only-begotten, saying, “To which of the angels did he ever say, ‘Sit at my right hand’?” And of the angels he says, “Who makes his angels spirits”; but to the Son, “Your throne, O God.” How then does he say, “To sit at my right hand and at my left is not mine to give,” as though there were some who would sit there? Not as though there were (away with the thought!); but he answered according to the supposition of those who asked, condescending to their mind. For they did not know that lofty throne and the seat at the right hand of the Father, since they did not know even things far lower than these, which were sounded in their ears every day; but they sought one thing only, to enjoy the first places, and to stand before the others, and that no one should be before them with him. As I said already, since they had heard of twelve thrones, not knowing what was meant, they sought the first place. What Christ says, then, is this: “You will die for my sake, and be slain for the sake of the preaching, and share with me in the Passion; yet this is not enough to make you enjoy the first place and hold the first rank. For if someone else comes with martyrdom, and possesses all the rest of virtue far more than you, I will not, because I love you now and prefer you to the others, push aside that one who is proclaimed by his works and give the first places to you.” But he did not say it so, so as not to grieve them; but in a riddling way he hints at this very thing, saying, “My cup you will drink, and with the baptism with which I am baptized you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand and at my left is not mine to give, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.” And for whom has it been prepared? For those who are able to become illustrious by their works. For this reason he did not say, “It is not mine to give, but my Father’s,” lest someone should say that he was weak or powerless to bestow the recompense; but how? “It is not mine, but theirs for whom it has been prepared.” And to make what I say clearer, let us work it out on an example, and suppose that there is a president of the games, and that many excellent athletes are going down into the contest, and that two of the athletes who are most intimate with the president come to him and say, “Have us crowned and proclaimed,” trusting in his goodwill and friendship toward them; and that he says to them, “It is not mine to give this, but it belongs to those for whom it has been prepared by their toils and sweat.” Shall we then condemn him for weakness? By no means; rather we shall approve him for his justice and impartiality. As then we would not say of him that he does not give the crown from lack of power, but because he does not wish to corrupt the law of the contests or confound the order of justice, so too I would say that Christ said this, driving them on every side, after the grace of God, to have their hopes of salvation and good repute in the display of their own good deeds. That is why he says, “for whom it has been prepared.” “For what,” he says, “if others appear better than you? What if they do greater things? For because you have become my disciples, will you for that reason enjoy the first places, if you yourselves do not prove worthy of the choice?” For that he himself is Lord of all is plain from the fact that he has all judgment. For he speaks so to Peter: “I will give you the keys of heaven.” And Paul too, making this plain, said, “Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.” And the appearing is that of Christ. And that no one will stand before Paul is plain to everyone. And if he said these things rather obscurely, do not be surprised. For by putting them off with a view to the dispensation, so that they might not trouble him idly and in vain about the first places (for they were suffering this from a human passion), and by not wishing to grieve them, he achieves both these things by the obscurity. “Then the ten were indignant at the two.” Then, when? When he rebuked them. For as long as the verdict was Christ’s, they were not indignant, but seeing them preferred, they acquiesced and were silent, out of respect and honor for the Teacher; and even if they were pained in mind, they did not dare to bring it into the open. And when they felt something human toward Peter too, when he paid the double drachma, they were not annoyed, but only asked, “Who then is greater?” But since here the request was the disciples’ own, they are indignant. And not even here are they indignant at once, when the two asked, but when Christ rebuked them and said that they would not enjoy the first places unless they made themselves worthy of them. [4] Do you see how imperfectly all were disposed, both these, rising up against the ten, and those, envying the two? But, as I said, show them to me afterward, and you will see them freed from all these passions. Hear, at any rate, how this very John, who now came about these things, everywhere yields the first place to Peter, both when he preaches and when he works miracles in the Acts of the Apostles. And he does not hide his achievements, but tells of his confession too, which he made when all were silent, and of his entering the tomb, and he sets the apostle before himself. For since both remained with him when he was being crucified, cutting short his own praise, he says, “That disciple was known to the high priest.” And James did not live long; but from the beginning he was so fired, and leaving all human things ran up to so unspeakable a height, that he was slain at once. So in every respect they afterward became supreme. But at that time they were indignant. What then does Christ do? “Calling them to him, he says, ‘The rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them.’” For since they were disturbed and troubled, he calms them by calling them before he speaks, and by drawing them near to him. For the two had broken away from the band of the ten and stood nearer, talking privately. For this reason he brings these too near, both by this very act and by making a show of what had been said and bringing it out to the others, soothing the passion both of these and of those. And he does not check them now as before. For before he brings little children into the middle and bids them imitate their simplicity and lowliness; but here he shames them more sharply from the opposite, saying, “The rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great exercise authority over them; but it shall not be so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you, let him be the servant of all, and whoever wishes to be first, let him be last of all,” showing that this sort of thing, loving the first places, belongs to the Gentiles. For the passion is tyrannical, and continually troubles even great men; for this reason it needs a sharper blow. Therefore he too reaches deeper into them, shaming their inflamed soul by the comparison with the Gentiles, and cuts short the envy of the one group and the arrogance of the other, all but saying, “Do not be indignant as though insulted. For those who seek the first places in this way harm and disgrace themselves most of all; for they are among the last. For things with us are not like things outside. For the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them; but with me the last, he is first. And that I do not say these things idly, take the proof of what has been said from what I do and suffer. For I have done something even more. For though I am King of the powers above, I willed to become man, and accepted being despised and insulted. And I was not content even with these things, but went even to death.” That is why he says, “Just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” “For I did not stop even at that,” he says, “but gave even my life as a ransom; and for whom? For enemies. And if you are humbled, it is for yourself; but I for … Do not be afraid, then, as though your honor were being pulled down. For however much you humble yourself, you cannot go down as far as your Master. Yet this descent of his became the ascent of all, and made his glory shine forth. For before he became man he was known to angels only; but when he became man and was crucified, not only did he not diminish that glory, but he took on another as well, that which comes from the knowledge of the world.” Do not be afraid, then, as though your honor were being pulled down, if you humble yourself; for by this your glory is rather exalted, by this it becomes greater. This is the door of the kingdom. Let us not, then, go the opposite way, nor make war on ourselves. For if we wish to appear great, we shall not be great, but even more dishonored than all. Do you see how everywhere he urges them on from the opposite, giving them what they desire? For in what went before we showed this in many instances; and with the lovers of money and the vainglorious he did the same. “For why,” he says, “do you show mercy before men? To enjoy glory? Then do not do so, and you will certainly enjoy it. Why do you lay up treasure? To be rich? Then do not lay up treasure, and you will be rich.” So here too: why do you love the first places? To be before the others? Then choose the last rank, and then you will enjoy the first places. So if you wish to become great, do not seek to become great, and then you will be great. For that other thing is to be small.

Do you see how he led them away from the disease, by showing that by the one way they fall short and by the other they obtain, so that they may flee the one and pursue the other? And he reminded them of the Gentiles for this reason, so that in this way too he might show the thing to be shameful and abominable. For the arrogant man must be low, and on the contrary the humble-minded man lofty. For this is the true and genuine height, which consists not in name only, nor in a title. And the outward kind is of necessity and fear; this resembles God’s. Such a man, even if admired by no one, remains lofty; just as that other, even if courted by all, is lower than all. And the one honor is by necessity, which is why it easily ebbs away; but the other is by choice, which is why it remains firm. For this reason we admire the saints too, because, being greater than all, they humbled themselves more than all. That is why to this day they remain lofty, and not even death brought that height down. And if you wish, let us examine this by reasoning too. A man is said to be high either when he is so by the length of his body or when he happens to stand on a high place; and low likewise from the opposite. Let us see, then, which is such, the boaster or the modest man, so that you may see that nothing is higher than humility and nothing lower than boastfulness. The boaster wishes to be greater than all, and says that no one is worthy of him, and whatever honor he obtains, he loves and clings to more, and thinks he has obtained none; and he spits on men, and longs for honor from them: what could be more irrational than this? For it is like a riddle: from those whom he counts as nothing he wishes to be glorified. Do you see how the one who wishes to be lifted up falls down and stands on the ground? For that he thinks all men nothing compared with himself, he himself declares; for this is boastfulness. Why then do you fall before one who is nothing? Why do you seek honor from him? Why do you lead such crowds about? Do you see a low man standing on a low place? Come then, let us examine the lofty man. He knows how great a thing man is, and that man is a great thing, and that he himself is last of all; and for this reason whatever honor he enjoys, he counts it great. So this man is consistent with himself, and is lofty, and does not change his verdict; for those whom he thinks great, he considers the honors from them great as well, even if they happen to be small, because he thinks those men great. But the boaster considers those who honor him nothing, yet judges the honors from them great. Again, the humble man is caught by no passion: anger will not be able to trouble him, nor love of glory, nor malice, nor jealousy; and what could be loftier than a soul freed from these? But the arrogant man is held fast by all of them, like a worm rolling in mud; for jealousy and malice and anger continually trouble his soul. Who then is lofty? The one above the passions, or their slave? The one who trembles at them and fears them, or the one who is unconquerable and in no way caught by them? Which bird would we say flies higher: the one that is above the hands and the reeds of the fowler, or the one that does not even let the fowler need a reed, because it flies on the ground and can never rise aloft? Such then is the arrogant man; for every snare catches him easily, since he creeps on the ground.

And if you wish, examine this also from that wicked demon. For what could be lower than the devil, since he was lifted up? And what higher than a man who wishes to humble himself? For the one is dragged on the ground, lying under our heel (“for you tread,” he says, “upon serpents and scorpions”), while the other stands above with the angels. And if you wish to learn this from proud men too, think of that barbarian who led so great an army, who did not know even what is plain to all, for example that the stone was a stone and the idols idols; and so he was lower even than these. But the godly and faithful rise even above the sun: what could be loftier than they, who pass beyond the very vaults of heaven, and going past the angels stand beside the royal throne itself? And that you may learn their meanness from another side too: who would be brought low, the one who is helped by God or the one who is warred against by him? Plainly the one who is warred against. Hear then what Scripture says about each of these: “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” Again I will ask you something else. Who is loftier: the one who serves as priest to God and offers sacrifice, or the one who is far from boldness toward him? “And what sacrifice does the humble man offer?” someone says. Hear David saying, “The sacrifice to God is a broken spirit; a broken and humbled heart God will not despise.” Do you see the purity of the one? See also the uncleanness of the other: “For everyone who is high-hearted is unclean before God.” Besides these things, the one has God resting upon him (“For on whom will I look,” he says, “but on the meek and quiet, and the one who trembles at my words?”), while the other is dragged along with the devil; for the one who is puffed up will suffer what the devil suffered. That is why Paul said, “lest, being puffed up, he fall into the condemnation of the devil.” And the opposite of what he wishes happens to him. For he wishes to be arrogant in order to be honored; but he is the most despised of all. For the ridiculous, those who are enemies and foes to all, those easily overcome by their enemies, those quick to fall into anger, those unclean before God: these are such above all. What then could be worse than this? For this is the limit of evils. But what is sweeter than the humble? What more blessed, when they are longed for and beloved by God? And they enjoy the glory that comes from men too above all; and all honor them as fathers, embrace them as brothers, receive them as their own members. Let us become humble, then, so that we may become lofty. For arrogance humbles a man to excess. This humbled Pharaoh. “For I do not know the Lord,” he says; and he became worse than gnats and frogs and caterpillars, and after this was drowned with his very weapons and horses. Abraham was the opposite of him: “But I,” he says, “am earth and ashes”; and he overcame countless barbarians, and falling into the midst of the Egyptians, he came back bearing a trophy more glorious than before; and holding fast to this virtue, he became ever loftier. That is why he is sung everywhere, why he is crowned and proclaimed; while Pharaoh is earth and ashes, and anything lower than these. For God turns away from nothing so much as pride. For this reason from the beginning he did all things to take away this passion. For this reason we have become mortal, and live in griefs and lamentations; for this reason in toil and sweat and continual, wretched labor. For the first man sinned from arrogance, expecting equality with God. For this reason he did not keep even what he had, but fell from these things too. For such is arrogance: not only does it add to us no achievement in life, but it cuts off what we have; just as humility not only cuts off nothing of what we have, but adds what we do not have. Let us, then, emulate this, let us pursue this, so that we may both enjoy the present honor and obtain the glory to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father be glory, might, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And as they were going out from Jericho, great crowds followed him. And behold, two blind men sitting by the road, hearing that Jesus was passing by, cried out, saying, ‘Have mercy on us, Lord, Son of David.’” See from where he came to Jerusalem, and where he spent his time before this; which seems to me especially worth inquiring into: why he did not, earlier too, go away from there into Galilee, but through Samaria. But this we shall leave to the studious. For if anyone wished to examine it exactly, he will find that John hinted at it well and set down the reason. Let us hold to what is before us, and hear these blind men, who were better than many who see. For having neither someone to lead them nor the ability to see him when he came near, they nevertheless strove to come to him, and began to cry out with a loud voice, and when silenced they shouted the more. For such is a persevering soul: it is raised up by the very things that hinder it. And Christ allowed them to be silenced, so that their eagerness might appear the greater, and that you might learn that they deservedly obtained the healing. That is why he does not even ask, “Do you believe?” as he does with many; for their cry and their approach were enough to make their faith plain to all. Learn from this, beloved, that even if we are very lowly and cast off, but come to God with earnestness, we shall be able by ourselves to accomplish whatever we ask. See, at any rate, how these men too, having none of the apostles as advocate, but even many who silenced them, were able to overcome the hindrances and come to Jesus himself. And yet the evangelist bears witness to no boldness of life in them; but their eagerness sufficed them instead of everything. Let us too, then, emulate these men. Even if God puts off the gift, even if many draw us away, let us not stop asking. For in this way above all shall we draw God to us. See, at any rate, here too how neither poverty, nor blindness, nor not being heard, nor being rebuked by the crowds, nor anything else hindered their intense eagerness. Such is a soul that is fervent and in distress. What then does Christ do? “He called them and said, ‘What do you wish me to do for you?’ They say to him, ‘Lord, that our eyes may be opened.’” Why does he ask them? So that no one might think that he gives one thing to those who wish to receive another. For it is his custom everywhere first to make plain and reveal to all the virtue of those who are being healed, and then to apply the cure: for one reason, to lead the others to emulation; for another, to show that they deservedly enjoy the gift. This at any rate he did in the case of the Canaanite woman, this in the case of the centurion, this in the case of the woman with the flow of blood; or rather, that wonderful woman even anticipated the Master’s question, yet even so he did not pass her by, but after the cure makes her plain to all. So earnest was he everywhere to proclaim the good deeds of those who came to him, and to show them much greater than they were; which he does here too. Then, when they had said what they wished, moved with compassion he touched them. For this alone is the cause of the healing, the cause for which he also came into the world. But even though it was mercy and grace, it seeks the worthy. And that they were worthy is plain both from their crying out and from their not leaping away after receiving, as many do, being ungrateful after their benefits. But those men were not such, but both persevering before the gift and grateful after the gift; for they followed him. “And when he drew near to Jerusalem and came to Bethphage, to the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying, ‘Go into the village opposite you, and you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. And if anyone says anything to you, you shall say, “The Lord has need of them,” and at once he will send them.’ This took place so that what was spoken through the prophet Zechariah might be fulfilled: ‘Say to the daughter of Zion, Behold, your king comes to you, gentle, and mounted on a donkey and a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.’” And yet he had often gone up to Jerusalem before, but never with such conspicuousness. What then is the reason? Then it was the beginning of the dispensation; and he himself was not yet very well known, nor was the time of his Passion near. For this reason he mingled with them more indifferently, and rather hid himself. For he would not have been marveled at if he had appeared so, and he would have provoked them to greater anger. But since he had given sufficient proof of his power, and the cross was at the doors, he now shines forth the more, and does with greater conspicuousness all the things that were going to inflame them. For it was possible for this to happen at the beginning too, but it was not useful nor profitable so. But see, I pray you, how many miracles take place and how many prophecies are fulfilled. He said, “You will find a donkey”; he foretold that no one would hinder them, but that on hearing they would be silent. And this is no small condemnation of the Jews, if he persuades people who had never known him nor seen him to give up their own property and say nothing against it, and that through his disciples; while these men, though present when he worked miracles, were not persuaded.

And do not think what happened a small thing. For what persuaded them, when they were being deprived of their own property, and these perhaps poor men and farmers, not to object? I say not to object; not to ask, or after asking to be silent and give way? For both were equally wonderful: whether they said nothing while the beasts were being led off, or whether, having spoken and heard that “the Lord has need of them,” they gave way and did not resist, and that though they did not see him but only the disciples. By these things he teaches them that he could also have prevented the Jews against their will when they were about to attack him, and have struck them dumb, but he did not wish to. And besides these he teaches the disciples another thing: to give whatever he asks, even if he bids them give up their very life, to give this too and not object. For if those unknown to him gave way, much more must they surrender everything. And besides what has been said, he was also fulfilling another twofold prophecy, the one by deeds, the other by words. The one by deeds was the sitting on the donkey; the one by words was the prophecy of Zechariah, for he said that the king would sit upon a donkey. And having sat and fulfilled it, he again gave a beginning of another prophecy, foreshadowing what was to come by what he did. How and in what way? He proclaimed beforehand the calling of the unclean Gentiles, and that he would rest upon them, and that they would yield to him and follow; and prophecy succeeded prophecy. But it seems to me that he sat on the donkey not for this reason only, but also giving us a measure of philosophy. For he not only fulfilled prophecies and planted the doctrines of truth, but also corrected our life by these very things, everywhere setting us rules for what is necessary, and setting our life right by all things. For this reason too, when he was to be born, he did not seek a splendid house, nor a rich and distinguished mother, but a poor one, betrothed to a carpenter; and he is born in a hut and laid in a manger. And in choosing disciples he chose not orators and wise men, nor the wealthy and well-born, but poor men and sons of poor men, obscure in every way. And when he set a table, sometimes he set barley loaves, sometimes he bade the disciples buy from the market at the moment itself. And making a bed, he makes it of grass; and putting on garments, he wears cheap ones, differing in nothing from those of the many; and a house he did not even have. And if he had to pass from place to place, he does it on foot, and so walking that he even grows weary. And when sitting he needs no throne nor cushion, but sits on the ground, sometimes on the mountain, sometimes by the well; and not only by the well, but alone too, and talks with the Samaritan woman. Again, setting limits to grief, when he had to mourn, he weeps quietly, everywhere, as I said, fixing rules and bounds, how far one must go and no further. For this reason now too, since it happened that some, being weaker, needed beasts to ride, he sets a measure here too, showing that one must not ride harnessed horses or mules, but use a donkey, and go no further, but keep everywhere to what is needful. But let us see the prophecy too, that by words and that by deeds. What then is the prophecy? “Behold, your king comes to you, gentle, mounted on a beast of burden and a young colt”: not driving chariots like the other kings, not demanding tribute, not making a show and leading bodyguards about, but displaying great gentleness here too. Ask the Jew, then: what king came into Jerusalem riding on a donkey? He could name none but this one alone. And he did these things, as I said, foreshowing the things to come. For here the church is indicated by the colt, and the new people, once unclean, but made clean once Jesus sat upon it. And see the image preserved throughout. The disciples untie the beasts; for through the apostles both they and we were called, through the apostles we were brought near. And since our approved state provoked them to jealousy, for this reason the donkey is seen following the colt. For after Christ has sat upon the Gentiles, then they too will come, being provoked to jealousy. And Paul, making this plain, said that “a hardening has come upon Israel in part, until the fullness of the Gentiles has come in; and so all Israel will be saved.” For that it was a prophecy is plain from what has been said; for the prophet would not have troubled to tell of the donkey’s youth with such exactness if this were not so. And not only are these things shown by what has been said, but also that the apostles will lead them with ease. For as here no one objected to their taking them, so in the case of the Gentiles too no one of those who held them was able to hinder them. And he does not sit on the bare colt, but on the garments of the apostles. For since they had taken the colt, they now give up everything, as Paul too said, “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls.” And consider the docility of the colt: how, though untamed and without experience of the bridle, it did not leap about, but went along in good order. This too was a prophecy of what was to come, showing the ready obedience of the Gentiles and their sudden change to good order. For the word that said, “Untie them and bring them to me,” accomplished everything, so that the disorderly became orderly and the unclean thereafter clean. [3] But see the meanness of the Jews. He worked so many miracles, and they were never so astonished at him; but when they saw a crowd running together, then they marvel. “For the whole city was shaken, saying, ‘Who is this?’ And the crowds said, ‘This is Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth of Galilee.’” And when they thought they were saying something great, even then their opinion was grovelling, low and mean. And he did these things not to make a show of some pageant, but at once, as I said, both fulfilling prophecy and teaching philosophy, and at the same time consoling the disciples who were grieved over his death, and showing that he suffers all these things willingly. And marvel, I pray you, at the exactness of the prophet, how he foretold everything; and some things David, others Zechariah proclaimed beforehand. Let us too, then, do likewise, and sing hymns, and give up our garments to those who carry him. For of what shall we be worthy, when some put their garments on the donkey on which he sat, and others spread them under its feet, while we, seeing him naked, and not even bidden to strip ourselves but to spend from what we have laid by, are not generous even so? And they accompany him before and behind, while we even send him away when he comes to us, and repel him, and insult him. Of how great punishment are these things worthy, how great vengeance? Your Master comes to you in need, and you do not even wish to hear his supplication, but you accuse and rebuke him, and that though you have heard such words. And if in giving one loaf and a little silver you are so mean and careless and slow, if you had to empty out everything, what would you have become? Do you not see the open-handed men in the theater, how much they throw away on harlots? But you do not give even half of that, often not even the smallest part. But the devil bids you give to whoever comes, bringing you Gehenna, and you give; Christ bids you give to the needy, promising the kingdom, and not only do you not give, but you even insult, and choose rather to obey the devil and be punished than to be persuaded by Christ and be saved. And what could be worse than this madness? The one brings Gehenna, the other the kingdom; and leaving the latter you run to the former. And the one who comes to you you send away, while the one who is far off you call to you. And it is the same as if a king, wearing purple and holding out a diadem, did not persuade, while a robber, brandishing a sword and threatening death, did persuade. Considering these things, then, beloved, let us at last, though late, look up and come to our senses. For I am now ashamed to speak of almsgiving, because though I have often spoken on this subject, I have accomplished nothing worthy of the exhortation. Something more has come of it, but not so much as I wished. For I see you sowing, but not with a generous hand. That is why I fear that you may also reap sparingly. For that we sow sparingly, let us examine, if you please, who are more numerous in the city, the poor or the rich, and who are neither poor nor rich but hold the middle place. For example, a tenth part are rich, and a tenth are poor who have nothing at all, and the rest are of the middle class. Let us then divide the whole multitude of the city among the needy, and you will see how great the shame is. For the very rich are few, and those next to them many; again, the poor far fewer than these. Yet, though there are so many able to feed the hungry, many go to sleep hungry, not because those who have cannot easily supply them, but because of their great cruelty and inhumanity. For if the rich and those next to them divided among themselves those who need bread and clothing, scarcely one poor person would fall to the share of fifty or even a hundred men. Yet even with such an abundance of people to provide for them, they lament every day. And that you may learn their inhumanity: the church, which has the revenue of one of the lowest of the wealthy, and of those not very rich, consider how many widows it supports every day, how many virgins; for the list of them has reached the number of three thousand. Besides these, it supports those who live in prison, the sick in the hostel, the healthy, those who are traveling, those maimed in body, those who wait at the altar for food and clothing, and those who simply come to it every day; and its substance has not been diminished at all. So that if only ten men were willing to spend in this way, there would be no …

“And what,” someone says, “were our children going to inherit?” The capital would have remained, and the revenue would have become greater, since your possessions would be laid up in heaven for them. But you do not wish it so? Then at least give from a half, or a third part, or a fourth, or a tenth. For by the grace of God our city could feed the poor of ten cities. And if you wish, let us make some reckoning of these things; or rather there is not even need of reckoning, for the ease of the thing is plain at once. See, at any rate, how much one household often spends without hesitation on public liturgies, and does not even feel the expense a little; and if each of the rich were willing to perform this liturgy for the poor, in a brief moment he would seize heaven. What pardon, then, could there be, what shadow of a defense, when we do not share with the needy even what we are certainly going to leave when we are taken away from here, with as much generosity as others show to those on the stage, and that when we are going to reap so much from it? For even if we were here forever, we ought not to be so sparing of this noble expense; but when a little later we are taken away from here and dragged naked from everything, what defense shall we have for not supplying even from our revenues those who are starving and choking? For I do not compel you to diminish your possessions; not because I do not wish it, but because I see you very reluctant. So I do not say this; but spend from the fruits, and lay up nothing from them. It is enough for you to have the money of your revenues flowing in as from a spring; make the poor your partners, and become a good steward of what God has given you. “But I pay taxes,” someone says. Do you therefore despise this because here no one demands it? And to that one, who takes by compulsion and torture whether the land yields or does not yield, you do not dare to object; but to the one so gentle, who demands only when the land has yielded, you do not even answer a word? And who will rescue you from those unbearable punishments? There is no one. For if, because the harshest penalty will certainly follow if you do not pay, you become zealous in paying, consider that here too the penalty is harsher: not to be bound, nor to fall into prison, but to depart into the eternal fire. On every account, then, let us pay these taxes first. For the ease is great, and the reward greater, and the profit more, and the punishment worse if we are ungrateful; for a punishment follows that has no end. And if you speak to me of the soldiers who fight the barbarians on your behalf, here too there is an army, that of the poor, and a war which the poor fight on your behalf. For when they receive, by praying they make God gracious; and making him gracious, they repel, instead of barbarians, the plots of the demons; they do not allow the wicked one to be violent, nor to attack continually, but they weaken his strength.

Seeing, then, these soldiers boxing every day with the devil on your behalf by their petitions and prayers, demand of yourself this noble contribution, their food. For this King, being gentle, has not given you men to exact it, but wishes you to pay it willingly; and if you pay little by little, he accepts it; and if, being in difficulty, you pay over a long time, he does not press the one who does not have. Let us not, then, despise his long-suffering, but lay up for ourselves not wrath but salvation, not death but life, not punishment and vengeance but honors and crowns. Here there is no fee to pay for carrying the contributions; here there is no toil in converting them into money. If you pay them in, he himself transfers them to heaven; the Master himself makes your business more profitable for you. Here there is no need to find an escort for what is paid in; only pay it, and at once it goes up, not so that other soldiers may be fed, but so that it may remain for you with great profit. For here, what you give you cannot take back; but there you will receive it again with great honor, and you will gain greater and more spiritual gains. Here what is given is an exaction; there it is a loan, a credit and a debt. For God has made you bonds: “For he who has mercy on a poor man,” it says, “lends to God.” He has given you also a pledge and sureties, though he is God. What pledge? The things in the present life, both the visible and the spiritual, the firstfruits of the things to come. Why then do you delay and hesitate, when you have already received so much and expect so much? For what you have received are these: he himself fashioned your body; he himself placed the soul in you; he honored you with reason alone of the things on earth; he gave you the use of all you see; he granted you knowledge of himself; he gave his Son for you; he bestowed baptism, full of so many good things; he gave you a holy table; he promised a kingdom and the unspeakable good things. Having received so much, then, and being about to receive so much (for I will say the same thing again), are you petty about money that perishes? And what pardon will you have? But you look, no doubt, to your children, and on their account you draw back. Then teach them too to make such gains. For if you had money lent out and bearing interest, and the debtor were honest, you would ten thousand times rather leave the bond to your child than the gold, so that the revenues might be many for him, and he might not be compelled to go about persuading others to borrow. So now too give this bond to your children, and leave God to them as their debtor. You do not sell your fields and give the money to your children, but you leave them, so that the revenue may remain and the increase of the money may become greater for them from it; and this bond, richer than any field and revenue, bearing so much fruit, this you are afraid to leave? And how great a foolishness and madness this would be! And that though you know that even if you leave it to them, you yourself will also take it with you when you depart. For such are spiritual things: they have great munificence. Let us not, then, make ourselves poor, nor be inhuman and cruel toward ourselves, but let us carry on this noble business, so that we may both take it with us when we depart and leave it to our sons, and obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“… Jesus into the temple, and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those selling the doves; and he says to them, ‘It is written, “My house shall be called a house of prayer”; but you have made it a den of robbers.’” John too says this; but he at the beginning of the Gospel, this one toward the end. Hence it is likely that this happened twice, and at different times. And this is plain both from the times and from the answer. For there he came at the Passover itself, but here long before. And there the Jews say, “What sign do you show us?” but here they are silent, though rebuked, because he was already admired by all. And this is a greater charge against the Jews, that though he did this once and twice, they still persisted in their trading, and said he was an enemy of God, when they ought to have learned from this his honor for the Father and his own power. For he also worked miracles, and they saw his words agreeing with his deeds. But even so they were not persuaded, but were indignant, and that though they heard the prophet crying out, and the children, beyond the capacity of their age, proclaiming him. Therefore he too sets Isaiah against them as an accuser, saying, “My house shall be called a house of prayer.” And not only by this does he show his authority, but also by healing various diseases. “For the lame and the blind came to him, and he healed them”; and he displays both his power and his authority. But they were not persuaded even so; rather, along with the other miracles, hearing the children too proclaiming him, they were choking with rage, and they say, “Do you not hear what these are saying?” And yet it was for Christ to say this to them: “Do you not hear what these are saying?” For they were hymning him as God. What then does he do? Since they spoke against what was plain, he uses a sharper correction, saying, “Have you never read, ‘Out of the mouth of infants and nursing babes you have prepared praise’?” And well did he say “out of the mouth.” For what was said was not from their understanding, but from his power giving articulate sound to their unripe tongue. And this was also a type of the Gentiles, who lisped and suddenly sounded forth great things with understanding and faith. And for the apostles too there was no small encouragement from this. For lest they should be perplexed how, being unlettered, they would be able to proclaim the preaching, the children, going before, cast out all their anxiety, showing that the one who made these sing hymns would give them speech too. And not in this way only, but the miracle also showed that he is the Creator of nature. The children, then, though of unripe age, uttered things clear and in harmony with those above; but the men things full of folly and madness. For such is wickedness. Since, then, many things were provoking them (the crowds, the driving out of the sellers, the miracles, the children), he leaves them again, relaxing the swelling of their passion, and not wishing to begin teaching, lest, boiling with envy, they should be still more annoyed at what was said. “And in the morning, as he was returning to the city, he was hungry.” How is he hungry in the morning? When he allowed it to the flesh, then he shows its weakness. “And seeing a fig tree by the road, he came to it, and found nothing on it but leaves only.” Another evangelist says that “it was not yet the season.” But if it was not the season, how does another evangelist say that he came “to see if perhaps he would find fruit on it”? From this it is plain that this was the supposition of the disciples, who were still in a rather imperfect state. For the evangelists often record the suppositions of the disciples. As, then, this was their supposition, so too was the thinking that he cursed it for this reason, because it had no fruit. Why then was it cursed? For the sake of the disciples, so that they might take courage. For since everywhere he did good and punished no one, but he had also to give proof of his power to punish, so that both the disciples and the Jews might learn that, though able to wither those who were crucifying him, he willingly allows them and does not wither them; and since he did not wish to show this on men, he gave the proof of his punishing power on the plant. And when anything of this kind happens to places, or plants, or irrational creatures, do not be overexact, nor say, “How then was the fig tree justly withered, if it was not the season?” For to say this is the utmost nonsense; but look at the miracle, and marvel, and glorify the worker of miracles. For in the case of the swine that were drowned, too, many have said this, exercising the question of justice; but here too one must not heed them; for those also were irrational, as this was a soulless plant. Why then is such a form given to the event, and this pretext of the curse? As I said, this was the supposition of the disciples. And if it was not yet the season, some say idly that the law is indicated here. For the fruit of this was faith, and then was the season of this fruit, and it bore it at any rate. “For the fields are already white for harvest,” he says; and, “I sent you to reap what you have not labored for.”

He is not hinting, then, at any of these things here, but, as I said, he displays his power to punish; and he shows this by saying, “For it was not yet the season,” making plain that he came to it chiefly for this purpose, not because of hunger but because of the disciples, who were greatly astonished, though many greater signs had already been done. But, as I said, this was something strange; for now for the first time he displayed his power to punish. That is why he did the miracle not on another plant but on the most succulent of all, so that in this way too the miracle might appear greater. And that you may learn that this happened for their sake, to anoint them for courage, hear what he says next. What does he say? “You too will do greater things, if you are willing to believe and to be confident in prayer.” Do you see that the whole happened for their sake, so that they might not fear and tremble at plots? That is why he says this a second time, fastening them to prayer and faith. “For you will not only do this,” he says, “but you will also move mountains and do many other things, confident in faith and prayer.” But the boastful and puffed-up Jews, wishing to interrupt his teaching, came to him and asked, “By what authority do you do these things?” For since they could not find fault with the signs, they bring up against him the correction of those who were trading in the temple. And in John they are seen asking this too, if not in these words, yet with the same intent. For there they say, “What sign do you show us, that you do these things?” But there he answers them, saying, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up”; while here he throws them into perplexity. From which it is plain that then it was the beginning and prelude of the miracles, but here the end. And what they say is this: “Have you received the teacher’s chair? Were you ordained priest, that you have displayed so great authority?” And yet he had done nothing presumptuous, but had provided for the good order of the temple; yet, having nothing to say, they find fault with this. And when he drove them out, they did not dare to say anything, because of the miracles; but when he was seen, then they rebuke him. What then does he do? He does not answer them directly, showing that if they had wished to see his authority, they could have; but he asks them in turn, saying, “The baptism of John, where was it from? From heaven or from men?” And what is the connection? A very great one. For if they had said “from heaven,” he would have said to them, “Why then did you not believe him?” For if they had believed, they would not have asked these things. For about him John said, “I am not worthy to untie the strap of his sandal”; and, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world”; and, “This is the Son of God”; and, “He who comes from above is above all”; and that “his winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor.” So if they had believed him, nothing would have prevented them from knowing by what authority he does these things. Then, since they said maliciously, “We do not know,” he did not say, “Neither do I know,” but what? “Neither do I tell you.” For if they had been ignorant, they ought to have been taught; but since they were acting maliciously, he reasonably answers them nothing. And why did they not say that John’s baptism was from men? “They feared the crowds,” it says. Do you see a perverted heart? Everywhere they despise God and do everything for the sake of men. For they feared this man too for their sake, not respecting the man but on account of men; and they would not believe in Christ on account of men; and from this all their evils were born. Then he says, “What do you think? A man had two sons; and he says to the first, ‘Go, work today in the vineyard.’ And he answered and said, ‘I will not’; but afterward he repented and went. And coming to the second, he said the same. And he answered and said, ‘I go, sir,’ and did not go. Which of the two did his father’s will?” They say, “The first.” Again he convicts them by parables, hinting at their ingratitude and at the ready obedience of those who were utterly condemned. For these two children show what happened in the case of the Gentiles and of the Jews. For those, without promising to obey, without becoming hearers of the law, showed their obedience by deeds; while these, having said, “All that God says we will do and hear,” disobeyed by their deeds. For this reason, lest they should think that the law benefits them, he shows that this very thing condemns them; as Paul too says, that “not the hearers of the law are righteous before God, but the doers of the law will be justified.” For this reason, to make them self-condemned, he arranges for the verdict to be brought out by themselves, as he also does in the following parable of the vineyard. [3] And so that this may happen, he works out the charge on another person. For since they would not confess directly, he brings them by a parable to what he wished. And when, not understanding what was said, they had brought out the verdict, then he uncovers what was veiled, and says, “The tax collectors and the harlots go before you into the kingdom of heaven. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him; but the tax collectors believed him; and you, even when you saw it, did not repent afterward and believe him.” For if he had said simply, “Harlots go before you,” the saying would have seemed offensive to them; but as it is, declaring it after their own verdict, it seems inoffensive. For this reason he adds the cause too. And what was this? “John came,” he says, “to you,” not to them; and not this only, but “in the way of righteousness.” “For you cannot accuse him of this either, that he was a careless person who did no good; but his life was blameless, and his care great, and you did not heed him.” And besides this there is another charge, that tax collectors heeded him; and besides this again another, that not even after them did you. For you ought to have done so even before them; but not to do so even after them was deprived of all pardon; and the praise of those was unspeakable, and the accusation of these. He came to you, and you did not receive him; he did not come to them, and they received him; and you did not even take them as teachers. See by how many things the praise of those is shown, and the accusation of these. He came to you, not to them. You did not believe; this did not scandalize them. They believed; this did not help you. And “go before” is said not as though these were following, but as though they had hope, if they were willing. For nothing rouses the duller sort like jealousy. That is why he always says, “The first will be last, and the last first.” That is why he brought forward harlots and tax collectors, so that they might provoke them to jealousy. For these two are the extreme sins, born of a grievous passion, the one from desire of bodies, the other from desire of money. And he shows that this above all is to hear the law of God, to believe John. It is not of grace alone, then, that harlots enter, but also of righteousness. For they did not enter remaining harlots, but having obeyed and believed and been cleansed and changed, so they entered. Do you see how he made his saying inoffensive and yet more cutting, by the parable, by the bringing in of the harlots? For he did not say at once, “Why did you not believe John?” but, what was far more stinging, after setting the tax collectors and harlots before them, then he added this, convicting by the sequence of events their unpardonable conduct, and showing that they do everything from fear of men and vainglory. For they would not confess Christ from fear, lest they should be put out of the synagogue; and again they did not dare to speak ill of John, and this not from reverence but from fear. All of which he exposed by what he said, and afterward added a harsher blow, saying, “And you, even when you saw it, did not repent afterward and believe him.” For it is bad not to choose the good at the beginning; but it is a greater charge not even to change one’s mind. For this above all makes many wicked, which I see some suffering now too from extreme insensibility. But let no one be such; rather, even if he has sunk to the depth of wickedness, let him not despair of a change for the better. For it is easy to come up even from the very pits of wickedness. Or have you not heard how that harlot, who surpassed all in licentiousness, outshone all in piety? I do not mean the one in the Gospels, but the one in our own generation, from Phoenicia, that most lawless city. For she was once a harlot among us, holding the first place on the stage, and her name was great everywhere, not in our city only, but as far as the Cilicians and Cappadocians. And she emptied many estates and caught many orphans; and many accused her of sorcery too, as weaving those nets not by the beauty of her body only but also by drugs. She once captured even the brother of the empress, this harlot; for great was her tyranny. But suddenly, I know not how (or rather I know clearly; for she willed it and was changed, and drew to herself the grace of God), she despised all those things, and casting off the devil’s enchantments, ran up to heaven. And yet nothing was more shameful than she when she was on the stage; yet afterward many … she practiced asceticism in this way all her time. For her sake even the prefect was troubled, and soldiers were armed, and they were not able to bring her back to the stage, nor to take her away from the virgins who had received her. She, having been counted worthy of the unspeakable mysteries, and having shown an earnestness worthy of the grace, so ended her life, having washed away everything through grace, and after baptism having shown great philosophy. For she did not grant even the mere sight of herself to her former lovers who came for this, shutting herself up, and spending many years as in a prison. So the last will be first and the first last; so everywhere we need a fiery soul, and nothing prevents one from becoming great and wonderful.

Let no one, then, who is in wickedness despair; let no one who is in virtue grow drowsy. Let not the latter be overconfident, for often the harlot will pass him; nor let the former despair, for it is possible for him to pass even the first. Hear what God says to Jerusalem: “I said, after she had done all these things, ‘Return to me’; and she did not return.” When we return to the ardent love of God, he does not remember what went before. God is not like a man; for he does not reproach us with what is past, nor say, if we repent, “Why were you away so long?” But he loves us when we come to him; only let us come as we ought. Let us cleave to him intensely, and nail our hearts to his fear. Such things have happened not only in the New Testament but also in the Old. For what was worse than Manasseh? Yet he was able to propitiate God. What was more blessed than Solomon? Yet growing drowsy he fell. Or rather I can show both happening in one man, in the father of this one; for the same man became both good and evil at one time. What was more blessed than Judas? Yet he became a traitor. What was more wretched than Matthew? Yet he became an evangelist. What was worse than Paul? Yet he became an apostle. What was more enviable than Simon? Yet he too became more wretched than all. How many other such changes do you wish to see, both those that happened of old and those happening every day now? For this reason I say: let neither the one on the stage despair, nor the one in the church be overconfident. For to the latter he says, “Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall”; and to the former, “Does not the one who falls rise up?” and, “Lift up the drooping hands and the paralyzed knees.” Again, to these he says, “Watch”; but to those, “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead.” For these need to keep what they have, but those to become what they are not; these to preserve their health, those to be rid of their sickness, for they are ill. But many of the sick recover, and many of the healthy, growing careless, fall sick. To those, then, he says, “See, you have been made well; sin no more, lest something worse happen to you”; but to these, “Do you wish to become well? Rise, take up your bed, and go to your house.” For sin is a terrible, terrible paralysis; or rather it is not only paralysis but something even worse. For such a man is not only idle as to good things, but active in evil things. Yet even if you are so disposed, and are willing to rise up a little, all the terrors are dissolved. Even if you have been so for thirty-eight years, but are eager to become well, no one prevents you. Christ is present now too, and says, “Take up your bed”; only be willing to rise; do not despair. You have no man? But you have God. You have no one to put you into the pool? But you have the one who does not let you need a pool. You have no one to throw you in there? But you have the one who bids you take up your bed. You cannot say, “While I am coming, another goes down before me.” For if you wish to go down into the spring, there is no one to prevent you. Grace is not used up, it is not spent; it is a spring gushing forth continually; from its fullness we are all healed, both soul and body. Let us come to it, then, now too. For Rahab was a harlot, yet she was saved; and the robber was a murderer, yet he became a citizen of paradise; and Judas, being with the Teacher, perished, while the robber, being on a cross, became a disciple. These are God’s marvels. So the magi won approval; so the tax collector became an evangelist; so the blasphemer an apostle.

See these things, and never despair, but always take courage and rouse yourself. Only take hold of the road that leads there, and quickly you will … Do not shut the doors, do not block the road. The present time is short, the toil small. And even if it were great, not even so ought one to give up. For if you do not labor this noblest labor of repentance and virtue, you will certainly labor in the world and suffer hardship in another way. And if there is labor both here and there, why do we not choose this one, which has much fruit and a great recompense? And yet this labor and that are not even the same. For in worldly affairs there are continual dangers, and losses one after another, and uncertain hope, and much servility, and expense of money and bodies and soul; and then the return of the fruits falls far short of the hope, if indeed anything sprouts. For the sweat of worldly business does not everywhere bear fruit; but even when it does not fail, but bears a great crop, it lasts for a short time. For when you have grown old and no longer have an exact sense of enjoyment, then the toil brings you its rewards. And the toil is in a body at its prime, but the fruit and the luxury in one grown old and feeble, when time has withered even the senses; and even if it had not withered them, the expectation of death would not let you enjoy luxury. But there it is not so: the toil is in a corruptible and dying body, but the crown in one incorruptible and immortal and without end. And the toil is both first and short, but the recompense both later and infinite, so that you may rest thereafter in security, expecting nothing unpleasant. For there is no change to fear thereafter, nor fall, as here. What then are these goods, which are neither secure, but short and of clay, vanishing before they appear, and acquired with many toils? And what goods are equal to those, the immovable, the ageless, those that involve no hardship, those that bring you crowns even in the time of the contests? For the one who despises money receives his reward even from here, being freed from anxiety, malice, false accusation, plotting, envy. The one who is chaste and lives modestly is crowned and enjoys luxury even before his departure from here, being freed from disgrace, ridicule, dangers, accusation, and all the other terrors. And all the other parts of virtue likewise give us the recompense from here already. That we may obtain both the present and the future good things, then, let us flee wickedness and choose virtue. For so we shall both enjoy luxury here and obtain the crowns to come; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Hear another parable. There was a man, a householder, who planted a vineyard, and put a hedge around it, and dug a winepress in it, and built a tower; and he let it out to farmers and went abroad. And when the season of the fruits drew near, he sent his servants to receive the fruits. And the farmers took the servants, and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other servants, more than the first, and they did the same to them. Last of all he sent his son to them, saying, ‘Perhaps they will respect my son.’ But the farmers, seeing the son, said among themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and take his inheritance.’ And they cast him out of the vineyard and killed him. When then the lord of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those farmers? They say to him, ‘He will miserably destroy those miserable men, and will let out the vineyard to other farmers, who will render him the fruits in their seasons.’ Jesus says to them, ‘Have you never read in the Scriptures, “The stone which the builders rejected, this has become the head of the corner; this was from the Lord, and it is marvelous in our eyes”? Therefore I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken from you and given to a nation producing its fruits. And he who falls on this stone will be broken; but on whomever it falls, it will scatter him like dust.’” By this parable he hints at many things: God’s providence exercised toward them from of old; their murderousness from the beginning; that nothing belonging to care was left out; that even when the prophets had been slain he did not turn away from them, but sent even his Son; that the God of the New and of the Old is one and the same; that his death would accomplish great things; that they would undergo the utmost penalty for the cross and their daring; the calling of the Gentiles, the casting out of the Jews. That is why he places it after the former parable, to show from this too that the charge is greater and quite unpardonable. How and in what way? Because after receiving such great care, they were outdone by harlots and tax collectors, and that by so much. And see both his great providence and their unspeakable idleness. For what was the farmers’ part he did himself: putting the hedge around, planting the vineyard, and all the rest; and he left them a small thing, to take care of what was there and to keep what had been given. For nothing had been left out, but all was complete; and even so they made no profit, though they had enjoyed so much from him. For when they came out of Egypt, he both gave a law, and raised up a city, and built a temple, and prepared an altar. “And he went abroad”: that is, he was long-suffering, not always bringing punishments close on the heels of their sins; for by the going abroad he means his great long-suffering. “And he sent his servants,” that is, the prophets, “to receive the fruit,” that is, obedience, the display of it by works. But here too they showed their wickedness, not only by not giving the fruit after enjoying such care, which was the mark of idleness, but also by being enraged at those who came. For those who had nothing to give and were in debt ought not to have been indignant nor enraged, but to have entreated. But they were not only indignant, but even filled their hands with blood; and though they deserved punishment, they themselves exacted punishment. For this reason he sent both second and third servants, so that both their wickedness and the love for mankind of the one who sent might be shown. And why did he not send the Son at once? So that, coming to their senses from what had been done to those others, and laying aside their rage, they might respect him when he came. There are other reasons too, but meanwhile let us go on to what follows. What does “perhaps they will respect” mean? Not that he did not know (away with the thought!), but that he wished to show the sin to be great and stripped of every defense. For he sent knowing that they would kill him. And he says “they will respect,” declaring what ought to have happened, that they ought to have respected him. For elsewhere too he says, “if perhaps they will hear,” and there too not from ignorance; but lest some of the unreasonable should say that his prediction was the compelling cause of their disobedience, for this reason he shapes his expressions so, saying “if perhaps” and “perhaps.” For even if they had been ungrateful toward the servants, they ought to have respected the dignity of the Son. What then do they do? When they ought to have run to him, when they ought to have asked pardon for their offenses, they even outdo their former deeds, they strip for further pollutions, always hiding the former crimes by the later ones; which he himself, making plain, said, “Fill up the measure of your fathers.” For from of old the prophets brought these charges against them, saying, “Your hands are full of blood,” and, “They mingle blood with blood,” and, “Who build Zion with blood.” But they were not brought to their senses, though they had received this as the first commandment, “You shall not murder,” and had been bidden to abstain from countless other things for this reason, and were led by many and various means to keep this commandment. Yet they did not put away that evil habit; but what do they say on seeing him? “Come, let us kill him.” For what reason, and why? Having what to charge him with, small or great? That he honored you, and being God became man for your sake, and worked those countless miracles? That he forgave your sins? That he called you to a kingdom? See, together with the ungodliness, how great the folly is too, and the cause of the slaughter, full of great madness. “For let us kill him,” they say, “and the inheritance will be ours.” And where do they plan to kill him? Outside the vineyard.

Do you see how he prophesies even the place where he was to be slain? “And they cast him out and killed him.” And Luke says that he himself declared what those men must suffer, and they said, “God forbid!” and he brought in the testimony. “For looking at them he said, ‘What then is this that is written, “The stone which the builders rejected, this has become the head of the corner”? And everyone who falls upon it will be broken.’” But Matthew says that they themselves pronounced the verdict. But this is no contradiction. For both happened: they both pronounced the verdict against themselves, and again, perceiving what had been said, they said, “God forbid!” and he set the prophet against them, persuading them that this would certainly happen. Yet even so he did not reveal the Gentiles plainly, so as to give them no handle, but hinted at it, saying, “He will give the vineyard to others.” For this reason he spoke in a parable too, so that they themselves might pronounce the verdict; as happened also in the case of David, when he judged the parable of Nathan. And see from this too how just the verdict is, when those who are going to be punished condemn themselves. Then, so that they might learn that not only the nature of justice demanded these things, but that from of old the grace of the Spirit foretold them, and God so decreed, he both brought in a prophecy and rebukes them in a way to shame them, saying, “Have you never read that the stone which the builders rejected, this has become the head of the corner; this was from the Lord, and it is marvelous in our eyes?” showing by every means that they were going to be cast out for unbelief, and the Gentiles brought in. This he hinted at through the Canaanite woman, this through the donkey, through the centurion, through many other parables, and now too. That is why he added, “This was from the Lord, and it is marvelous in our eyes,” declaring beforehand that the believing Gentiles, and as many of the Jews as also believe, will be one, though so great a gulf lay between them before. Then, so that they might learn that nothing that was happening was contrary to God, but that what came about was very acceptable and astonishing, and amazed each of those who saw it (for it was a wonder quite unspeakable), he added, “This was from the Lord.” And he calls himself the stone, and the teachers of the Jews the builders; as Ezekiel too says, “Those who build the wall and daub it with untempered mortar.” And how did they reject him? By saying, “This man is not from God”; “he deceives the crowd”; and again, “You are a Samaritan and have a demon.” Then, so that they might know that the loss would not stop at their being cast out, he added the punishments too, saying, “Everyone who falls on this stone will be broken; but on whomever it falls, it will scatter him like dust.” He speaks here of two destructions: one, that from stumbling and being offended, for this is “he who falls on this stone”; the other, that from their capture, and the calamity and utter ruin, which he also clearly foretold by saying, “it will scatter him like dust.” By these words he hinted at his own resurrection too. Now the prophet Isaiah says that he accuses the vineyard; but here he also censures the rulers of the people. And there he says, “What more ought I to have done for my vineyard, and did not do?” and elsewhere again, “What offense did your fathers find in me?” and again, “My people, what have I done to you? Or how have I grieved you?” showing their ungrateful mind, and that though they enjoyed everything they repaid with the opposite. But here he puts it with greater force. For he does not himself declare, saying, “What ought I to have done, and did not do?” but brings in those men themselves voting that he left nothing undone, and condemning themselves. For when they say, “He will miserably destroy those miserable men, and will let out the vineyard to other farmers,” they say nothing else than this, pronouncing the verdict with great abundance. Stephen too reproaches them with this, which also stung them most, that though they always enjoyed great providence, they repaid their benefactor with the opposite; which itself was the greatest sign that not the one who punishes but those who are punished are the cause of the punishment brought upon them. This, then, is shown here too, through the parable, through the prophecy. For he was not content with the parable alone, but added a twofold prophecy as well, one of David, the other his own. What then ought they to have done on hearing these things? Should they not have worshiped him? Should they not have marveled at his care, both before and after? And if they became better by none of these, should they not at least have become more sober from fear of the punishment? But they did not; rather, what did they do next? “Hearing, they knew that he was speaking about them. And seeking to arrest him, they feared the crowds, because they held him for a prophet.” For they now perceived that he was hinting at them. Sometimes, then, when held fast, he withdraws through their midst and is not seen; at other times, appearing openly, he restrains their desire as it travails; at which they marveled, saying, “Is not this Jesus? See, he speaks openly, and they say nothing to him.” But here, since they were held back by fear of the multitude, he is content with this, and works no wonder as before, withdrawing through their midst and not being seen. For he did not wish to do everything beyond what is human, so that the dispensation might be believed. But they were not brought to their senses either by the multitude or by what had been said; they respected neither the testimony of the prophets, nor their own verdict, nor the opinion of the many; so completely had the love of rule and the passion for vainglory and the seeking of temporal things blinded them.

For nothing so drives men headlong and over precipices, and causes them to fall from the things to come, as being nailed to these perishable things; and nothing so makes us enjoy both these and those as preferring those to everything. “For seek,” says Christ, “the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you.” And yet even if this had not been added, not even so ought we to long for these. But as it is, in receiving those it is possible to receive these as well; and not even so are some persuaded, but they are like senseless stones, and pursue shadows of pleasure. For what is sweet in the present life? What is delightful? For I wish to speak to you today with greater boldness; but bear with me, so that you may learn that this life which seems burdensome and wearisome, I mean that of the monks and of the crucified, is far sweeter and more desirable than this one which seems to be pleasant and soft. And you are witnesses of this, you who have often asked for death in the troubles and despondencies that have overtaken you, and have called blessed those in the mountains, those in caves, the unmarried, those who live the untroubled life: both you who are in the crafts and in military service, and you who live idly and at random, and spend your days in the theater and the orchestras. For from there, even if countless pleasures seem to gush and springs of gladness, yet countless bitterer things are born. For if someone is caught by love for one of the girls who dance there, he will undergo a torment harsher than countless campaigns, countless journeys abroad, being in a more wretched state than any besieged city. But not to examine those things for now, leaving them to the conscience of those who have been caught, come, let us speak about the life of the many; and we shall find the difference between these two lives as great as that between a harbor and a sea continually beaten by the winds. And consider at once, from their dwelling places, the beginnings of their well-being. For fleeing marketplaces and cities and the tumults in the midst of them, they chose the life in the mountains, which has nothing in common with present things, which undergoes nothing human: no worldly grief, no pain, no such anxiety, no dangers, no plots, no malice, no jealousy, no absurd loves, nothing else of this kind. From here they already practice the things of the kingdom, conversing with glens and mountains and springs, with great quiet and stillness, and before all these with God. And their little cell is clean of every tumult, and their soul free of every passion and disease, fine and light, and far purer than the finest air. And their work is what Adam’s was at the beginning and before the sin, when he was clothed with glory and conversed with God with boldness, and dwelt in that place full of great blessedness. For in what are these worse off than he, when before the disobedience he was placed to work the garden? He had no worldly care; nor have these. He conversed with God with a pure conscience; so do these; or rather they have far greater boldness than he, as they have enjoyed greater grace through the supply of the Spirit. You ought to take these things in by sight; but since you do not wish to, but spend your time in tumults and marketplaces, let us at least teach you by word, taking one part of their way of life; for it is not possible to go through the whole of their life. These lights of the world, as soon as the sun rises, or rather long before its rays, rise from their beds healthy and wakeful and sober (for no grief or anxiety, no heaviness of head, toil and press of affairs, nothing else of the kind troubles them, but they live like angels in heaven); rising, then, at once from their beds, cheerful and glad, and forming one choir, with a bright conscience, all in harmony as from one mouth, they sing hymns to the God of all, honoring him and giving him thanks for all his benefits, both private and common. So that, if we must, leaving Adam aside, let us ask in what this choir differs from the angels, this choir of those on earth who sing and say, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will among men.” And their clothing too is worthy of manliness. For they are not dressed like those who trail their tunics, effeminate and mincing, but like those blessed angels, Elijah, Elisha, John, like the apostles, their garments made for some of goats’ hair, for others of camels’ hair; and there are some for whom skins alone have sufficed, and those long worn. Then, when they have said those songs, bending their knees, they entreat the God whom they have hymned for things that some do not even readily think of. For they ask nothing of things present, for they have no thought of these; but that they may stand with boldness before the fearful judgment seat, when the only-begotten Son of God comes to judge the living and the dead; and that no one may hear that fearful voice which says, “I do not know you”; and that they may finish this toilsome life with a pure conscience and many good deeds, and sail the hard sea with a fair wind. And the father and superior leads them in the prayer. Then, rising and finishing those holy and continual prayers, as the sun’s rays come up, each goes off to work, gathering from it much revenue for the needy.

Where now are those who give themselves up to the devil’s dances and harlots’ songs and sit in theaters? I am ashamed to mention them; yet because of your weakness it is necessary to do this too. For Paul too says, “For just as you presented your members as slaves to uncleanness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness for sanctification.” Let us too, then, compare the choir made up of prostitute women and dissolute young men on the stage with this choir of these blessed men, on the score of pleasure, by which above all many careless young men are caught in those men’s snares. For we shall find the difference as great as if one heard angels above singing that all-harmonious melody, and dogs and swine howling and grunting on the dunghill. For through these mouths Christ speaks, but through those men’s tongues the devil. But pipes sound along with those, with an inarticulate noise and a sight unpleasant, as their cheeks are puffed out and their muscles strained? But here the grace of the Spirit sounds, using the mouths of the saints instead of flute and lyre and pipe. Or rather, whatever we say, it is not possible to present the pleasure, because of those nailed to the clay and the brickmaking. For this reason I would have wished to take one of those who are mad about these things and lead him there and show him the choir of these saints, and I would have needed no further word. Yet even if we are speaking to men of clay, we shall try by word too to draw them up at least little by little out of the slime and the mire. For from there the hearer at once receives the fire of absurd love; for as though the sight of the harlot were not enough to inflame the mind, they add also the ruin that comes from the voice; but here, even if the soul has something of the kind, it at once puts it away. And not only the voice and the sight, but the garments too, even more than these, disturb those who watch. And if one of the duller and neglected sort is poor, from the spectacle he will often fret countless times, and will say to himself, “The harlot and the dissolute young man, children of cooks and cobblers, often of slaves too, live in such luxury; while I, free and born of free parents, choosing just labors, cannot even in a dream imagine these things”; and so he goes away consumed with despondency. But with the monks there is nothing of the kind, but quite the opposite. For when he sees the children of the rich and the descendants of illustrious forefathers clothed in such garments as not even the lowest of the poor wear, and rejoicing in this, consider what consolation for his poverty he goes away with. And if he is rich, he goes away sobered and better. Again, in the theater, when they see the harlot decked with gold, the poor man will groan and lament, seeing his own wife having nothing of the kind; while the rich will despise and spit upon the wives who live with them, because of this sight. For when that woman displays to those who watch her figure, her glance, her voice, her gait, all … they go away inflamed, and enter their own houses thereafter as captives. From this come insults and dishonors, from this enmities, wars, daily deaths; from this life becomes unlivable for those who are caught, and the wife who lives with them is thereafter disagreeable, and the children not so dear, and everything in the house upside down, and even the very sunlight seems a trouble. But from these choirs no such disagreeableness comes; but the wife will receive her husband gentle and mild, freed from every absurd pleasure, and will find him easier to live with than before. Such evils does that choir give birth to, and this one such good things: the one making wolves out of sheep, the other making lambs out of wolves. But perhaps we have not yet said anything about the pleasure. And what could be sweeter than not to be troubled nor pained in mind, nor despondent and groaning? But let us carry the argument further, and examine the enjoyment of each, of the song and of the spectacle; and we shall see that the one lasts until evening, while the spectator sits in the theater, but afterward torments him more grievously than any goad, while the other flourishes continually in the souls of those who have seen it. For the bearing of the men, the delightfulness of the place, the sweetness of the way of life, the purity of the conduct, the grace of that most beautiful and spiritual singing, they have always settled within themselves. Those, at any rate, who enjoy these harbors continually flee the tumults of the many as if they were a storm. And not only when singing and praying, but also when fastened to their books, they are a delightful sight to those who see them. For when they have dismissed the choir, one takes Isaiah and converses with him, another talks with the apostles, another goes through what others have labored over, and philosophizes about God, about this universe, about the visible things, about the invisible, about things of sense, about things of the mind, about the meanness of this life, about the greatness of the life to come. [5] And they feed on the best food, setting before themselves not the boiled flesh of irrational animals, but the oracles of God, sweeter than honey and the honeycomb, a wonderful honey, and far better than that which John ate of old in the desert. For this honey is not gathered by wild bees settling on flowers, nor do they ripen dew and put it into hives; but the grace of the Spirit, preparing it, lays it up in the souls of the saints instead of combs and hives and cells, so that whoever wishes may eat it continually without fear. Imitating these bees, then, they too fly about the combs of the holy books, gathering great pleasure from them. And if you wish to learn what their table is, come near, and you will see them belching forth such things, all gentle and sweet, and full of spiritual fragrance. Those mouths can utter no shameful word, nothing scurrilous, nothing harsh, but everything worthy of heaven. One would not be wrong in comparing the mouths of the many who are dragged about in the marketplaces and rave over worldly affairs to sewers of some filth, and the mouths of these to springs flowing with honey and pouring forth pure streams. And if anyone was annoyed that I called the mouths of the many sewers of filth, let him know that I spoke very sparingly. For Scripture does not even use this measure, but another far more vehement comparison: “For the poison of asps is under their lips, and their throat is an open grave.” But theirs are not such, but full of great fragrance. And such are the things here; but the things there, what word will present to us, what mind conceive: the angelic lot, the inexpressible blessedness, the unspeakable good things? Perhaps many of you have now been warmed and have fallen into desire for this noble way of life; but what is the gain, when you have this fire only while you are here, but when you go out you quench the flame and this longing withers? How then may this not happen? While this love is warm in you, go away to those angels themselves, and kindle it still more. For our word will not be able to set you on fire so much as the sight of the things themselves. Do not say, “I will talk with my wife and settle my affairs first.” This delay is the beginning of carelessness. Hear that someone wished to take leave of those in his house, and the prophet did not allow it. And why do I speak of taking leave? The disciple wished to bury his father, and Christ did not allow even this. And yet what business seems to you so necessary as a father’s burial? But not even this did he permit. Why ever not? Because the devil stands ready, intently, wishing to find some way in; and if he lays hold of a little busyness and delay, he works great carelessness. For this reason someone advises, “Do not put it off from day to day.” For so you will be able to accomplish more, so your household affairs too will be well arranged for you. “For seek,” he says, “the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you.” For if we set those who disregard their own affairs and put the care of ours first in great freedom from anxiety, much more will God, who cares and provides even without these things. Do not, then, be anxious about your affairs, but leave them to God. For if you are anxious, you are anxious as a man; but if God provides, he provides as God. Do not be anxious about them, leaving aside the greater things, since then he himself will not provide for them much. That he may provide for them much, then, entrust everything to him alone. For if you yourself handle them, leaving aside the spiritual things, he will not take much care of them. That these things too may go well for you, then, and that you may be rid of all anxiety, hold to the spiritual things, disregard the worldly; for so you will have the earth along with heaven, and will obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“… Jesus spoke to them again in parables. The kingdom of heaven is like a man, a king, who made a marriage feast for his son. And he sent his servants to call those who had been invited to the marriage feast, and they would not come. Again he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and fatted animals are slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the marriage feast.’ But they made light of it and went off, one to his own field, another to his business. And the rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them. And the king, hearing it, was angry, and sending his armies he destroyed those murderers and burned their city. Then he says to the servants, ‘The marriage feast is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go to the thoroughfares of the roads, and as many as you find, invite to the marriage feast.’ And the servants went out into the roads and gathered all whom they found, both bad and good; and the marriage feast was filled with guests. But when the king came in to look at them, he saw a man who did not have a wedding garment; and he says to him, ‘Friend, how did you come in here without having a wedding garment?’ And he was speechless. And he said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness; there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few chosen.” Do you see, both in the former parable and in this one, the difference between the Son and the servants? Do you see the great kinship between the two parables, and also the great difference? For this one too shows both God’s long-suffering and great providence, and the ingratitude of the Jews. But it has something more than that one. For it foretells both the casting out of the Jews and the calling of the Gentiles; and with this it shows also the strictness of life required, and how great a penalty is laid up for the careless. And it is well placed after that one. For since he had said, “It will be given to a nation producing its fruits,” here he now makes plain which nation too; and not this only, but he shows again his unspeakable providence toward the Jews. For there he appears calling them before the cross; but here, even after he has been slain, he presses on, drawing them to himself. And when they ought to have paid the heaviest penalty, then he draws them even to a marriage feast, and honors them with the highest honor. And see how both there and here again it is not the Gentiles first, but the Jews. But as there, when they would not receive him but even slew him when he came, then he gave the vineyard away, so here too, when they would not come to the marriage feast, then he called others. What then could be more ungrateful than they, when invited to a marriage feast they leap away? For who would not choose to come to a marriage feast, and the marriage feast of a king, and of a king making a marriage feast for his son? “And why is it called a marriage feast?” someone says. So that you may learn God’s care, his longing for us, the brightness of the things there, that there is nothing grievous there, nothing gloomy, but all is full of spiritual joy. For this reason John too calls him the bridegroom; for this reason Paul too says, “For I betrothed you to one husband”; and again, “This mystery is great; but I speak concerning Christ and the church.” Why then is the bride not said to be joined to him [the Father], but to the Son? Because she who is joined to the Son is joined to the Father. For to Scripture it is indifferent whether this or that is said, because of the identity of the essence. From this he also proclaimed the resurrection. For since in what went before he had spoken of the death, he shows that it is after the death that the marriage feast comes, then the bridegroom. But not even so do they become better or gentler; and what could be worse than this? For this is a third charge. First, that they killed the prophets; next, that they killed the Son; after this, that even after killing him, being invited by the slain one himself to the marriage feast of the slain one, they do not come, but invent excuses: yokes of oxen, and fields, and wives. And yet the pretexts seem reasonable; but from this we learn that even if the things that hold us are necessary, we must make spiritual things more precious than all. And he calls them not recently, but long before. “For tell those who have been invited,” he says; and again, “Call those who have been invited”; which made the charge greater. And when were they invited? Through all the prophets; through John again, for he sent everyone on to him, saying, “He must increase, but I must decrease”; through the Son himself again: “For come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest”; and again, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink.” And not only by words but also by deeds he called them; and after the ascension, through Peter and those with him. “For he who worked through Peter,” it says, “for the apostleship of the circumcision, worked through me also for the Gentiles.” For since on seeing the Son they were angry and killed him, he calls them again through the servants. And to what does he call them? To hardships and toils and sweat? No, but to delight. “For my oxen,” he says, “and fatted animals are slaughtered.” See how great the banquet, how great the munificence. And not even this shamed them; but the more he was long-suffering, the more they were hardened. For it was not from being busy but from making light of it that they did not come. How then do some put forward marriages, and others yokes of oxen? These at any rate are occupations. By no means; for when spiritual things call, no occupation is necessary. And it seems to me that they used these pretexts too, putting them forward as screens for their negligence. And not only is this the terrible thing, that they did not come, but what is far worse and madder, that they also beat those who came, and insulted them, and killed them; this is worse than the former. For those came demanding revenue and fruits, and were slain; but these came inviting them to the marriage feast of the one slain by them, and these again are murdered. What equals this madness? Paul too, charging them with this, said, “who killed both the Lord and their own prophets, and drove us out.” Then, lest they should say, “He is an enemy of God, and for this reason we do not come,” hear what those who invite say: that it is the Father who makes the marriage feast, and he himself who invites. What then after this? Since they would not come, but even killed those who came to them, he burns their cities, and sending his armies he destroyed them. And he says these things foretelling what happened under Vespasian and Titus, and that they provoked the Father too by not believing in him; it is he, at any rate, who took vengeance. For this reason the capture did not take place immediately after Christ was killed, but after forty years, so that he might show his long-suffering: when they had killed Stephen, when they had slain James, when they had insulted the apostles. Do you see the truth and swiftness of events? For while John was still living, and many others of those who had been with Christ, these things came to pass, and those who had heard these words were witnesses of what took place. See, then, his unspeakable care. He planted a vineyard, did everything and completed it; when the servants were killed, he sent other servants; when these were slain, he sent the Son; and when he was killed, he invites them to the marriage feast; they would not come. Then he sends other servants; and they killed these too. Then at last he destroys them, as being incurably diseased. For that they were incurably diseased, not only what had happened showed, but also that, when harlots and tax collectors believed, they did these things. So they are condemned not only for what they dared, but also for what others achieved. And if someone should say that those from the Gentiles were not called at the time when the apostles were scourged and suffered countless things, but immediately after the resurrection (for then he says to them, “Go and make disciples of all the nations”), we would say that both before the cross and after the cross they spoke to the Jews first. For before the cross he says to them, “Go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”; and after the cross he did not forbid, but even commanded them to speak to them. For even if he said, “Make disciples of all the nations,” yet when about to ascend into heaven he showed that they would speak to those first. “For you will receive power,” he says, “when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses both in Jerusalem and in all Judea, and to the end of the earth”; and Paul again: “For he who worked through Peter for the apostleship of the circumcision worked through me also for the Gentiles.” For this reason the apostles too went to the Jews first, and having spent a long time in Jerusalem, then, being driven out by them, so were dispersed among the Gentiles.

But see here too the munificence. “As many as you find,” he says, “invite to the marriage feast.” For before this, as I said, they spoke both to Jews and to Greeks, staying longer in Judea; but since they persisted in plotting against them, hear Paul interpreting this parable and speaking thus: “It was necessary that the word of God be spoken first to you; but since you judge yourselves unworthy, behold, we turn to the Gentiles.” That is why he too says, “The marriage feast is ready, but those invited were not worthy.” He knew this even before; but so as to leave them no pretext for shameless contradiction, though he knew, he both came and sent to them first, both silencing them and teaching us to fulfill everything on our part, even if no one is going to profit at all. Since, then, they were not worthy, “Go,” he says, “to the crossroads, and as many as you find, invite,” both the chance comers and the outcasts. For since he had said again and again that harlots and tax collectors will inherit heaven, and “The first will be last and the last first,” he shows that these things happen justly; which stung the Jews most of all, and galled them more than the destruction of their city: to see those from the Gentiles brought into what was theirs, and into far more than what was theirs. Then, so that these too may not trust in faith alone, he speaks to them also about the judgment upon evil deeds: to those who have not yet believed, about coming to the faith; to those who have believed, about care for their life. For the garment is life and conduct. And yet the calling was of grace; why then is he so exacting? Because to be called and cleansed was of grace; but, having been called and having put on clean garments, to remain keeping them so belongs to the earnestness of those called. The calling did not come from merit but from grace. One ought, then, to repay the grace, and not display such wickedness after the honor. “But I did not enjoy as much as the Jews,” someone says. And yet you enjoyed far greater good things. For what had been prepared for them through all time, you received all at once, though you were not worthy. That is why Paul too says, “But the Gentiles, to glorify God for his mercy.” For what was owed to them, you received. That is why a great penalty also lies in store for those who are careless. For as they insulted him by not coming, so do you by reclining in this way with a corrupt life. For to enter in filthy garments is this: to depart from here having an unclean life; which is why he was speechless. Do you see how, though the matter was so plain, he does not punish until the sinner himself pronounces the verdict? For by having nothing to say in reply he condemned himself, and so he is carried off to the unspeakable punishments. For when you hear of darkness, do not think that he is punished only by being sent to a lightless place; but it is where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. And he says this to show the unbearable pains. Hear, you who have enjoyed the mysteries and come to the marriage feast, and clothe your soul with filthy deeds. Hear from where you were called. From the crossroads. Being what? Lame and maimed in soul, which is far worse than mutilation of the body. Respect the love for mankind of the one who called you, and let no one remain with filthy garments, but let each of us be busy about the robe of the soul. Hear, women; hear, men. We do not need these gold-spangled garments, those that adorn the outside … those within. For if we have these, it is hard to put on those. It is not possible to adorn both soul and body at once. It is not possible at once to serve mammon and obey Christ as one ought. Let us lay aside, then, this harsh tyranny. For if someone adorned your house, hanging golden curtains, but made you sit naked in rags, you would not bear it mildly. But see, now you do this to yourself, adorning the house of your soul, I mean the body, with countless curtains, but leaving the soul itself to sit in rags. Do you not know that it is the king of the city who must rather be adorned? For this reason the city is fitted with hangings of linen, but the king with purple and a diadem. So you too, put a much meaner robe on the body, but clothe the mind with purple, and set a crown on it, and seat it on a lofty and splendid chariot. For as it is, you do the opposite, adorning the city in many colors, but letting the king, the mind, be dragged along bound behind the irrational passions. Do you not consider that you have been called to a marriage feast, and God’s marriage feast? Do you not reckon how the soul that is called ought to enter these bridal chambers

… with fringes. Do you wish me to show you those who are so clothed, those who have the wedding garment? Remember those saints of whom I spoke to you the other day, those who wear garments of hair, who dwell in the deserts. These above all are the ones who have the garments of that marriage feast; and it is plain from this: however many purple robes you gave them, they would not choose to take them; but as a king, if someone took a beggar’s rags and bade him put them on, would loathe the garment, so they too would loathe that man’s purple. And they feel this from no other cause than knowing the beauty of their own robe. For this reason they spit upon that purple mantle as upon a cobweb. For the sackcloth has taught them these things; for they are far loftier and more splendid than the emperor himself. And if you could open the gates of the mind, and look into their soul and all the adornment within, you would fall to the ground, unable to bear the radiance of its beauty, and the brightness of those garments, and the lightning of their conscience. For we could also speak of great and wonderful men of old; but since the visible examples lead the duller sort more, for this reason I send you to the tents of those saints. For they have nothing grievous; but as though they had pitched their huts in heaven, they are encamped so far from the miseries of the present life, campaigning against the devil, and fighting him as though dancing. For this reason, pitching huts, they fled cities and marketplaces and houses. For the one who is at war cannot sit in a house, but must live in a dwelling put up for the moment, as one who is about to move off at once. Such are all of them, the opposite of us. For we live not as in a camp, but as in a city at peace. For who in a camp ever lays foundations and builds a house that he is about to leave a little later? There is no one; and if anyone tries, he is put to death as a traitor. Who in a camp buys acres of land and makes business deals? There is no one; and very reasonably. “For you have come to fight,” it is said, “not to trade.” Why then do you labor over the place that you will leave a little later? When we have gone to our homeland, do these things. These things I say to you too now. When we have withdrawn to the city above, do these things; or rather you will need no toils there any longer: the King will do everything for you. But here it is enough only to dig a trench around and plant a palisade; there is no need of building. Hear what the life of the wagon-dwelling Scythians is, what way of life they say the nomads have. So Christians ought to live: to go about the world, warring against the devil, rescuing the captives held by him, and to be free of all worldly things. Why do you build a house, man, so as to bind yourself the more? Why do you bury a treasure and call the enemy against yourself? Why do you surround yourself with walls and prepare a prison for yourself? And if these things seem hard to you, let us go to their tents, so that we may learn their ease by their deeds. For having pitched huts, if they must leave them, they leave them as soldiers in peacetime leaving the camp. For they are encamped so, or rather far more pleasantly. For it is more pleasant to see a desert with monks’ tents close together than soldiers in a camp stretching out curtains and fixing spears, and hanging saffron cloths from the spear points, and a multitude of men with bronze helmets, and the bosses of the shields flashing much, and men armored all over in iron, and palaces put up for the moment, and a wide plain spread out, and men taking their meal and playing pipes. For not even this spectacle is as delightful as the one I now describe. For if we go into the desert and see the tents of the soldiers of Christ, we shall see no curtains stretched out, nor spear points, nor golden robes making a royal canopy; but as if someone on an earth far greater than this, a boundless one, had stretched out many heavens and shown a new and awesome spectacle, so one may see it there. For their lodgings are in no way worse off than the heavens; for angels lodge with them, and the Master of the angels. For if they came to Abraham, a man who had a wife and was rearing children, because they saw he was hospitable, when they find far greater virtue, and a man freed from the body, and in the flesh disregarding the flesh, much more do they spend time there and dance the dance that befits them. For their table too is clean of all greed and full of philosophy. There are no torrents of blood with them, nor cutting up of meat, nor heaviness of head, nor seasonings, nor unpleasant savors of cooking, nor disagreeable smoke, nor running about and uproar and confusion and tiresome shouting; but bread and water, the one from a pure spring, the other from just labors. And if ever they wish to feast more lavishly, the lavishness is fruits; and the pleasure there is greater than at royal tables. There no fear and trembling; no ruler has accused, no wife provoked, no child cast into despondency, no unruly laughter dissolved, no crowd of flatterers puffed up; but the table is one of angels, free of all such confusion. And grass alone is spread under them for a couch, as Christ did when he gave a meal in the desert. And many do this not even under a roof, but have the sky for a ceiling, and the moon instead of the light of a lamp, which needs no oil nor anyone to tend it; for them alone it shines worthily from above.

Angels too, beholding this table from heaven, are delighted and rejoice. For if they rejoice over one sinner who repents, what will they not do over so many righteous men who imitate them? There is no master and slave there; all are slaves, all are free. And do not think what is said a riddle; for they are slaves of one another and masters of one another. When evening has come, there is no falling into dejection, as many men suffer, reckoning up the cares arising from the day’s troubles. There is no worrying about robbers after supper, and shutting doors and putting on bars, nor fearing the other things that many fear, putting out their lamps with care lest a spark set the house on fire. And their conversation too is full of the same calm. For they do not utter the things we talk about, things that do not concern us: “So-and-so has become a ruler; so-and-so has left office; so-and-so has died, and another has succeeded to his inheritance,” and all such things; but they always speak and philosophize about the things to come; and as though dwelling in another world, as though they had moved to heaven itself, as though living there, so they talk of everything there: of Abraham’s bosom, of the crowns of the saints, of the dance with Christ; and of present things they have no memory nor word. But just as we would not deign to say anything about what the ants do in their holes and crannies, so neither do they speak of what we do, but of the King above, of the war in hand, of the devil’s devices, of the good deeds the saints have achieved. In what, then, do we differ from ants, compared with them? For as those care for bodily things, so do we; and would that we cared only for these! But as it is, for far worse things. For we care not only for necessities, as they do, but also for superfluities. For they pursue a livelihood free of every charge, while we pursue every kind of greed; and we do not even imitate the ants, but wolves, leopards; or rather we are worse than these. For to them nature gave this way of feeding; but God has honored us with reason and equality, and we have become worse than the wild beasts. And we are worse than the irrational animals, while they are equal to the angels, being strangers and sojourners in the things here; and everything about them is changed compared with us: garments, food, house, shoes, speech. And if anyone heard them talking and us, he would then know well how they are citizens of heaven, while we are not even worthy of earth. For this reason, when someone clothed in rank goes to them, then above all all his pride is exposed. For that farmer, ignorant of all worldly affairs, sits beside the general, who thinks much of his office, on a bed of straw, on a dirty cushion. For there are none to lift him up and puff him up; but the same thing happens as if someone went to a goldsmith and a rose garden; for from both the gold and the roses he receives some radiance; so these too, gaining a little from the brightness of those men, are freed from their former arrogance. And just as someone who goes up to a high place, however short he is, appears tall, so these too, coming to their lofty minds, appear such as long as they stay there, but when they come down they are lowered again, descending from that height. Nothing is a king to them, nothing a prefect; but just as we laugh at children playing at these things, so they spit on the swelling pride of those who swagger outside. And this is plain from this: if someone offered them a kingdom with security, they would never choose it; they would choose it only if they did not think greater things than it, if they did not consider the thing temporary. What then? Shall we not desert to such blessedness? Shall we not go to these angels? Shall we not take clean garments, and march in procession at this marriage feast, but remain begging, in no better state than the poor at the crossroads, or rather far worse and more wretched? For those who are wickedly rich are far worse than those, and it is better to beg than to rob; for the one has pardon, the other brings punishment; and the one offends God in nothing, while the other offends both men and God; and he undergoes the toils of robbery, while others often reap all the enjoyment. Knowing these things, then, and putting away all greed, let us be greedy for the things above, seizing the kingdom with great earnestness. For it is not, it is not possible for anyone careless to enter it. May all of us, having become earnest and watchful, obtain it, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Then the Pharisees went and took counsel how they might entrap him in his talk.” Then, when? When above all they ought to have been pricked to the heart, when they ought to have been astonished at his love for mankind, when they ought to have feared what was to come, when from the past they ought to have believed about the future too. For what had been said was crying aloud in the events. For tax collectors and harlots had believed, and prophets and righteous men had been slain; and from these they ought not to have contradicted what was said about their own destruction, but to have believed and come to their senses. Yet not even so does their wickedness cease, but it travails and goes further. And since they could not lay hold of him (for they feared the crowds), they went another way, thinking to throw him into danger, and they send to him their disciples with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are true, and teach the way of God in truth, and you care for no one; for you do not regard the person of men. Tell us, then, what do you think? Is it lawful to pay tax to Caesar, or not?” For they were by then subject to tribute, their affairs having passed under the rule of the Romans. Since, then, they saw that those before this had died for this reason, the followers of Theudas and Judas, as having planned revolt, they wished to throw him too into such suspicion by these words. For this reason they sent both their own disciples and Herod’s soldiers, digging, as they thought, a double pit on either side, and setting the snare on every side, so that whatever he said they might seize on it: if he answered in favor of the Herodians, they themselves would accuse him; but if in their own favor, those would bring the charge. And yet he had paid the double drachma; but they did not know this. And they expected to catch him either way, but they desired rather that he should say something against the Herodians. That is why they send the disciples, to push him to this by their presence, so that they might hand him over to the governor as a usurper. Luke too, hinting at this, made it plain by saying that they asked even in the presence of the crowds, so that the testimony might be greater. But the very opposite happened; for before a larger audience they gave the proof of their own folly. And see the flattery and the hidden guile. “We know,” they say, “that you are true.” How then did you say that he is a deceiver and deceives the crowd, and has a demon, and is not from God? How a little before were you plotting to kill him? But everything comes about that the plot suggests. For since a little before, having said with insolence, “By what authority do you do these things?” they obtained no answer to the question, they expect to puff him up by flattery and persuade him to say something against the established laws and contrary to the ruling government. That is why they bear witness to his truthfulness, confessing what is the fact, though not with a right intention nor willingly; and they add, saying, “You care for no one.” See how they are plainly wishing to drive him into those words that would make him offend Herod too, and incur the suspicion of usurpation, as one rising against the laws, so that they might punish him as a seditious man and a usurper. For in saying “You care for no one” and “You do not regard the person of man,” they were hinting at Herod and Caesar. “Tell us, then, what do you think?” Now you honor him and consider him a teacher, when you have often despised and insulted him when he spoke to you of your salvation. And so they have become of one mind. And see the malice. They do not say, “Tell us what is good, what is profitable, what is lawful,” but, “What do you think?” So fixed were they on this one thing, to betray him and make him an enemy of the ruler. And Mark too, making this plain, and uncovering more clearly their insolence and their murderous intent, says that they said, “Shall we pay tax to Caesar, or shall we not pay?” So they breathed anger and travailed with a plot, but pretended deference. What then does he do? “Why do you test me, you hypocrites?” Do you see how sharply he speaks to them? For since their wickedness was complete and manifest, he cuts deeper, first confounding and silencing them by bringing their secrets into the open and making plain to all with what intent they were coming to him. And he did this to check their wickedness, so that they might not be harmed by attempting the same things again. And yet their words were full of great deference; for they called him teacher, and bore witness to his truthfulness and his impartiality; but being God, he was deceived by none of these. Hence they too ought to have inferred that the rebuke was not a guess but a sign that he knew their secrets.

Yet he did not stop at the rebuke, though it was enough to expose their intent and put their wickedness to shame; but he does not stop at this, but sews up their mouths in another way too. “For show me,” he says, “the coin of the tax.” And when they showed it, as he always does, he brings out the verdict through their own tongue, and makes them vote that it is lawful; which was a brilliant and clear victory. So that when he asks, he asks not from ignorance, but wishing to make them answerable by their own answers. For when, being asked, “Whose is the image?” they said, “Caesar’s,” he says, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.” For this is not to give but to render back; and this is shown both from the image and from the inscription. Then, lest they should say, “You subject us to men,” he added, “and to God the things that are God’s.” For it is possible both to fulfill to men what is theirs, and to give to God what we owe to God. That is why Paul too says, “Render to all their dues: tribute to whom tribute, custom to whom custom, fear to whom fear.” And when you hear, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,” know that he means only those things that in no way harm godliness; for if anything is such, such a tribute and custom is no longer Caesar’s but the devil’s. Hearing these things, they were silenced, and marveled at his wisdom. Then they ought to have believed, then to have been astonished. For he had given them a proof of his Godhead by uncovering their secrets, and he silenced them with gentleness. What then? Did they believe? By no means; but leaving him they went away; and after them the Sadducees came to him. O the folly! When those had been silenced, these attack, when they ought to have become more hesitant. But such is rashness: shameless and reckless, and attempting even impossibilities. That is why the evangelist too, astonished at their folly, marks this very thing, saying that they came “on that day.” On which day? On the day on which he exposed the malice of those others and put them to shame. And who are these? Another sect of the Jews besides the Pharisees, and far inferior to them, saying that there is no resurrection, nor angel, nor spirit. For these were duller men, excited about bodily things. For there were many sects among them too. That is why Paul too says, “I am a Pharisee, of the strictest sect among us.” And these say nothing directly about the resurrection, but they invent a story and compose an affair that, as I at least think, never even happened, thinking to throw him into perplexity, and wishing to overthrow both: both that there is a resurrection, and that there is such a resurrection. And again these too attack with apparent gentleness, saying, “Teacher, Moses said, ‘If a man dies having no children, his brother shall marry his wife and raise up offspring for his brother.’ Now there were among us seven brothers; and the first married and died, and having no offspring left his wife to his brother. Likewise the second and the third, up to the seventh. Last of all the woman died too. In the resurrection, then, whose wife of the seven will she be?” See him answering these like a teacher. For even if they came with malice, yet the question was rather one of ignorance. That is why he does not say to them “hypocrites.” Then, lest he should accuse them, “Why did seven have one woman?” they put forward Moses; though, as I said before, it was an invention, as I at least think. For the third would not have taken her, seeing two bridegrooms dead; and if the third did, yet not the fourth, nor the fifth; and if these did too, much more would the sixth or the seventh not have come near her, but would have taken the woman for an ill omen. For such are the Jews. For if many now feel this, much more did they then; when even apart from this they often fled such a marriage, though the law compelled them. So at any rate Ruth, that Moabite woman, was passed on to the more distant kinsman; and Tamar for this reason was compelled to steal offspring from her father-in-law. And why did they not invent two or three, but seven? In order to ridicule the resurrection, as they thought, abundantly. That is why they say, “All had her,” as though throwing him into some impasse. What then does Christ do? He answers both, standing not to the words but to the intention, and everywhere uncovering their secrets, and sometimes making a show of them, sometimes leaving the conviction to the conscience of those who ask. See, at any rate, how here he shows both: both that there will be a resurrection, and that it is not such a resurrection as they suppose. For what does he say? “You are mistaken, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God.” For since they put forward Moses and the law as though they knew them, he shows that the question is above all that of men ignorant of the Scriptures. For from this came their testing him too, from not knowing the Scriptures and not knowing God’s power as they ought. “What wonder then,” he says, “if you test me, who am still unknown to you, when you do not know even the power of God, of which you have had so much experience, and you have not known it either from common notions or from the Scriptures?” For even common reasonings make it possible to know this, that to God all things are possible. And first he answers what was asked. For since the cause of their not believing in a resurrection was their thinking that the state of things would be such, he heals the cause, and then also the symptom (for from this the disease too had arisen), and shows the manner of the resurrection. “For in the resurrection,” he says, “they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as angels of God in heaven.” And Luke says, “as sons of God.” If, then, they do not marry, the question is superfluous. It is not, however, because they do not marry that they are angels, but because they are like angels they do not marry. By this he did away with many other things too, all of which Paul hinted at in one saying, “For the form of this world is passing away.” And by these words he showed how great the resurrection is; and that there is a resurrection, he shows too. And yet this too was shown together with what was said; but nevertheless he adds it to the argument again abundantly. For he did not stop at the question only, but went also to their thought. So when they do not ask with great malice but from ignorance, he even teaches beyond what is asked; but when from malice alone, he does not even answer what is asked. And again he silences them from Moses, since they too had put Moses forward, and says, “But concerning the resurrection of the dead, have you not read, ‘I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is not the God of the dead, but of the living.” “Not of those who are not,” he says, “and have vanished once for all and will no longer rise.” For he did not say “I was,” but “I am,” of those who are and are living. For just as Adam, though he lived on the day he ate from the tree, died by the sentence, so these too, though they had died, lived by the promise of the resurrection. How then does he say elsewhere, “That he might be Lord of both the dead and the living”? But this is not contrary to that. For here he calls dead those who are themselves going to live. And besides, “I am the God of Abraham” is one thing, and “that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living” another. And he knows another deadness too, about which he says, “Let the dead bury their own dead.” “And when the crowds heard it, they were astonished at his teaching.” Not even here the Sadducees; but they withdraw defeated, while the unbiased multitude reaps the benefit. Since, then, such is the resurrection, come, let us do everything to obtain the first places there. And if you like, let us show you, even before the resurrection, some who already practice these things here and reap their fruits, going again into the deserts. For I will take up the same subject again, since I see that you listen with more pleasure. Let us see, then, today too the spiritual camps; let us see the pleasure pure of fear. For they are not encamped with spears like soldiers (for it was here that I ended my discourse the other day), nor with shields and breastplates; but you will see them stripped of all these, and doing such things as those men do not even with weapons. And if you can see it, come, give me your hand, and let us both go to this war, and see the battle line. For these too fight every day, and slay their adversaries, and conquer all the desires that plot against us. And you will see these thrown on the ground, not even able to gasp; but that apostolic saying shown in deeds, that “those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” Do you see a multitude of dead lying, slain by the sword of the Spirit? For this reason there is no drunkenness there, nor gluttony. And the table shows it, and the trophy set up on it. For drunkenness and gluttony lie dead, routed by water-drinking, this many-shaped and many-headed beast. For as with the fabled Scylla and Hydra, so with drunkenness one may see many heads: here fornication, there anger, elsewhere sloth, elsewhere absurd loves growing up; but all these have been destroyed. And yet all those armies, even if they survive countless wars, are taken by these; and neither weapons nor spears nor anything else can stand against these phalanxes; but the giants themselves, the champions, those who perform countless brave deeds, you would find bound without bonds by sleep and drunkenness, lying without slaughter and wounds like the wounded, or rather worse. For those at least gasp; but these not even that, but fall down at once. Do you see that this camp is greater and more wonderful? For the enemies who overcome those men it destroys by willing alone. For so they make the very mother of all evils weak, so that she no longer even troubles them; and when the general lies dead and the head is destroyed, the rest of the body too is still. And one may see each of those who stay there achieving this victory. For it is not as in these wars, where, if someone receives a wound from one, having once fallen he is no longer a burden to another; but all must strike this beast; and whoever has not struck it and thrown it down is certainly troubled by it.

Do you see a brilliant victory? For what all the armies of the world gathered together cannot set up as a trophy, each of those men sets up; and everything is mixed up and wounded: frenzied words of madness, mad thoughts, everything that drunkenness arms. And they imitate their own Master, whom Scripture admires, saying, “He will drink from the brook by the way; therefore he will lift up his head.” Do you wish to see another multitude of dead too? Let us see the desires that come from luxury, from the cooks, the chefs, the table-setters, the pastry-makers. I am ashamed to describe everything; yet I will speak of the birds from the Phasis, the broths mixed in quantity, the moist and dry dishes, the laws laid down about these. For as though inhabiting a city and drawing up armies, so these men legislate and arrange: this and this first, and this and this second. And some bring in first birds roasted on coals, stuffed inside with fish; others make the beginnings of these lawless dinners from elsewhere; and there is great rivalry about these things, over quality, over order, over quantity; and they pride themselves on things for which they ought to be buried, some because they spent half the day, others the whole of it, others because they added the night too, saying so. See the measure of the belly, wretched man, and be ashamed of this measureless zeal. But there is nothing of the kind with those angels; even these desires are all dead. For their food is not for surfeit and luxury, but for need. There are no hunters of birds or fish there, but bread and water. And this confusion and uproar and turmoil are all far away from there, both from the cell and from the body; there the harbor is calm, but with these men the tempest is great. Rip open, then, in word, the belly of those who eat such things, and you will see the great filth, the unclean sewer, the whitewashed tomb. And what follows I am ashamed even to mention: the disgusting belchings, the vomitings, the discharges below and above. But come and see these desires too lying dead there, and the more vehement loves that come from them, I mean those of sexual pleasure. For you will see these too all thrown down, along with the horses, along with the baggage carriers. For baggage carrier and weapon and horse of a shameful deed is a shameful word. But you will see horse and rider of this kind together, and weapons lying there; and there, on the contrary, souls thrown down dead. And not only at the table is the victory brilliant for those saints, but also in the other matters: over money, over glory, over malice, over all diseases. Does not this camp seem to you stronger than that one, and this table better? And who will contradict it? No one, not even of those men themselves, even if he is quite mad. For the one sends us on to heaven, the other drags us to Gehenna; the devil arranges the one, Christ the other; luxury and licentiousness legislate the one, philosophy and self-control the other; here Christ is present, there the devil. For where there is drunkenness, there is the devil; where there are shameful words, where there is surfeit, there demons dance. Such a table the rich man had; that is why he was not even master of a drop of water. But these men have no such table, but already practice the life of the angels. They neither marry nor are given in marriage, nor do they sleep their fill, nor live in luxury; but, apart from a few things, they have become as if bodiless. Who, then, conquers his enemies so easily as to set up a trophy while taking his meal? That is why the prophet too says, “You have prepared a table before me in the presence of those who afflict me.” For one would not be wrong in saying this oracle about this table too. For nothing so afflicts the soul as absurd desire, and luxury, and drunkenness, and the evils that come from these; and those who have had experience know this well. And if you learn where this table is gathered from and where that one, then you will see well the difference between them. Where then is that one gathered from? From countless tears, from widows defrauded, from orphans robbed; but this one from just labors. And this table is like a beautiful and comely woman, who needs nothing from outside but has a natural beauty; but that one is like an ugly and ill-favored harlot, with many cosmetics, yet unable to cover her ugliness, but the nearer she comes the more she is exposed. For that table too, when it comes nearer to the one who consorts with her, then shows its shame the more. For do not look at the guests going up to it, but also coming down, and then you will see its shamefulness. For the former, being free, lets those who keep company with her say nothing shameful; but the latter nothing honorable, being a harlot and dishonored. The one seeks the profit of the one who is with her, the other his harm. And the one does not let him offend God; the other does not let him avoid offending. Let us go away, then, to those men. From there we shall know with how many bonds we are bound; from there we shall learn to set a table full of countless good things, most pleasant, without expense, free of anxiety, free of envy and malice and every disease, full of good hope, and having many trophies. There is no tumult of the soul there, no grief, no anger; all is calm, all is peace. For do not tell me of the silence of the servants in the houses of the rich, but of the clamor of those at the meal; I do not mean their clamor to one another (for that too is ridiculous), but the clamor within, in the soul, which brings great captivity: the tumults of the thoughts, the storm, the gloom, the winter, through which everything is mixed up and confounded, and is like a battle at night. But in the tents of the monks there is nothing of the kind, but great calm, great quiet. And that table is followed by a sleep like death, but this one by sobriety and wakefulness; that one by punishment, this one by the kingdom of heaven and the immortal prizes. Let us pursue this one, then, so that we may also enjoy its fruits; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“But the Pharisees, hearing that he had silenced the Sadducees, gathered together; and one of them, a lawyer, asked him, testing him and saying, ‘Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?’” Again the evangelist sets down the cause for which they ought to have been silent, and shows their rashness from this too. How and in what way? Because when those had been silenced, these attack again. For they ought to have kept quiet on this account too; but they vie with the former, and put forward the lawyer, not wishing to learn, but making trial; and they ask, “Which is the first commandment?” For since the first was this, “You shall love the Lord your God,” expecting that he would give them some handle by amending it, since he showed himself to be God, they put forward the question. What then does Christ do? Showing from what they had come to this, from having no love, from wasting away with envy, from being caught by jealousy, he says, “You shall love the Lord your God; this is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” And why “like it”? Because this one prepares the way for that, and is in turn built up by it. “For everyone who does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light”; and again it says, “The fool has said in his heart, There is no God”; and what follows from this? “They became corrupt and abominable in their practices.” And again, “The love of money is a root of all evils, through craving which some have wandered from the faith”; and, “He who loves me will keep my commandments”; and his commandments, and their sum, are, “You shall love the Lord your God, and your neighbor as yourself.” If, then, to love God is to love one’s neighbor (“For if you love me,” he says, “O Peter, feed my sheep”), and to love one’s neighbor works the keeping of the commandments, with reason he says, “On these hang the whole law and the prophets.” For this reason he does here also what he did before. For there, asked about the manner of the resurrection, he also taught that there is a resurrection, instructing them in more than they inquired; and here, asked the first commandment, he states the second too, not falling far short of that (for it is second, yet like that), hinting to them from what their question had arisen, namely from enmity. “For love does not envy.” By this he shows himself obedient both to the law and to the prophets. But why does Matthew say that he asked testing him, while Mark says the opposite? “For Jesus, seeing,” he says, “that he answered wisely, said to him, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God.’” They do not contradict each other, but even agree closely. For he asked testing him at the beginning, but was benefited by the answer and was praised. For he did not praise him at the beginning; but when he said that to love one’s neighbor is more than burnt offerings, then he says, “You are not far from the kingdom,” because he looked beyond the lowly things and grasped the beginning of virtue. For all those things exist for the sake of this, both the sabbath and the rest. And not even so did he make his praise complete, but still lacking. For to say “You are not far” shows him still distant, so that he might seek what was lacking. And if he praised him when he said that God is one, and there is no other besides him, do not be surprised; but learn from this too how he answers according to the opinion of those who come to him. For even if they say countless things about Christ unworthy of his glory, yet this at least they will not dare to say, that he is not God at all. Why then does he praise the one who said that besides the Father there is no other God? Not excluding himself from being God (away with the thought!); but since it was not yet the time to reveal his Godhead, he lets the man remain in the former doctrine, and praises him for knowing the old things well, so as to make him fit for the teaching of the new as well, introducing it in due time. And besides, “God is one, and there is no other besides him,” both in the Old Testament and everywhere, is said not to set aside the Son, but by way of contrast with the idols. So in praising this man for so speaking, he praises him with this meaning. Then, since he had answered, he asks in turn, “What do you think of the Christ? Whose son is he?” They say to him, “David’s.” See after how many miracles, after how many signs, after how many questions, after how great a display of his concord with the Father, both by words and by deeds, after praising this man who said that God is one, he asks; so that they may not be able to say that he worked miracles but was opposed to the law and hostile to God. For this reason, after so many things, he asks this, leading them secretly to confess that he too is God. And the disciples he first asked what the others say, and then asked them; but these not so; for they would have called him a deceiver and wicked, as men who said everything without fear. For this reason he examines their own verdict. For since he was now about to go to the Passion, he sets down the prophecy that clearly proclaims him Lord, yet not simply, nor coming to this of his own accord, but from a reasonable cause. For having asked them first, since they did not answer the truth about him (for they said he was a mere man), overturning their mistaken opinion, he so brings in David proclaiming his Godhead. For they thought he was a mere man, and so they said, “David’s”; but he, correcting this, brings forward the prophet bearing witness to his lordship, and the genuineness of his sonship, and his equality of honor with the Father. And he does not stop even at this, but in order to frighten them he adds what follows, saying, “Until I put your enemies under your feet,” so that at least in this way he might draw them on. And lest they should say that David called him so out of flattery, and that this is a human verdict, see what he says: “How then does David in the Spirit call him Lord?” See how modestly he brings in the verdict and the opinion about himself. First he said, “What do you think? Whose son is he?” so as to bring them by questioning to an answer. Then, when they said, “David’s,” he did not say, “And yet David says this,” but again in the form of questions: “How then does David in the Spirit call him Lord?” so that what was said might not offend them. That is why he did not say, “What do you think of me?” but, “of the Christ.” For this reason the apostles too spoke modestly, saying, “It is permitted to speak freely about the patriarch David, that he both died and was buried.” And he himself likewise, for this reason, brings in the doctrine as in the form of question and reasoning, saying, “How then does David in the Spirit call him Lord, saying, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet’?” and again, “If then David calls him Lord, how is he his son?” not denying that he is his son (away with the thought! for he would not have rebuked Peter for this), but correcting their supposition. So that when he says, “How is he his son?” he means this: not in the way you say. For they said that he is only his son, and not also Lord. And this after the testimony, and then modestly: “If then David calls him Lord, how is he his son?” But even hearing this they answered nothing; for they did not wish to learn anything that they ought. That is why he himself adds, saying that he is his Lord. Or rather not even this absolutely, but taking the prophet along with himself, because he was greatly disbelieved by them and slandered among them. Which especially we must consider, so as not to be offended if something lowly and modest is said by him; for this is the cause, along with many others, that he speaks condescending to them. That is why here too he teaches doctrine in the form of question and answer; yet even so he hints at his dignity. For it was not the same to hear that he was Lord of the Jews and of David. And consider, I pray you, the timeliness. For when he had said, “The Lord is one,” then he said of himself too that he is Lord, and from prophecy, no longer from works only. And he shows the Father avenging him on them: “For until I put,” he says, “your enemies under your feet”; and from this too the great concord and honor of the one who begot him toward him. And he puts this end to his discourses with them, lofty and great and able to sew up their mouths. For they were silent from then on, not willingly, but because they had nothing to say; and they received so mortal a blow that they no longer dared to attempt the same things. “For no one,” it says, “dared from that day to question him any more.” And this benefited the crowds not a little. That is why he now turns his discourse to them, having driven off the wolves and frustrated their plots. For those men gained nothing, being caught by vainglory and having fallen into this terrible passion. For the passion is terrible and many-headed. For some love rule because of it, others money, others strength. And going on its way, it comes even to almsgiving, and fasting, and prayers, and teaching; and many are the heads of this beast. But to be vainglorious over those other things is no wonder; but over fasting and prayer, this is what is strange and full of tears. But lest we only accuse again, come, let us tell also the way by which we shall escape it. Against whom, then, shall we strip first? Against those who are vainglorious over money, or over garments, or over offices, or over teaching, or over crafts, or over the body, or over beauty, or over adornment, or over cruelty, or over love for mankind and almsgiving, or over wickedness, or over their death, or after death? For, as I said, this passion has many coils, and goes even beyond our life. “For so-and-so has died,” someone says, “and in order to be admired, he ordered such and such things to be done; and for this reason so-and-so is poor, and so-and-so rich.” For this is the grievous thing, that it is made up even of opposites. Against whom, then, shall we stand and draw up our line first? For one and the same word does not suffice against all. Do you wish, then, against those who are vainglorious over almsgiving? I think so; for I love this thing greatly, and I grieve to see it ruined, and vainglory plotting against it like a nurse turned procuress against a king’s daughter. For she nurses her, but for shame and loss, acting as her bawd, and bidding her despise her father, and adorn herself to please men who are often foul and contemptible; and she puts on her such adornment as those outside wish, shameful and dishonorable, not such as the father wishes. Come then, let us turn on these, and let there be some almsgiving done with abundance for display to the many. Then first she leads her out of the father’s chamber. And the father bids her not appear even to the left hand; but this one shows her to the slaves and to chance comers who do not even know her. Do you see a harlot and procuress throwing her into love of absurd men, so that she may be shaped as they bid? Do you wish to see how she makes such a soul not only a harlot but mad too? Then observe her mind. For when, leaving heaven, she runs after runaway slaves and household drudges, pursuing through the lanes and alleys those who hate her, the ugly and ill-favored, those who do not even wish to see her, who hate her because she is burning for them, what could be madder than this? For the many hate no one so much as those who want glory from them. At any rate they weave countless accusations against them; and it is the same as if someone brought down a virgin, a king’s daughter, from the royal throne, and bade her give herself up to gladiators who spit upon her. For the more you pursue these men, the more they turn away from you; but God, if you seek the glory that is from him, draws you the more and praises you, and gives you a great reward. And if you wish to learn its loss from another side too: when you give for display and ambition, reckon how great a grief comes upon you afterward, and how continual the despondency, as Christ rings in your ears and says that you have lost all your reward. For vainglory is an evil everywhere, but especially in love for mankind, since it is the utmost cruelty, parading other people’s misfortunes and all but reproaching those in poverty. For if to speak of one’s own benefits is to reproach, to spread them abroad to many others, what do you think that is? How then shall we escape the danger? If we learn to show mercy, if we see whose glory we are seeking. For tell me, who is the master craftsman of almsgiving? God plainly, who showed the thing, who knows it best of all, and practices it without limit. What then? If you are learning to wrestle, to whom do you look, or to whom do you show yourself in the wrestling school, to the man selling vegetables and fish, or to the trainer? And yet the former are many, the latter one. What then, if others laugh at him while he admires you, will you not laugh at them along with him? And if you are learning to box, will you not look in the same way to the one who knows how to teach it? And if you pursue eloquence, will you not accept the praises of the rhetor and despise the others? How then is it not absurd, in the other arts to look to the teacher alone, but here to do the opposite? And yet the loss is not equal. For there, if you wrestle to please the many and not the teacher, the loss is in the wrestling; but here it is in eternal life. Have you become like God in showing mercy? Become like him, then, in not making a display too. For he too, when healing, said that they should tell no one. But you wish to be called merciful among men? And what is the gain? Gain there is none, but the loss is infinite. For these very men whom you call to witness become robbers of the treasures in heaven; or rather not they, but we, who plunder our own goods and scatter what is laid up above. O strange calamity, and outlandish passion! Where the moth does not destroy, nor does the thief break in, vainglory scatters. This is the moth of the treasures there; this is the thief of the wealth in heaven; this drags away the riches that cannot be plundered; this ruins and corrupts everything. For since the devil saw that place to be impregnable to robbers and worm and other plots, he drags away the wealth through vainglory.

But you desire glory? Then is the glory from the receiver himself not enough for you, or that from the God who loves mankind, but you long for that from men too? Take care that you do not undergo the opposite, that someone condemns you as not showing mercy but making a display and seeking honor, as making a tragedy out of other people’s misfortunes. For almsgiving is a mystery. Shut the doors, then, so that no one may see what it is not lawful to display. For our mysteries too are above all this: almsgiving and God’s love for mankind. “For according to his great mercy he had mercy on us,” when we were disobedient. And the first prayer too is full of mercy, when we entreat for the possessed; and the second again, for others who are in penance, seeking much mercy; and the third again, for ourselves; and this one puts forward the innocent children of the people, entreating God for mercy. For since we ourselves have condemned ourselves for our sins, for those who have sinned much and deserve to be blamed we ourselves cry out, but for ourselves the children do, those whose imitators in simplicity the kingdom of heaven awaits. For this figure shows this, that those who are lowly and guileless like those children are above all able to beg off the guilty. And the mystery itself, how much mercy, how much love for mankind it contains, the initiated know. You too, then, showing mercy to a man according to your power, shut the doors: let only the one shown mercy see; and if possible, not even he. But if you throw them open, you parade your mystery. Consider that the very man whose glory you seek will himself condemn you too; and if he is a friend, he will accuse you to himself; but if an enemy, he will ridicule you to others too. And you will undergo the opposite of what you desire. For you desire him to say, “He is merciful”; but he will not say this, but, “He is vainglorious, a man-pleaser,” and other things far worse than these. But if you hide it, he will say everything opposite to these: “He is loving, he is merciful.” For God does not allow it to be hidden; but if you hide it, he will make it plain, and the wonder greater, and the gain more. So that even for this very thing, being glorified, display is against us; for to the very thing we hurry and press toward, this very thing stands most in our way. For not only do we not receive the reputation of being merciful, but even the opposite, and besides this we undergo great loss too. On every account, then, let us keep away from this, and love God’s glory alone. For so we shall both obtain the glory here and enjoy the eternal good things, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“… Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples, saying, ‘The scribes and the Pharisees sit on the seat of Moses. All, then, that they tell you to do, do; but do not do according to their works.’” Then, when? When he had said these things; when he had silenced them; when he had brought them to no longer dare to test him; when he had shown them to be incurable. And since he had mentioned the Lord and the Lord, he runs back again to the law. “And yet the law said nothing of the kind,” someone says, “but, ‘The Lord your God, the Lord is one.’” But Scripture calls the whole Old Testament the law. And he says these things showing by everything his great concord with the one who begot him. For if he had been opposed, he would have said the opposite about the law; but as it is, he bids them show such reverence for it that, even when those who teach it are corrupt, he bids them cleave to it. And here he speaks also about life and conduct, since this above all was the cause of their unbelief: a corrupt life and the love of glory. Correcting his hearers, then, he enjoins abundantly what contributes first and most to salvation: not to despise their teachers, nor to rise up against the priests. And he not only enjoins it but also does it himself. For though they were corrupt, he does not bring them down from their honor, making the judgment heavier for them, while leaving those who were being taught no pretext for disobedience. For lest anyone should say, “Because my teacher is bad, for this reason I have become more careless,” he takes away this pretext too. So firmly, at any rate, did he establish their authority, though they were wicked, that even after so great an accusation he said, “All that they tell you to do, do.” For they do not speak their own things, but the things of God, which he legislated through Moses. And see how much honor he pays to Moses, again showing his agreement with the Old Testament, since even from this he makes them worthy of respect. “For they sit on the seat of Moses,” he says. For since he could not make them trustworthy from their life, he does it from what was possible, from the seat and the succession from him. And when you hear “all,” do not understand the whole legislation, for example the rules about foods, about sacrifices, and all such things; for how would he say these things, which he had already abolished? But he means all that corrects character and makes conduct better and agrees with the laws of the New Testament, and no longer allows us to be under the yoke of the law. Why then does he lay these things down not from the law of grace but from that of Moses? Because it was not yet the time, before the cross, to speak plainly of these things. And it seems to me that besides what has been said he is preparing something else too in saying this. For since he was about to accuse them, lest he should seem to the foolish to covet this authority of theirs, or to do these things from enmity, he first removes this suspicion, and having made himself above suspicion, then begins the accusation. And why does he convict them and stretch out long discourses against them? Guarding the crowds, so that they may not fall into the same things. For forbidding is not the same as pointing out those who have stumbled, just as exhorting to what is right is not the same as bringing those who do right into the middle. That is why he says beforehand, “But do not do according to their works.” For lest they should think that because they listened to them they must also imitate them, he uses this correction, and turns what seems to be their honor into an accusation. For what could be more wretched than a teacher whose disciples are saved by not paying attention to his life? So what seems to be their honor is the greatest accusation, when they are seen to have such a life that those who imitate it are corrupted. That is why he falls into the accusations against them. And not for this reason only, but to show that both their former unbelief and the cross they afterward dared were a charge not against the one crucified and disbelieved, but against their ingratitude. And see where he begins and how he increases the charges. “For they say,” he says, “and do not do.” For everyone who transgresses the law deserves charges, but above all the one who has the authority of teaching; for he deserves to be condemned doubly and triply: for one thing, because he transgresses; for another, because, though he ought to correct others, he limps, and deserves greater punishment because of his honor; and third, because he corrupts the more, since he breaks the law in the position of a teacher. And besides these he names another charge against them, that they are harsh to those under them. “For they bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger.” He names here a twofold wickedness: demanding unpardoningly from those they rule a great and extreme strictness of life, while allowing themselves great license; whereas the best ruler should have the opposite: in his own affairs he should be an unpardoning and harsh judge, but in those of the ruled forgiving and gentle; the opposite of which these men did.

For such are all who philosophize in words: unpardoning and severe, as having no experience of the difficulty of deeds. And this is no small vice either, nor does it increase the former accusation in an ordinary way. And see, I pray you, how he increases the charge in this too. For he did not say “they cannot,” but “they will not”; and he did not say “carry,” but “move with their finger,” that is, not even come near, nor touch. But where are they earnest and vigorous? In what is forbidden. “For they do all their works,” he says, “to be seen by men.” He says these things accusing them of vainglory, which destroyed them. For the former things were of cruelty and sloth, but these of the madness for glory. This separated them from God; this made them contend in another theater, and corrupted them. For whatever spectators a man has, since he is eager to please them, such contests he displays as well; and the one who wrestles before noble spectators pursues contests of the same kind, while the one before cold and slack spectators himself becomes more careless. For example, someone has a spectator who delights in laughter? He too becomes a jester, to delight the spectator. Another has a serious spectator who loves philosophy? He too is eager to be such, since such is the mind of the one who praises. And see again here too the charge intensified. For they do not do some things in this way and others otherwise, but simply all things so. Then, having accused them of vainglory, he shows that they are vainglorious not even over great and necessary things (for they did not have these, but were destitute of good deeds), but over cold and paltry things, things that were proofs of their wickedness: “… their phylacteries,” he says, “and they enlarge the fringes of their garments.” And what are these phylacteries and fringes? Since they continually forgot God’s benefits, he commanded that his wonders be written in small scrolls and fastened to their hands (that is why he said, “They shall be immovable before your eyes”), which they called phylacteries, as many women now hang Gospels from their necks. And so that they might be reminded from another side too, as many often do who, being forgetful, tie their finger with a thread of linen or wool, this God bade them do as children: to sew a blue thread on their garments at the hem around the feet, so that, attending to it, they might remember the commandments; and these were called fringes. In these things, then, they were earnest, broadening the straps of the scrolls and making the fringes large; which was the mark of the utmost vainglory. For why are you ambitious and broaden these? Is this your good deed? Does it profit you at all, if you do not gain what comes from them? For God does not seek that you enlarge and broaden these, but that you remember his good deeds. And if one must not be ambitious over almsgiving and fasting, though these are toilsome and our own, how do you pride yourself on these things, O Jew, which above all accuse you of carelessness? And they were sick in this way not only in these things but in other small things too. “For they love,” he says, “the first couch at dinners, and the first seats in the synagogues, and the greetings in the marketplaces, and to be called by men ‘Rabbi.’” For even if one thinks these things small, they are the causes of great evils. These have overturned both cities and churches. And it comes over me to weep now, when I hear of the first seats and the greetings, and reckon how many evils have been born from this for the churches of God; which it is not necessary to tell you now; or rather, as many as are older do not even need to learn these things from us. But consider, I pray you, where vainglory prevailed: where they were commanded not to be vainglorious, in the synagogues, where they came in to regulate others. For to suffer this at dinners, in whatever way, does not seem so terrible; and yet there too the teacher ought to be admired, not in the church only but everywhere. And just as a man, wherever he appears, is plainly distinct from the irrational animals, so the teacher too, whether speaking or silent or at his meal or doing anything whatever, ought to be plain from his word, his glance, his bearing, and simply from everything. But they were ridiculous on every side and disgraced everywhere, pursuing what they ought to flee. “For they love,” he says. And if to love it is a charge, how great a one to do it! And to hunt for these things and be eager to get them, how great an evil!

The other things, then, he left at the accusation of those men, as small and paltry, and as the disciples did not need correction about these too; but what was the cause of all the evils, the love of rule and the seizing of the teacher’s chair, this he brought into the middle and corrects earnestly, laying a strong charge on them too about it. For what does he say? “But you, do not be called Rabbi.” Then the reason too: “For one is your teacher, and you are all brothers”; and one has nothing more than another, in that no one knows anything of himself. That is why Paul too says, “For who is Paul, and who is Apollos, and who is Cephas, but servants?” He did not say “teachers.” And again, “Do not call anyone father,” not that they should not call anyone so, but that they may know whom they ought properly to call father. For as the teacher is not the teacher in the primary sense, so neither is the father. For he is the cause of all, both of teachers and of fathers. And again he adds, “Nor be called leaders; for one is your leader, the Christ.” And he did not say “I.” As he said above, “What do you think of the Christ?” and did not say, “of me,” so also here. But I would gladly ask here what they would say who often apply the “one” and “one” to the Father alone, to set aside the Only-begotten. Is the Father a leader? All would say so, and no one will contradict. And yet he says, “One is your leader, the Christ.” As, then, Christ, being called the one leader, does not exclude the Father from being leader, so too the Father, being called the one teacher, does not exclude the Son from being teacher. For the “one” and “one” is said by way of contrast with men and the rest of creation. Having forbidden them, then, this grievous disease and corrected it, he also teaches how they might escape it: by humility. That is why he adds, “But the greatest among you shall be your servant. For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” For nothing equals modesty; that is why he continually reminds them of this virtue, both when he brought the children into the middle and now; and when beginning on the mountain with the beatitudes he began from this; and here he plucks it out by the roots, saying, “He who humbles himself will be exalted.” Do you see how he leads the hearer away to the diametric opposite? For he not only forbids loving the first places, but bids pursue the last. “For so you will obtain your desire,” he says. Therefore the one who pursues the desire for the first places must pursue the last rank. “For whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” And where shall we find this humility? Do you wish us to go again to the city of virtue, the tents of the saints, I mean the mountains and the glens? For there we shall see this height of humility. For men who are illustrious, some from outward ranks, others from wealth, restrain themselves on every side, by their clothing, by their dwelling, by those who serve them; and as in letters they write humility through everything. And the things that are tinder for boastfulness (being finely dressed, building splendidly, having many servants), which often throw men into boastfulness even against their will, are all done away there. And they themselves light the fire, they themselves split the wood, they themselves cook, they themselves serve those who come. There one hears no one insulting, nor sees anyone insulted, nor anyone commanded or commanding; but all are of those who serve, and each washes the feet of the strangers, and there is great rivalry over this. And he does this not examining who the man is, whether slave or free, but performs this service for everyone. There no one is great or small. What then? Is there confusion? God forbid! But the first good order. For even if someone is small, the great one does not see this, but considers himself lower even than him, and in this way becomes greater. One table for all, both for those served and for those serving; the same food, the same garments, the same dwellings, the same way of life. Great there is the one who seizes the meanest work. There is no “mine” and “yours”; but this word, the cause of countless wars, has been banished.

And why do you wonder if their dwelling and table and robe are one for all, when even their soul is one for all, not according to essence only (for this is so with all men), but according to love? How then could it ever be lifted up against itself? There is no poverty and wealth there, no glory and dishonor; how then could arrogance and boastfulness find a way in? For there are indeed small and great according to the measure of virtue; but, as I said, no one sees this. The small one is not pained as though despised, for there is no one who despises; and even if someone spits on him, this above all is what they are trained in: to be despised, to be spat upon, to be made of no account, by words, by deeds. And they live with the poor and the maimed, and their tables are full of these guests; for this reason they are worthy of heaven too. And one tends the wounds of those who are disfigured, another leads the blind by the hand, another carries the one lame in the leg. There is no crowd of flatterers there, nor of parasites; or rather they do not even know what flattery is; how then could they ever be lifted up? For there is great equality among them; and therefore great ease of virtue. For the lowlier are trained by these things more than if they were compelled to yield the first places to them. For just as the one who is struck and gives way trains the rash man, so the one who does not lay claim to glory but despises it trains the ambitious man. And this they do there in abundance; and as great as the battle among us to obtain the first places, so great is the contest among them not to obtain them but to thrust them away, and great is the earnestness over who shall have more of honoring others, not of being honored. And besides, their very works persuade them to be modest and do not let them swell. For who, tell me, digging the ground and watering and planting, or plaiting baskets and weaving sackcloth, or handling any other such work, will ever think highly of himself? And who, living with poverty and wrestling with hunger, will be sick with this disease? There is no one. For this reason humility is easy for them. And just as here it is hard to be modest because of the multitude of those who applaud and admire, so there it is very easy. For he attends only to the desert, and sees birds flying, and trees swaying, and the west wind blowing, and streams rushing through ravines. How then could one who lives in such solitude be lifted up? Yet we shall not have a defense from this, because, living in the midst of things, we think highly of ourselves. For Abraham, living among the Canaanites, said, “But I am earth and ashes”; and David, in the midst of armies, “But I am a worm, and no man”; and the apostle in the midst of the world, “I am not worthy to be called an apostle.” What consolation, then, shall we have, what defense, when, though we have so many examples, we are not modest? For just as those who first went the road of virtue are worthy of countless crowns, so we are liable to countless punishments, who are drawn to equal zeal neither after those who have departed and are set down in writings, nor after these who are living and admired for their deeds. For what could you say, if you are not corrected? You do not know letters, nor have you looked into the Scriptures, to learn the virtues of the men of old? This itself above all is a charge, that when the church is always open you do not go in and share in those pure streams. Yet even if you did not know those who have departed through the Scriptures, you ought to have seen these who are living. But there is no one to lead you by the hand? Come to me, and I will show you the dwellings of these saints; come and learn something useful from them. These are lamps shining everywhere on the earth; they surround the cities like walls. For this reason they took possession of the deserts, so as to teach you too to despise the tumults in the midst of things. For they, being strong, can enjoy calm even in the middle of the surge; but you, drenched on every side, need quiet, and a little breathing space from the waves that come one after another. Go there continually, then, so that, cleansing your continual stain by their prayers and exhortations, you may both pass the life here in the best way and obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom to the Father be glory, might, honor, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, because you devour the houses of widows, and for a pretext make long prayers; therefore you will receive the greater condemnation.” From here he now ridicules them for gluttony; and the terrible thing is that they filled their bellies not from the rich but from widows, and wore down their poverty, which they ought to have relieved. For they did not simply eat, but devoured. Then the manner of the trafficking is worse too: “for a pretext making long prayers.” For everyone who does some evil deserves punishment; but the one who takes his occasion from piety, and uses it as a cloak for wickedness, is liable to far heavier chastisement. And why did he not depose them? Because the time did not yet allow it. For this reason he lets them alone for the present; but by what he says he makes the people proof against deception, so that they may not be drawn to the same zeal because of these men’s rank. For since he had said, “All that they tell you to do, do,” he shows how much they do amiss, so that he might not be thought by the foolish, from that saying, to allow them everything. “Woe to you, because you shut the kingdom in front of men; for you do not go in, nor do you let those who are entering go in.” And if benefiting no one is a charge, what pardon has it to harm and to hinder too? And what does “those who are entering” mean? Those who are fit. For when they had to lay commands on others, they made the burdens unbearable; but when they themselves had to do something of what was required, the opposite: not only did they themselves do nothing, but, what is far more in the way of wickedness, they even corrupted others. These are the men called pests, who make the destruction of others their business, standing diametrically opposed to teachers. For if it is a teacher’s part to save the one perishing, to destroy the one about to be saved is the part of a destroyer. Then again another charge: “Because you go round sea and dry land to make one proselyte; and when he has become one, you make him a son of Gehenna twice as much as yourselves.” That is, “Not even having caught him with difficulty and after countless toils makes you spare him; and yet we spare more those who were acquired with difficulty; but not even this makes you gentler.” Here he charges them with two things: one, that they are useless for the salvation of the many, and need much sweat to draw even one; the other, that they are careless in keeping the one acquired; or rather not careless only, but even traitors, corrupting him by the wickedness of their life and making him worse. For when the disciple sees his teachers such, he becomes worse. For he does not stop at the teacher’s wickedness; but when the teacher is virtuous he imitates him, and when he is bad he even surpasses him, because of the ease of going toward the worse. And he says “a son of Gehenna,” that is, Gehenna itself. And he said “twice as much as yourselves” so as both to frighten those and to strike these the harder, because they are teachers of wickedness. And not this only, but because they are eager to instill even more wickedness in their disciples, driving them on to a far greater baseness than they themselves have; which is above all the mark of a corrupt soul. Then he mocks them for folly too, because they bade men despise the greater commandments. And yet before he said the opposite, that they bind heavy burdens, hard to bear. But they did these things too, and did everything for the corruption of those under them, seeking exactness in small things and despising the great. “For you tithe,” he says, “mint and dill, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law, judgment and mercy and faith. These you ought to have done, and not to have neglected those.” Here, then, he speaks with reason, where it is a matter of tithe and almsgiving; for what harm is there in giving alms? But not as keeping the law; for he himself does not say it so. For this reason here he says, “These you ought to have done”; but where he speaks of clean and unclean, he no longer adds this, but distinguishes, and shows that the outward purity necessarily follows the inward, but not the reverse. For where the subject was love for mankind, he passes over it lightly, both for this very reason and because it was not yet the time to abolish the legal observances openly and clearly; but where it is the observance of bodily purifications, he overturns it more clearly. For this reason, about almsgiving he says, “These you ought to have done, and not to have neglected those”; but about purifications not so. But how? “You clean,” he says, “the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside they are full of extortion and injustice. Clean the inside of the cup, so that the outside also may become clean.” And he took this from a thing acknowledged and plain, from a cup and a dish.

Then, showing that there is no harm from despising the bodily purifications, but the greatest punishment from not caring for the purifications of the soul, which are virtue, he called the former a gnat, for they were small and nothing, and the latter a camel, for they were unbearable. That is why he says, “straining out the gnat and swallowing the camel.” For those things too were legislated for the sake of these, for the sake of mercy and judgment; so that not even then did they profit when done alone. For since the small things had been spoken for the sake of the great, when the great were neglected and the small alone pursued, there was no gain even then from them. For those did not follow upon these, but these follow upon those in every case. And he says these things showing that even before grace came these were not among the primary nor the necessary things, but that other things were sought. And if these were such before grace, much more, now that lofty precepts have come, are they useless, and must not be practiced at all. Wickedness is grievous everywhere; but above all when it does not even think it needs correction; and what is still more grievous, when it even thinks itself able to correct others; which Christ making plain calls them blind guides. For if it is the utmost misfortune and wretchedness for a blind man not to think he needs a guide, for him to wish to guide others too, see to what a pit it leads. And he said these things hinting throughout at their madness for glory, and their violent frenzy over this disease. For this became for them the cause of all evils: doing everything for display. This led them away from the faith too, made them neglect true virtue, and persuaded them to busy themselves with bodily purifications alone, neglecting the purifications of the soul. For this reason, leading them to true virtue and to the purifications of the soul, he mentions mercy and judgment and faith. For these are what hold our life together, these are what cleanse the soul: justice, love for mankind, truth; the one leading us to forgiveness, and not letting us be excessively harsh and unforgiving to those who sin (for so we shall gain doubly, both becoming loving and enjoying much love for mankind ourselves from the God of all), and preparing us to share the pain of the wronged and to defend them; the other not allowing us to be deceivers and treacherous. But neither when he says, “These you ought to have done, and not to have neglected those,” does he say it as introducing the legal observance (away with the thought! for we showed this before); nor when he says of the dish and the cup, “Clean the inside of the cup and of the dish, so that the outside also may become clean,” does he lead us to the old pettiness; but quite the opposite, he does everything to show that it is superfluous. For he did not say, “Clean the outside too,” but the inside; and that certainly follows upon this. And besides, he is not speaking of a cup and dish, but discoursing about soul and body, calling the body the outside and the soul the inside. And if with a dish there is need of the inside, much more with you. “But you do the opposite,” he says: “guarding the small and outward things, you neglect the great and inward; from which the greatest harm comes, that, thinking you have achieved everything, you despise the rest; and despising them, you neither strive nor try to achieve them.” Then again he mocks them for vainglory, calling them whitewashed tombs, and adding to everything, “hypocrites,” which is the cause of all evils and the occasion of destruction for them. And he did not simply call them whitewashed tombs, but said that they are full of uncleanness and hypocrisy. And he said these things showing the cause for which they did not believe: that they were full of hypocrisy and lawlessness. And not Christ only, but the prophets too continually bring these charges: that they plunder, that their rulers do not judge according to the rule of justice; and everywhere you would find the sacrifices rejected and these things sought. So there is nothing strange or new, either in the legislation or in the accusation; nor even in the image of the tomb. For the prophet mentions it, and he too did not simply call it a tomb, but said, “Their throat is an open grave.” Such are many men now too, adorned outwardly but filled within with all lawlessness. For now too there is much manner of outward purifications, much care, but of those of the soul not one. But if someone were to rip open each one’s conscience, he would find many worms and much pus and an unspeakable stench: I mean absurd and wicked desires, which are more unclean than worms. But

that those men should be such is not so terrible, though it is terrible; but that you, who have been counted worthy to become temples of God, should suddenly become tombs with such a stench, this is the mark of the utmost wretchedness. Where Christ dwells, and the Holy Spirit has worked, and so great mysteries, that this should be a tomb, what wretchedness is this! How many laments and wailings it deserves, when the members of Christ become a tomb of uncleanness! Consider how you were born, what you were counted worthy of, what robe you received, how you were made an unbroken temple, how beautiful, adorned not with gold nor with pearls but with the Spirit, more precious than these. Consider that no tomb is built in a city; so neither will you be able to appear in the city above. For if this is forbidden here, much more there. Or rather, even here you are ridiculous to all, carrying about a dead soul; and not only ridiculous, but to be shunned. For tell me, if someone went about carrying a corpse, would not all leap away? Would not all flee? Reckon this now too. For you go about carrying a far more grievous sight than this, a soul deadened by sins, a soul paralyzed. Who then will pity such a man? For when you do not pity your own soul, how will another pity one so cruel, so hostile and an enemy to himself? If someone buried a dead body where you slept and dined, what would you not have done? But you bury a dead soul, not where you take your meal nor where you sleep, but in the members of Christ; and do you not fear lest countless thunderbolts and lightnings come down from above on your head? And how do you even dare to set foot in the churches of God and the holy temples, reeking within of such foulness? For if someone carrying a dead body into the palace and burying it there would pay the utmost penalty, consider what punishment you will undergo, setting foot within the holy precincts and filling the house with such a stench. Imitate that harlot, who anointed Christ’s feet with ointment and filled the whole house with fragrance; you do the opposite of her to the house. For what if you do not perceive the stench? This above all is the grievous thing about the disease; that is why you are incurably sick, and more grievously than those whose bodies are maimed and fetid. For that disease gives the sufferers perception of it, and carries no charge, but is even worthy of pity; but this one deserves hatred and punishment. Since, then, it is worse in this too, that the sick man does not perceive it as he ought, come, give yourself to the word, so that I may teach you clearly its ruin. And first hear what you say when you sing the psalm: “Let my prayer be directed as incense before you.” When, then, not incense but a stinking smoke goes up from you and your deeds, what penalty do you not deserve to undergo? What then is the stinking smoke? Many come in staring at the beauty of women; others busy themselves with the bloom of boys. Then do you not wonder how thunderbolts are not hurled and everything is not torn up from its foundations? For what is done deserves thunderbolts and Gehenna; but God, being long-suffering and of great mercy, holds back his wrath for a time, calling you to repentance and correction. What are you doing, man? You busy yourself with the beauty of women, and do you not shudder at so insulting the temple of God? Does the church seem to you a brothel, and more dishonorable than the marketplace? For in the marketplace you are afraid and ashamed to be seen busying yourself with a woman; but in the temple of God, while God himself is speaking to you and threatening about these things, you commit fornication and adultery at the very moment when you are hearing not to do them; and do you not shudder nor stand aghast? These things the theaters of licentiousness teach you, that plague hard to dissolve, those … drugs, the grievous snares of the slack, the destruction of the licentious with pleasure. That is why the prophet too, accusing, said, “Your eyes are not, nor your heart, good.” It would be better for such men to be blind; better to be sick than to use their eyes for these things. You ought to have had within you the wall that separates you from the women; but since you will not, the fathers thought it necessary to wall you off at least with these boards; as I at least hear from the elders that of old not even these partitions existed. “For in Christ Jesus there is neither male nor female.” And in the time of the apostles both men and women were together. For the men were men, and the women women; but now quite the opposite: the women have thrust themselves into the manners of courtesans, and the men are in no better state than maddened horses. Have you not heard that men and women were gathered in the upper room, and that assembly was worthy of heaven? And very reasonably. For then women too practiced great philosophy, and men gravity and self-control. Hear, at any rate, the seller of purple saying, “If you have judged me faithful to the Lord, come in and stay with me.” Hear of the women who went about with the apostles, having taken on a manly spirit: Priscilla, Persis, and the rest; from whom the women of the present are as far removed as the men are from those men.

For then, even when traveling abroad, they did not get an evil reputation; but now, even when brought up in the chamber, they scarcely escape this suspicion. And these things come from their adornments and their luxury. Then their work was to spread the preaching; but now, to appear comely and beautiful and fair of face. This is their glory, this their salvation; but the lofty and great achievements they do not care for even in a dream. What woman has made it her concern to make her husband better? What man has taken this care, to correct his wife? There is no one. But the woman’s whole concern is for the care of gold ornaments and garments and the other adornments of the body, and for increasing the property; and the man has this concern and many others besides, all of them worldly. Who, when about to marry, has examined a girl’s character and upbringing? No one; but at once money and estates and the measures of property of every various kind, as though he were about to buy something or carry out some common contract. That is why they even call marriage so. For I have heard many saying, “So-and-so has contracted with so-and-so,” that is, married. And they insult God’s gifts, and they marry and are given in marriage as though buying and selling. And the documents need more security than those about sale and purchase. Learn how the men of old married, and emulate them. How then did they marry? They sought manners and character and virtue of soul. For this reason they had no need of documents, nor of security from paper and ink; for the bride’s character sufficed them instead of everything. I beg you too, then, not to seek money and wealth, but character and goodness. Seek a pious and philosophic girl; and these will be better for you than ten thousand treasures. If you seek the things of God, these too will come; but if you pass those by and run after these, not even these will follow. “But so-and-so,” someone says, “became wealthy from a wife.” Are you not ashamed to bring forward such examples? “May I become poor ten thousand times,” I have heard many saying, “rather than receive wealth from a woman.” For what is more disagreeable than that wealth, more bitter than that affluence, more shameful than to be notable from this and to be called by all, “So-and-so became wealthy from a wife”? For I leave aside the unpleasantness within, as much as must necessarily come from this: the wife’s pride, the servility, the quarrels, the reproaches of the servants: “The poor man, the man in rags, the dishonored son of dishonored parents! For what did he come with? Does not everything belong to the mistress?” But you care nothing for these words; for you are not free either. For parasites too hear worse things than these and are not pained; so neither are these; rather, they even pride themselves on the shame; and when we say these things to them, “Let it be,” he says, “something sweet and pleasant, and let it choke me.” O the devil! What proverbs he has brought into life, able to overturn the whole life of such men! See, at any rate, this very devilish and destructive saying, how full of ruin it is. For it says nothing else but these words: “Let no thought of what is honorable be yours, no thought of what is just; let all those things be thrown away; seek one thing only, pleasure. Even if the thing chokes you, let it be chosen; even if all who meet you spit on you, even if they rub mud on your face, even if they drive you away like a dog, bear everything.” And what else would swine say if they had a voice? What else unclean dogs? Perhaps not even those would utter such things as the devil has persuaded men to rave. Therefore I beg you, perceiving the senselessness of such words, to flee such proverbs, and to choose those from Scripture, which are opposed to them. And what are these? “Do not go,” it says, “after the desire of your soul, and restrain yourself from your appetites.” And about the harlot again it says, opposed to this proverb, “Do not attend to a worthless woman; for honey drips from the lips of a harlot woman, which for a season makes your throat smooth; but afterward you will find it more bitter than gall, and sharper than a two-edged sword.” Let us listen to these, then, not to those. For from those the illiberal, the servile thoughts spring; from those men become irrational, because they wish to pursue pleasure everywhere according to this proverb, which even without our words is ridiculous at once. For after being choked, what is the gain of the sweetness? Stop, then, making such laughter and kindling Gehenna and unquenchable fire; and let us at last, though late, look as we ought to the things to come, casting off the rheum of our eyes, so that we may both pass the life here decently and with great gravity and piety, and obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Woe to you, because you build the tombs of the prophets and adorn their monuments, and say, ‘If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partners with them in the blood of the prophets.’”

It is not because they build, nor because they accuse those men, that he says “woe,” but because, both by doing this and by what they say, while pretending to condemn their fathers, they do worse. For that the condemnation was a pretense, Luke shows when he says, “and you consent,” because you build. “For woe to you,” he says, “because you build the tombs of the prophets, and your fathers killed them. So you are witnesses and consent to the works of your fathers, for they killed them, and you build their tombs.” For here he exposes the intent with which they built: that it was not out of honor for those who had been slain, but as men making a parade of the slaughters, and afraid that, if the tombs disappeared with time, the proof of so great a crime and its memory might fade; so they built the tombs, setting up the splendid buildings like a kind of trophy, priding themselves on those men’s crimes and displaying them. “For what you now dare to do,” he says, “shows that you do these things too in this spirit. For even if you say the opposite, as though condemning them—for instance, that if we had been in those days we would not have been their partners—yet the mind that says this is plain.” Therefore, uncovering it, he spoke enigmatically, but spoke nonetheless. For having said, “You say, ‘If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partners with them in the blood of the prophets,’” he added, “So you are witnesses against yourselves that you are sons of those who murdered the prophets.” And what charge is it to be the son of a murderer, if one does not share the father’s mind? None. Hence it is clear that he brings this against them hinting at a kinship in wickedness. And what follows also makes this plain; at any rate he added, “Serpents, offspring of vipers.” For as those creatures resemble their parents in the harm of their venom, so you resemble your fathers in murderousness.

Then, since he had exposed a mind that was hidden from the many, he confirms what he had said also from what they were about to dare, which would become plain to all. For since he had said, “So you are witnesses against yourselves that you are sons of those who murdered the prophets,” showing that he speaks of kinship in wickedness, and that it was a fiction to say, “We would not have been their partners,” he added, “Fill up, then, the measure of your fathers,” not commanding, but foretelling what was to be, that is, his own slaughter. Having then brought the proof, and shown that what they said in their own defense was fiction—such as, “We would not have been their partners” (for those who did not keep their hands off the Master, how would they have kept them off the servants?)—he uses after this a more vehement speech, calling them serpents and offspring of vipers, and saying, “How will you escape the judgment of Gehenna,” when you dare such things, and deny them, and hide your intent? Then, convicting them from another side as well, more than enough, he says, “I will send to you prophets and wise men and scribes, and some of them you will kill and crucify, and in your synagogues you will scourge.” For so that they might not say, “Even if we crucified the Master, yet we would have kept our hands off the servants, had we been there then,” “Look,” he says, “I send you servants too, prophets themselves, and you will not spare even them.” He says this to show that it is nothing strange that he should be slain by those sons, since they were murderous and treacherous and full of deceit, and outdid their fathers in their crimes. Besides what has been said, he shows them also to be exceedingly vainglorious. For when they say, “If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not have been their partners,” they say it out of vainglory, philosophizing in words only, while in deeds they do the opposite.

“Serpents, offspring of vipers”: that is, wicked children of wicked men, and more wicked than those who begot them. For he shows that they dare greater things, both by daring after those men, and by daring things far worse than theirs, and that while they make a show of exactness, as though they would never fall into the same things. For they bring on the end and the crown of evils. For those killed the men who came to the vineyard; but these killed the Son as well, and those who call to the wedding. He says these things to separate them from kinship with Abraham, and to show that they gain nothing from it unless they imitate his works. Therefore he also adds, “How will you escape the judgment of Gehenna,” imitating those who dared such things? Here he reminded them also of John’s accusation (for he too called them so), and reminded them of the judgment to come. Then, since judgment and Gehenna did not frighten them at all, because they did not believe and because the thing lay in the future, he restrains them by things present, and says, “Therefore, look, I send to you prophets and scribes, and some of them you will kill and crucify and scourge, so that upon you may come all the righteous blood shed on the earth, from the blood of Abel the righteous to the blood of Zechariah son of Barachiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar. Truly I say to you, all these things will come upon this generation.”

[2] See with how many things he hemmed them in. He said, “You condemn your fathers by saying that we would not have shared with them,” and this is no small thing for putting them to shame. He said, “Condemning them, you yourselves do worse,” and this too is enough to disgrace them. He said that these things would not go unpunished, and by this he puts into them an unspeakable fear; at any rate he reminded them of Gehenna. Then, since that was in the future, he set before them present terrors too: “For all these things will come,” he says, “upon this generation.” He added also an unspeakable severity to the punishment, saying that they would suffer things more grievous than all, and that they had become better by none of these things. And if anyone should say, “And why do they suffer things more grievous than all?” we would say that they had also dared things more grievous than all, and were brought to their senses by none of the things that had happened. Or have you not heard Lamech saying, “Vengeance is taken for Lamech seventy times seven”? That is, I deserve more punishments than Cain. Why? Yet he did not kill a brother; but because he was not brought to his senses even by the example. And this is what God says elsewhere: “Rendering the sins of fathers upon children to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me”—not as though some paid the penalty for crimes dared by others, but because those who, after many had sinned and been punished, did not become better but committed the same offenses, are justly liable to those men’s punishments as well. And see how opportunely he reminded them of Abel too, showing that this murder also comes from envy. “What then would you be able to say? Did you not know what Cain suffered? Did God keep quiet about what had happened? Did he not exact the most grievous penalty? Have you not heard how much your fathers suffered for killing the prophets? Were they not handed over to countless punishments and penalties? How then did you not become better? And why do I speak of the punishments of your fathers, and what they suffered? You yourself, who passed sentence on your fathers, how do you do worse? For you yourselves also declared that he will miserably destroy those wicked men. What pardon, then, will you have henceforth, daring such things after such a verdict?”

But who is this Zechariah? Some say the father of John; some the prophet; some another, a priest with two names, whom Scripture calls the son of Jehoiada. But consider this: that the crime was double. For they killed not only holy men, but in a holy place as well. In saying this he not only frightened them, but also comforted the disciples, showing that the righteous before them had suffered these things too. And he frightened these men, foretelling that as those paid the penalty, so these too would suffer the extreme. Therefore he calls them prophets and wise men and scribes, here again removing all their excuse. “For you cannot say,” he says, “‘You sent men from the Gentiles, and therefore we took offense’; but being murderous and thirsting for blood led you to this.” Therefore he also said beforehand, “For this reason I send prophets and scribes.” This too all the prophets charged them with: “They mingle blood with blood,” saying also that they are men of blood. Therefore he also commanded that the blood be offered to himself, showing that if it is so precious in the case of a brute beast, much more in the case of a man. This he says also to Noah: “I will avenge all blood that is shed.” And one can find countless other such sayings commanding them not to murder; therefore they also commanded that not even what is strangled be eaten.

O the love of God for mankind! Though he foreknew that they would gain nothing, he did his own part nonetheless. “For I send,” he says, and that knowing they would be slain. So from this too they were proved to speak idly when they said, “We would not have been partners of our fathers.” For these too killed prophets, and in the synagogues; and they respected neither the place itself nor the dignity of the persons. For they did not kill just anyone, but prophets and wise men, so that they could charge them with nothing. By these he means the apostles and those after them, for many prophesied. Then, wishing to increase the fear, he says, “Truly, truly I say to you, all these things will come upon this generation”: that is, I will turn all things upon your heads, and I will make the vengeance severe. For he who knows that many have sinned, and is not brought to his senses, but himself sins the same sins again, and not the same only but far worse, would justly pay a penalty far more grievous than theirs. For as, had he wished, he would have gained greatly by becoming better through the examples of others, so, since he remained uncorrected, he is liable to a greater punishment, having enjoyed more warning through those who sinned before and were punished, and having reaped no fruit from it.

Then he turns his speech to the city, wishing by this too to instruct his hearers, and says, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem.” What does the doubling mean? This figure belongs to one who pities her and bewails her, and loves her greatly. For as to a beloved woman, loved at all times, but who has scorned her lover and is therefore about to be punished, he makes his defense, now that he is about to bring on the punishment. This he does also in the prophets, saying, “I said, Turn back to me, and she did not turn back.” Then, having called her, he speaks also of her bloodguilt: “You who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I wished to gather your children, and you would not”—and by this he defends what he himself had done: “Not even by these things did you turn me away, or draw me back from my great goodwill toward you; but even so I wished, not once or twice but often, to draw you to me. For how often,” he says, “I wished to gather your children together, as a hen her chicks, and you would not!” He says this to show that they were always scattering themselves by their sins. And he shows his tender affection by the image, for the creature is warm toward its young. And everywhere in the prophets this image of the wings appears, in the song of Moses and in the Psalms, showing his great shelter and providence. “But you would not,” he says. “Look, your house is left to you desolate”: stripped of the help that comes from me. So it was he who before also stood over them, and held them together and kept them; so it is he again who always punishes them. And he sets down a punishment which they had always feared exceedingly; for this signified the overthrow of their whole commonwealth. “For I tell you, you will not see me from now on, until you say, Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” This too is the word of an ardent lover, drawing them earnestly by things to come, not only putting them to shame by things past; for here he speaks of the day to come, of his second coming. What then? Did they not see him from that time on? But by saying “from now on” he does not mean that hour, but the time until the cross. For since they always charged him with this, that he was an opponent of God and an enemy of God, by this he urges them to love him, showing himself in harmony with the Father; and he shows that he is the one who was in the prophets. Therefore he also uses the same words as the prophet. And by these words he made plain both the resurrection and the second coming, and showed even to those utterly unbelieving that then they will certainly worship him. And how did he make this plain? By first saying many things that would happen: that he would send prophets; that they would kill them; that in the synagogues; that they themselves would suffer the extreme; that the house would be made desolate; that they would undergo things more grievous than all, and such as never before. For all these things were enough to give even the very foolish and contentious a proof also of what will take place at his coming. For I will ask them: Did he send prophets and wise men? Did they kill them in the synagogues? Was their house left desolate? Did all the penalties come upon that generation? It is plain, and no one will gainsay it. As, then, all these things came to pass, so those things too will come to pass, and they will certainly bow down then. But they will have no benefit from it for their defense, just as those who repent then of their way of life will have none. Therefore, while there is time, let us do what is good. For as for them knowledge will then be of no benefit, so neither for us ourselves will repentance of our wickedness

be of any use. For neither for a pilot, when the sea has overwhelmed the ship through his own negligence, nor for a physician, when the patient has departed, will there be any further advantage; but each of them must, before the end, contrive and work at everything so as to fall into no danger and no disgrace; after that, all is useless. Let us too, then, while we are in the sickness, call in physicians, and spend money, and bring continual diligence, so that, rising up from wickedness, we may depart from here in health. And as much care as we take of our slaves when their bodies are sick, so much let us show for ourselves when our soul is sick. Yet we are nearer to ourselves than to our servants, and souls are more necessary than those bodies; but nevertheless we may be content if we bring at least equal diligence. For if we do not do this now, once we have departed it is no longer possible to gain anything by way of defense.

“And who,” someone says, “is so wretched as not to show even so much care?” This indeed is the astonishing thing, that we are so without honor in our own eyes as to despise ourselves even more than our servants. For when our servants have fever, we call in physicians, and set apart a room, and compel them to obey the laws of that art; and if they neglect these, we become harsh with them, and set guards beside them who do not allow them to fulfill their own desire even if they wish to; and if those who attend them say that medicines of great price must be prepared, we yield; and whatever they order, we obey, and pay them fees for these prescriptions. But when we are sick—or rather, there is no time when we are not sick—we neither bring in a physician nor spend money, but neglect the soul as though it were some hangman’s or an enemy’s or a foe’s lying there. And I say this not finding fault with the care of servants, but asking that we take at least as much care of our own soul as well.

“And how might we do it?” someone says. Show it, sick, to Paul; bring in Matthew; seat John beside it. Hear from them what one so sick must do; they will certainly tell you, and will not conceal it. For they are not dead, but live and speak. “But the soul pays no attention, held fast by fever.” Compel it yourself, and rouse its reason. Bring in the prophets. You need not pay money down to these physicians; for neither do they themselves demand a fee for their services, nor do they put you to the necessity of expense for the medicines they prepare, except for almsgiving; and in other things they even give you something besides. For instance, when they bid you be self-controlled, they free you from untimely and absurd expenses; when they bid you abstain from drunkenness, they make you richer. Have you seen the art of physicians who give money along with health? Sit by them, then, and learn from them the nature of your disease. For instance, do you love money and covetousness, often, as fever patients love cold water? Hear, then, what they advise. For as the physician tells you, “If you indulge the desire, you will perish, and you will suffer this and that,” so too Paul: “But those who wish to be rich fall into temptation and a snare of the devil, and senseless and harmful desires, which plunge men into ruin and destruction.” But are you impatient? Hear him saying, “Yet a little while, and he who comes will come and will not delay”; “The Lord is near; be anxious about nothing”; and again, “The form of this world is passing away.” For he does not only command, but also consoles, as a physician does. And as those physicians devise certain other things in place of cold drinks, so he too diverts the desire. “Do you wish to be rich?” he says. “In good works.” “Do you desire to lay up treasure?” “I do not forbid it; only in heaven.” And as the physician says that cold is harmful to teeth, sinews, bones, so he too says it, more concisely, as one careful of brevity, but far more clearly and forcefully: “For the love of money is the root of all evils,” he says. What, then, must one use? He tells this too: contentment instead of covetousness. “For godliness with contentment,” he says, “is great gain.” But if you are impatient, and desire more, and cannot yet bear to throw away all superfluities, he tells even one so sick how he must use these too: “That those who rejoice in possessions be as though they did not rejoice, and those who have as though they did not possess, and those who use this world as though they did not abuse it.” Have you seen what he prescribes?

Shall I bring in another physician besides this one? It seems good to me. For these physicians are not like those of bodies, who often, competing for honor against one another, have sunk the patient. Not so these; for they look to the health of the sick, not to their own honor. Do not, then, fear their number: one teacher speaks in them all, Christ. See, then, another entering again, and saying harsh things about this disease—or rather his Teacher: “For you cannot serve God and mammon.” “Yes,” someone says, “and how will this be? How shall we cease from the desire?” From here too it is possible to learn this. “And how shall we know?” Hear him saying this too: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.” Have you seen how, from the place and from the things that spoil, he draws you away from this desire for things here, and fastens you to heaven, where all things are secure? For if you transfer your wealth there, where neither moth nor rust destroys, nor thieves break in and steal, you will both drive off this disease and set your soul in the greatest plenty. And besides what has been said, he also brings an example into the midst, to bring you to your senses. And as the physician, to frighten the patient, says that so-and-so took cold water and died, so he too brings in the rich man, sick, and desiring life and health, but unable to obtain it because he set his heart on covetousness, and going away empty. And after him another evangelist shows you yet another, the one roasting in the fire, and not master even of a drop. Then, showing that the precepts are easy, he says, “Look at the birds of the air.” And being condescending, he does not let even the rich despair. “For the things impossible with men are possible with God,” he says. For even if you are rich, the physician can heal you. For he did not do away with being rich, but with being a slave of money and a lover of covetousness. How, then, is it possible for the rich man to be saved? By holding his possessions in common with those in need, as Job was, and banishing from his soul the desire for more, and nowhere going beyond necessary need.

Along with these he shows you also the tax collector himself, who was held fast by the fever of covetousness, quickly set free. For what is more grasping than a tax collector? Yet nevertheless the man became one who owned nothing, by obeying the laws of the physician. For he has disciples of this kind too, who were sick with the same diseases as we, and were quickly made healthy. And he shows us each of them, so that we may not despair. See, then, this tax collector. Consider again another, a chief tax collector, who promised to give fourfold for what he had seized, and half of all that he possessed, so as to receive Jesus. But are you on fire, and do you greatly desire money? Have the goods of all instead of your own. “For I give you more than you seek,” he says, “opening to you the houses of the rich throughout the world. For whoever has left father or mother or fields or house will receive a hundredfold.” So you will not only enjoy more, but also do away entirely with this grievous thirst, and you will bear all things easily, not only not longing for more, but often not even for necessities. So Paul hungers, and glories more than when he ate. For an athlete too, contending and being crowned, would not choose to break off and be at ease; and a merchant who has taken to the routes of the sea would not desire to be idle henceforth. We too, then, if we taste as we ought of the spiritual fruits, will no longer think the present things to be anything, seized as by a most beautiful drunkenness with the desire of the things to come. Let us taste them, then, so that we may be freed from the tumult of present things and obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And Jesus went out from the temple and was going away. And his disciples came to him to show him the buildings of the temple. But he answered and said to them, Do you not see all these things? Truly I say to you, there will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down.”

For since he had said, “Your house is left to you desolate,” and had foretold to them countless grievous things before, the disciples, hearing this, came to him as though marveling, pointing out the beauty of the temple, and at a loss whether such great beauties would be destroyed, and the costliness of the material, and the unspeakable variety of the workmanship. He no longer speaks to them simply of desolation, but foretells its utter destruction. “For do you not see all these things,” he says, “and marvel and are amazed? There will not remain one stone upon another.” “How then did some remain?” someone says. And what of it? Not even so has the declaration failed. For either he said these things to signify the complete desolation, or with respect to that place where he was; for there are parts destroyed down to the foundations. And besides this we might say that, from what has happened, even the very contentious ought to be persuaded about the remnants too, that they will perish completely.

“And as he sat on the Mount of Olives, the disciples came to him privately, saying, Tell us, when will these things be? And what is the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” For this reason they came privately, as men about to inquire about such things. For they were in travail to learn the day of his coming, because they greatly desired to see that glory which would be the cause of countless good things. And they ask him these two things: when will these things be, that is, the destruction of the temple; and what is the sign of your coming. But Luke says the question was one, that about Jerusalem, since they thought that his coming too would be at that time. And Mark says that not all of them asked about the end of Jerusalem, but Peter and John, as having more boldness. What then does he say? “See that no one leads you astray. For many will come in my name, saying, I am the Christ, and will lead many astray. And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not alarmed; for all things must take place, but the end is not yet.” For since they were disposed as though hearing of a punishment that concerned others, the one being brought upon Jerusalem, and as though they would be outside the troubles, and dreamed only of good things, and expected these to come to them very soon, for this reason he again foretells grievous things to them, putting them on their guard and bidding them be doubly watchful, so as neither to be beguiled by the deceit of those who mislead, nor overpowered by the tyranny of the evils that would come upon them. For the war will be twofold, he says: that of the deceivers and that of the enemies; but the former far more grievous, since it makes its attack amid the confusion of affairs and the disorder of men frightened and troubled. For great was the storm then, when the Roman power was beginning to flourish, and cities were being taken, and camps and arms were in motion, and many men were easily believed. And he speaks of the wars in Jerusalem; for surely not of those outside and everywhere in the world—for what did they care about these? Besides, he would not have been saying anything new if he spoke of the sufferings of the world, which happen always; for before this too there were wars and troubles and battles. But he speaks of the Jewish wars, which were coming upon them not from afar; for from now on the affairs of the Romans were their concern. Since, then, these things too were enough to trouble them, he foretells all these things. Then, showing that he himself too will join in the attack on the Jews and will make war on them, he speaks not only of battles, but also of plagues driven by God, famines and pestilences and earthquakes, showing that he himself allowed the wars to come as well, and that these things do not happen simply according to the course formerly usual among men, but from the wrath from above. Therefore he says that they will come neither simply nor all at once, but with signs. For so that the Jews might not say that those who then believed were the cause of these evils, for this reason he also told them the cause of their being brought on: “For truly I say to you,” he had said before, “all these things will come upon this generation,” mentioning their bloodguilt. Then, so that when they heard of these snowstorms of evils they might not think the preaching would be torn apart, he added, “See, do not be troubled; for all things must take place”: that is, what I have foretold; and the onset of the trials will cut off none of the things I have said; there will be tumult and disorder, but nothing will shake my oracles.

Then, since he had said to the Jews, “You will not see me until you say, Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” and the disciples thought that the end would come together with the destruction, he corrected this suspicion of theirs too, and said, “But the end is not yet.” For that they suspected so, as I said, learn from their question. For what did they ask? “When will these things be?”—that is, when will Jerusalem perish?—“and what is the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” But he made no answer at once to this question, but first speaks of the pressing things which they had first to learn. For he spoke neither of Jerusalem at once, nor of his second coming, but of the evils that would meet them at the very doors. Therefore he also puts them on their guard, saying, “See that no one leads you astray; for many will come in my name, saying, I am the Christ.” Then, having roused them to listen about these things (“For see,” he says, “that no one leads you astray”), and having put them on their guard and prepared them to be watchful, and having spoken first of the deceivers, the false christs, then he speaks of the evils of Jerusalem, confirming the things to come, even to the foolish and contentious, from those that had already come to pass. [2] By “wars and rumors of wars,” as I said before, he means the troubles coming upon them. Then, since, as I also said before, they thought the end would come after that war, see how he secures them, saying, “But the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.” He speaks of the preludes of the evils of the Jews. “All these are the beginning of birth pains”: that is, of what befell them. “Then they will deliver you up to tribulation, and will kill you.” Opportunely he inserted their own evils, which have consolation from the common ones; and not in this way only, but also by adding, “for my name’s sake.” “For you will be hated,” he says, “by all for my name’s sake. Then many will fall away, and will deliver up one another; and many false christs and false prophets will arise, and will lead many astray. And because lawlessness is multiplied, the love of many will grow cold; but he who endures to the end, he will be saved.” This is a greater evil, when the war is civil as well; for there were many false brothers. Have you seen that the war is threefold: from the deceivers, from the enemies, from the false brothers? See Paul too bewailing these same things and saying, “Fightings without, fears within,” and, “dangers among false brothers,” and again, “For such men are false apostles, deceitful workers, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ.” Then again, what is more grievous than all, that they will not have even the consolation of love. Then, showing that none of these things will harm the noble and enduring man, he says, “Do not fear, nor be troubled. For if you show fitting endurance, the terrors will not overcome you.” And of this there is a clear proof: that the preaching will certainly be preached everywhere in the world; so you will be above the terrors. So that they might not say, “How then shall we live?” he said more: that you will live and teach everywhere. Therefore he also added, “And this gospel will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all the nations, and then the end will come”—of the end of Jerusalem. For that he meant this, and that the gospel was preached before the capture, hear what Paul says: “Their voice has gone out into all the earth”; and again, “of the gospel which was preached in all creation under heaven.” And you see him running from Jerusalem to Spain. And if one man took in so great a part, consider how much the rest accomplished as well. For writing to others too, Paul again said of the gospel that it “is bearing fruit and growing in all creation under heaven.” And what is “as a testimony to all the nations”? Since it was preached everywhere but not believed everywhere, it is “for a testimony,” he says, to those who disbelieved: that is, for conviction, for accusation, for witness; for those who believed will bear witness against those who did not believe, and will condemn them. And for this reason Jerusalem perishes after the gospel has been preached everywhere in the world, so that they may not have even a shadow of excuse for their ingratitude. For those who saw his power shining out everywhere and taking the world in an instant, what pardon could they have henceforth, if they remained in the same ingratitude? For that it was preached everywhere then, hear what Paul says: “of the gospel which was preached in all creation under heaven.” This is also the greatest sign of Christ’s power, that in twenty or thirty years in all the word took in the ends of the world. After this, then, he says, the end of Jerusalem will come. For that he hints at this, what follows made plain. For he added a prophecy too, confirming their destruction, and saying, “But when you see the abomination of desolation spoken of through Daniel the prophet standing in the holy place—let the reader understand.” He referred them to Daniel. And by “abomination” he means the statue of the man who then took the city, which he who desolated the city and the temple set up inside; therefore he also calls it “of desolation.” Then, so that they might learn that these things would happen while some of them were still living, for this reason he said, “When you see the abomination of desolation.”

From this especially one might marvel at Christ’s power and at those men’s courage, that they preached in such times, times in which especially the Jewish nation was being warred against, in which especially men regarded them as seditious, when Caesar commanded that all be driven out. And it was the same as if someone—when the sea was roused on every side, and gloom held all the air, and shipwrecks were happening one after another, and all those sailing together above were in revolt, and beasts were rising from below and devouring the sailors along with the waves, and thunderbolts were falling, and there were pirates, and those within were plotting against one another—should bid men inexperienced in sailing, who had never even seen the sea, to sit at the helm, and steer, and fight a sea battle, and, using a single skiff, troubled in the way I have said, to sink and subdue a boundless fleet advancing in great array. For they were hated by the Gentiles as Jews, and stoned by the Jews as making war on their laws, and there was nowhere to stand. So everything was precipices and reefs and crags—in the cities, in the country, in the houses; and every single person made war on them, general and ruler and private citizen, all nations and all peoples; and there was a turmoil that words cannot set forth. For the race of the Jews was exceedingly hateful to the Roman government, since it had given them countless troubles; and not even by this was the preaching harmed. But the city was plundered and set on fire, and this brought countless evils upon its inhabitants; yet the apostles, who came from there, bringing in new laws, prevailed even over the Romans. O new and wonderful things! Countless myriads of Jews the Romans then subdued, and twelve men they did not overcome, who fought them naked and unarmed. What words will be able to set forth this marvel? For these two things must belong to teachers: that they be trustworthy, and that they be loved by those who are taught; and along with these and besides them, that what is said be easy to receive, and that the time be free from turmoil and tumults. But then everything was the opposite. For they did not seem trustworthy, and they drew the deceived away from those who seemed trustworthy; they were not loved, but even hated, and they drew people away from what they loved: from customs, ancestral ways and laws. Again, the precepts had great difficulty, while the things from which men were drawn away had great pleasure. Many dangers, many deaths, both they and those persuaded by them endured; and along with all this, the time presented great difficulty, full of wars, tumults and turmoil, enough by itself, even had none of the things mentioned been present, to throw everything into confusion. It is fitting to say, “Who will tell the mighty acts of the Lord, make all his praises heard?” For if his own people did not listen to Moses, though he came with signs, merely because of the clay and the brickmaking, who persuaded men who were every day cut down and slaughtered and suffering incurable things to leave a quiet life and to prefer to it this dangerous one, full of blood and deaths—and that when those who preached to them were foreigners, and exceedingly hostile on every side? For let someone bring, not into nations and cities and peoples, but into a small house, a man hated by all in the house, and let him by himself strive to draw them away from those they love, father and wife and children: will he not be seen torn apart before he opens his mouth? And if there is also turmoil and a quarrel of wife and husband in the house, will they not stone him to death before he sets foot on the threshold? And if he is also contemptible, and gives burdensome commands, and bids the luxurious live austerely, and besides all this his contest is against far more numerous and superior opponents, is it not plain that he will utterly perish? Yet nevertheless this, which cannot happen in one house, Christ accomplished in the whole world, bringing in the physicians of the world through precipices and furnaces and ravines and reefs, while land and sea made war. And if you wish to learn these things more clearly—I mean the famines, the pestilences, the earthquakes, the other tragedies—go through the history of these things composed by Josephus, and you will know all accurately. Therefore he also said, “Do not be alarmed; for all things must take place”; and, “He who endures to the end, he will be saved”; and that the gospel will certainly be preached in the whole world. For when they were slackened and unnerved by fear of what had been said, he braces them, saying that even if countless things happen, the gospel must be preached everywhere in the world, and then the end will come.

Have you seen how matters stood then, and how varied the war was? And this at the beginning, when each thing that is being achieved most needs much quiet. How, then, did matters stand? For nothing prevents our taking up the same points again. The first war was that of the deceivers: “For false christs and false prophets will come,” he says. The second, that of the Romans: “For you will hear of wars,” he says. The third, the one bringing famines; the fourth, the one bringing pestilences and earthquakes; the fifth, “They will deliver you up to afflictions”; the sixth, “You will be hated by all”; the seventh, “They will deliver up one another and will hate one another”—here he signifies civil war; then false christs and false brothers; then, “Love will grow cold,” the cause of all the evils. Have you seen countless kinds of wars, new and strange? But nevertheless, with these and far more besides (for with the civil war a war among kinsmen was mixed as well), the preaching conquered the whole world. “For the gospel will be preached,” he says, “in the whole world.”

Where, then, are those who set up the tyranny of fate, and the revolution of the times, as a fortification against the doctrines of the church? For who has ever recorded that another Christ was seen, that such a thing occurred? And yet they tell other lies, saying that a hundred thousand years have passed; but this they cannot even invent. What revolution, then, would you speak of? For neither Sodom, nor Gomorrah, nor another flood ever happened again. How long will you play at this, talking of revolution and fate? “How then,” someone says, “do many of the things they say come true?” Since you have stripped yourself of God’s help, and betrayed yourself, and set yourself outside his providence, for this reason the demon turns your affairs as he wishes and changes them. But not in the case of the saints—or rather, not even in our case, sinners though we are, who utterly despise fate. For even if our life is not tolerable, yet since by God’s grace we hold to the doctrines of the truth with great exactness, we are above the plotting of the demons. And in general, what is fate? Nothing else but injustice and confusion, and everything being carried along at random—or rather not at random only, but irrationally as well. “And if there is no fate,” someone says, “how is it that so-and-so is rich? how is it that so-and-so is poor?” I do not know. For so I will speak to you for now, training you not to busy yourself about everything, nor to be carried along simply and at random from such questions. For it does not follow that, because you do not know this, you should invent what does not exist. It is better to be ignorant rightly than to learn wrongly. For he who does not know the cause will quickly come to the reasonable one; but the other, since he does not know the real cause and invents one that is not, will not easily be able to receive the real one, but needs more labor and sweat to remove the former. For on a tablet that has been wiped clean one may easily write whatever he wishes; but on one already engraved, no longer so; for one must first wipe out what has been badly written. And among physicians too, the one who applies nothing is far better than the one who applies harmful things; and he who builds unsoundly is worse than he who does not build at all; just as land that has nothing is far better than land that has thorns. Let us not, then, run to learn everything, but let us bear to be ignorant of some things too, so that when we find a teacher we may not give him double labor. Or rather, many have often remained incurably sick through falling at random into wicked doctrines. For the sweat is not the same, to pull up first what has been badly rooted and then to sow, and to plant clean ground. For there one must first overturn, and then put in other things; but here the hearing is prepared.

How, then, is so-and-so rich? I will tell you now. Some acquired wealth by God’s giving, but many by his permitting. For this is the short and simple account. “What then?” someone says. “Does he himself make the sexually immoral man rich, and the adulterer, and the one who has prostituted himself, and the one who uses his goods badly?” He does not make him rich, but permits him to be rich; and great, indeed infinite, is the difference between making and permitting. And for what reason does he allow it at all? Because it is not yet the time of judgment, when each will receive according to his deserts. For what was more worthless than that rich man who did not share even the crumbs with Lazarus? But nevertheless he was the most wretched of all; for he did not become master even of a drop, and that for this very reason especially, that being rich he was cruel. For if there are two wicked men who did not enjoy the same things here, but one was in wealth and the other in poverty, they will not be punished alike there, but the wealthier more severely.

You see, at any rate, this man too suffering more terribly, since he had received his good things. You too, then, when you see someone unjustly rich and prospering, groan, weep; for this wealth is an addition to his punishment. For as those who sin much and will not repent store up for themselves a treasure of wrath, so those who, besides not being punished, also enjoy prosperity will undergo a greater punishment. And of this, if you wish, I will show you an example not only from the things to come but also from the present life. For the blessed David, when he committed that sin, the one concerning Bathsheba, and was rebuked by the prophet, was charged more severely especially for this, that he was such a man even though he had enjoyed great security. Hear, at any rate, God reproaching him especially with this: “Did I not anoint you king, and deliver you from the hand of Saul, and give you all that was your master’s, and all the house of Israel and Judah? And if these were little to you, I would have added to you as much again. And why have you done what is evil before me?” For the punishments are not the same for all sins, but many and different: from times, and from persons, and from dignities, and from understanding, and from many other things. And so that what I say may become clearer, let one sin be set in the midst, sexual immorality, and consider how many different punishments I find, not from myself but from the divine Scriptures. Did someone commit sexual immorality before the law? He is punished in one way; and this Paul shows: “For as many as sinned without law will also perish without law.” Did someone commit sexual immorality after the law? He will suffer more grievously: “For as many as sinned under the law,” he says, “will be judged by the law.” Did someone commit sexual immorality while being a priest? He receives from his dignity a very great addition to the punishment. For this reason the other women who committed sexual immorality were put to death, but the daughters of priests were burned, the lawgiver showing more than enough how great a punishment awaits the priest who commits this sin. For if he exacted a greater penalty from the daughter because she was a priest’s daughter, much more from the priest himself. Was a woman violated by force? She is even set free from punishment. Was one who committed sexual immorality rich, and another poor? Here again there is a difference; and this is plain from what we said before about David. Did someone commit sexual immorality after the coming of Christ, and depart uninitiated? He will pay a penalty more grievous than all those. Did someone commit sexual immorality after the washing? Here no consolation is left any longer for the sin. And showing this very thing, Paul said, “Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses; how much worse punishment, do you think, will he be thought to deserve who has trampled on the Son of God, and regarded the blood of the covenant as common, and outraged the grace of the Spirit?” Did someone commit sexual immorality who is now a priest? This above all is the summit of evils. Have you seen how many differences there are in one sin? One sin before the law, another after the law; another that of the priest; another that of the rich woman and of the poor, of the catechumen and of the believer, of the priest’s daughter. And from understanding too there is much difference: “He who knew his master’s will and did not do it will be beaten with many stripes.” And sinning after examples brings more punishment. Therefore he says, “But you, even when you saw it, did not afterward repent,” although you had enjoyed much care. Therefore he also reproaches Jerusalem with this, saying, “How often I wished to gather your children, and you would not!” And being in luxury: this is the case of the rich man with Lazarus. And from the place the sin becomes more grievous; which he too showed when he said, “between the temple and the altar.” And from the quality of the offenses themselves: “It is no wonder if one is caught stealing”; and again, “You slaughtered your sons and your daughters; this is beyond all your acts of sexual immorality and your abominations.” And from the persons again: “If a man sins against a man, they will pray for him; but if he sins against God, who will pray for him?” And when someone exceeds in carelessness those far worse than he, which he charges in Ezekiel too: “You have not even acted according to the ordinances of the nations.” And when someone is not brought to his senses even by the examples of others: “She saw her sister,” he says, “and justified her.” And when one enjoys more care: “For if the mighty works had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago; but it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon than for that city.” Have you seen a perfect exactness, and that all do not pay the same penalty for the same sins? For when we have enjoyed long-suffering and gained nothing, we will suffer worse. And this Paul shows, saying, “But by your hardness and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself.” Knowing these things, then, let us not be offended, nor troubled at anything that happens, nor bring in the storm of our reasonings; but, yielding to the incomprehensibility of God’s providence, let us take care of virtue and flee wickedness, so that we may also obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father together with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Then let those in Judea flee to the mountains; and let him who is on the housetop not go down to take what is in his house; and let him who is in the field not turn back to take his garments.”

Having spoken of the evils that would overtake the city, and of the apostles’ trials, and that they would remain unconquered and would run through the whole world, he speaks again of the calamities of the Jews, showing that when these men are illustrious, having taught the whole world, then those will be in calamities. And see how he describes the war, setting forth its unbearableness through things that seem to be small. “For then,” he says, “let those in Judea flee to the mountains.” Then—when? When these things happen, when the abomination of desolation stands in the holy place. Hence he seems to me to mean the armies. “Flee, then, at that time,” he says, “for there is no longer any hope of safety for you.” For since it had often happened that they recovered in grievous wars, as under Sennacherib, and again under Antiochus (for then too, when armies had come in and the temple had already been seized, the Maccabees rallied and turned affairs round the other way), so that they might not suspect now too that there would be some such change, he forbids them every such thought. “For one may be content,” he says, “to be saved now with the naked body.” Therefore he does not allow even those on the housetops to go into the house to take their garments, showing the inescapable evils and the boundless calamity, and that whoever falls into it must certainly perish. Therefore he adds also the one in the field, saying, “Nor let this one turn back to take his garments.” For if those inside flee, much more should those outside not take refuge there. “But woe to those who are with child and to those who nurse”: to the former, because they are more sluggish and cannot flee easily, weighed down by the burden of pregnancy; to the latter, because they are held by the bond of sympathy for their children and cannot save their nurslings with them. For money it is easy both to despise and to provide for, and clothes too; but the things of nature, how could one escape them? How could the pregnant woman become light? How will the nursing woman be able to disregard her child? Then again, showing the greatness of the calamity, he says, “Pray that your flight may not be in winter, nor on a sabbath. For then there will be great tribulation, such as has not been from the beginning of the world until now, nor ever will be.” Do you see that his word is addressed to the Jews, and that he speaks of the evils that would overtake them? For the apostles were surely not going to keep the sabbath, or to be there when Vespasian did these things. For most of them had already departed this life; and if any was left, he was then living in other parts of the world. And why neither in winter nor on a sabbath? In winter, because of the difficulty arising from the season; on a sabbath, because of the authority of the law. For since there was need of flight, and of the swiftest flight, and the Jews of that time neither dared to flee on a sabbath because of the law, nor was such a thing easy in winter, for this reason he says, “Pray.” “For then there will be tribulation such as has not been, nor ever will be.”

And let no one think this was said hyperbolically, but let him read the writings of Josephus and learn the truth of what was said. For no one could say this either, that the man was a believer and so exaggerated the tragedy in order to confirm what was said. For he was a Jew, and very much a Jew, and a zealot, and after the coming of Christ. What, then, does he say? That those terrors surpassed every tragedy, and that no such war ever overtook the nation. For so great was the famine that the mothers themselves fought over the eating of children, and wars arose over this; and he said that many, when dead, were ripped open through the middle of their bellies. Gladly, then, would I ask the Jews: whence came upon them a wrath so sent by God and so unbearable, more grievous than all that had happened before, not in Judea only, but everywhere in the world? Is it not plain that it was because of the crime of the cross and this rejection? All would say so, and with all and before all the very truth of the facts. And consider, I pray, the excess of the evils, when they appear more grievous not when compared with former time only, but with all the time to come. For neither in the whole world, nor in all time, past and future, will anyone be able to say that such evils have happened. And very reasonably; for no man ever dared, neither of those before nor of those after, a crime so lawless and horrible. Therefore he says, “There will be tribulation such as has not been, nor ever will be. And if those days had not been cut short, no flesh would have been saved; but for the sake of the elect those days will be cut short.” By these words he shows them deserving of a punishment more grievous than the one mentioned, meaning by “days” those of the war and of that siege. And what he says is this: If the war of the Romans against the city had prevailed longer, all the Jews would have perished (for by “all flesh” he here means the flesh of the Jews), both those outside and those inside. For they made war not only on those in Judea, but also proscribed and drove out those scattered everywhere, because of their hatred toward those in Judea.

And whom does he here call the elect? The believers who were caught in the midst of them. For so that the Jews might not say that these evils came about because of the preaching and the worship of Christ, he shows that not only were the believers not the cause of these things for them, but that, had they not been there, all would have perished root and branch. For if God had allowed the war to be prolonged, not even a remnant of the Jews would have remained; but so that the believers who had come from among them might not perish together with the unbelieving Jews, he quickly ended the battle and put an end to the war. Therefore he says, “But for the sake of the elect they will be cut short.” He said this to leave consolation to those of them caught in the midst, and to let them breathe again, so that they might not fear that they would perish along with the rest. And if here there is so much providence for them, that for their sake others too are saved, and remnants of the unbelieving Jews survive because of Christians, how great will their honor be at the time of the crowns? From this he also consoled them not to grieve at their own dangers, since those others too suffer such things, and for nothing, but to the harm of their own head. And he not only consoled them, but also drew them away henceforth from the Jewish customs, without their noticing it and without arousing suspicion. For if there will be no change henceforth, and the temple will not stand, it is plain that the law too will cease. But he did not say this openly; he hinted at it through their utter destruction. And he did not say it openly, so as not to strike them before the time. Therefore he did not at the start launch directly into speaking about these things, but having first bewailed the city, he put them under the necessity both of pointing out the stones and of asking the question, so that, as though answering their question, he might foretell all that was to come. And consider, I pray, the dispensation of the Spirit, that John wrote none of these things, so that he might not seem to be writing from the very history of what had happened (for he lived a long time after the capture); but those who died before the capture and saw none of these things, they write them, so that the strength of the prediction shines out from every side.

“Then if anyone says to you, Look, here is the Christ, or there, do not believe it. For false christs and false prophets will arise, and will give signs and wonders, so as to lead astray, if possible, even the elect. Look, I have told you beforehand. If, then, they say to you, Look, he is in the wilderness, do not go out; look, he is in the inner rooms, do not believe it. For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For wherever the carcass is, there the eagles will be gathered.” Having completed what concerns Jerusalem, he passes henceforth to his own coming, and tells its signs, useful not to them only, but also to us and to all who will be after us. “Then”—when? Here, as I have often said, the “then” does not belong to the sequence of the time of the things mentioned before; at any rate, where he wished to speak of sequence, he added, “Immediately after the tribulation of those days.” But here it is not so, but “then,” showing not what comes immediately after these things, but what belongs to the time when the things he was about to speak of will happen. So too when it says, “In those days John the Baptist comes,” it does not mean the time immediately following, but the time many years after, in which the things it was about to tell took place. For having spoken of the birth of Jesus, and of the coming of the magi, and of the death of Herod, it says at once, “In those days John the Baptist comes,” although thirty years had passed in between. But it is the custom of Scripture to use this manner of narrative. So here too, passing over all the time between, from the capture of Jerusalem to the preludes of the end, he speaks of the time a little before the end. “Then if anyone says to you,” he says, “Here is the Christ, or there, do not believe it.” For the present he secures them by the place, telling the marks of his second coming and the tokens of the deceivers. For not as at his first coming he appeared in Bethlehem, in a small corner of the world, with no one knowing it at the beginning—not so will it be then, he says, but openly and with all conspicuousness, so as to need no one to announce it. And this is no small sign that he does not come secretly. And see how here he says nothing about war (for he is setting out clearly the account of his coming), but about those who attempt to deceive. For some in the time of the apostles deceived the many: “For they will come,” he says, “and will deceive many”; but others will come before his second coming, who are more bitter even than those. “For they will give,” he says, “signs and wonders, so as to lead astray, if possible, even the elect.” Here he speaks of the Antichrist, and shows that there will be some also who will serve him; of whom Paul too speaks thus. For having called him the man of sin and the son of perdition, he added, “whose coming is according to the working of Satan with all power and signs and lying wonders, with all deception of unrighteousness among those who are perishing.” And see how he secures them: “Do not go out,” he says, “into the wilderness; do not go into the inner rooms.” He did not say, “Go, and do not believe,” but, “Do not go out, nor go away.” For great will be the deception then, because signs of deception too will be done. [3] Having said, then, how that one, the Antichrist, comes, namely in a place, he says how he himself comes. How, then, does he come? “As the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For wherever the carcass is, there the eagles too.” How, then, does the lightning appear? It needs no one to announce it, it needs no herald, but even to those sitting in houses and to those in their chambers it shows itself in an instant throughout the whole world. So will that coming be, appearing everywhere at once through the shining forth of its glory. And he tells another sign also: “Where the carcass is, there the eagles too,” signifying the multitude of the angels, of the martyrs, of all the saints. Then he tells of fearful wonders. And what are the wonders? “Immediately after the tribulation of those days,” he says, “the sun will be darkened.” The tribulation of what days does he mean? Of the Antichrist and of the false prophets. For great will be the tribulation then, when there are so many deceivers. But it is not prolonged to any length of time. For if the Jewish war was cut short for the sake of the elect, much more will this trial be contracted for the sake of these same. Therefore he did not say, “after the tribulation,” but, “immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened”; for almost everything happens together. For the false prophets and the false christs will come and cause tumult, and immediately he himself will be present. For no small turmoil will then hold the world. And how does he come? With the creation itself henceforth being transformed. For “the sun will be darkened,” not destroyed, but overcome by the light of his coming; “and the stars will fall”—for what need will there be of them any longer, when there is no night?—“and the powers of the heavens will be shaken”; and very reasonably, seeing so great a change taking place. For if when the stars were made they so trembled and marveled (“For when the stars were made,” he says, “all angels praised me with a loud voice”), much more, seeing all things being refashioned, and their fellow servants giving account, and the whole world standing before a fearful tribunal, and those born from Adam until his coming being required to give account of all they did, how will they not tremble and be shaken? “Then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven”: that is, the cross, brighter than the sun; since that is darkened and hidden, while this appears; and it would not appear unless it were far brighter than the rays of the sun. And why does the sign appear? So that the shamelessness of the Jews may be stopped more than abundantly. For Christ comes to that tribunal having the cross as his greatest plea, showing not only the wounds but also the shameful death. “Then the tribes will mourn.” For there is no need of accusation when they see the cross; and they will mourn that they gained nothing from his death, that they crucified him whom they ought to have worshiped. Have you seen how fearfully he sketched his coming? How he raised the spirits of the disciples? For this reason he sets down first the painful things and then the good, so that by this too he may console and refresh them. And he reminds them again of the passion and of the resurrection, and mentions the cross in a splendid guise, so that they may not be ashamed or pained, since he then comes holding it before him in place of a sign. And another evangelist says, “They will look on him whom they pierced.” For this reason the tribes will mourn, seeing that this is he. And since he had reminded them of the cross, he added, “They will see the Son of Man coming,” no longer on the cross, but “on the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory.” “For do not,” he says, “because you heard of the cross, think that it is something gloomy again; for he will come with power and great glory.” And he brings the cross so that their sin may stand self-condemned; as if someone struck with a stone should show the very stone, or his bloodied garments. And he comes on a cloud, as he was taken up; and seeing these things the tribes lament. Yet their terrors will not stop at laments; but the lament will be so that they may bring the verdict from their own selves and condemn themselves; and then again “he will send his angels with a great trumpet, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other.” And when you hear this, think of the punishment of those who are left. For they will pay not that penalty only, but this one too. And as above he said that they will say, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” so here, that they will mourn. For since he had spoken to them of grievous wars, so that they might learn that besides the terrors here the torments there also await them, he brings them in mourning, and separated from the elect, and handed over to Gehenna; and by this again he rouses the disciples, showing from how many evils they will be delivered, and how many good things they will enjoy.

And why does he call them by angels, if he comes so openly? Honoring them in this way too. And Paul says that they will be caught up in clouds. He said this too when he was discoursing about the resurrection: “For the Lord himself,” he says, “will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel.” So the angels will gather them when they have risen, and the clouds will catch them up when they have been gathered; and all this happens in an instant, in a moment. For he does not call them while remaining above, but he himself comes with a trumpet. And what do the trumpets and the sound mean? They are for rousing, for gladness, for setting forth the amazement at what is happening, for the anguish of those who are left behind.

Alas, for that fearful day! When we ought to rejoice on hearing these things, we grieve, and are downcast, and gloomy. Or do I alone feel this, while you rejoice in hearing these things? For me at least, a kind of shuddering creeps in when these things are said, and I lament bitterly, and groan from the depth of my heart. For none of these things concerns me, but those that are said after them: the words to the virgins, the words to the one who buried the talent he had received, the words to the wicked servant. For these I weep: from how great a glory we are about to fall, from how great a hope of good things, and that continually and forever, because we will not exert a little zeal. For if the labor were great and the law heavy, we ought even so to do everything; but nevertheless many of the careless would seem to have some excuse—a cold one, but they would seem to have one—the excessiveness of the commands, and that the labor is great, and the time endless, and the burden unbearable. But now there is nothing of the kind to put forward; and this, above all, will gnaw us no less than Gehenna at that time, when for a small effort and a little sweat we shall have lost heaven and the unspeakable good things. For the time is short and the labor little; and yet we are slack and have fallen back. On earth you contend, and in heaven is the crown; you are punished by men, and honored by God; for two days you run, and for endless ages are the prizes; in a corruptible body is the wrestling, and in an incorruptible one the honors. And besides these things, consider this also, that even if we do not choose to suffer any of the painful things for Christ’s sake, we must in any case endure them otherwise. For if you do not die for Christ, you will not be immortal; nor, if you do not cast away your money for Christ, will you depart having it. He demands of you the things which you will give even if he does not demand them, because you are mortal; he wishes you to do by your own choice the things which you must do by necessity. He demands only that this be added: that they be done for his sake; since that these things happen and pass away comes about by the necessity of nature as well. Have you seen how easy the contest is? “What you must in any case suffer, choose to suffer for me; let only this be added, and I have obedience enough. The gold you are about to lend to another, lend to me, both for more interest and with greater security; the body you are about to put into another’s service, enlist it with me; for I exceed your labors with my returns out of great abundance.” But you, in other things, prefer the one who offers more, in loans and in buying and in military service; but Christ alone, who offers more than all, and infinitely more, you do not accept. And what is this great war? What is this great hatred? Whence, then, will you have pardon and excuse, when, for the very reasons for which you prefer some men to others, you do not bear to prefer God to men? Why do you entrust your treasure to the earth? “Give it into my hand,” he says. Does not the master of the earth seem to you more trustworthy than the earth? The earth gives back what was deposited, and often not even this; but he also pays you fees for its safekeeping. For he greatly loves us. Therefore if you wish to lend, he stands ready; if to sow, he himself receives it; if you wish to build, he draws you to himself, saying, “Build in my domains.” Why do you run to the poor, to men who are beggars, who even for small things cause you great troubles? But nevertheless, not even when we hear these things do we bear with it; but where there are battles and wars and brawls and lawsuits and false accusations, there we hasten.

Does he not, then, justly turn away from us and punish us, when he offers himself to us for all things, and we resist? It is plain to everyone. “For whether you wish to adorn yourself,” he says, “take my adornment; or to be armed, my arms; or to be clothed, my garment; or to be fed, my table; or to journey, my way; or to inherit, my inheritance; or to enter a homeland, the city of which I am the craftsman and builder; or to build a house, build among my tents. For I do not demand of you a reward for what I give, but I even owe you a reward for this very thing, if you are willing to use all that is mine. What could equal this munificence? I am father, I brother, I bridegroom, I house, I food, I garment, I root, I foundation, all whatever you wish, I; be in need of nothing. I will even serve you; for I came to serve, not to be served. I am friend, and member, and head, and brother, and sister, and mother; I am all things; only be on intimate terms with me. I was poor for you, and a wanderer for you; on the cross for you, in the tomb for you; above, I intercede for you with the Father; below, I have come for you as an ambassador from the Father. You are everything to me, brother and joint heir and friend and member.” What more do you want? Why do you turn away from the one who loves you? Why do you labor for the world? Why do you draw water into a pierced jar? For this is what it is to toil for the present life. Why do you card wool into the fire? Why do you box the air? Why do you run in vain? Does not every art have an end? It is plain to everyone. Show me too the end of your zeal for worldly things. But you cannot. “For vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” Let us go to the tombs: show me your father, show me your wife. Where is he who was clad in golden garments? he who sat in the chariot? he who had armies, the belt of office, the heralds? he who killed some and cast others into prison? he who put to death whom he wished and released whom he would? I see nothing but bones, and the moth, and the spider’s web. All those things are earth, all those a fable, all a dream and a shadow, and a bare tale, and a picture; or rather not even a picture. For the picture we at least see in an image; but here there is not even an image. And would that the terrors stopped at these things! But as it is, the things of honor and luxury and distinction go as far as a shadow, as far as words; but what came from them goes no longer as far as a shadow and words, but remains and will pass over with us there, and all will be plain: the robberies, the acts of covetousness, the acts of sexual immorality, the adulteries, the countless terrible things. These are not in an image, nor in ashes, but written above, both words and deeds. With what eyes, then, shall we see Christ? For if one could not bear to see his father, being conscious of having sinned against him, how shall we look upon him then, who is infinitely gentler than a father? How shall we bear it? For we shall stand before the judgment seat of Christ, and there will be an exact examination of everything. And if anyone disbelieves in the judgment to come, let him look at the things here: those in the prisons, those in the mines, those on the dunghills, the demon-possessed, the deranged, those wrestling with incurable diseases, those boxing with continual poverty, those living with famine, those stricken with incurable griefs, those in captivity. For these would not have suffered these things now, unless punishment and penalty were going to await also all the others who committed such sins. And if the rest endured nothing here, you must take this very fact as a sign that there is certainly something after our departure from here. For God, being the same God of all, would not have punished some and let others go unpunished who had committed the same or more grievous offenses, unless he were going to bring some punishment on them there. By these reasonings, then, and these examples, let us too humble ourselves; and let those who distrust the judgment believe henceforth, and become better; so that, having lived here worthily of the kingdom, we may obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory to …

“Now learn the parable from the fig tree: when its branch has already become tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So you too, when you see all these things, know that he is near, at the doors.”

Since he had said, “Immediately after the tribulation of those days,” and they were asking after how long a time, and longed to know the very day itself, for this reason he sets down also the example of the fig tree, showing that the interval is not great, but that his coming too will follow close after; which he made plain not only through the parable, but also through the words after it, saying, “Know that he is near, at the doors.” From this he also prophesies something else: a spiritual summer and a calm that will come on that day for the righteous after the present winter; but for sinners the opposite, winter after summer; which he showed in what follows, saying that the day will come upon them while they live in luxury. And he set down this example of the fig tree not only to show the interval (for he could have set this forth in another way too), but so that by this too he might give assurance that the word would certainly come to pass so. For as this must be, so must that. For wherever he wishes to speak of what will certainly come to pass, he brings natural necessities into the midst, both he himself and blessed Paul, imitating him. Therefore also, when discoursing about the resurrection, he says, “Unless the grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” Hence blessed Paul too, taught by this, uses the same example when discoursing to the Corinthians about the resurrection: “Fool,” he says, “what you sow does not come to life unless it dies.” Then, so that they might not quickly come back to it and ask “When?”, he brings them to the memory of what was past, saying, “Truly I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things take place.” “All these things”—which, tell me? Those of Jerusalem, those of the wars, of the famines, of the pestilences, of the earthquakes, of the false christs, of the false prophets, the sowing of the gospel everywhere, the seditions, the tumults, all the other things that we have said will happen until his coming. “How, then,” someone says, “did he say ‘this generation’?” He was not speaking of the generation of that time, but of that of the believers. For he knows how to characterize a generation not only by times, but also by the manner of worship and way of life, as when it says, “This is the generation of those who seek the Lord.” For what he said above, “For all these things must take place,” and again, “This gospel will be preached,” he shows here too, saying that all these things will certainly come to pass, and the generation of the believers will remain, cut off by none of the things that were mentioned. Jerusalem will perish, and the greater part of the Jews will be destroyed, but over this generation nothing will prevail: no famine, no pestilence, no earthquake, no tumults of wars, no false christs, no false prophets, no deceivers, no betrayers, no causers of stumbling, no false brothers, no other such trial. Then, leading them still more to faith, he says, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away”: that is, it is easier for these things, fixed and immovable as they are, to be destroyed than for any of my words to fail. And let him who contradicts these things test what was said, and, finding it true (for he will certainly find it so), let him believe the future too from the past, and examine everything with exactness, and he will see the outcome of events bearing witness to the truth of the prophecy. And he set the elements in the midst, at once showing that the church is more precious than heaven and earth, and at once showing himself by this too to be the creator of the universe. For since he had discoursed about the end, a thing disbelieved by many, he brought heaven and earth into the midst, displaying his unspeakable power, and showing with great authority that he is master of the universe, and by these things making what was said worthy of belief even to those who greatly doubt.

“But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father.” By saying “not even the angels,” he stopped their mouths, so that they would not seek to learn what those do not know; and by saying “nor the Son,” he prevents them not only from learning but even from seeking. For that he said this for this reason, see after the resurrection, when he saw that they had become more curious, how he stopped their mouths more strongly. For now he has told them many and countless tokens; but then he said simply, “It is not for you to know times or seasons.” Then, so that they might not say, “We are at a loss, we have been spurned, we are not worthy even of this,” he says, “which the Father has set by his own authority.” For he cared greatly to honor them and to hide nothing from them. Therefore he refers it to his Father, both making the matter fearful and walling off what was said from their inquiry. For if this is not so, but he is ignorant, when will he know? Together with us? And who would say this? He knows the Father clearly, and as clearly as the Father knows the Son, and is he ignorant of the day? Then, the Spirit searches even the depths of God, and he himself does not know even the time of the judgment? He knows how he must judge, and understands the secrets of each, and was he going to be ignorant of what is far meaner than this? And how, if “all things came into being through him, and without him nothing came into being,” was he ignorant of the day? For he who made the ages plainly made the times too; and if the times, the day too. How, then, is he ignorant of the day that he made?

And you say that you know even his essence, but that the Son does not know even the day—the Son, who is always in the bosom of the Father? And yet the essence is far greater than the days, and infinitely greater. How, then, while giving yourselves the greater, do you not grant even the lesser to the Son, “in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge”? But neither do you know what God is in his essence, though you rave about these things ten thousand times; nor is the Son ignorant of the day, but he knows it exactly. For this very reason, having told everything—both the times and the seasons—and having brought them to the very doors (“For he is near, at the doors,” he says), he kept silent about the day. “If you seek the day and the hour,” he says, “you will not hear it from me; but if the seasons and the preludes, I will tell you everything with exactness, hiding nothing. For that I am not ignorant I have shown by many things, telling the intervals and all that will happen, and how long it is from this time until the day itself (for this the parable of the fig tree showed), and I have brought you to the very porch; and if I do not open the doors to you, this too I do for your good.”

And so that you may learn from another side too that his silence is not from ignorance, see how besides what has been said he adds another sign as well: “For as in the days of Noah they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day when the flood came and took them all away, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.” He said this to show that he will come suddenly and unexpectedly, while most are living in luxury. For Paul too says this, writing thus: “When they say, Peace and security, then sudden destruction comes upon them”; and showing the unexpectedness he said, “as labor pains upon a woman with child.” How, then, does he say, “after the tribulation of those days”? For if there is luxury then, and peace and security, as Paul says, how does he say, “after the tribulation of those days”? If luxury, how tribulation? Luxury and peace for those who are in a state of insensibility. Therefore he did not say, “when there is peace,” but, “when they say, Peace and security,” showing their insensibility, like that of the people in Noah’s time, who lived in luxury amid such evils. But not the righteous; they passed their lives in tribulation and dejection. From this he shows that when the Antichrist has come, the absurd pleasures will be intensified among the lawless and those who have despaired of their own salvation. Then there will be gluttony, then revels and drunkenness. Therefore he also sets down an example especially fitted to the matter. For as, when the ark was being built, they did not believe, he says, but it lay in their midst proclaiming beforehand the evils to come, and they, seeing it, lived in luxury as though no terror would happen; so now too the Antichrist will appear, after whom comes the end, and the punishments at the end, and unbearable penalties; but those held fast by the drunkenness of wickedness will not even perceive the fear of what is to be. Therefore Paul too says that “as labor pains upon a woman with child,” so those fearful and incurable things will come upon them. And why did he not mention the evils of Sodom? He wished to put in an example that was universal, and one that was disbelieved after it had been foretold. For this reason, since the things to come are disbelieved by the many, he confirms them from the past, shaking their minds. And besides what has been said, he shows this too, that he himself also did the former things. Then again he sets down another sign, by all of which he makes it plain that he is not ignorant of the day. And what is the sign? “Then two will be in the field; one is taken and one is left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one is taken and one is left. Watch, therefore, for you do not know at what hour your Lord is coming.” And all these things are both proofs of his knowing and things that lead them away from asking. For this reason he spoke of the days of Noah; for this reason he said also, “two on the bed,” showing that he will come so unexpectedly, while they are so free of care; and, “two women grinding,” which itself is not the work of people anxious. And besides this, he shows that both slaves and masters are taken and left, both those at ease and those at labor, both of this rank and of that; as in the Old Testament it says, “from him who sits on the throne to the captive woman at the mill.” For since he had said that the rich are saved with difficulty, he shows that neither do these all perish, nor are the poor all saved, but from both these and those some are saved and some perish. And to me he seems to show that the coming will be at night as well; for Luke says this too. Do you see how he knows everything with exactness? Then again, so that they might not ask, he added, “Watch, therefore, for you do not know at what hour your Lord is coming.” He did not say, “I do not know,” but, “you do not know.” For when he has brought them almost to the very hour and set them there, he again leads them away from asking, wishing them to be continually in earnest. Therefore he says, “Watch,” showing that for this reason he did not tell it. “But know this, that if the master of the house had known in what watch the thief was coming, he would have watched and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” For this reason he does not tell them, so that they may watch, so that they may always be ready; for this reason he says, “When you do not expect, then he will come,” wishing them to be in earnest and continually in virtue. And what he says is this: if the many knew when they would die, they would certainly be zealous at that hour.

So that they might not be zealous at that hour only, for this reason he tells neither the common end nor each one’s, wishing them always to be looking for it, so that they may always be zealous. Therefore he also made the end of each one’s life uncertain. Then he openly names himself Lord, having nowhere said it so plainly. And here he seems to me also to shame the careless, because not even as much zeal as those who expect a thief show about their money do these show for their own soul. For those, when they expect him, watch and let none of the things inside be stolen; “but you,” he says, “though you know that he will come, and will certainly come, do not remain awake and prepared, so as not to be carried off from here unprepared.” Therefore the day comes for the destruction of those who sleep. For as that householder, if he had known, would have escaped, so you too, if you are ready, will escape.

Then, since he had brought them to the memory of the judgment, he turns his speech henceforth to the teachers too, discoursing about punishment and honors; and putting first those who do right, he ends with those who fail, closing his speech on a fearful note. Therefore first he says this: “Who then is the faithful and wise servant, whom his master will set over his household, to give them their food in due season? Blessed is that servant whom his master, when he comes, will find so doing. Truly I say to you, he will set him over all his possessions.” Is this too, tell me, the word of one who is ignorant? For if, because he said, “not even the Son knows,” you say that he is ignorant, then, because he said, “Who then,” what would you say? Would you say that he is ignorant of this too? Away with it! Not even one of the deranged would say this. And yet there one can give a reason, but here not even that. And what when he says, “Peter, do you love me?”—asking it, did he not know even this? Or when he says, “Where have you laid him?” And the Father too will be found uttering such things. For he himself says, “Adam, where are you?” and, “The outcry of Sodom and Gomorrah has become great before me. I will go down, then, and see whether they are doing altogether according to their outcry that comes to me; and if not, that I may know.” And elsewhere he says, “If perhaps they will hear, if perhaps they will understand.” And in the Gospel too, “Perhaps they will respect my son.” All these were words of ignorance. But he said these things not from ignorance, but ordering things as befitted him: in the case of Adam, to bring him to make a defense for his sin; in the case of the Sodomites, to teach us never to pronounce a verdict before we have come to the facts themselves; in the case of the prophet, so that his foreknowledge might not seem to the foolish to be a kind of compulsion to disobedience; in the case of the parable of the Gospel, to show that they ought to have done this and to have respected the son; and here, both so that they might not be curious nor busy themselves again, and to show how rare and precious such a servant is. And see how much ignorance the word would indicate, if indeed he is ignorant even of the one being appointed. For he calls him blessed: “For blessed,” he says, “is that servant”; but he does not say who he is. “For who then is he,” he says, “whom his master will set,” and, “Blessed is he whom he will find so doing.” And these things are said not about money only, but also about speech and power and gifts and every stewardship with which each has been entrusted. This parable would fit civil rulers too. For each must use what he has for the common advantage. Whether you have wisdom, or office, or wealth, or anything whatever, let it not be to the harm of your fellow servants, nor to your own destruction. For this very reason he demands both things of him, wisdom and faithfulness; for sin too comes from folly. He calls him faithful, then, because he embezzled nothing, nor squandered his master’s goods at random and in vain; and wise, because he knew how to administer what was given for what was needful. For we need both: both not to embezzle the master’s goods, and to administer them for what is needful. If one is lacking, the other is lame. For if one is faithful and does not steal, but wastes and spends on nothing fitting, great is the charge; and if he knows how to administer well, but embezzles, again it is no ordinary accusation.

Let us hear these things too, we who have money. For he does not discourse to teachers only, but also to the rich. For both were entrusted with wealth: the teachers with the more necessary, you with the lesser. When, then, while the teachers scatter the greater, you are not willing to show munificence even in the lesser—or rather not munificence, but fair dealing (for you give what belongs to others)—what defense will there be? But for now, before the punishment of those who do the opposite, let us hear the honor of the one who is approved. “For truly I say to you, he will set him over all his possessions.” What could equal this honor? What word will be able to set forth the dignity, the blessedness, when the King of the heavens, who possesses all things, is about to set a man over all his possessions? Therefore he also calls him wise, because he knew not to give up the great things for the small, but by self-control here he obtained the heavens.

Then, as he always does, he corrects the hearer not from the honor laid up for the good only, but also from the punishment threatened against the wicked. Therefore he also added, “But if that wicked servant says in his heart, My master is delaying his coming, and begins to beat his fellow servants, and eats and drinks with the drunkards, the master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he does not know, and will cut him in two, and put his portion with the hypocrites. There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” And if anyone should say, “You see what thought came from the day’s not being known: ‘For my master is delaying,’ he says,” we would say: not because the day is not known, but because the servant is wicked. For otherwise why did this thought not come into the mind of the wise and faithful one? For what if the master delays, wretch? Do you not altogether expect him to come? Why, then, are you not anxious? From this, then, we learn that he does not delay either. For this verdict is not the master’s, but that of the mind of the wicked servant; therefore he is also charged for it. For that he does not delay, hear Paul saying, “The Lord is near; be anxious about nothing”; and, “He who comes will come and will not delay.” But hear what follows too, and learn how continually he reminds them that the day is unknown, showing that this is useful to the servants and able to rouse them from sleep and stir them up. For what if some gained nothing from this? Neither were some benefited by the other things that benefit; but nevertheless he does not cease doing his part. What, then, does he say next? “For he will come on a day when he does not expect, and at an hour he does not know, and will deal with him to the uttermost.” Do you see how everywhere he sets down this matter of not knowing, showing that it is useful, and by this keeping them always in earnest? For this is what he is zealous for, that we should always be awake. And since we always fall back in prosperity but are rather drawn together in calamities, for this reason he everywhere says this, that when there is ease, then the terrors come. And as above he showed this through Noah, so here too he says it: when that servant is drunk, when he beats; and the punishment is unbearable.

But let us not look only at the punishment laid up for him, but let us consider this too, lest we ourselves be doing the same things unawares. For those who have money and do not give to those in need are like this man. For you too are a steward of your own money, no less than he who administers the goods of the church. As, then, he has no authority to scatter at random and as it happens what is given by you for the poor, since it was given for the maintenance of the poor, so neither may you scatter your own. For even if you received an ancestral inheritance, and so have all that you have, even so all things are God’s. Then, you wish what you have given to be administered with exactness; and do you not think that God will demand his own from us with more severity, but will simply bear with their being lost? It is not so, it is not so. For it was for this reason that he left these things with you, “to give them their food in due season.” What is “in due season”? To the needy, to the hungry. For as you gave to your fellow servant to administer, so the Master wishes you too to spend these things on what is needful. Therefore, though he could have taken them away, he left them, so that you may have occasion to show virtue; so that, putting us in need of one another, he might make our love for one another warmer. But you, having received, not only do not give, but even beat. And yet if not giving is a charge, what pardon does beating bring? And he seems to me to say this hinting at the insolent and the covetous, and showing the greatness of the accusation, when they beat those whom they were commanded to feed. [5] And he seems to me also to hint here at those who live in luxury; for a great punishment is laid up for luxury too. “For he eats and drinks,” he says, “with the drunkards,” signifying gluttony. For you did not receive it for this, to spend it on luxury, but to spend it on almsgiving. For do you have what is your own? You were entrusted with the things of the poor, whether you happen to have acquired them by just labors or from an ancestral inheritance. For could not God have taken these things from you? But he does not do this, making you master of munificence toward the needy. And consider, I pray, how through all the parables he punishes those who do not use their own money for the needy. For neither did the virgins seize what belonged to others, but they did not give what was their own; nor did he who buried the one talent act covetously, but he did not double it; nor are those who overlooked the hungry punished because they seized others’ goods, but because they did not scatter their own, just like this servant too. Let us hear, then, all of us who are given over to the belly, all who spend on costly dinners wealth that does not belong to us but to the needy. For do not, because out of his great love for mankind you were bidden to give as from your own, think on this account that these things are yours. He lent them to you, so that you might be able to win approval. Do not, then, think them yours, when you give him his own. For neither, if you lent to someone so that he might go and get some means of income, would you say the money was his. To you too, then, God gave, so that you might trade for heaven. Do not, then, make the excess of his love for mankind an occasion of ingratitude. Consider how worthy of prayer it was, to be able after baptism to find a way that looses sins. If he had not said this, “Give alms,” how many would have said, “Would that it were possible to give money and be freed from the evils to come!” But since this has become possible, they have again grown supine. “But I do give,” someone says. And what is that? For you have not yet given as much as she who threw in the two obols—or rather not even half, nor the smallest fraction of what she gave; but most of it you spend on useless expenses, on banquets and drunkenness and the utmost prodigality, now inviting, now being invited, now spending, now compelling others to spend; so that the punishment becomes double for you, both from what you yourself do and from what you urge others to do. See, at any rate, this very servant charged with this: “For he eats and drinks,” he says, “with the drunkards.” For he punishes not the drunkards only, but those who are with them too; and very reasonably, because besides their own corruption they also disregard the salvation of their neighbors. And nothing so provokes God as to be disdainful of what concerns one’s neighbor. Therefore, showing his anger, he commanded him to be cut in two. For this reason he also said that love is the mark of his disciples, since it is altogether necessary that the one who loves should care for the concerns of the one loved.

Let us hold, then, to this way; for this above all is the way that leads up to heaven, that makes imitators of Christ, that makes us like God as far as is possible. See, then, that those virtues also are more necessary which are encamped along this way. And if you wish, let us make an examination of them, and bring the votes from the judgment of God. Let there be, then, two ways of the best life; and let one of them make good only the one who pursues it, and the other his neighbor too. Let us see which is more approved and leads us to the summit of virtue. Will not the one who seeks only his own receive countless charges from Paul—and when I say from Paul, I mean from Christ—while the other receives praises and crowns? Whence is this plain? Hear what he says to the one and what to the other: “Let no one seek his own, but each that of his neighbor.” Do you see how he cast out the one and brought in the other? Again: “Let each of you please his neighbor for his good, to build him up.” Then comes also the unspeakable praise together with the exhortation: “For Christ too did not please himself.” These votes are enough to show the victory; but so that it may be shown more than abundantly, let us see which good deeds stop with us and which pass from us to others too. Fasting, then, and sleeping on the ground, and practicing virginity, and self-control—these bring the gain to those who practice them; but those that pass from us to our neighbor are almsgiving, teaching, love. Here too, then, hear Paul saying, “Even if I give away all my possessions to feed others, and if I hand over my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.”

Do you see love proclaimed splendidly by itself and crowned? And if you wish, let us compare them in a third way too. Let one man fast, and be self-controlled, and be a martyr, and be burned; and let another put off martyrdom for the building up of his neighbor, and not only put it off, but even depart without martyrdom: which will be more approved after the departure from here? We need not many words here, nor a long circuit. For blessed Paul stands by, bringing the verdict and saying, “To depart and be with Christ is better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake”; and he preferred the building up of his neighbor even to his departure to Christ. For this above all is to be with Christ, to do his will; and nothing is his will so much as what is advantageous to one’s neighbor. Do you want me to give a fourth proof of these things? “Peter, do you love me?” he says. “Feed my sheep.” And having asked him a third time, he declared this to be the proof of love. And this was said not to priests only, but also to each of us who have been entrusted even with a small flock. For do not despise it because it is small; “For my Father,” he says, “is well pleased in them.” Each of us has a sheep; let him lead it to the proper pastures. Let the husband, rising from his bed, seek nothing else but how he may do and say something by which he will make the whole house more devout. And the wife again, let her be a keeper of the house; but before that care let her have another more necessary concern, that the whole household may work the things of heaven. For if in worldly matters, before the care of the house, we are zealous to pay the public debts, so as not to be flogged and dragged to the marketplaces for our ingratitude in these matters and suffer countless disgraces, much more in spiritual matters must we do this: pay first what belongs to the King of all, God, so that we may not come where there is the gnashing of teeth. And let us seek those virtues which, along with our own salvation, could most greatly benefit our neighbors too. Such is almsgiving, such is prayer; or rather prayer too becomes powerful and winged from almsgiving. “For your prayers,” it says, “and your alms have gone up as a memorial before God.” And not prayer only, but fasting too has its sinews from it. Even if you fast without almsgiving, the thing is not even counted as fasting; such a person is worse than one who gorges and gets drunk, and so much worse as cruelty is more grievous than luxury. And why do I speak of fasting? For even if you are self-controlled, even if you live as a virgin, you stand outside the bridal chamber if you do not have almsgiving. And yet what is equal to virginity, which not even in the New Covenant came under the compulsion of law, because of its excellence? But nevertheless it is cast out when it does not have almsgiving. And if virgins are cast out because they did not have this in the fitting abundance, who will be able to obtain pardon without it? There is no one; but he who does not have it must certainly perish. For if in worldly matters no one lives for himself, but craftsman and soldier and farmer and merchant all contribute to the common advantage and to their neighbor’s benefit, much more must we do this in spiritual matters. For this above all is to live; since he who lives for himself only, and disregards all, is superfluous, and not even a man, nor of our race. “What then,” someone says, “if I neglect my own affairs while seeking those of others?” It is not possible for one who seeks the things of others to neglect his own. For he who seeks the things of others grieves no one, but pities all, helps according to his power; he will rob no one, defraud no one, will not steal, will not bear false witness; he will abstain from all wickedness and lay hold of all virtue, and will pray for his enemies, and do good to those who plot against him, and will neither revile anyone nor speak ill of anyone, even if he hears countless ills spoken of himself, but will say the apostolic words: “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?” But in looking to our own, the things of others will not necessarily follow. Persuaded by all these things that one cannot be saved without looking to the common advantage, and seeing this man who was cut in two and the one who buried the talent, let us choose this way, so that we may also obtain eternal life; which may we all … of Christ, to whom be the glory to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Then,” he says, “the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins, who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were wise, and five foolish, who,” he says, “did not take oil. Then, as the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a cry: Look, the bridegroom is coming; go out to meet him. And the five rose up and, being at a loss, said to the wise, Give us some of your oil. But they did not consent, saying, Perhaps there will not be enough for us and for you; go to those who sell, and buy. And while they were going away for this, the bridegroom came, and those went in; and the others came afterward, saying, Lord, Lord, open to us. But he answered and said, Truly I say to you, I do not know you. Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” Then he tells another parable again: “A man going abroad called his own servants and delivered to them his goods: to one five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his own ability; and he went abroad.” Then, when the two had brought him the double, the one who had been entrusted with one talent brought only that; and when he was charged he says, “I knew that you are a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter; and being afraid I hid your talent. Look, you have what is yours.” His master answered and said, “Wicked servant, you knew that I reap where I did not sow and gather where I did not scatter; you ought, then, to have deposited my money with the bankers, and at my coming I would have received what is mine with interest. Take, then, the talent from him, and give it to him who has the ten talents. For to him who has, more will be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who does not have, even what he has will be taken away from him. And cast the worthless servant into the outer darkness; there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

These parables resemble the former one, that of the faithful servant and of the ungrateful one who devoured his master’s goods. For there are four in all, exhorting us in different ways about the same things—I mean zeal about almsgiving, and helping our neighbor by every means in our power—since it is not possible to be saved otherwise. But there he speaks more generally of every kind of help that one must show toward one’s neighbor; in the case of the virgins he speaks in the proper sense of almsgiving in money, and more severely than in the former parable. For there he punishes the one who beats and is drunk and scatters and destroys his master’s goods; but here even the one who does not help, nor pours out what he has abundantly to the needy. For they had oil, but not abundantly; therefore they are also punished. And why does he bring forward this parable in the person of virgins, and not simply propose any person whatever? He had spoken great things about virginity, saying, “There are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven,” and, “He who is able to receive it, let him receive it.” He knew also that the many among men have a great opinion of it. For the thing is great by nature, and this is shown by the fact that in the Old Testament it was not achieved by those ancient and holy men, and in the New it did not come under the compulsion of law. For he did not command it, but left it to the choice of the hearers. Therefore Paul too says, “Concerning virgins I have no command of the Lord.” “For I praise the one who achieves it, but I do not compel the one who does not wish, nor do I make the thing a commandment.” Since, then, the thing was great and had great repute among the many, so that no one who achieves it should be disposed as though he had achieved everything and should neglect the rest, he sets down this parable, enough to persuade that virginity, even if it has all the other things, if it is bare of the good things that come from almsgiving, is cast out with the sexually immoral; and he sets the inhuman and the unmerciful man with them. And very reasonably; for the one was overcome by the love of bodies, but these by the love of money. And the love of bodies and the love of money are not equal; the love of bodies is far keener and more tyrannical. The weaker the antagonist, then, the more unpardonable are those who are overcome. Therefore he also calls them foolish, because, having undergone the greater labor, they betrayed everything for the lesser. And by lamps he here means the very gift of virginity, the purity of holiness; and by oil, love for mankind, almsgiving, help for the needy. “And as the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept.” He shows again that the time between will not be short, drawing the disciples away from expecting that his kingdom would appear very soon. For they hoped this; therefore he also continually checks them from this hope. And besides this he shows this too, that death is sleep. “For they slept,” he says. “And at midnight there was a cry.” Either he kept to the parable, or he shows again that the resurrection takes place at night. And Paul too indicates the cry, saying, “With a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, at the last trumpet, he will descend from heaven.” And what do the trumpets mean, and what does the cry say? “The bridegroom is coming.” When, then, they had trimmed their lamps, the foolish say to the wise, “Give us some of your oil.” Again he calls them foolish, showing that nothing is more foolish than those who make money here and depart naked to that place where we have most need of love for mankind, where there is need of much oil. And not in this way only were they foolish, but because they expected to receive it there, and sought it out of season; and yet nothing was more loving than those virgins, who were approved especially for this. And they do not seek the whole: “For give us,” they say, “some of your oil”; and they show the urgency of their need: “For our lamps are going out,” they say. But even so they failed; and neither the love for mankind of those who were asked, nor the easiness of the request, nor the urgency and pressure of the need, made them succeed. What, then, do we learn from this? That none of us there will be able to stand by those who are betrayed by their own works, not because he does not wish, but because he cannot. For these too take refuge in impossibility. This the blessed Abraham too showed, saying that “a great chasm is between you and us,” so that even those who wish cannot cross. “But go to those who sell, and buy.” And who are those who sell? The poor. And where are these? Here; and it was then that they ought to have sought them, not at that time.

Do you see how great a trade we have from the poor? If you take these away, you take away the great hope of our salvation. Therefore we must gather the oil here, so that it may be useful there, when the time calls us. For that is not the time of gathering, but this is. Do not, then, spend your goods in vain on luxuries and vainglory. For there you will have need of much oil. Hearing this, those virgins went away, but they bought nothing. And he says this either keeping to the parable and weaving it out, or showing by these words that even if we become loving after we have departed, we will gain nothing from it toward escaping. So their eagerness did not avail these virgins either, since they went to the sellers not here, but there; nor did it avail the rich man, when he became so loving as to be anxious even for those related to him. For he who passed by the one lying at his gate hastens to snatch from dangers and from Gehenna those whom he does not even see, and begs that some be sent to announce these things to them. But nevertheless he gained nothing from this, just as these did not. For when, having heard these things, they had gone away, the bridegroom came; and those who were ready went in with him, but these were shut out. After their many labors, after their countless sweats and that unbearable battle, and the trophies they had set up against nature in its fury, they withdrew put to shame, with their lamps gone out, their heads bowed. For nothing is more lusterless than virginity that has no mercy; so too the many are accustomed to call the unmerciful “dark.” Where, then, is the benefit of virginity, when they did not see the bridegroom, and did not gain anything even by knocking, but heard that fearful word, “Go away, I do not know you”? And when he himself says this, nothing else is left but Gehenna and the unbearable punishment; or rather this word is more grievous even than Gehenna. This word he said also to those who work lawlessness. “Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” Do you see how continually he adds this, showing that ignorance of our departure from here is useful? Where now are those who are careless throughout their whole life, but, when charged by us, say, “At the time of my death I will leave my goods to the needy”? Let them hear these words and correct themselves. For at that time too many have fallen short of this, snatched away suddenly and not even allowed to give instructions to their relatives about what they wished.

This parable, then, was spoken for the sake of almsgiving with money; but the one after it is against those who will not help their neighbors with money, with speech, with protection, with anything else whatever, but hide everything. And why does this parable bring in a king, and that one a bridegroom? So that you may learn how closely Christ is joined to the virgins who strip themselves of their possessions; for this too belongs to virginity. Therefore Paul too sets down this definition of the thing: “The unmarried woman is anxious about the things of the Lord,” he says; and, “for what is seemly and for devotion to the Lord without distraction”; “these things we advise,” he says. And if in Luke the parable of the talents is given differently, one must say that this is one and that another. For in that one, from one capital the returns were different: from one mina one brought five, another ten; therefore they did not receive the same rewards either. But here it is the opposite; therefore the crown too is equal. For he who received two gave two, and he who received five likewise. But there, since from the same principal one made more and another less return, they reasonably do not enjoy the prizes alike either. And see him everywhere not demanding at once. For in the case of the vineyard too he let it out to farmers and went abroad; and here he entrusted the talents and went abroad, so that you may learn his long-suffering. And to me he seems to say these things hinting at the resurrection as well. But here there are no longer farmers and a vineyard, but all are workers. For he is discoursing not to rulers only, nor to Jews, but to all. And those who bring their gains acknowledge with gratitude both what is theirs and what is the master’s. One says, “Lord, you gave me five talents”; the other says, “two,” showing that they received from him the means for their work; and they are very grateful and reckon the whole to him. What, then, says the master? “Well done, good servant” (for this is the mark of a good man, to look to his neighbor) “and faithful; you were faithful over a little, I will set you over much; enter into the joy of your master,” showing by this word the whole of blessedness. But not so the other; but how? “I knew that you are a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter; and being afraid I hid your talent. Look, you have what is yours.” What, then, says the master? “You ought to have put my money with the bankers”: that is, you ought to have spoken, exhorted, counseled. “But they do not obey?” But that is no concern of yours. What could be gentler than this? For men do not act so, but make the very one who lent the money responsible for recovering it too. But he does not act so; rather, “You ought to have deposited it,” he says, “and left the recovery to me. And I would have demanded it with interest”—by interest meaning the showing forth of works after the hearing of words. “You ought to have done the easier part, and left the harder to me.” Since, then, he did not do this, “Take from him the talent,” he says, “and give it to him who has the ten talents. For to him who has, more will be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who does not have, even what he has will be taken away from him.” What is this? He who has a gift of speech and teaching with which to help others, and does not use it, will lose the gift too; but he who shows zeal will draw down the gift more abundantly, just as that one loses even what he received. But the loss to the idle man does not stop there; there is also an unbearable punishment, and with the punishment the sentence, full of great accusation. “For cast the worthless servant,” he says, “into the outer darkness; there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Have you seen how not only the robber and the covetous man, nor only the evildoer, but also the one who does not do good is punished with the extreme punishment?

Let us hear these words, then. While there is time, let us lay hold of our salvation; let us take oil for our lamps; let us work with our talent. For if we shrink back and pass our time here in idleness, no one will pity us any longer there, though we lament countless times. He who had the filthy garments condemned himself too, and it did him no good. He who had the one talent gave back the deposit with which he had been entrusted, and even so was condemned. The virgins too entreated, and came, and knocked, and all at random and in vain. Knowing these things, then, let us bring money and zeal and protection and everything for the benefit of our neighbors. For by talents here is meant each one’s ability, whether in protection, or in money, or in teaching, or in any such thing whatever. Let no one say, “I have one talent, and can do nothing.” For you can win approval even through one. For you are not poorer than that widow; you are not more rustic than Peter and John, who were unlearned and illiterate; but nevertheless, since they showed eagerness and did everything for the common advantage, they laid hold of the heavens. For nothing is so dear to God as to live for the common benefit. Therefore God gave us speech, and hands and feet, and strength of body, and mind, and understanding, so that we may use all these both for our own salvation and for the benefit of our neighbors. For speech is useful to us not only for hymns and thanksgivings, but is profitable also for teaching and exhortation. And if we use it for this, we have imitated the Master; but if for the opposite, the devil. For Peter too, when he confessed the Christ, was called blessed as having spoken the things of the Father; but when he refused the cross and spoke against it, he was severely rebuked as minding the things of the devil. And if, where the saying came from ignorance, the accusation was so great, when we sin much willingly, what pardon shall we have? Let us, then, utter such things that it may be plain at once that the words are Christ’s. For not only if I say, “Rise and walk,” nor only if I say, “Tabitha, arise,” do I then speak the things of Christ; but much more if, when reviled, I bless; if, when abused, I pray for the one who abuses me. The other day I said that our tongue is a hand, touching the feet of God; but now I say much more, that our tongue is a tongue imitating Christ’s, if it shows the fitting exactness, and if we utter the things he wishes. And what are the things he wishes us to utter? Words full of gentleness and meekness, just as he himself uttered, saying to those who insulted him, “I do not have a demon,” and again, “If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness about the wrong.” If you too speak so, if you speak for the correction of your neighbors, you have acquired a tongue like his. And God himself says these things: “For he who brings forth the precious from the worthless will be as my mouth,” he says. When, then, your tongue is as the tongue of Christ, and your mouth becomes the mouth of the Father, and you are a temple of the Holy Spirit, what honor could equal this? For not even if your mouth were made of gold, not even if of precious stones, would it shine as it does now, lit up with the adornment of gentleness. For what is more lovely than a mouth that does not know how to insult, but … to bless the one who curses? Be silent, and achieve this for now; and going forward on the road and striving as you ought, you will come to that too, and will acquire such a mouth as we have described.

[4] And do not think that what was said is bold. For the Master loves mankind, and it becomes the gift of his goodness. What is bold is to have a mouth like the devil’s, to possess a tongue like an evil demon’s, especially for one who partakes of such mysteries and shares in the very flesh of the Master. Considering these things, then, become like him as far as is in your power. Then the devil will no longer be able even to look at you, once you have become such. For he recognizes the royal stamp; he knows the weapons of Christ by which he was defeated. And what are these? Gentleness and meekness. For when on the mountain Christ struck him down and laid him flat as he attacked, it was not by making himself known as the Christ; but by these words he caught him in the net, by gentleness he took him, by meekness he routed him. Do you too do this. If you see a man who has become a devil coming at you, so you too conquer him. Christ has given you the power to become like him as far as is in your power. Do not be afraid on hearing this; what is to be feared is not to become like him. Speak, then, as he did, and in this respect you have become such as he is, as far as it is possible for one who is a man to become. Therefore he who speaks so is greater than he who prophesies. For that is all grace; but here there is also your labor and sweat. Teach your soul to fashion for you a mouth like the mouth of Christ. For it can create such things, if it will; it knows the art, if it is not careless. “And how is such a mouth fashioned?” someone says. “With what colors? With what material?” With no colors and no material, but with virtue alone, and gentleness, and humility. Let us see how the devil’s mouth too is fashioned, so that we may never make it. How, then, is it fashioned? By curses, by insults, by envy, by perjury. For when someone utters the devil’s words, he takes the devil’s tongue. What pardon, then, shall we have—or rather, what punishment shall we not undergo—when we allow the tongue with which we were counted worthy to taste the Master’s flesh to utter the things of the devil? Let us not allow it, but use all zeal to train it to imitate its own Master. For if we train it in this, it will set us with great boldness before the judgment seat of Christ. If anyone does not know how to speak so, the judge will not even hear him. For as, when the judge happens to be a Roman, he will not hear the defense of one who does not know how to speak his language, so too Christ, if you do not speak after his manner, will not hear you, nor pay attention. Let us learn, then, to speak as our King is accustomed to hear; let us be zealous to imitate that tongue. Even if you fall into grief, see that the tyranny of dejection does not distort your mouth, but speak as Christ did. For he too mourned for Lazarus and for Judas. If you fall into fear, seek again to speak as he did. For he too fell into fear for your sake, in the order of the dispensation. Say you too, “Nevertheless not as I will, but as you will.” Even if you weep, shed tears quietly, as he did. Even if you fall into plots and grief, deal with these too as Christ did. For he too was plotted against and grieved, and says, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.” And he gave you all the examples, so that you might keep the same measures, and not corrupt the rules given you. So you will be able to have a mouth like his mouth; so, walking on earth, you will show us a tongue like that of him who sits above, keeping the measures in dejection, in anger, in grief, in agony. How many of you desire to see his form? Look, not only to see him, but to become like him is possible, if we are zealous. Let us not, then, put it off. He does not so welcome the mouth of prophets as that of gentle and meek men. “For many will say to me,” he says, “Did we not prophesy in your name? And I will say to them, I do not know you.” But Moses, since he was very gentle and meek (“For Moses,” it says, “was a man meeker than all the men on the earth”), he so welcomed and loved that he spoke with him face to face, mouth to mouth, as a friend to his own friend. You will not command demons now, but you will command the fire of Gehenna then, if you have a mouth like the mouth of Christ. You will command the abyss of fire and say, “Be silent, be still”; and with great boldness you will ascend to the heavens and enjoy the kingdom; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, might and honor to the Father together with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“When the Son of Man comes in the glory of his Father, and all the holy angels with him, then he will sit,” he says, “on the throne of his glory, and will separate the sheep from the goats”; and some he will receive, because they fed him when he was hungry, and gave him drink when he was thirsty, and took him in when he was a stranger, and clothed him when he was naked, and visited him when he was sick, and saw him when he was in prison; and he will give them the kingdom. But the others, accusing them of the opposite, he will send into the eternal fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.

Let us now hear, with all earnestness and compunction, this most sweet passage, which we never cease turning over continually, with which, as the last, his discourse ended; and reasonably. For he has much to say about love for mankind and almsgiving. Therefore in the earlier parts too he discoursed about it in various ways, and here henceforth somewhat more clearly and vigorously, setting not two persons or three, nor five, but the whole world; although the former parables too, those through two persons, showed not two persons but two parts, the one disobeying, the other obeying. But here he handles the discourse more awefully and more brilliantly. Therefore he no longer says, “The kingdom is like,” but openly reveals himself, saying, “When the Son of Man comes in his glory.” For now he has come in dishonor, now amid insults and reproaches; but then “he will sit on the throne of his glory.” And he continually mentions glory. For since the cross was near, a thing that seemed to be shameful, for this reason he lifts up the hearer, and brings the tribunal before his eyes, and sets the whole world around it. And not by this only does he make the discourse fearful, but also by showing the heavens emptied. For “all the angels will be present with him,” he says, they themselves bearing witness how many services they rendered when they were sent by the Master for the salvation of men. And in every way that day will then be awesome. Then “all the nations,” he says, “will be gathered”: that is, the whole nature of mankind. “And he will separate them from one another, as the shepherd the sheep.” For now they are not separated, but all are mingled together; but the division then will be made with all exactness. And for the present he divides them by their position and makes them manifest; then by the names too he shows the character of each, calling some goats and others sheep, so as to show the unfruitfulness of the former, for no fruit could come from goats, and the great return of the latter, for great is the return from sheep, from wool, from milk, from their young, of all of which the goat is bare. But the brutes have unfruitfulness and fruitfulness from nature, these men from choice; therefore the one are punished and the others crowned. And he does not punish them until he has pleaded his case against them; therefore, having set them in their place, he states the charges. And they speak with gentleness, but there is no benefit for them any longer; and very reasonably, because they passed by a thing so much to be sought. For the prophets too said this up and down, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice”; and the lawgiver urged them to this by every means, by words and by deeds; and nature itself taught it. And consider them bare not of one or two things only, but of all. For not only did they not feed the hungry, nor clothe the naked, but they did not do even what was lighter, they did not even visit the sick. And see how light are his commands. He did not say, “I was in prison, and you set me free; I was sick, and you raised me up,” but, “you visited me,” and, “you came to me.” And not even in hunger is what is commanded burdensome. For he did not seek a costly table, but only what was needful, and the necessary food; and he sought it in the guise of a suppliant. So that all things were enough to bring punishment on them: the easiness of the request, for it was bread; the pitiableness of the one asking, for he was poor; the sympathy of nature, for he was a man; the desirability of the promise, for he promised a kingdom; the fearfulness of the punishment, for he threatened Gehenna; the dignity of the one receiving, for it was God who was receiving through the poor; the surpassing honor, that he deigned to come down so far; the justice of the giving, for he was receiving from what was his own. But against all these things the love of money once for all blinded those who were caught by it, and that though so great a threat lay before them. For above too he says that those who do not receive such men will suffer things more grievous than Sodom; and here he says, “Inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did not do it to me.” What do you say? They are your brothers; and how do you call them least? For this very reason they are brothers, because they are lowly, because they are poor, because they are outcast. For such especially he calls into brotherhood, the unknown, the contemptible; not meaning by these the monks only, and those who have occupied the mountains, but every believer: even if he is a man of the world, but is hungry and starving and naked and a stranger, he wishes him to enjoy all this care. For baptism makes a brother, and the communion of the divine mysteries.

Then, so that you may see the justice of the sentence from another side too, he first praises those who did right, and says, “Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry, and you gave me to eat,” and all that follows. For so that they may not say, “We did not have the means,” he condemns them by their fellow servants: as the virgins by the virgins, and the servant who was drunk and gluttonous by the faithful servant, and the one who buried the talent by those who brought the two, and each of those who failed by those who did right. And this comparison is sometimes made on equal terms, as here and in the case of the virgins, and sometimes from the greater, as when he says, “The men of Nineveh will rise up and condemn this generation, because they believed at the preaching of Jonah; and look, something greater than Jonah is here”; and, “The queen of the south will condemn this generation, because she came to hear the wisdom of Solomon; and look, something greater than Solomon is here.” And again from the equal: “They themselves will be your judges”; and again from the greater: “Do you not know that we will judge angels? How much more the things of this life!” And here too it is from the equal; for he compares rich with rich, and poor with poor. And not in this way only does he show that the verdict is justly given, in that their fellow servants, placed in the same circumstances, did right, but also in that they did not obey even in those things in which poverty was no hindrance: such as giving drink to the thirsty, seeing the one in bonds, visiting the sick. And having praised those who did right, he shows how great his affection toward them was from the beginning. “For come,” he says, “you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” How many good things is this name worth, to be blessed, and blessed by the Father? And whence were they counted worthy of so great an honor? What is the cause? “I was hungry, and you gave me to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink,” and so on. Of what honor, of what blessedness are these words! And he did not say, “Take,” but, “Inherit,” as your own, as your father’s, as yours, as owed to you from the beginning. “For before you came into being,” he says, “these things had been prepared and made ready for you, since I knew that you would be such.” And in return for what do they receive so much? For a roof, for a garment, for bread, for cold water, for a visit, for going into the prison. For everywhere it is a matter of need; and in some cases not even of need. For surely, as I said, the sick man and the one in bonds do not seek this only, but the one to be released, the other to be freed from his sickness. But he, being gentle, demands what is within our power, or rather even less than what is within our power, leaving it to us to show our generosity in more. But to the others: “Go away from me, you cursed”—no longer “of the Father,” for it was not he who cursed them, but their own works—“into the eternal fire, prepared,” not for you, “but for the devil and his angels.” For when he spoke of the kingdom, “Come, inherit the kingdom,” he added, “prepared for you from the foundation of the world”; but of the fire, no longer so, but, “prepared for the devil.” “For I prepared the kingdom for you, but the fire no longer for you, but for the devil and his angels; but since you have cast yourselves into it, impute it to yourselves.” And not in this way only, but also by what follows, as though defending himself to them, he sets down the reasons too: “For I was hungry, and you did not give me to eat.” For even if he who came to you had been an enemy, are not the sufferings enough to break down and bend even the unmerciful—famine and cold and bonds and nakedness and sickness, and wandering everywhere in the open air? For these are enough to dissolve even enmity. But you did not do these things even for a friend, and one who was friend and benefactor and Master. If we see a dog hungry, we are often moved; and if we behold a wild beast, we are softened; but seeing the Master, are you not softened? And how are these things worthy of defense? For if this alone were the reward, would it not be enough as recompense—I do not speak of hearing such a voice before the world from him who sits on his Father’s throne, and of obtaining a kingdom—but would not the very doing of it be enough as a reward? But as it is, with the whole world present and that unspeakable glory appearing, he proclaims you and crowns you, and acknowledges you as the one who fed him and gave him lodging; and he is not ashamed to say such things, so that he may make your crown more splendid. For this reason, then, these are justly punished, and those are crowned by grace. For even if they had done countless things, the munificence is of grace, that in return for things so small and cheap such a heaven and a kingdom and so great an honor should be given them.

“And it came to pass, when Jesus had finished these words, that he said to his disciples, You know that after two days the Passover comes, and the Son of Man is handed over to be crucified.” Again opportunely he speaks of the passion, when he has reminded them of the kingdom, and of the recompense there, and of the deathless punishment; as if he said, “Why do you fear the terrors of a moment, when such good things await you?”

But consider, I pray, how in all the preceding words he arranged and overshadowed in a novel way what grieved them most. For he did not say, “You know that after two days I am handed over,” but what? “You know that after two days the Passover comes”; and then he added, “and he is handed over to be crucified,” showing that what was happening was a mystery, and a feast and festival celebrated for the salvation of the world, and that he suffered knowing all things beforehand. For this reason, as though this were enough for their consolation, he did not now say anything to them about the resurrection; for it was superfluous, having discoursed so much about it, to speak of it again. And besides, as I said, he shows that the suffering itself is deliverance from countless evils, reminding them through the Passover of the ancient benefits in Egypt. “Then the chief priests and the scribes and the elders of the people were gathered in the court of the high priest, who was called Caiaphas, and they took counsel to seize Jesus by stealth and kill him. But they said, Not during the feast, lest there be a tumult among the people.” Do you see the unspeakable corruption of the affairs of the Jews? Undertaking lawless deeds, they come to the high priest, wishing to receive authority from the very quarter from which they ought to have been hindered. And how many were the chief priests? For the law wishes there to be one; but then there were many. Hence it is plain that the affairs of the Jews were beginning to be dissolved. For Moses, as I said, commanded that there be one, and that when he died another should become high priest, and by his life he measured the exile of those who had committed murder involuntarily. How, then, were there many chief priests at that time? Later they became annual. And this the evangelist showed when he spoke of Zechariah, saying that he was of the division of Abijah. So he here calls chief priests those who came from the chief priests. And what did they take counsel about? To seize him secretly, or to kill him? Both; for they feared the people. Therefore they also waited for the feast to pass; for they said, “Not during the feast.” For the devil did not wish it at the Passover, so as not to make the passion conspicuous; but they, lest there be a tumult. Consider them, then, fearing not the things of God, nor lest a greater defilement come to them from the season, but everywhere the things of men. But nevertheless, boiling with anger, they changed their minds again. For having said, “Not during the feast,” when they found the betrayer, they did not wait for the time, but slaughtered him during it. And why did they seize him then? Both because they were boiling with anger, as I said, and because they expected to find him then; and they did everything as though blinded. Even if he himself used their wickedness for his own dispensation, they are not for this reason free of blame, but deserving of countless punishments for their intent. At any rate, when all, even the guilty, ought to have been released, then these killed the innocent, him who had done them countless benefits, and who for the present had disregarded the Gentiles for their sake. But O the love for mankind! Those who were so depraved … he sends the apostles to be slaughtered on their behalf, and through them he makes supplication. “For on behalf of Christ we are ambassadors.”

Having such examples, then, I do not say, let us die for our enemies—for we ought to do even this—but since we are weaker, I say this for the present: let us at least not look with envy on our friends, not be jealous of our benefactors. I do not say for the present, let us benefit those who do us harm—I desire this too—but since you are too gross for this, at least do not take revenge. For are our affairs a stage and play-acting? Why do you set yourselves diametrically against the things done? Not for nothing are written both the other things and all that he did at the very cross, which were able to call them back; but so that you may imitate his goodness, so that you may emulate his love for mankind. For he both threw them backward, and restored the ear of the servant, and spoke with gentleness; and, when lifted up, he showed great wonders, turning back the rays of the sun, rending the rocks, raising the dead, frightening the wife of the judge through dreams; in the very trial he showed all meekness, able to draw them no less than wonders; he foretold countless things in the court; on the very cross he cried out, “Father, forgive them their sin.” And when he was buried, how much did he show for their salvation? And when he had risen, did he not at once call the Jews? Did he not give them forgiveness of sins? Did he not set before them countless good things? What is more wonderful than this? Those who crucified him and breathed murder became, after crucifying him, sons of God. What is equal to this care? Hearing these things, let us hide our faces, because we stand so far off from him whom we are bidden to imitate. Let us see at least how great the distance is, so that we may at least condemn ourselves, warring as we do against those for whom Christ gave his life, and not wishing to be reconciled with those whom, in order to reconcile them, he did not even refuse to be slaughtered—unless this too is some expense and outlay of money, which is the excuse you put forward in the case of almsgiving.

Consider how many things you are liable for, and you will not shrink from forgiving those who have wronged you, but will run to those who have grieved you, so that this may become for you an occasion of pardon, so as to find a remedy for your own evils. Children of the Greeks, though they expected nothing great, often practiced this philosophy; and you, who are about to depart on such hopes, do you shrink back and hesitate? And what time does, will you not bear to do before the time for the sake of God’s law, but do you wish your passion to be quenched without reward rather than for a reward? For even if this comes about through time, you will have nothing more for it, but rather a great punishment, because what time accomplished, the law of God did not persuade you to do. And if you say that you are inflamed when you remember the insult, remember whether any good has come to you from the one who grieved you, and how many evils you yourself have done to others. Did he speak ill of you and disgrace you? Reckon that you too have spoken so of others. How, then, will you obtain the pardon which you do not grant to others? But you have spoken ill of no one? But you heard others speaking so, and welcomed it. Neither is this without guilt. Do you wish to learn how good a thing it is not to bear grudges, and how greatly this pleases God? Those who rejoice over men justly punished by him he punishes; and yet those are justly punished, but you ought not to exult. And the prophet, after bringing many charges, added this too, saying, “They felt nothing at the ruin of Joseph”; and again, “She who dwells in Aenan did not come out to mourn the house next to her.” And yet both Joseph—that is, the tribes descended from him—and their neighbors were punished by God’s will; but nevertheless he wishes us to grieve with these too. For if we, being evil, when we are punishing a servant and see one of his fellow servants laughing, are provoked the more and turn our anger on him, much more will God punish those who rejoice over those who are being punished. And if we must not trample on those punished by God, but grieve with them, much more on those who have sinned against us. For this is a sign of love; and love God places before all things. For as in the royal purple those are the precious ones among the flowers and dyes which make up this robe, so here too those are the precious virtues which hold love together. And nothing so preserves love as not remembering the sins committed against us. For did not God take care of the other side too? Did he not push the wrongdoer toward the one wronged? Does he not send him from the altar to that man, and after the reconciliation call him to the table? But do not for this reason wait for him to come, since then you have lost everything. For it is especially for this that he appoints you an unspeakable reward, that you may anticipate him; since if you are reconciled after being entreated, the friendship no longer comes from God’s command, but from that man’s zeal; therefore you also go away uncrowned … You have an enemy, and are you not ashamed? For is not the devil enough for us, that we draw our own kin into enmity as well? Would that not even he had wished to war against us! Would that not even he had been a devil! Do you not know how great the pleasure is after reconciliation? For what if, during the enmity, it does not seem very great? That it is sweeter to love the one who wrongs you than to hate him, you will be able to learn well then, after the enmity has been dissolved. Why, then, do we imitate the mad, devouring one another, warring against our own flesh? Hear how much was said about this in the Old Testament too: “The ways of those who bear grudges lead to death.” “Man cherishes anger against man, and does he seek healing from God?” “And yet he permitted ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’; how, then, does he find fault?” Because he permitted those things too, not so that we might do them to one another, but so that by the fear of suffering we might refrain from daring the deed. And besides, those things belong to an anger of the moment, but bearing grudges belongs to a soul that practices wickedness. But did you suffer ill? Yet nothing so great as you will do to yourself by bearing grudges. Besides, it is not even possible for a good man to suffer any ill. For let someone have both children and a wife, and let him practice philosophy; and let him also have many openings for harm, abundance of money, the power of office, many friends, and let him enjoy honor; only let him practice philosophy (for this must be added); and let us bring the blows upon him in our argument. Let some wicked man come and inflict loss on him: what is that to one who thinks money nothing? Let him kill his children: what is that to one who has the philosophy of the resurrection? Let him slay his wife: and what is that to one who has been taught not to mourn those who have fallen asleep? Let him cast him into dishonor: what is that to one who thinks present things the flower of the grass? If you will, let him torment his body too, and cast him into prison: what is that to one who has learned that “even if our outer man is wasting away, yet our inner man is being renewed,” and that “affliction produces approvedness”? I promised that he would be harmed in nothing; but the argument, as it went forward, has shown that he is even benefited, being renewed and becoming approved. Let us not, then, grieve over others, wronging ourselves and making our soul weak. For the pain comes not so much from the wickedness of our neighbors as from our own wretchedness. Therefore if someone insults us, we weep and shrink; if someone robs us, we suffer the same, like those little children whom others tease and grieve on slight pretexts; yet even those teasers, if they see them annoyed, keep on biting, but if they see them laughing, they leave off. But we are more foolish even than these, lamenting over things at which we ought to laugh. Therefore I exhort you, let us leave this childish mind and lay hold of the heavens. For Christ wishes us to be men, perfect men. So Paul too commanded: “Brothers, do not be children in your minds,” he says, “but be infants in wickedness.” Let us, then, be infants in wickedness, and, fleeing evil, lay hold of virtue, so that we may also obtain the eternal good things, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, a woman came to him having an alabaster jar of very costly ointment, and poured it on his head as he reclined at table.”

This woman seems to be one and the same in all the evangelists, but she is not. In the three she seems to me to be one and the same; in John no longer, but another, a wonderful woman, the sister of Lazarus. And it is not without purpose that the evangelist mentions Simon’s leprosy, but to show whence the woman took courage to approach. For since leprosy seemed to be a very unclean and abominable disease, and she saw that Jesus had healed the man (for he would not have chosen to stay with a leper) and had lodged with him, she took courage that he would easily wipe away the uncleanness of her soul too. And it is not without purpose that he mentions the town too, Bethany, but so that you may learn that he goes to his passion willingly. For he who before this used to escape them, now, when their envy was most inflamed, comes near, about fifteen stadia off; so his earlier withdrawing too was a matter of dispensation. Seeing him, then, and taking courage from this, the woman approached. For if the woman with the issue of blood, though conscious of nothing of this kind, approached trembling and afraid because of an uncleanness that seemed to come from nature, much more was this woman likely to hesitate and shrink back because of her evil conscience. Therefore she approaches after many women—the Samaritan, the Canaanite, the woman with the issue of blood, and several others—because she was conscious of much licentiousness; and not in public, but in a house. And while all the others came for bodily healing only, she came only for the sake of honoring him and for the correction of her soul. For she was not maimed in any part of her body; so that for this reason especially one might admire her. And she did not come to him as to a man (for then she would not have wiped him with her hair), but as to one greater than a man. Therefore the member that was the most honorable of the whole body, her own head, she brought to the feet of Christ.

“But when his disciples saw it, they were indignant,” it says, “saying, To what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor. But Jesus, knowing it, said to them, Why do you trouble the woman? For she has done a beautiful work for me. For you always have the poor with you, but me you do not always have. For in pouring this ointment on my body she did it to prepare me for burial. Truly I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her.” And whence did they get this idea? They heard the Teacher saying, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice,” and charging the Jews with having left the weightier things, justice and mercy and faith, and discoursing much on the mountain about almsgiving; and from these things they reasoned among themselves and thought that if he does not accept whole burnt offerings, nor the old worship, much less the anointing with oil. But they thought so; he, seeing her intent, allows it. For great was her reverence and unspeakable her zeal; therefore, greatly condescending, he permitted the oil to be poured even on his head. For if he did not refuse to become a man, and to be carried in the womb, and to be nursed with milk, why do you wonder if he does not repel this? For as his Father bore with the savor of burnt fat and smoke, so he too bore with the harlot, as I said before, accepting her intent. For Jacob too anointed a pillar to God, and oil was offered in the sacrifices, and the priests were anointed with ointment. But the disciples, not knowing her intent, found fault out of season, and by their very charges they show the woman’s munificence. For by saying that it could have been sold for three hundred denarii, they showed how much she spent on the ointment and how great a magnanimity she showed. Therefore he also rebuked them, saying, “Why do you trouble the woman?” And he adds a reason, wishing to remind them again of his passion: “For she did it for my burial,” he says. And another reason: “For you always have the poor with you, but me you do not always have”; and, “Wherever the gospel is preached, what she has done will also be told.” See how again he foretells the going out to the Gentiles, and by this consoles them about his death, since after the cross so great a power will shine forth that the preaching will be poured out everywhere on earth. Who, then, is so wretched as to set himself against so great a truth? For look, what he said has happened; and wherever in the world you go, you will see her too proclaimed. And yet neither was the person distinguished, nor did the deed have many witnesses, nor did it happen in a theater, but in a house, and in the house of a leper, with only the disciples present.

Who, then, made it resound and spread abroad? The power of him who said these things. The brave deeds of countless kings and generals, whose very memorials remain, have been silenced; and those who founded cities and surrounded them with walls, and won wars and set up trophies, and enslaved many nations, are not known even by hearsay or by name, though they set up statues and enacted laws; but that a harlot woman poured oil in the house of some leper, with ten men present, this all sing throughout the world; and so much time has passed, and the memory of what happened has not faded; but Persians and Indians and Scythians and Thracians and Sauromatians and the race of the Moors and those who inhabit the British Isles tell abroad what was done in Judea, secretly, in a house, by a woman who had been a harlot. Great is the love for mankind of the Master. He bears with a harlot, a harlot kissing his feet, and wetting them with oil, and wiping them with her hair, and he accepts her, and rebukes those who find fault. For the woman ought not to be thrown into perplexity for so great a zeal. And consider this too, I pray, how lofty they were already, and how eager for almsgiving. And why did he not simply say, “She has done a beautiful work,” but first, “Why do you trouble the woman?” So that they might learn not to demand the loftier things of the weaker from the very beginning. Therefore he does not examine the thing simply by itself, but together with the person of the woman. And yet if he were legislating, he would not have added the woman; but so that you may learn that these things were said on her account, so that they might not maim her budding faith but rather nurture it, for this reason he says it, teaching us that whatever good is done by anyone at all, even if it is not very exact, we should receive it and cherish it and lead it on to what is greater, and not demand all exactness at the beginning. For that he himself rather wished the other, almsgiving, is plain from his having commanded a money bag to be carried, he who had nowhere to lay his head. But then the occasion did not demand that what had been done should be corrected, but only that it be accepted. For as, if someone had asked him before the woman did this, he would not have pronounced so, so, since she had done it, he looks to one thing henceforth, that she might not be perplexed by the disciples’ rebuke, but might go away more cheerful and better through his care. For after the oil had been poured out, their rebuke had no occasion either. You too, then, if you see someone who has made sacred vessels and offers them, or busies himself with some other adornment of the church, about the walls and the floor, do not bid it be sold or overturned, lest you maim his zeal. But if someone asks you before making them, bid it be given to the poor; since he too did this so as not to maim the woman’s intent, and all that he says he says for her comfort. Then, since he said, “She did it for my burial,” so that the woman might not seem to be perplexed at his mentioning such a thing—a tomb and death, I mean—see by what follows how he restores her again, saying, “In the whole world what she has done will be told.” And this was a consolation for the disciples too, and an encouragement and praise for her. “For all will sing of her afterward,” he says; “and now she has proclaimed the passion beforehand, bringing what belongs to burial; let no one, then, rebuke her. For I am so far from condemning her as having done ill, or blaming her as not having acted rightly, that I will not even let what was done be hidden, but the world will know what was done in a house and in secret.” For what was done came from a devout mind and warm faith and a contrite soul. And why did he promise the woman nothing spiritual, but only the everlasting memory? By these things he prepared her to be confident about those too. For if she did a beautiful work, it is plain that she will also receive a worthy reward.

“Then one of the twelve, called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, What will you give me, and I will hand him over to you?” “Then”—when? When these things were being said, when he said, “for my burial.” And not even by this was he pricked to the heart, nor, hearing that the gospel would be preached everywhere, was he afraid (for what was said was of unspeakable power); but when women showed so great an honor, and women who had been harlots, then he did the works of the devil. And why do they give his distinguishing name? Because there was also another Judas. And they do not refuse to say that he was of the twelve; so they hide nothing of what seems to be shameful. And yet one could have said simply that he was one of his disciples, for there were others too. But now they add, “of the twelve,” as if they said, of the first band, those chosen for excellence, those with Peter and John. For one thing only concerned them, the truth alone, not the overshadowing of what was done. Therefore they pass over many of the signs, but hide nothing of what seems to be shameful; but whether it is a word, or a deed, or anything whatever of the kind, they proclaim it with boldness.

And not these only, but John himself too, who utters the loftier things. For he especially tells the insults and reproaches done to him. And see how great the wickedness of Judas is, when he comes of his own accord, when he does this for money, and for so little money. And Luke says that he made the agreement with the captains. For since the Jews were seditious, the Romans set over them men who would take care of their good order; for their rule had by now passed away, according to the prophecy. Coming to these, then, he says, “What will you give me, and I will hand him over to you? And they weighed out for him thirty pieces of silver. And from then on he sought an opportunity to hand him over.” For he feared the crowd, and wished to take him alone. O the folly! How the love of money blinded him once for all! For he who had often seen him pass through their midst and not be held, and give many proofs of his Godhead and power, expected to hold him; and that though he had sung over him so many words, both fearful and gentle, to dissolve this wicked thought. For not even at the supper did he cease this care, but up to the last day he spoke to him about these things. But that man gained nothing. Yet not on this account did the Master cease doing his part. Knowing these things, then, let us too not cease doing everything for those who sin and are careless—admonishing, teaching, exhorting, advising, counseling—even if we accomplish nothing. For Christ foreknew that the traitor was incorrigible, but nevertheless he did not cease contributing his part, admonishing and threatening and bewailing, and nowhere plainly or openly, but in a veiled way. And at the very time of the betrayal he even consented to be kissed by him; but this did him no good. So great an evil is the love of money; for it made him both traitor and temple-robber. Hear, all you lovers of money, who have the disease of Judas; hear and guard against the passion. For if he who was with Christ, and worked signs, and enjoyed so much teaching, since he was not freed from the disease, was carried down to such a pit, much more will you, who do not even hear the Scriptures, who are continually nailed to present things, be easily caught by this passion, unless you enjoy continual care. Every day he was with him who had nowhere to lay his head, and every day he was taught by deeds and by words not to have gold, nor silver, nor two tunics; and nevertheless he was not brought to his senses. And how do you expect to escape the disease, when you do not enjoy strong treatment, nor use much zeal? For terrible, terrible is this beast; but nevertheless, if you will, you will easily overcome it. For the desire is not natural; and this is plain from those who have been freed from it. For the things of nature are common to all; but this desire comes from carelessness alone; from this it springs, from this it grows; and when it seizes those who gape after it, it makes them live contrary to nature. For when they do not know their countrymen, their friends, their brothers, their kinsmen, all of them simply, and with these themselves too, this is to live contrary to nature. Hence it is plain that wickedness is contrary to nature, and the disease of the love of money, into which Judas too fell and became a traitor. “And how did he become such,” someone says, “when he had been called by Christ?” Because God’s calling is not compulsory, nor does it force the will of those who do not wish to choose virtue; but it exhorts and counsels, and does and arranges everything so as to persuade them to become good; but if some will not endure it, it does not compel. And if you wish to learn whence he became such, you will find that he was destroyed by the love of money. “And how was he caught by this passion?” someone says. Because he was careless. For from this come such changes, as from zeal come the changes to the opposite. How many, at any rate, who had been violent are now gentler than sheep? How many licentious men have afterward become self-controlled? How many who were covetous before this have now thrown away even their own goods? And again the opposite has happened from carelessness. For Gehazi too lived with a holy man, and he too became wicked from the same disease. For this passion is the most grievous of all. From it come tomb-robbers, from it murderers, from it wars and battles, and whatever evil you may name, from it. And such a man is useless everywhere, whether he must be a general or lead the people; or rather not in public affairs only, but also in private ones. If he is going to marry a wife, he will not take the virtuous one, but the worst of all; if to buy a house, not the one fitting a free man, but the one that can bring in much rent; if he is going to buy servants or anything else whatever, he will take the worst. And why do I speak of generalship and leading the people and household affairs? For even if he were a king, he is the most wretched of all, and a plague of the world, and poorer than all. For he will be disposed as one of the many, not thinking the things of all to be his, but himself to be one of all; and seizing the things of all, he thinks he has less than all. For measuring what he has by his desire for what he has not yet acquired, he will think it nothing compared with that. Therefore someone also says, “Nothing is more lawless than a lover of money.”

[4] For such a man sells even himself, and goes about as the common enemy of the world, grieving that the earth does not bear gold instead of ears of corn, and the springs instead of streams, and the mountains instead of stones; vexed at abundant harvests, depressed by the common blessings, turning away from every occasion from which it is not possible to get silver, enduring everything from which one may collect even two obols; hating all, the poor and the rich: the poor, lest they come and ask; the rich, because he does not have what is theirs. He thinks that all possess what is his, and as though wronged by all he is vexed with all. He knows no satiety, understands no fill; he is the most wretched of all; just as he who is free of these things and practices philosophy is more enviable than all. For the virtuous man, even if he is a servant, even if a prisoner, is more blessed than all. For no one will do him harm, not even if all who are in the world come together, moving arms and armies and warring against him. But the wicked and worthless man, such as we have described, even if he is a king, even if he wears countless diadems, will suffer the extreme even from anyone at all. So weak is wickedness, so strong is virtue. Why, then, do you mourn being in poverty? Why do you lament while keeping festival? For it is a time of festival. Why do you weep? For poverty is a feast, if you are self-controlled. Why do you lament, child? For one must call such a man a child. So-and-so struck you? And what of it? He made you more enduring. But he took away your money? He cut off the greater part of the burden. But he cut off your glory? Again you tell me of another form of freedom. Hear those outside too, who philosophize about these things and say, “You have suffered no evil, unless you take notice of it.” But he took away your house, that great one with its enclosures? But look, all the earth is before you, and the public buildings, whether you wish to have them for delight or for use. And what is more delightful, more beautiful than the firmament of heaven? How long shall we be beggars and poor? It is not possible for one to be rich who is not rich in soul; just as it is not possible for one to be poor who does not have poverty in his mind. For if the soul is more sovereign than the body, the less sovereign things cannot dispose it to themselves, but the sovereign one draws to itself and changes the things that are not so sovereign. For the heart too, when it receives some harm, so disposes the whole body; and if it becomes ill-tempered, it injures the whole; and if well-tempered, it benefits the whole. But if any of the other parts is corrupted while the heart remains healthy, it easily shakes off their injury too. And to make what I say clearer: what is the use of green branches, tell me, when the root is withering? And what harm from leaves dried up above, when the root is healthy? So here too there is no use of money when the soul is poor, nor harm from poverty when the soul is rich. “And how,” someone says, “could a soul become rich while it is in poverty of money?” Then especially it would become so; for then it is wont to be rich. For if, as we have often shown, this is the token of one who is rich, to despise money and to need nothing, and of poverty again to be in need; and if one could despise money more easily in poverty than in wealth; it is plain that to be in poverty especially makes one rich. For that the rich man desires money more than the poor man is plain to everyone, just as the drunkard is thirstier than one who has taken enough of drink. For desire is not such as to be quenched by more, but on the contrary it is naturally kindled by it. For fire too, when it gets more fuel, then is most savage; and the desire for money, when you throw in more gold, then most rises. If, then, desiring more belongs to poverty, and the man in wealth is such, he is above all in poverty. Do you see that the soul is poorest when it is rich, and rich when it is in poverty? And if you wish, let us exercise the argument on persons too; and let there be two men, one having ten thousand talents, the other ten; and let me take these from both. Which, then, will grieve more? The one who lost the ten thousand. But he would not grieve more unless he loved them more; and if he loves more, he desires more; and if he desires more, he is more in poverty. For we desire that most of which we are most in want; for desire comes from want. Where there is satiety, there cannot be desire. For we are thirstiest when we are in want of drink. All this has been said by me to show that if we are sober, no one will harm us, and that the harm comes not from poverty but from ourselves. Therefore I exhort you to cast out with all zeal the disease of the love of money, so that we may be rich here too, and enjoy the eternal good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Now on the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying, Where do you wish us to prepare for you to eat the Passover? And he said, Go into the city to such a one, and say to him, The Teacher says, My time is near; at your house I keep the Passover with my disciples.”

By “the first day of Unleavened Bread” he means the day before the Unleavened Bread; for they are accustomed always to reckon the day from the evening; and he mentions this day because on its evening the Passover was to be sacrificed; for they came on the fifth day of the week. And this evangelist calls it “before the Unleavened Bread,” meaning the time at which they came; while the other speaks thus: “And the day of Unleavened Bread came, on which the Passover had to be sacrificed,” saying “came” in the sense of “was near, was at the doors,” plainly referring to that evening. For they began from the evening; therefore each adds, “when the Passover was sacrificed.” And they say, “Where do you wish us to prepare for you to eat the Passover?” So from this too it is plain that he had no house, no lodging; and I think that neither had they. For otherwise they would have asked him to come there. But neither did these have one, having renounced everything by now. And why did he keep the Passover? Showing by everything, up to the last day, that he was not opposed to the law. And why does he send them to an unknown man? Showing by this too that he was able not to suffer. For he who persuaded this man’s mind to receive them, and that by mere words, what would he not have done with those who crucified him, if he had wished not to suffer? And what he did in the case of the donkey, he did here too. For there he says, “If anyone says anything to you, you shall say, The Lord needs it”; so here too: “The Teacher says, At your house I keep the Passover.” And I wonder not only at this, that the man received him though he was unknown, but that, expecting to draw upon himself so great an enmity and a war without truce, he despised the hatred of the many. Then, since they did not know the man, he gives them a sign too, as the prophet did in the case of Saul, saying, “You will find someone going up and carrying a skin”; and here, “carrying a jar.” And see again the display of his power. For he did not say only, “I keep the Passover,” but adds something else, “My time is near.” And he did this at once to remind the disciples continually of the passion, so that, exercised by the frequency of the prediction, they might ponder what was to happen; and at once to show to them, and to the one receiving him, and to all the Jews, as I have often said, that he goes to the passion not unwillingly. And he adds, “with my disciples,” so that the preparation might be sufficient, and so that the man might not think that he was hiding himself.

“When evening came, he reclined with the twelve disciples.” Alas for the shamelessness of Judas! For he too was present there, and came to share both the mysteries and the salt; and he is convicted at the very table, where, even if he had been a wild beast, he would have become gentler. For this reason the evangelist too points out that it was while they were eating that Christ speaks about the betrayal, so that by the time and by the table he might show the wickedness of the traitor. For when the disciples had done as Jesus had directed them, when evening came, he reclined with the twelve. “And as they were eating,” it says, “he said, Truly I say to you, one of you will betray me.” And before the supper he washed their feet too. And see how he spares the traitor. For he did not say, “So-and-so will betray me,” but “one of you,” so as again to give him the opportunity for repentance by keeping him concealed; and he chooses to frighten all for the sake of saving this one. “One of you, the twelve,” he says, “who are everywhere with me, whose feet I washed, to whom I promised so much.” Unbearable grief, then, seized that holy band. And John says that they were at a loss and looked at one another, and each of them asked, fearing for himself, although conscious of nothing such; but this evangelist says that “being very sorrowful they began to say to him, each one, Is it I, Lord? And he answered and said, He to whom I give the morsel when I have dipped it.” See when he revealed him: when he wished to free the rest from this turmoil; for they were dead with fear; therefore they also pressed him with questions. And he did this not only wishing to relieve them of their anguish, but also wishing to correct the traitor. For since, having often heard it said indefinitely, he remained incorrigible, being past feeling, he strips off his mask, wishing to reach him more. For when, being sorrowful, they began to say, “Is it I, Lord?” he answered and said, “He who has dipped with me in the dish, he will betray me. The Son of Man goes as it is written of him; but woe to that man through whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been good for that man if he had not been born.” Some say that he was so bold as not to honor the Teacher, but to dip with him; but to me it seems that Christ did this too, shaming him more and drawing him toward a better disposition; for this too has something more.

These things ought not to be passed over carelessly, but to be fixed in our minds, and anger would never find room. For who, considering that supper, and the traitor reclining with the Savior of all, and him who was about to be betrayed speaking so gently, would not cast out all the venom of anger and wrath? See, at any rate, how gently he deals with him: “The Son of Man goes as it is written of him.” And he said these things again both to restore the disciples, so that they might not think that the thing came from weakness, and to correct the traitor. “But woe to that man through whom the Son of Man is betrayed; it would have been good for him if that man had not been born.” See again in the rebukes the unspeakable meekness. For not even here does he bring the word vehemently, but rather with pity, and again in a veiled way; and yet not only his earlier insensibility but also his shamelessness afterward deserved the utmost indignation. For after this rebuke he says, “Is it I, Lord?” O the insensibility! He asks, though conscious of such things. For the evangelist too says this marveling at his boldness. What, then, does the most meek and gentle Jesus say? “You have said it.” And yet he could have said, “O foul and utterly foul one, accursed and profane! So long in travail with the evil, having gone away and made satanic contracts and agreed to take money, and having been convicted by me, do you still dare to ask?” But he said none of these things; but how? “You have said it,” fixing for us bounds and rules of forbearance.

But someone will say, “And yet if it was written that he should suffer these things, why is Judas charged? For he did what was written.” But not with that intent, but out of wickedness. And if you do not examine the aim, you will free the devil too from the charges. But it is not so, it is not so. For both this man and that one deserve countless punishments, even though the world was saved. For it was not the betrayal of Judas that wrought salvation for us, but the wisdom of Christ and the resourcefulness of his skill, which used the wickedness of others for our advantage. “What then?” someone says. “If Judas had not betrayed him, would not another have betrayed him?” And what is this to the question? “Because if Christ had to be crucified,” he says, “it had to be through someone; and if through someone, certainly through such a man. And if all had been good, the dispensation for our sake would have been hindered.” Far from it. For the all-wise himself knew how he would manage our affairs, even had this happened; for his wisdom is resourceful and incomprehensible. For this reason, so that no one might think he had become a servant of the dispensation, he bewails the man. But someone will say again, “And if it was good for him not to be born, why did he let him come into the midst, him and all the wicked?” You ought to charge the wicked, because, though they were masters of not becoming such, they have become wicked; but you, leaving this, busy yourself with the things of God and pry into them, though you know that no one is wicked by necessity. “But only the good ought to have come into being,” he says, “and there would have been no need of Gehenna, nor of punishment and penalty, nor a trace of wickedness; and the wicked either should not have come into being, or, having come into being, should have departed at once.” First, then, it is right to say to you the apostolic word: “Who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, Why have you made me thus?” And if you demand reasons too, we would say this: that the good are more greatly admired when they are among the wicked; for then especially their forbearance and great philosophy are shown. But you, saying these things, take away the occasion for wrestlings and contests. “What then? So that these may appear good, are others punished?” he says. Far from it; they are punished for their own wickedness. For they did not become wicked because they were brought into being, but through their own carelessness; therefore they are also punished. For how would they not deserve punishment, having so many teachers of virtue and gaining nothing from them? For as the noble and good deserve double honor, because they have become good and were harmed in nothing by the wicked, so too the worthless deserve double punishment, because they have become wicked when they could have become good (and those who became good show this), and because they gained nothing from the good.

But let us see what this wretched man says when convicted by the Teacher. What, then, does he say? “Is it I, Rabbi?” And why did he not ask this from the beginning? He thought he was escaping notice because it was said, “one of you”; but when Christ made him plain, he dared to ask again, trusting in the gentleness of the Teacher, as one who would not convict him. Therefore he even called him Rabbi. [3] O the blindness! Whither did it lead him! For such is the love of money: it makes men foolish and senseless, bold, and dogs instead of men; or rather worse than dogs, and demons instead of dogs. This man, at any rate, welcomed the devil even as he plotted against him, and betrayed Jesus even as he did him good, having already become a devil by choice. For such does the insatiable desire for money make men: out of their minds, deranged, wholly given to gain, as Judas too became. And how is it that Matthew and the others say that the devil seized him when he made the agreement about the betrayal, but John that “after the morsel Satan entered into him”? John too knows this. For above he says, “During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas to betray him.” How, then, does he say that after the morsel Satan entered into him? Because he does not enter all at once, nor in one move, but first makes much trial; which happened here too. For having sounded him at the beginning and attacked him gently, when he saw him fit for receiving him, he then breathed into him wholly and got complete mastery of him. And how, if they were eating the Passover, did they eat it unlawfully? For they ought not to have eaten it reclining. What, then, is one to say? That after eating it, they then reclined, feasting. And another evangelist says that on that evening he not only ate the Passover, but also said, “With desire I have desired to eat this Passover with you”: that is, in this year. Why? Because then the salvation of the world was to come about, and the mysteries were to be handed down, and the sorrowful things to be dissolved through his death; so much was the cross according to his will. But nothing softened the savage beast, nor bent him, nor shamed him. He bewailed him, saying, “Woe to that man.” He frightened him again, saying, “It would have been good for him if he had not been born.” He shamed him, saying, “He to whom I give the morsel when I have dipped it.” And none of these things held him back; but he was seized as if by some madness, the love of money, or rather by a worse disease. For this madness is worse. For what would a madman have done like this? This man did not foam at the mouth, but foamed forth his Master’s murder; he did not wring his hands, but stretched them out for the price of precious blood. Therefore the madness is greater, because he was mad while in health. “But he does not utter inarticulate sounds?” And what is more inarticulate than this utterance: “What will you give me, and I will betray him to you?” It was the devil that sounded “I will betray” through that mouth. “But he did not strike the earth with his feet in convulsions?” And how much better to convulse so than to stand upright thus! “But he did not cut himself with stones?” And how much better that would have been than to do such things! Do you wish us to bring into the midst the demon-possessed and the covetous, and to make a comparison of both? But let no one think the thing an insult to himself; for we are not insulting the nature, but condemning the thing. The demon-possessed man never put on clothes, cutting himself with stones, and ran over the trackless and rough roads, driven violently by the demon. Do these things not seem dreadful? What, then, if I show the lovers of money doing to their own soul worse things than these, and so much worse that these are thought child’s play compared with those? Will you then depart from the disease? Come, then, let us see whether they are in any respect more tolerably disposed. In nothing; but even worse. For they are more shameful than countless naked men. For it is far better to be naked of clothes than to go about clad in the gains of covetousness, like those who rave in honor of Dionysus. For as those wear masks and garments of madmen, so do these too. And as madness causes the nakedness of the demon-possessed, so madness works this clothing; and the clothing is more pitiable than the nakedness. And this I will try to show from the following. Whom would we say is more mad among the madmen themselves? One who cuts himself, or one who strips, along with himself, all who meet him? Plainly the latter. Well, then, those stripped themselves, but these strip all who meet them. “But those tear their garments.” And how much would each of the wronged have preferred to have a garment torn than to be stripped of his whole property! “But they do not strike blows in the face.” Indeed the covetous do this too; and if not all of them, yet all inflict on the belly, through famine and poverty, more grievous pains. “But they do not bite with their teeth.” Would that it were with teeth, and not with the darts of covetousness, more grievous than teeth! For their teeth are weapons and darts. For who will grieve more, he who was bitten once and at once healed, or he who is continually devoured by the teeth of poverty? For involuntary poverty is worse than a furnace and a wild beast. “But they do not seek the deserts, as the demon-possessed do.” Would that they overran the deserts and not the cities, and all in the cities would have enjoyed security. But as it is, in this too they are more intolerable than all those, that they do in the cities what those do in deserts, making the cities deserts, and plundering the goods of all as in a desert where there is no one to hinder. “But they do not stone those who meet them.” And what of that? For stones it is easy to guard against; but the wounds which they inflict through paper and ink on the wretched poor, composing documents full of countless blows—who of those who fall into them could ever easily guard against these?

And let us see also what they do to themselves. They walk naked about the city; for they have no garment of virtue. And if this does not seem shameful to them, this too comes from their excessive madness, that they do not even perceive their indecency; but when stripped in body they are ashamed, while carrying their soul about naked they pride themselves. And if you wish, I will tell you the cause of their insensibility too. What, then, is the cause? They are stripped among many who are stripped in the same way; therefore they are not even ashamed, just as we are not in the baths. For if there were many clothed with virtue, then their shame would appear more greatly. But as it is, this is what is especially worthy of many tears, that because many are wicked, evils are not even held in shame. For along with other things the devil has wrought this too, not to allow us even to perceive our evils, but by the multitude of those who pursue wickedness to overshadow its shame; since if such a man happened to be among a multitude of many who practice philosophy, he would see his nakedness more. That they are more naked than the demon-possessed, then, is plain from this; and that they also go about deserts, no one could deny either. For the broad and spacious street is more desert than any desert. For even if it has many travelers, yet it has no men, but serpents, scorpions, wolves, vipers, asps; for such are those who pursue wickedness. And not only is it a desert, but rougher than that. And this is plain from this: for stones and ravines and ridges do not so strike those who climb them as robbery and covetousness strike the souls that pursue them. And that they live among the tombs too, like the demon-possessed—or rather are themselves tombs—is plain from this. For what is a tomb? A stone, having a dead body lying in it. In what, then, do the bodies of these men differ from those stones? Or rather these are more pitiable than those. For here it is not a stone having a dead body, but a body more insensible than stones, carrying about a dead soul. Therefore one would not err in calling them tombs. For our Lord too called the Jews so, especially for this reason; at any rate he added, saying, “But within they are full of robbery and covetousness.” Do you wish me to show next how they also cut their own heads with stones? Whence, then, tell me, do you wish to learn this first—from things here, or from things to come? But they make little account of the things to come; so things here must be spoken of. For than how many stones are their cares more grievous, not wounding heads but consuming the soul? For they fear lest what came into their house unjustly should justly go out of it; they tremble for the utmost; they are angry, they are provoked, with their own people, with strangers; and now dejection, now fear, now anger takes them in turn; and as if crossing from precipice to precipice, they look out every day for what they have not yet acquired. Therefore they do not even enjoy what they have, both because they are not confident about its safety, and because they gape with their whole mind after what they have not yet taken. And as one who is continually thirsty, even if he drinks up countless springs, does not perceive the pleasure, because he gets no satiety, so these too not only take no pleasure, but are tormented, the more they surround themselves with goods, because they know no limit to such desire. And such are the things here; let us speak also of the day to come. For even if they themselves pay no heed, yet it is necessary for us to speak. On the day to come, then, one would see such men punished everywhere. For when he says, “I was hungry, and you did not give me to eat; I was thirsty, and you did not give me drink,” he punishes these; and when he says, “Go into the eternal fire prepared for the devil,” he sends there those who are wickedly rich. And the wicked servant, who does not give the master’s goods to his fellow servants, is of their portion, and he who buried the talent, and the five virgins. And wherever you go, you will see the lovers of money punished. Now they will hear, “There is a chasm between us and you”; now, “Go away from me into the fire prepared”; and now, cut in two, they will depart where there is gnashing of teeth. And one would see them driven from every side, and having no place anywhere, but gathered into Gehenna alone.

What, then, is the benefit to us of right faith for salvation, when we hear these things? There, the gnashing of teeth, and outer darkness, and the fire prepared for the devil, and being cut in two, and being driven out; here, enmities, slanders, false accusations, dangers, cares, plots, being hated by all, being loathed by all, even by those who seem to flatter. For as not only the good but also the wicked admire the good, so not only the virtuous but also the worthless hate the wicked. And that this is true, I would gladly ask the lovers of money whether they are not disgusted with one another, and do not think one another more hostile than those who have done them the greatest wrongs; whether they do not even accuse themselves; whether they do not call it an insult when anyone brings this reproach against them. For this is the utmost reproach and the proof of much wickedness. For if you cannot bear to despise money, what will you ever overcome? Lust, and the madness for glory, and anger, and wrath? And how could one be persuaded of it? For lust after bodies, and anger and wrath, many ascribe to the constitution of the flesh, and the children of physicians attribute the excesses to it, and they say that the hotter and moister man is more lustful, and that one who has fallen into a drier imbalance is impetuous and irascible and passionate. But for love of money no one has ever heard them say anything of the kind. So the disease belongs to carelessness alone and to a soul past feeling. Therefore I exhort you, let us be zealous to correct all such things, and to turn the passions that come upon us at each age to the opposite. And if in each part of our life we sail past the labors of virtue, suffering shipwrecks everywhere, and come to the harbor empty of spiritual cargo, we will suffer the extreme. For the present life is an outspread sea. And as in this sea there are different gulfs having different storms—the Aegean is grievous because of the winds; the Tyrrhenian strait because of its narrowness; Charybdis by Libya because of the shoals; the Propontis outside the Euxine because of its violence and surging; the parts beyond Gades because of the desolation and the untrodden and unexplored nature of the places; and another part for another reason—so too it is in our life. And first one may see the sea of childhood, which has much tossing because of its folly, its pliancy, its want of firmness. For this reason we set over children tutors and teachers, supplying by care what is lacking in nature, as there by the art of steering. After this age the sea of youth succeeds, where the winds are violent, as in the Aegean, as desire grows in us. And this age especially is bare of correction, not only because it is more violently assailed, but also because its sins are not rebuked; for both the teacher and the tutor withdraw from then on. When, then, the winds blow more violently, and the pilot is weaker, and there is no one to help, consider the greatness of the storm. After this again comes another part of life, that of men, in which the cares of the household press upon us: when there is a wife, and marriage, and the begetting of children, and the charge of a house, and many snowstorms of cares. Then especially the love of money flourishes, and envy. When, then, we pass each part of life with shipwrecks, how shall we suffice for the present life? How shall we escape the punishment to come? For when in the first age we learn nothing sound, and in youth are not self-controlled, and when we become men do not overcome the love of money, coming to old age as into a bilge, and having made the ship of the soul weaker with all these blows, its planks loosened, we will arrive at that harbor bearing much rubbish instead of spiritual merchandise, and we will provide laughter for the devil but lamentation for ourselves, and draw down on ourselves unbearable punishments. So that these things may not happen, then, let us bind ourselves tight on every side, and stand against all the passions, and cast out the desire for wealth, so that we may also obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and gave thanks, and broke it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. And he took a cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink of it, all of you; this is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

Alas, how great the blindness of the traitor! Even partaking of the mysteries he remained the same, and though he enjoyed the most awesome table he was not changed. And Luke shows this, saying that after this Satan entered into him—not despising the Master’s body, but laughing henceforth at the shamelessness of the traitor. For the sin became greater on both counts: both that he came to the mysteries with such a mind, and that, having come, he did not become better, neither from fear, nor from the benefit, nor from the honor. And Christ did not prevent him, although he knew all, so that you may learn that he omits nothing of what pertains to correction. Therefore both before this and after this he continually reminded and restrained him, by deeds and by words, by fear and by kindness, by threat and by honor. But nothing drew him away from that grievous disease. Therefore, leaving him henceforth, he reminds the disciples again through the mysteries of his slaughter, and in the midst of the table discourses about the cross, making his passion easier to accept by the repetition of the prediction. For if, after so many things had happened and been foretold, they were troubled, if they had heard none of these things, what would they not have suffered? “And as they were eating, he took bread and broke it.” Why did he perform this mystery then, at the time of the Passover? So that you may learn from every side that he is the lawgiver of the Old Testament too, and that the things in it were sketched in shadow beforehand for the sake of these. Therefore where the type is, there he sets the truth. And the evening was a sign of the fullness of the times, and that matters had henceforth come to the very end. And he gives thanks, teaching us how one must perform this mystery, and showing that he comes to the passion not unwillingly, and training us to bear with thanksgiving whatever we suffer, and by this too holding out good hopes. For if the type became a deliverance from so great a slavery, much more will the truth set the world free, and be handed over for the benefit of our nature. Therefore he did not hand down the mystery before this, but when the things of the law had henceforth to cease. And he brings to an end the chief of their feasts, transferring them to another, most awesome table, and says, “Take, eat; this is my body, which is broken for many.” And how were they not troubled when they heard this? Because he had spoken to them before about this many great things. Therefore he no longer establishes that, for they had heard enough; but he tells the cause of the passion, the taking away of sins. And he calls it blood of a new covenant, that is, of the undertaking, of the promise, of the new law. For this he promised of old, and this holds together the covenant in the New Testament. And as the old had sheep and calves, so this has the Master’s blood. And by this he shows that he is about to die; therefore he also mentions a covenant; and he reminds them of the former one too, for that too was inaugurated through blood. And again he tells the cause of his death, “which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins”; and he says, “Do this in remembrance of me.” Have you seen how he leads them out of Jewish customs and draws them away? “For as you did that,” he says, “in remembrance of the wonders in Egypt, so do this too in remembrance of me. That blood was poured out for the salvation of the firstborn; this for the forgiveness of the sins of the whole world.” “For this is my blood,” he says, “which is poured out for the forgiveness of sins.” And he said this, showing by it at once that the passion and the cross are a mystery, and comforting the disciples by this again. And as Moses says, “This shall be an everlasting memorial for you,” so he too says, “in remembrance of me,” until I come. Therefore he also says, “With desire I have desired to eat this Passover”: that is, to hand over to you the new things, and to give a Passover by which I am going to make you spiritual. And he himself drank of it. For so that, hearing these things, they might not say, “What then? Do we drink blood and eat flesh?” and be troubled then (for when he began to discourse about these things, many took offense even at the words themselves), so that they might not be troubled then too, he himself did this first, leading them without disturbance into the communion of the mysteries. Therefore he himself drank his own blood. “What then? Must we do that old thing too?” someone says. By no means. For this reason he said, “Do this,” so as to lead them away from that. For if this works forgiveness of sins, as indeed it does, that is superfluous henceforth. As, then, with the Jews, so here too he bound the memorial of the benefit to the mystery, by this too stopping the mouths of the heretics. For when they say, “Whence is it plain that Christ was sacrificed?” along with other arguments we stop their mouths from the mysteries too. For if Jesus did not die, of what are the rites symbols?

[2] Do you see how much zeal there has been that we should always remember that he died for us? For since the followers of Marcion and Valentinus and Manes were going to spring up, denying this dispensation, he continually reminds us of the passion through the mysteries as well, so that no one might be misled; at once saving and at once teaching through that sacred table. For this is the chief of the good things. Therefore Paul too turns this over up and down. Then, when he had handed it over, he says, “I will not drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in the kingdom of my Father.” For since he had discoursed to them about the passion and the cross, he brings in again the discourse about the resurrection, having mentioned the kingdom, and so calling his own resurrection. And why did he drink after rising? So that the grosser might not think the resurrection was an apparition. For the many took this as a proof of having risen. Therefore the apostles too, persuading them about the resurrection, said this: “we who ate and drank with him.” Showing, then, that they will see him splendidly risen, and that he will be with them again, and that they themselves will bear witness to what happened, both by sight and by deeds, he says, “until I drink it new with you,” with you bearing witness; “for you will see me risen.” And what is “new”? Newly, that is, in a strange way, no longer having a body subject to suffering, but one immortal henceforth and incorruptible, and not needing food. So it was not from need that he ate and drank after the resurrection—for the body no longer needed these things—but for assurance of the resurrection. And why did he drink not water after rising, but wine? He was tearing out by the roots another wicked heresy. For since there are some who use water in the mysteries, he shows that both when he handed down the mysteries he handed down wine, and when, risen, he set a plain table without mysteries, he used wine: “of the fruit of the vine,” he says. And the vine produces wine, not water. “And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.” Let those hear who, like swine, eating without more ado, kick the table of the senses and rise up drunk, when they ought to give thanks and end in a hymn. Hear, you who do not wait for the last prayer of the mysteries; for this is a symbol of that. He gave thanks before giving to the disciples, so that we too may give thanks. He gave thanks and sang a hymn after giving, so that we too may do this very thing. And why does he go out to the mountain? Making himself manifest so as to be taken, so that he might not seem to hide himself. For he was hastening to come to the place known to Judas too. “Then he says to them, You will all fall away because of me.” Then he tells them a prophecy too: “For it is written, I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered”; at once persuading them always to pay heed to what is written, and at once showing that he was crucified according to God’s will, and in every way showing himself not alien to the Old Testament, nor to the God proclaimed in it, and that what was happening was a dispensation, and that the prophets from of old proclaimed beforehand all that was in the matter, so that they might be very confident about the better things too. And he teaches us to know what the disciples were before the cross and what after the cross. For those who could not even stand their ground while he was being crucified were after his death vehement and stronger than adamant. And this very thing is a proof of his death, the flight and the cowardice of the disciples. For if, when so many things have happened and been said, some are shameless and say that he was not crucified, if none of these things had happened, into what lawlessness would they not have fallen? For this reason he confirms the account of his death not only through his own sufferings but also through those in the disciples, and through the mysteries, shaming from every side those sick with the error of Marcion. Therefore he also lets the chief apostle deny him. And if he was not bound nor crucified, whence came so great a fear to him and to the rest? Yet he did not leave them to remain in the gloomy things; but what does he say? “But after I am raised, I will go before you to Galilee.” For he does not appear from heaven at once, nor go away to some distant country, but in the very nation in which he was crucified, almost in the very places, so that from this too they might be assured that he who was crucified was the same who rose, and in this way he might console them more greatly in their gloom. Therefore he also said, “in Galilee,” so that, freed from fear of the Jews, they might believe what was said. Therefore he also appeared there. “But Peter answered and said, Even if all fall away because of you, I will never fall away.”

What do you say, O Peter? The prophet said that the sheep will be scattered; Christ confirmed what was said; and do you say, “No”? Are the former things not enough, when you said, “Mercy on you,” and your mouth was stopped? For this reason, then, he lets him fall, teaching him by this to obey Christ in everything, and to think his declaration more trustworthy than his own conscience. And the rest too gained no little from his denial, perceiving human weakness and the truth of God. For when he himself foretells something, one must no longer reason subtly, nor rise up above the many. For “your boast,” it says, “you will have in yourself, and not in another.” For he ought to have prayed and said, “Help us, so that we may not be torn away”; but he trusts in himself and says, “Even if all fall away because of you, I will never fall away”: “even if all suffer this,” he says, “I will not suffer it”; which was leading him little by little into self-will. Wishing, then, to check this, Christ permitted the denial. For since he did not bear with him, nor with the prophet (although he brought in the prophet for this very reason, so that they might not contradict), but nevertheless since he did not bear with the words, he is taught by the deeds. For that he permitted it for this reason, to set this right in him, hear what he says: “But I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail.” For he said this touching him to the quick, and showing that his fall was more grievous than the others’ and needed more help. For the charges were two: both that he contradicted and that he set himself before the others; or rather a third too, that he ascribed the whole to himself. Healing these things, then, he allowed the fall to happen; and therefore, leaving the others, he addresses himself to him. “For Simon,” he says, “Simon, look, Satan has demanded to sift you like wheat”: that is, to disturb, trouble, try you; “but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail.” And why, if Satan demanded all, did he not say about all, “I have prayed”? Is it not plain that it is what I said before, that, touching him to the quick and showing that his fall was more grievous than the others’, he turns his word to him? And why did he not say, “But I did not allow it,” but, “I have prayed”? He speaks lowly things henceforth, as he goes to the passion, so as to show his humanity. For he who built the church on Peter’s confession, and so walled it that countless dangers and deaths should not overcome it, who gave him the keys of heaven and made him master of so great an authority, and nowhere needed prayer for these things (for he did not say, “I have prayed,” but with authority, “I will build my church, and I will give you the keys of heaven”), how did he need prayer in order to brace the shaken soul of one man? Why, then, did he speak so? For the reason I have given, and also because of their weakness; for they did not yet have the fitting opinion of him. How, then, did Peter deny? He did not say, “that you may not deny,” but, “that your faith may not fail,” that you may not perish completely. For this came about from his care. For fear drove out everything; for it was immoderate; and it became immoderate because God stripped him greatly of his own aid; and he stripped him greatly because the passion of self-will and contradiction was strong in him. So that he might tear it out by the roots, then, he allowed the agony to seize him so. For that this passion was grievous in him, he was not content with the former things, having contradicted both the prophet and Christ, but after this too, when Christ said to him, “Truly I say to you, this night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times,” he says, “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And Luke points out that the more Christ forbade, the more Peter opposed him exceedingly. What is this, O Peter? When he said, “One of you will betray me,” you feared lest you should be the traitor, and compelled the disciple to ask, though conscious of nothing such in yourself; but now, when he cries out explicitly and says, “You will all fall away,” do you contradict, and not once only, but twice and many times? For Luke says this. Whence, then, did this happen to him? From much love, from much pleasure. For since he had been freed from that anguish about the betrayal, and saw the traitor, he spoke with confidence henceforth, and rose up above the others, saying, “Even if all fall away, I will not fall away.” And the thing came in some measure also from love of preeminence; for at the supper too they were reasoning which of them was greatest; so did this passion trouble them. Therefore he checked him, not pushing him to the denial—far from it—but leaving him bare of his help, and exposing human nature. See, at any rate, how subdued he is after this. For after the resurrection, when he said, “And what about this man?” and his mouth was stopped, he no longer dared to contradict as he did here, but was silent. Again, at the ascension, when he heard, “It is not for you to know times or seasons,” again he is silent and does not contradict. After this, on the housetop, with the sheet, when he heard a voice saying to him, “What God has cleansed, do not call common,” though he did not yet clearly know what was meant, he is quiet and does not dispute.

[4] All these things that fall accomplished. And before it he ascribes the whole to himself, saying, “Even if all fall away, I will not fall away; even if I must die, I will not deny you,” when he ought to have said, “if I enjoy your aid.” But after this, entirely the opposite: “Why do you look at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk?” From this we learn a great doctrine: that man’s eagerness is not enough unless one enjoys the aid from above; and again that we will gain nothing from the aid from above if there is no eagerness. And both these things Judas and Peter show; for the one, having enjoyed much help, was benefited in nothing, since he was not willing and did not contribute his own part; but this one, though eager, since he enjoyed no help, fell. For virtue is woven from these two. Therefore I exhort you neither to cast everything on God and sleep yourselves, nor, when you are zealous, to think you achieve everything by your own labors. For God does not wish us to be supine; therefore he does not do everything himself; nor boastful; therefore he did not give us everything; but, taking away what is harmful in each, he left us what is useful. Therefore he also let the chief apostle fall, making him subdued, and anointing him henceforth for greater love. “For he to whom more is forgiven,” it says, “will love more.” Let us, then, obey God everywhere, and contradict nothing, even if what is said seems contrary to our reasonings and our sight; but let his word be more sovereign than both reasonings and sight. Let us do so in the case of the mysteries too, not looking only at the things set before us, but holding fast his words. For his word cannot deceive, but our sense is easily deceived. That has never failed, but this is mostly mistaken. Since, then, the word says, “This is my body,” let us both obey and believe, and look at it with the eyes of the mind. For Christ has handed down nothing perceptible to the senses to us, but in things perceptible all is intelligible. So too in baptism, the gift is given through a perceptible thing, water, but what is accomplished is intelligible, the birth and the renewal. For if you were bodiless, he would have handed down to you the bodiless gifts bare; but since the soul is interwoven with the body, he hands down to you the intelligible things in perceptible ones. How many now say, “I would like to see his form, his figure, his garments, his sandals!” Look, you see him, you touch him, you eat him. And you desire to see his garments; but he gives himself to you, not only to see, but also to touch and to eat and to receive within. Let no one, then, approach with loathing, no one slack; but let all approach fired, all fervent and roused up. For if the Jews ate standing, with their sandals on and their staffs in their hands, in haste, much more ought you to be sober. For those were about to go out to Palestine; therefore they also had the guise of travelers; but you are about to depart for heaven. [5] Therefore one must be awake in every way; for no small punishment is laid up for those who partake unworthily. Consider how indignant you are against the traitor, against those who crucified him. Take care, then, lest you too become guilty of the body and the blood of Christ. They slaughtered the all-holy body, but you receive it with a filthy soul after so many benefits. For it was not enough for him to become man, to be struck and slaughtered, but he also mingles himself with us, and not by faith only, but in very deed makes us his body. Than what, then, ought not the one who enjoys this sacrifice to be purer? Than what sunbeam must not the hand be purer that cuts this flesh, the mouth that is filled with spiritual fire, the tongue that is reddened with most awesome blood? Consider with what honor you were honored, what table you enjoy. That which angels tremble to behold, and do not dare to look at without fear because of the lightning that flashes from it, with this we are fed, with this we are mingled, and we have become one body and one flesh of Christ. “Who will tell the mighty acts of the Lord, make all his praises heard?” What shepherd feeds the sheep with his own members? And why do I say shepherd? There are often mothers who after the pangs of birth hand their children over to other nurses; but he did not bear this, but himself feeds us with his own blood, and in every way intertwines us with himself. Consider: he was born of our substance. “But this is nothing to all,” someone says. And yet it concerns all. For if he came to our nature, it is plain that he came to all; and if to all, also to each one. “And how did not all reap the gain from this?” someone says. This is not because of him who chose this on behalf of all, but because of those who were not willing. He mingles himself with each one of the believers through the mysteries; and those whom he begot he nourishes through himself and does not hand over to another, by this persuading you again that he took your flesh. Let us not, then, be careless, having been counted worthy of so great love and honor. Do you not see with what eagerness children grasp the breast, with what impulse they fasten their lips on the nipple? With the like eagerness let us too approach this table and the nipple of the spiritual cup; or rather with much more let us draw, as nursing children, the grace of the Spirit; and let us have one grief: not to partake of this food. The things set before us are not works of human power. He who did these things then at that supper, he works them now too. We hold the rank of servants; but the one who sanctifies them and transforms them is he himself. Let no Judas, then, stand by, no lover of money. If anyone is not a disciple, let him withdraw; the table does not receive such men. “For with my disciples,” he says, “I keep the Passover.” This table is that one, and has nothing less. For it is not that Christ made that one and a man makes this one, but he makes this one too. This is that upper room, where they then were; from here they went out to the Mount of Olives. Let us too go out to the hands of the poor; for this place is a Mount of Olives. For the multitude of the poor are olive trees planted in the house of God, dripping the oil that is useful to us there, which the five virgins had, while the others, not having taken it from here, perished. Taking this, let us go in, so that with bright lamps we may meet the bridegroom; taking this, let us go out from here. Let no inhuman man approach, no cruel and unmerciful man, no one at all unclean.

These things I say to you who partake, and to you who minister. For it is necessary to discourse to you too, so that you may distribute these gifts with much care. No small punishment is yours, if, knowing of some wickedness in anyone, you allow him to partake of this table. “His blood will be required at your hands.” Even if he is some general, even if a prefect, even if he who wears the diadem himself, if he approaches unworthily, prevent him; you have greater authority than he. And if you had been entrusted to keep a spring of water pure for a flock, and then saw a sheep bearing much mud on its mouth, you would not have let it stoop down and muddy the stream; but now, entrusted with a spring not of water but of blood and spirit, and seeing some who have sin more grievous than earth and mud approaching, are you not indignant? Do you not keep them away? And what pardon could you have? For this reason God honored you with this honor, so that you might discern such things. This is your dignity, this your safety, this your whole crown—not that you should go about wearing a white and shining tunic. “And how do I know so-and-so and so-and-so?” someone says. I am not speaking of those who are unknown, but of those who are known. Shall I say something more dreadful? It is not so grievous for the possessed to be inside as for these whom Paul says trample Christ underfoot, and regard the blood of the covenant as common, and outrage the grace of the Spirit. For one who has sinned and approaches is worse than one possessed by a demon. For the possessed are not punished for being possessed; but these, when they approach unworthily, are handed over to deathless punishment. Let us not, then, drive away these only, but all, simply, whom we see approaching unworthily. Let no one communicate who is not one of the disciples. Let no Judas receive, lest he suffer what Judas suffered. This multitude too is the body of Christ. See, then, you who minister at the mysteries, that you do not provoke the Master by not purifying this body; do not give a sword instead of food. But even if it is through ignorance … fear God, not man. If you fear man, you will even be laughed at by him; but if you fear God, you will be respected by men too. And if you yourself do not dare, bring him to me; I will not allow these things to be dared. I will give up my life sooner than give of the Master’s blood unworthily; and I will shed my own blood sooner than give of blood so awesome contrary to what is fitting. But if someone, after taking much pains, did not recognize the worthless man, there is no charge. For these things have been said by me about those who are manifest. For if we correct these, God will quickly make known to us the unknown too; but if we let these be, why should he make those manifest to us henceforth? And I say these things not so that we may only keep them away or cut them off, but so that, having corrected them, we may bring them back, so that we may take care of them. For so we will both have God propitious, and find many who partake worthily, and receive a great reward for our own zeal and for our care of others; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Then Jesus comes with them to a place called Gethsemane, and says to the disciples, Sit here, while I go away and pray there. And taking Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled, and says to them, My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.”

Since they clung to him inseparably, for this reason he says, “Remain here, while I go away and pray.” For it was his custom to pray apart from them. And he did this teaching us in our prayers to make for ourselves quiet and much calm. And he takes the three, and says to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.” Why does he not take all? So that they might not be cast down; but he takes these, who had been spectators of his glory. But nevertheless he leaves these too, and going on a little, he prays, saying, “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless not as I will, but as you will.” And he comes to them, and finds them sleeping, and says to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray, that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” It is not without reason that he addresses himself to Peter especially, although the others too had slept; but he is touching him to the quick by this too, for the reason I gave before. Then, since the others too said the same (“For when Peter said,” it says, “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you, likewise,” it says, “all the disciples said too”), he speaks to all, exposing their weakness. For those who chose to die with him could not even stay awake then to grieve with him in his grief, but sleep overpowered them. And he prays earnestly, so that the thing might not seem to be play-acting. And sweats pour down, again for the same reason, and so that the heretics might not say this, that he feigns the agony. For this reason there are both sweats like clots of blood, and an angel appeared strengthening him, and countless tokens of fear, so that no one might say that the words were invented. For this reason too the prayer. By saying, “If it is possible, let it pass,” he showed the human; and by saying, “Nevertheless not as I will, but as you will,” he showed what is virtuous and philosophic, teaching us to follow God even when nature pulls back. For since it was not enough for the foolish to show the countenance only, he adds words too. Again, words alone were not enough, but deeds too were needed; and these too he joins to the words, so that even the very contentious might believe that he both became man and died. For if, even with these things, this is still disbelieved by some, much more had these things not been. Do you see by how many things he shows the truth of the dispensation? By what he utters, by what he suffers. Then coming, he says to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour?” All were sleeping, and he rebukes Peter, hinting at him for what he had uttered. And “with me” is not set down idly; as if he said, “You could not watch with me, and will you lay down your life for me?” And what follows hints at this same thing. “For watch,” he says, “and pray not to enter into temptation.” Do you see how again he teaches them not to be self-willed, but to have a contrite mind, and to be humble, and to ascribe the whole to God? And now he addresses Peter, now all in common. To him he says, “Simon, Simon, Satan has demanded to sift you; and I have prayed for you”; but to all in common, “Pray not to enter into temptation,” everywhere cutting off their self-will and making them earnest. Then, so that he might not seem to make his speech wholly vehement, he says, “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” “For even if you wish,” he says, “to despise death, you will not be able, until God stretches out his hand; for the mind of the flesh drags you down.” And again he prayed the same, saying, “Father, if this cannot pass from me unless I drink it, your will be done,” showing here that he is fully in harmony with the will of God, and that one must everywhere follow it and seek it. “And coming, he found them sleeping.” For besides its being late in the night, their eyes were weighed down by dejection. And a third time, going away, he uttered the same, confirming that he had become man. For the second and the third time are in the Scriptures especially indicative of truth; as Joseph too said to Pharaoh, “The dream appeared to you a second time for truth, and so that you may be assured that this will certainly be, this happened.” Therefore he too, once and twice and a third time, uttered the same, to confirm the dispensation. And why did he come a second time? To expose them, that they were so immersed in dejection as not even to perceive his presence. Yet he did not expose them, but stood apart a little, showing their unspeakable weakness, that not even when rebuked could they hold out. He does not wake them and rebuke them again, so as not to strike those already stricken, but going away and praying and coming back, he says, “Sleep now and take your rest.” And yet then they ought to have watched; but showing that they will not even bear the sight of the terrors, but will be routed and will desert him because of the agony, and that he needs no help of theirs, and that he must certainly be handed over, he says, “Sleep now and take your rest. Look, the hour has come near, and the Son of Man is handed over into the hands of sinners.” He shows again that what was happening was of the dispensation;

and not this only, but also by saying “into the hands of sinners” he raises their spirits, showing that the deed was the work of those men’s wickedness, not that he was liable for any offense. “Rise, let us go from here; look, the one who betrays me has come near.” For by all things he taught them that the matter was not of necessity, nor of weakness, but of some unspeakable dispensation. For he foreknew that he would come, and not only did not flee, but even went to meet him. “And while he was still speaking, look, Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and elders of the people.” Fine instruments of priests! They come against him with swords and clubs. “And Judas,” it says, “with them, one of the twelve.” Again he calls him one of the twelve, and is not ashamed. “And the betrayer gave them a sign, saying, Whomever I kiss, he is the one; seize him.” Alas, how much wickedness the soul of the traitor took in! With what eyes did he then look at the Teacher? With what mouth did he kiss him? O the foul mind! What did he plan? What did he dare? What sign of betrayal did he give? “Whomever I kiss,” he says. He trusted in the gentleness of the Teacher; and this above all was able to shame him and to deprive him of all pardon, that he was betraying one so gentle. And why does he say this? Because often, when held by them, he passed through without their knowing. But nevertheless this would have happened then too, had he himself not willed. Wishing to teach him this very thing, then too he blinded their eyes, and himself asked, “Whom do you seek?” And they did not know him, although they were with torches and lamps and had Judas with them. Then, when they said, “Jesus,” he says, “I am he whom you seek”; and here again, “Friend, why are you here?” For after showing his own strength, he then permitted it. And John says that even up to that very hour he was correcting him, saying, “Judas, do you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?” “Are you not ashamed even of the form of the betrayal?” he says. But nevertheless, since not even this hindered him, he consented to be kissed too, and gave himself up willingly; and they laid their hands on him and seized him on that very night on which they had eaten the Passover; so they were boiling and raving. But nevertheless they could have done nothing if he himself had not permitted. Yet this does not free Judas from the unbearable punishment, but condemns him the more, because, having received so great a proof of his power and of his gentleness, … Knowing these things, then, let us flee covetousness. For it was this, it was this that then drove him into frenzy; it trains those it catches in the utmost cruelty and inhumanity. For when it makes them despair of their own salvation, much more does it prepare them to disregard that of others. And so tyrannical is this passion that it has sometimes overcome even the keenest love of bodies. Therefore I am also much ashamed that many, sparing their money, have often bridled their licentiousness, but for the fear of Christ have not been willing to live chastely and with gravity. Therefore let us flee it; for I will not cease always saying this. For why do you gather gold, O man? Why do you make your slavery more bitter? Why your watching more grievous? Why your care keener? Think that the gold dust buried in the mines is yours, and that in the palaces. For even if you had all that mass, you would only have guarded it, and would not have used it. For if now you do not use what you have, but abstain from it as from what belongs to others, much more would you have suffered this if you had more. For lovers of money are accustomed, the more they surround themselves with, the more to be sparing of it. “But I know,” someone says, “that these things are mine.” So the possession lies in opinion only, not in enjoyment. “But I would be formidable to men,” he says. Rather you would become more easily overpowered by rich and poor, by robbers and false accusers, by servants, and simply by all who wish to plot against you. For if you wish to be formidable, cut off the handles by which all who are zealous for this can seize and grieve you. Or do you not hear the proverb saying that not even a hundred men coming together can ever strip the poor and naked man? For he has poverty as his greatest protector, which not even the reigning king himself could overpower and take.

But the lover of money all together grieve. And why do I speak of men, when even moths and worms make war on such a man? And why do I speak of moths? Long time alone is enough, with no one troubling him, to do such a man the greatest injury. What, then, is the pleasure of wealth? For I see its unpleasantnesses; but tell me its pleasure. “And what are its unpleasantnesses?” someone says. Cares, plots, enmities, hatred, fear, being always thirsty and in pain. For if someone should embrace a maiden he loves and be unable to fulfill his desire, he endures the utmost torment. So too the rich man. For he has abundance and is with it, but cannot fulfill all his desire; but the same thing happens as a wise man says: “The desire of a eunuch to deflower a maiden”; and, “as a eunuch embracing a virgin and groaning”; so are all the rich. What should one say of the rest? How such a man is unpleasant to all—to his servants, to his farmers, to his neighbors, to those in public affairs, to those wronged, to those not wronged, to his wife most of all, and to his children more than all? For he brings them up not as free men, but more wretchedly than slaves and bought servants. And he will provide against himself countless occasions of anger and grief and drunken insolence and laughter, set forth as a common comedy for all. These are the unpleasantnesses, and perhaps more than these; for one could never go through them all in words, but experience will be able to set them forth. But tell me the pleasure from it. “I seem to be rich,” he says, “and am thought to be rich.” And what pleasure is there in being thought so? Rather it is a very great name for envy. For wealth is a name only, bare of reality. “But the rich man luxuriates and delights in this reputation,” he says. He delights in what he ought to grieve at. “Grieve? Why?” he says. Because this makes him useless for everything, and cowardly and unmanly, both toward exile and toward death; for he thinks death double, desiring money more than light. Such a man not even heaven delights, because it does not bear gold; nor the sun, since it does not send forth golden rays. “But there are some,” someone says, “who also enjoy what they have, living in luxury, gorging, drunk, spending lavishly.” You tell me of those worse than these. For those above all are the ones who do not enjoy. For this man, even if he abstains from other evils, is bound to one love; but those are worse than these, bringing in besides what has been said a rabble of other harsh mistresses, and serving every day, as cruel tyrants, the belly, the pleasure of bodies, drunkenness and the other licentiousnesses, keeping harlots, preparing costly dinners, buying parasites and flatterers, falling into unnatural loves, surrounding both body and soul from these things with countless diseases. For they do not spend their goods for need, but to corrupt the body and to corrupt the soul along with it; and they do the same as if someone, adorning his body, should think he was spending for his own need. So that he alone enjoys pleasure and is master of his goods who uses his wealth for what is needful; but these are slaves and captives; for they aggravate both the passions of the body and the diseases of the soul. What enjoyment, then, is this, where there is siege and war, and a storm more grievous than every surge of the sea? For if wealth takes hold of the foolish, it makes them more foolish; if of the licentious, more licentious. “And what is the use of understanding to the poor man?” someone says. Naturally you do not know. For neither does the blind man know what the gain of light is. Hear Solomon saying that as great as the difference between darkness and light, so great is the excellence of the wise man over the fool. But how shall we teach one who is in darkness? For the love of money is darkness, letting none of the things that are appear as they are, but otherwise. For as one in darkness, even if he sees a golden vessel, a precious stone, purple garments, thinks them nothing, for he does not see their beauty, so too the one in love of money does not know as he should the beauty of the things worth seeking. Disperse for me the mist that comes from this passion, and then you will see the nature of things. And nowhere do these things appear so as in poverty; nowhere are the things that seem to be but are not so exposed as in philosophy.

[4] But O foolish men, who even curse the poor, and say that houses and life are put to shame by poverty, confusing everything! For what is the shame of a house, tell me? It does not have a bed of ivory, nor silver vessels, but all of earthenware and wood. This indeed is the greatest glory and distinction of a house. For to neglect worldly things often makes all one’s leisure spent on the care of the soul. When, then, you see much care spent on outward things, then be ashamed at the great unseemliness. For the houses of the rich especially lack seemliness. For when you see wood covered with carpets, and beds overlaid with silver, as in the theater, as in a stage procession, what could equal this unseemliness? For what house is more like the orchestra and the things on the orchestra, the rich man’s or the poor man’s? Is it not plain that it is the rich man’s? So this house is full of unseemliness. What house is like that of Paul, that of Abraham? Plainly the poor man’s. So this one is especially adorned and approved. And so that you may learn that this especially is the adornment of a house, go into the house of Zacchaeus, and learn how he adorned it when Christ was about to enter it. For he did not run to his neighbors asking for curtains and seats and couches made of ivory, nor did he bring out of his storerooms the Laconian coverings; but he adorned it with an adornment befitting Christ. And what was this? “Half of my possessions I will give,” he says, “to the poor, and whatever I have seized, I will restore fourfold.” So let us too adorn our houses, so that Christ may come in to us too. These are the beautiful curtains; these are made in heaven, woven there. Where these are, there is the King of the heavens too. But if you adorn otherwise, you invite the devil and his band. He came also into the house of Matthew the tax collector. What, then, did this man too do? He first adorned himself with eagerness, and by leaving all and following him. So too Cornelius adorned his house with prayers and alms; therefore even to this day it shines above the very palaces. For the meanness of a house lies not in vessels lying about simply, nor in a bed …, nor in walls full of smoke, but in the wickedness of those who dwell in it. And Christ shows this; for into such a house, if the dweller is virtuous, he is not ashamed to enter; but into that one, even if it has a golden ceiling, he will never enter. So this one is more splendid than the palaces, receiving the Master of all; while that one, with its golden ceiling and its columns, is like drains and unclean channels, having the vessels of the devil. And these things have been said by us not about those who are rich as they ought to be, but about the covetous and lovers of money. For there the zeal and care are not for necessities, but for gorging and getting drunk and doing other such unseemly things; but here they are for practicing philosophy. For this reason Christ did not enter a splendid house, but that of the tax collector and of the chief tax collector and of the fisherman, leaving the palaces and those who wear soft clothing. If, then, you too wish to invite him, adorn your house with almsgiving, prayers, supplications, vigils. These are the ornaments of Christ the King; those are of mammon, the enemy of Christ. Let no one, then, be ashamed of having a cheap house, if he has these coverings; let no rich man think great things of himself for having a costly house, but rather let him be ashamed, and, leaving that, let him emulate this, so that he may both receive Christ here and enjoy the eternal tents there, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And look, one of those with Jesus stretched out his hand, drew his sword, and struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his ear. Then Jesus says to him, Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword. Or do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once provide me with more than twelve legions of angels? How then would the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must happen so?”

Who was this one who cut off the ear? John says that it was Peter. For the deed was of his warmth. But this is worth inquiring, why they were carrying swords. For that they were carrying them is plain not only from this but also from what they said when asked, that “there are two here.” And why did Christ allow them to have them? For Luke says this too, that he said to them, “When I sent you without purse and bag and sandals, did you lack anything?” And when they said, “Nothing,” he said to them, “But now let him who has a purse take it, and a bag; and let him who has none sell his cloak and buy a sword.” And when they said, “There are two swords here,” he said to them, “It is enough.” Why, then, did he let them have them? Assuring them that he would be handed over. Therefore he says to them, “Let him buy a sword,” not that they should arm themselves—away with the thought!—but signifying by this the betrayal. And why does he speak of a bag too? He was teaching them henceforth to be sober and watchful and to use much zeal of their own. For at the beginning, as they were inexperienced, he cherished them with much power; but now, as if leading fledglings out of the nest, he bids them use their own wings too. Then, so that they might not think that he was leaving them out of weakness when he bade them act for themselves, he reminds them of the former things, saying, “When I sent you without a purse, did you lack anything?” so that from both they might learn his strength, both from his having protected them and from his now gently leaving them to themselves. But whence were there swords there? They had come out from supper and the table. It was likely, then, that there were knives there because of the lamb; and these, hearing that some would come against him, took them for help, as though they would fight for the Teacher; which was their own idea only. Therefore Peter too is rebuked for using his, and with a severe threat. For he struck back at the servant who came, warmly indeed, yet not avenging himself, but doing this for the Teacher. Yet Christ did not allow any harm to come of it. For he healed the man, and showed a great miracle, enough to show both his gentleness and his power, and the disciple’s affection and meekness; for the one he did with affection, and the other with obedience. For hearing, “Put your sword into its sheath,” he obeyed at once, and afterward nowhere does this. Another evangelist says that they also asked, “Shall we strike?” but he forbade it, and healed that man, and rebuked the disciple, and threatened, so as to persuade him. “For all who take the sword,” he says, “will die by the sword.” And he adds a reason, saying, “Or do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will provide me with more than twelve legions of angels? But it is so that the Scriptures may be fulfilled.” By these words he quenched their anger, showing that this seems good to the Scriptures too. Therefore he prayed there too, so that they might bear meekly what happened, learning that it again happens according to the will of God. And he consoled them by these two things: by the punishment of those who plot—“For all who take the sword,” he says, “will perish by the sword”—and by his not enduring these things unwillingly: “For I can,” he says, “appeal to my Father.” And why did he not say, “Or do you think that I cannot destroy them all myself?” Because he was more persuasive saying this; for they did not yet have the fitting opinion of him. And a little before he had said, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death,” and, “Father, let the cup pass from me,” and he had appeared in agony and sweating and being strengthened by an angel. Since, then, he had shown much that was human, he would not have seemed to say persuasive things if he had said, “Do you think that I cannot destroy them?” Therefore he says, “Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father?” And this again he says in lowly terms, saying, “He will provide me with twelve legions of angels.” For if one angel killed a hundred and eighty-five thousand armed men, what need was there of twelve legions against a thousand men? But he frames his word to their fear and weakness; for they were dead with fear. Therefore he also brings in the Scriptures as a bulwark, saying, “How then would the Scriptures be fulfilled?” frightening them by this too. For if this seems good to the Scriptures, do you oppose them by fighting?

And to the disciples he says these things, but to those men he says, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs, to seize me? Day after day I sat in the temple teaching, and you did not seize me.” See how many things he does that could rouse them. He threw them backward, healed the ear of the servant, threatened them with slaughter—“for those who take the sword will perish by the sword,” he says—and by the healing of the ear he confirmed these things too; showing his power from every side, both from the present and from the future, and showing that seizing him was not the work of their strength. Therefore he also adds, “Day after day I was with you, and sat teaching, and you did not seize me”; by this too showing that his capture came from his own permission. Passing over the miracles, he speaks of his teaching, so as not to seem to boast. “When I was teaching, you did not seize me; when I fell silent, you came against me? I was in the temple, and no one held me; but now, at an untimely hour and in the middle of the night, you come with swords and clubs? What need was there of these weapons against one who was always with you?”—teaching by these things that, had he not given himself up willingly, they could not have prevailed then either. For those who could not hold the one who was in their hands, and who took him in their midst and did not overcome him, would not have prevailed then either, had he not willed it. Then he also solves the difficulty why he willed it then: “For this has happened,” he says, “so that the Scriptures of the prophets might be fulfilled.” Do you see how up to the last hour, even in the very act of being handed over, he did everything for their correction—healing, prophesying, threatening (“For they will perish by the sword,” he says), showing that he suffers willingly (“For day after day I was with you,” he says, “teaching”), showing his harmony with the Father (“so that the Scriptures of the prophets might be fulfilled”)? And why did they not seize him in the temple? Because they would not have dared in the temple because of the crowd. Therefore he also went outside, giving them freedom both of place and of time, and up to the last hour taking away their excuse. For he who, so as to obey the prophets, even gave himself up, how did he teach things contrary to them? “Then all the disciples,” it says, “left him and fled.” For when he was seized, they remained; but when he said these things to the crowds, they fled. For they saw henceforth that it was no longer possible to escape, since he was giving himself up to them willingly and saying that this was happening according to the Scriptures. And when they had fled, they lead him to Caiaphas; but Peter followed and went in, to see the end. Great was the disciple’s warmth: not even when he saw them fleeing did he flee, but stood and went in. And if John too went in, yet he was known to the high priest. And why did they take him there, where they were all gathered? So that they might do everything with the counsel of the chief priests. For he was high priest then, and all were waiting for him there; so they spent the night awake for this. For they did not then eat the Passover, it says, but kept awake for this. For John, having said that it was early morning, added, “They did not enter the praetorium, so that they might not be defiled, but might eat the Passover.” What, then, is one to say? That they ate it on another day, and broke the law, because of their desire for this slaughter. For Christ would not have passed over the time of the Passover; but they, who dared everything and trampled countless laws, did. For since they were boiling greatly with anger, and having often tried to kill him had not been able, having then taken him unexpectedly they chose even to let the Passover go, so as to satisfy their murderous desire. Therefore they were all gathered, and it was a council of pests, and they question some, wishing to put the form of a court on this plot. For their testimonies did not agree, it says; so fabricated was the court, and everything full of tumult and disorder. “But false witnesses came and said, This man said, I will destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it.” And indeed he said “in three days”; but he did not say, “I destroy,” but, “Destroy”; and not about that temple, but about his own body. What, then, does the high priest do? Wishing to bring him to a defense, so as to catch him by it, he says, “Do you not hear what these testify against you?” But he was silent. For a defense was useless, with no one listening. For this was only the form of a court; but the truth was an attack of robbers, as if they had simply fallen on him in a cave or on a road. Therefore he was silent. But the high priest persisted, saying, “I adjure you by the living God, that you tell us whether you are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And he said, “You have said it. Nevertheless I tell you, from now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of power and coming on the clouds.” Then the high priest tore his garments, saying, “He has blasphemed.” And he did this to make the accusation more vehement, and to heighten what was said by the deed. For since what was said threw the hearers into fear, he did here what they did in the case of Stephen when they stopped their ears. [3] And yet what blasphemy was this? For before too he had said, when they were gathered, “The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand,” and interpreted the saying; and they dared say nothing, but were silent, and from that time no longer contradicted him. How, then, did they now call what was said blasphemy? And why did Christ too answer so? Taking away all their excuse, since up to the last day he taught that he was the Christ, and that he sits at the right hand of the Father, and that he will come again judging the world; which showed his great harmony with him. Having torn his garments, then, the high priest says, “What do you think?” He does not give the verdict himself, but calls for it from them, as in a case of confessed sins and manifest blasphemy. For since they knew that if the matter came to examination and exact inquiry, it would free him of every charge, they condemn him among themselves, and forestall the hearers, saying, “You have heard the blasphemy,” all but compelling and forcing them to give the verdict. What, then, do they say? “He is liable to death”—so that, taking him as one condemned, they might so press Pilate henceforth … “He is liable to death,” themselves accusing, themselves judging, themselves voting, becoming everything themselves then. And why did they not bring the sabbaths into the midst? Because he had often stopped their mouths; and besides, they wished to catch and condemn him from what was then said. And the high priest, having forestalled them, and having brought the verdict from them, and having drawn all along by tearing his tunic, and leading him away to Pilate as one condemned, so did everything. Before Pilate, at any rate, they say nothing of the kind, but what? “If this man were not an evildoer, we would not have handed him over to you,” attempting to kill him on public charges. And why did they not kill him secretly? They wished to discredit his reputation as well. For since many had already heard him and were admiring and amazed at him, for this reason they were eager that he be slaughtered publicly and before all. But Christ did not prevent it, but used their wickedness for the establishment of the truth, so that his death became manifest. And the opposite of what they wished came about. For they wished to make a show of him, as putting him to shame in this way; but he shone forth the more through these very things. And as they said, “Let us kill him, lest the Romans come and take away both our city and our nation,” and when they had killed him, this happened; so here too they were eager to crucify him publicly, to harm his reputation, and the opposite came about. For that they had authority to kill him by themselves too, hear what Pilate says: “Take him yourselves, and judge him according to your law.” But they were not willing, so that he might seem to have been killed as a lawbreaker, as a usurper, as seditious. Therefore they also crucified robbers with him; therefore they also said, “Do not write, This is the King of the Jews, but that he said so.” But all these things happened for the truth, so that they might not have even a shadow of shameless defense. And at the tomb likewise the seals and the guards made the truth shine forth the more; and the mockeries and jests and revilings did this same again. For such is error: it is undone by the very means by which it plots; so it happened here too. For those who seemed to have conquered, these above all were put to shame and defeated and perished; but he who seemed to be defeated, he above all shone and conquered mightily. Let us not, then, everywhere seek to conquer, nor everywhere flee being defeated. There are times when victory brings harm, and defeat brings benefit. For in the case of angry men, the one who has heaped up insults seems to have prevailed; but he above all is the one defeated by the most grievous passion, and harmed; while the one who bore it nobly, he prevailed and conquered. And the one could not even quench his own disease; but the other removed even another’s; and the one was defeated by his own, but the other prevailed even over another’s, and not only was he himself not burned, but he quenched the other’s flame raised up on high. But if he had wished to win what seems to be victory, he himself too would have been defeated, and by inflaming that man would have made him suffer worse; and like women, both would have been shamefully and pitiably thrown by anger. But as it is, he was freed from this shame too by practicing philosophy, and through the noble defeat he set up a splendid trophy over anger both in himself and in his neighbor.

Let us not, then, everywhere seek to conquer. For the one who has defrauded has conquered the one defrauded, but with an evil victory, bringing destruction on the victor; while the one defrauded, who seems to be conquered, if he bears it philosophically, he above all is the one who has the crown. For in many cases to be defeated is better, and this is the best mode of victory. For whether someone defrauds, or strikes, or envies, the one who is defeated and does not come to grips is the one who conquers. And why do I speak of covetousness and envy? For the one dragged to martyrdom too conquers so, bound and scourged and cut and slaughtered. And what in wars is defeat, the falling of the combatant, this with us is victory. For nowhere do we conquer by doing evil, but everywhere by suffering evil. So the victory becomes more splendid too, when by suffering we prevail over those who do evil. From this it is shown that the victory is God’s. For it has a nature contrary to the outward kind; which is the greatest token of strength. So too the rocks of the sea dissolve the waves by being struck; so too all the saints were proclaimed and crowned and set up splendid trophies, winning this victory free of trouble. “For do not exert yourself,” he says, “nor labor; God has given you this strength, so as to conquer not by grappling, but by enduring only. Do not draw up in battle array against him yourself too, and you have conquered; do not grapple, and you have been crowned. You are far better than your antagonist, and stronger. Why do you shame yourself? Do not let him say that you prevailed by grappling, but let him be astonished and marvel at your invincible power, and say to all that even without engaging you conquered.” So too blessed Joseph was proclaimed, everywhere prevailing over those who did evil by suffering evil. For his brothers and the Egyptian woman were among those who plotted against him; but he mastered them all. For do not tell me of the prison in which he lived, nor of the palace where she spent her time; but show me who was conquered, who was defeated, who was in dejection, who in pleasure. For she could master not only not the righteous man, but not even her own passion; but he prevailed over both her and the grievous disease. And if you wish, hear their very words, and you will see the trophy. “You have brought in to us here a Hebrew servant to mock us.” It was not he who mocked you, wretched and miserable woman, but the devil, who said that you could break the adamant. It was not your husband who brought in to you a Hebrew servant to plot against you, but the evil demon brought in the unclean licentiousness; it was he who mocked you. What, then, does Joseph do? He is silent, and so is condemned, just as Christ too. For all those things are types of these. And he was in bonds, she in a palace. And what of it? For he was more splendid than any crowned victor, even while he remained in chains; she was more wretched than any prisoner, while she lived in royal chambers. And not from this only can one see the victory and the defeat, but also from the very end. For who did what he wished? The prisoner, not the queen. For he was zealous to keep his chastity, she to take it away. Who, then, did what he wished, the one who suffered evil or the one who did evil? Plainly the one who suffered. So he is the one who has conquered. Knowing these things, then, let us pursue this victory, the one through suffering evil, and flee that one, through doing evil. For so we will both live the present life with all freedom from trouble and much quiet, and obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Then they spat in his face and struck him; and others slapped him, saying, Prophesy to us, Christ, who is it that struck you?”

Why did they do these things, when they were about to kill him? What need was there of this comedy? So that you may learn their licentious character through everything; and that, as if they had found a prey, so they displayed their drunken insolence and glutted themselves with their madness, making this a feast, and attacking him with pleasure, and displaying their murderous character. But marvel, I pray, at the philosophy of the disciples, with what exactness they report these things. From this their truth-loving character is shown, that they narrate with all truth what seems to be shameful, hiding nothing and not being ashamed, but even thinking it the greatest glory, as indeed it was, that the Master of the world bore to suffer such things for us. This showed both his unspeakable care, and the unpardonable wickedness of those who dared these things against one so gentle and meek, who sang over them such words as were enough to make even a lion a lamb. For neither did he fall short in any gentleness, nor they in insolence and harshness, by what they did and by what they said. All of which the prophet Isaiah too foretold, proclaiming it beforehand thus, and showing all this insolence in one word: “As many will be astonished at you,” he says, “so will your appearance be without glory from men, and your glory from the sons of men.” For what could equal this insolence? On that face, which the sea saw and reverenced, which the sun beheld on the cross and turned back its rays, they spat and slapped it, and struck him on the head, glutting themselves abundantly with all their madness. For they inflicted the most insulting blows of all, buffeting and slapping, and to these blows they added the insult of spitting. And again they uttered words full of much mockery, saying, “Prophesy to us, Christ, who is it that struck you?” since the many called him a prophet. And another evangelist says that they also covered his face with a garment and did these things, as if they had taken some worthless three-obol fellow into their midst. And not free men only, but slaves too then poured out this drunken insolence upon him.

Let us read these things continually, let us hear them as we ought, let us write them in our minds; for these are our glories. In these I pride myself, not only in the countless dead whom he raised, but also in the sufferings which he suffered. These things Paul turns over up and down: the cross, the death, the sufferings, the revilings, the insults, the jests. And now he says, “Let us go out to him, bearing his reproach”; and now, “who for the joy set before him endured the cross, despising the shame.” “But Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard; and a servant girl came to him, saying, You too were with Jesus the Galilean. But he denied it before them all, saying, I do not know what you are saying. And when he went out to the gateway, another girl saw him, and says to those there, This man too was with Jesus the Nazarene. And again he denied it with an oath. And after a little while those who stood by came and said to Peter, Truly you too are one of them, for your speech also betrays you. Then he began to curse and to swear, I do not know the man. And immediately the cock crowed. And Peter remembered the word of Jesus, who had said, Before the cock crows you will deny me three times. And he went out and wept bitterly.” O new and strange things! When he saw the Teacher only being seized, he was so heated as to draw his sword and cut off the ear; but when it was more fitting to be indignant and fired and inflamed, on hearing such revilings, then he denies him. For whom would not the things then happening have kindled to madness? But nevertheless the disciple, overcome by fear, not only shows no indignation but even denies him, and does not bear the threat of a wretched and paltry girl; and not once only, but a second and a third time he denies, and in a short time, and not even before judges; for he was outside; for they questioned him when he had gone out to the gateway; and he did not even quickly perceive his fall. And Luke says this, that Christ looked at him, showing that not only did he deny, but he did not even remember of himself, and that though the cock had crowed, but he needed the Teacher’s reminder again, and the look took the place of a voice for him; so very fearful was he. And Mark says that when he had denied once, then the cock crowed the first time, and when he had denied the third time, then the second, explaining more exactly the disciple’s weakness, and how he was utterly dead with fear, having learned these things from his teacher himself; for he was a follower of Peter. Hence especially one might be amazed at him, that not only did he not hide his teacher’s defect, but declared it more clearly than the others, for the very reason that he was his disciple.

How, then, is what was said true, when Matthew says that he said, “Truly I say to you, before the cock crows you will deny me three times,” and Mark says after the third denial that the cock crowed a second time? It is indeed both true and consistent. For since at each crowing the cock is accustomed to crow a third and a fourth time, Mark, showing that not even the sound restrained him and brought him to remembrance, says this. So both are true. For before the cock had completed the one crowing, he denied a third time. And even when reminded of his sin by Christ, he did not dare to weep openly, lest he be accused through his tears; but he went out and wept bitterly. “And when it was day, they lead Jesus from Caiaphas to Pilate.” For since they wished to kill him, but could not themselves because of the feast, they lead him to the governor. And consider, I pray, how the matter was driven on so as to happen at the feast. For so it had been prefigured from above. “Then Judas, who had betrayed him, seeing that he was condemned, repented and returned the thirty pieces of silver.” This is an accusation both of him and of them: of him, not because he repented, but because he did so late and slowly, and became self-condemned; for he himself confessed that he had betrayed him; of them, because, though they were able to change, they did not repent. And see when he repents: when the sin was completed and had taken its end. For such is the devil: he does not let those who are not sober see the evil beforehand, lest the one caught should repent. At any rate, when Jesus said so many things, he was not bent; but when the offense had been completed, then repentance came upon him, and not even then usefully. For to condemn himself, and to throw down the silver, and not to respect the Jewish people—all these are acceptable; but to hang himself, this again is unpardonable and the work of an evil demon. For the demon led him out of repentance beforehand, so that he might reap no fruit from it; and kills him by a most shameful death, manifest to all, persuading him to destroy himself. And consider, I pray, the truth shining out from every side, even through what the adversaries do and suffer. For the very end of the traitor sews up the mouths of those who condemned him, and does not let them have even a shadow of shameless defense. For what could they say, when the traitor is seen passing such a sentence against himself? And let us see the words too that he says: “He returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests, and says, I have sinned in betraying innocent blood. But they said, What is that to us? See to it yourself. And throwing down the silver into the temple, he withdrew, and went away and hanged himself.” For he could not bear his conscience scourging him. And consider, I pray, the Jews too suffering the same things. For these too, though they ought to have been corrected by what they suffered, do not stop until they have filled up their sin. For his sin had been completed—for it was betrayal—but theirs not yet. But when they too had completed it and nailed him up, then they too are troubled, now saying, “Do not write, This is the King of the Jews” (and yet what do you fear? Why are you troubled at a dead body nailed on a cross?), and now they guard him, saying, “Lest his disciples steal him, and say that he has risen, and the last error be worse than the first.” And indeed, if they say it, the thing is refuted, if it is not true. And how will they say it, who did not even dare to stand their ground when he was seized, and whose chief even denied him three times, not bearing a little girl’s threat? But, as I said, they were troubled henceforth. For that they knew the thing was lawlessness is plain from their saying, “See to it yourself.” Hear, you lovers of money; consider what that man suffered: how he both lost the money, and committed the sin, and destroyed his own soul. Such is the tyranny of the love of money. He did not enjoy the silver, nor the present life, nor the one to come; but he threw away everything at once, and having received an evil reputation even among those very men, so he hanged himself. But, as I said, it is after the deed that some then see clearly. See, at any rate, these too, not yet wishing to perceive their crime clearly, but saying, “See to it yourself”; which itself was their greatest charge. For this belongs to men who bear witness to their own daring and lawlessness, but who are drunk with passion and not willing to abstain from the satanic undertaking, but wrapping, with the curtain of a feigned ignorance,

themselves, foolishly. For if these things had been said after the cross and after his being killed, indeed not even then would what was said have had reason, yet it would not so condemn them; but now, while still having him with you, and being masters of releasing him, how could you say these things? For this defense would be the greatest accusation against you. How and in what way? Because, bringing the whole charge on the traitor (“See to it yourself,” they say), when they could themselves have been freed from the murder of Christ by releasing him, they even pressed on with the crime, adding the cross to the betrayal. For what prevented them, having said to him, “See to it yourself,” from themselves withdrawing from the crime? But as it is they do the opposite, adding the slaughter, and everywhere, both by what they do and by what they say, entangling themselves in inescapable evils. For after this too, when Pilate gave them the choice, they chose rather that the robber be released than Jesus; and him who had done no wrong, but had even done them so many benefits, they killed.

[3] What, then, did that man do? When he saw that he labored in vain, and that they would not bear to receive the silver, he threw it into the temple, and went away and hanged himself. “But the chief priests took the silver and said, It is not lawful to put it into the treasury, since it is the price of blood. And taking counsel, they bought with it the potter’s field, to bury strangers in. Therefore that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. Then was fulfilled what was spoken through Jeremiah the prophet, saying, And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him who was priced, and gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord directed me.” Do you see them again condemned at once by their conscience? For since they knew that they had bought the murder, they did not put the money into the treasury, but bought a field to bury strangers in. And this too became a testimony against them and a proof of the betrayal. For the name of the place proclaimed their bloodguilt to all more clearly than a trumpet. And they did not do it simply, but having taken counsel, and so everywhere, so that no one might be innocent of the crime, but all liable. And these things the prophecy foretold from of old. Do you see not the apostles only, but the prophets too, narrating the shameful things with exactness, and everywhere proclaiming and foreshowing the passion? This the Jews too underwent without knowing it. For if they had put it into the treasury, the thing would not have become so manifest; but as it is, by buying a place they made the whole thing plain to later generations too. Hear, all you who think to do good works from murders, and take the price of men’s souls. These alms are Jewish, or rather satanic. For there are, there are even now, those who, having seized countless things from others, think they make full defense for everything if they put down ten or a hundred gold pieces. About whom the prophet too says, “You covered my altar with tears.” Christ does not wish to be fed by covetousness; he does not accept this food. Why do you insult the Master, bringing him unclean things? It is better to overlook him wasting with hunger than to feed him from such things. That is the part of a cruel man; this of one both cruel and insolent. It is better to give nothing than to give others’ goods to others. For tell me, if you saw two men, one naked, the other having a garment, and then, stripping the one who had the garment, you clothed the naked one, would you not have done wrong? It is plain to everyone. And if, by giving to another all that you took, you have done wrong, not shown mercy, when you do not give even the smallest part of what you seize, and call the thing almsgiving, what punishment will you not undergo? For if men who offered lame beasts were charged, you who do worse, what pardon will you obtain? For if the thief, even when restoring to the owner himself, still does wrong, and does such wrong that with a fourfold addition he scarcely dissolves the charge—and that in the Old Testament—then he who does not steal but uses violence, and gives not even to the one robbed but to another in his place, and not fourfold, nor even half, and who lives not in the Old Covenant but in the New, consider how much fire he gathers on his own head. And if he does not yet pay the penalty, for this very reason lament him, that he is storing up greater wrath for himself, unless he repents. For what? “Do you think,” he says, “that those were the only sinners on whom the tower fell? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you too will suffer the same.” Let us repent, then, and give alms pure of covetousness and of great abundance. Consider that the Jews fed eight thousand Levites, and with the Levites widows and orphans too, and performed many other public services, and besides this served in the army; but now fields and houses and rents from buildings, and carriages and muleteers and mules, and much such array are in the church, because of you and your inhumanity. For this treasure of the church ought to be with you, and your eagerness ought to be its revenue; but now two absurdities happen: you remain fruitless, and the priests of God do not handle what befits them. For was it not possible in the time of the apostles for the houses and the fields to remain? Why, then, did they sell them and give? Because this was better.

[4] But now fear seized your fathers—you being so mad for worldly things, and gathering instead of scattering—lest the bands of widows and orphans and virgins should be destroyed by famine; for this reason they were compelled to provide these things. For they did not wish to cast themselves into such unseemliness, but desired that your goodwill should be their revenue, and to gather the fruits from there, and themselves to attend to prayers alone. But now you have compelled them to imitate the houses of those who do public business; whence everything has been turned upside down. For when both you and we are held by the same things, who is the one propitiating God? For this reason it is not possible for us to open our mouth, because the church is in no better state than worldly men. Have you not heard that the apostles would not even consent to distribute money collected without trouble? But now the bishops have outdone stewards and managers and hucksters in their care about these things; and when they ought to be anxious about souls and to take thought for your concerns, they are distressed every day about the things which receivers of revenue and tax collectors and accountants and treasurers worry about. I say these things not simply lamenting, but so that some correction and change may come about, so that we may be pitied, serving a grievous slavery, and so that you may become the revenue and the treasure of the church. But if you are not willing, look, the poor are before your eyes: as many as we can suffice for, we will not cease feeding; but those for whom it is not possible, we will leave to you, so that you may not hear on the fearful day those words that are spoken to the unmerciful and cruel: “You saw me hungry, and did not feed me.” For this inhumanity makes us laughable along with you, because, leaving prayers and teaching and other holiness, we spend all our time fighting, some with wine-sellers, some with corn-sellers, some with those who retail other wares. From this come battles and quarrels and daily revilings, and reproaches and jests, and names are attached to each of the priests that are more fitting to worldly houses; when instead we ought to exchange them for others, and to be called by those things which the apostles too laid down: from the feeding of the poor, from the protection of the wronged, from the care of strangers, from the help of those abused, from provision for orphans, from alliance with widows, from the oversight of virgins; and to distribute these stewardships instead of the care of fields and buildings. For these are the treasures of the church, these the treasures befitting it, providing much ease for us and benefit for you—or rather ease for you too, along with the benefit. For by the grace of God I think that those who gather here amount to the number of a hundred thousand; and if each shared one loaf with one of the poor, all would be in plenty; if one obol only, no one would be poor; we would not have endured so many reproaches and jests from our care for possessions. For the saying, “Sell your possessions and give to the poor, and come, follow me,” might fitly be said to the presidents of the church too, about the church’s possessions. For otherwise one cannot follow as one ought, unless freed from every grosser and more worldly care. But now the priests of God sit by at the vintage and the harvest, and at the selling and buying of produce; and those who served the shadow had complete exemption from such things, although they were entrusted with a more bodily service; but we, who are called to the very inner sanctuaries of the heavens and enter the true Holy of Holies, take on the cares of merchants and retailers. From this comes much neglect of the Scriptures, and slackness in prayers, and disregard of everything else. For it is not possible to split oneself between both with fitting zeal. Therefore I beg and entreat that many springs gush out for us from every side, and that your eagerness become our threshing floor and winepress. For so both the poor will be fed more easily, and God will be glorified, and you will advance further in love for mankind, and enjoy the eternal good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory to the ages of ages. Amen.

“… stood before the governor; and the governor asked him, saying, Are you the King of the Jews? And Jesus said, You say so. And when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he answered nothing.”

Do you see what he is examined about first, the thing that they kept turning over up and down continually? For since they saw that Pilate took no account of matters of the law, they bring the accusation onto public charges. So they did in the case of the apostles too, always putting these things forward and saying that they went about proclaiming a certain king, Jesus, speaking as if of a mere man, and putting on them the suspicion of usurpation. Hence it is plain that the tearing of the tunic and the amazement were a pretense. And they stirred and twisted everything so as to throw him into death. At any rate this is what Pilate then asked. What, then, does Christ say? “You have said it.” He confessed that he was a king, but a heavenly king; which elsewhere too he said more clearly, answering Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world,” so that neither they nor he might have an excuse for bringing such accusations. And he sets down an unanswerable reason, saying, “If I were of this world, my servants would have fought, so that I might not be handed over.” For this reason, to repel this suspicion, he both paid tribute himself and bade others pay it; and when they wished to make him king, he fled. “Why, then, did he not bring these things forward then,” someone says, “when he was accused of usurpation?” Because, though they had countless proofs from the facts of his power, his meekness, his gentleness, they willfully blinded themselves and acted maliciously, and the court was corrupt. For this reason he answers nothing, but is silent, though answering briefly, so as not to get a reputation for arrogance from continual silence—when the high priest adjured him, when the governor asked; but to their accusations he no longer says anything; for he was not going to persuade them. As the prophet too, showing this very thing from of old, said, “In his humiliation his judgment was taken away.” At these things the governor marveled. For it was worthy of wonder to see him showing such gentleness and keeping silent, he who had countless things to say. For those men did not accuse him from being conscious of any evil in him, but from envy and jealousy alone. At any rate, when they had set up false witnesses, why, having nothing to say, did they still press on, and why were they not pricked at heart when they saw that Judas had breathed his last, and that Pilate had washed his hands? For he did many things even at the very time to bring them to soberness, but they became better by none of these. What, then, does Pilate say? “Do you not hear how many things these testify against you?” For he wished him to be released by making his defense; therefore he also said these things; but since he answered nothing, he contrives something else too. What is this? It was their custom to release one of the condemned, and by this he tried to rescue him. “For if you do not wish,” he says, “to release him as innocent, at least grant him to the feast as one condemned.” Do you see the order reversed? For it was the custom that the request for the condemned should be the people’s, and the granting the ruler’s; but now the opposite happened, and the ruler asks the people, and not even so do they become gentle, but they grow more savage and thirst for blood, maddened by the passion of envy. For they had nothing to accuse him of, and that while he was silent; but they were refuted even so by the abundance of his righteous deeds, and keeping silent he conquered those who said countless things and raved. “And while he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent to him, saying, Have nothing to do with that righteous man; for I have suffered much today in a dream because of him.” See what happens again, enough to call them all back. For along with the proof from the facts, the dream too was no small thing. And why does he not see it himself? Either because she was more worthy, or because, if he had seen it, he would not have been believed alike, or would not even have told it. Therefore it is arranged that his wife sees it, so that it may become manifest to all. And she does not simply see it, but also suffers much, so that through his sympathy for his wife the husband might become more reluctant about the murder. And the time too contributed not a little; for she saw it on that very night. “But it was not safe for him to release him,” someone says, “since they said that he made himself a king.” Then he ought to have sought proofs and evidence, and all the tokens of usurpation: for instance, whether he levied armies, whether he collected money, whether he forged weapons, whether he attempted anything else of the kind. But he is simply carried along; therefore Christ does not free him from the charges either, saying, “He who handed me over to you has the greater sin.” So it was from weakness that he yielded. This man, then, was unmanly and soft; but the chief priests were wicked and malicious. For when he had found a device, the law of the feast that bade a condemned man be released, what do they contrive against this? “They persuaded the crowd,” it says, “to ask for Barabbas.”

Do you see how much forethought he takes to free them from the charges, and how much zeal they show to leave themselves not even a shadow of excuse? For what was required? To release the one whose guilt was confessed, or the one whose guilt was disputed? For if it was required to release men of confessed guilt, much more the doubtful. For surely this man did not seem to them worse than confessed murderers. For this reason it does not say simply that they had a robber, but a notorious one: that is, famous in wickedness, one who had committed countless murders. But nevertheless they preferred even him to the Savior of the world; and they respected neither the season, that it was holy, nor the laws of love for mankind, nor anything else of the kind; but envy blinded them once for all. And along with their own wickedness they corrupt the people too, so that they may pay the utmost penalty for the deception of those as well. When, then, they had asked for that man, he says, “What then shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?” trying again by this to shame them, by making them masters of the choice, so that, being ashamed, they might at least ask for him, and the whole thing might be of their munificence. For to say, “He has not sinned,” made them more contentious; but to ask that he be saved out of love for mankind carries an irresistible persuasion and plea. But even so they said, “Crucify him.” And he said, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they cried out all the more, “Let him be crucified.” And seeing that he was gaining nothing, he washed his hands, saying, “I am innocent.” Why, then, do you hand him over? Why did you not snatch him away, as the centurion did Paul? For that man too knew that he could gratify the Jews, and a riot and a tumult arose because of Paul; but nevertheless he stood firm against everything. But not so this man; he was very unmanly and soft; and all together were corrupted. For neither did this man stand against the crowd, nor the crowd against the Jews; so on every side their excuse was taken away. For “they cried out all the more,” that is, they cried the louder, “Let him be crucified.” For they wished not only to kill him, but to do so on a wicked charge, and though the judge contradicted them they persisted shouting the same. Do you see how much Christ did to restore them? For as he often checked Judas, so he restrained these too, both through the whole Gospel and at the very time of the trial. For when they saw the ruler and judge washing his hands and saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” they ought to have been pricked at heart both by the words and by the deeds; and when they saw Judas having hanged himself, and when Pilate himself … to take another instead of him. For when the accuser and traitor condemns himself, and the one passing sentence washes his hands of the charges, and such a vision appears on that very night, and he begs for him as for one condemned, what defense will they have? For if they did not wish him to be innocent, yet ought they not at least to have preferred him to a robber, one confessed and very notorious? What, then, do they do? When they saw the judge washing his hands and saying, “I am innocent,” they cried out, “His blood be on us and on our children.” Then at last, when they had passed sentence against themselves, he permitted everything to happen. See here too their great derangement. For such is impulse, and evil desire does not allow one to see anything of what is needful. For grant that you curse yourselves; why do you draw the curse on your children too? But nevertheless the lover of mankind, though they acted with such madness against themselves and against their children, did not ratify the sentence, not only upon the children, but not even upon them; but from both these and those he received those who repented, and counted them worthy of countless good things. For Paul too was of them, and the myriads of those who believed in Jerusalem; “For you see, brother,” it says, “how many myriads of Jews there are who have believed.” And if some remained in unbelief, let them reckon the punishment to themselves. “Then he released Barabbas to them, and having scourged Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.” And why did he scourge him? Either as one condemned, or wishing to put a form on the judgment, or to gratify them. And yet he ought to have stood firm. For before this too he had said, “Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.” And there were many things able to check both him and them: the signs, and the miracles, and the great forbearance of the one suffering these things, and above all the unspeakable silence. For since both by his defense and by his prayer he had shown his humanity, again by his silence and by disregarding what was said he shows his loftiness and greatness, by everything leading them to wonder at him. But they yielded to none of these things.

For when once the reasoning powers are seized as by drunkenness or some strange madness, it is difficult to recover, unless the soul that falls is very noble. For terrible, terrible it is to give room to these evil passions; therefore one must in every way beat them off and thrust back their entrance. For when they lay hold of the soul and master it, like fire falling on fuel, they kindle a bright flame. Therefore I exhort you to do everything so as to wall off their entrance, and not, comforting yourselves with this cold reasoning, to bring in every wickedness, saying, “What does this matter? And what does that matter?” For countless evils are born from this. For the devil, foul as he is, goes about the ruin of men with much … and condescension, and attacks from the smaller things. And consider. He wished to cast Saul into the nonsense of the ventriloquist. But if he had counseled this at the beginning, Saul would not have paid attention; for how would he, who was even driving them out? Therefore he brings him in quietly and little by little. For since he disobeyed Samuel, and had the whole burnt offering offered up when Samuel had not come, when charged he says, “The necessity from the enemies became greater”; and when he ought to have lamented, he was disposed as though he had done nothing. Again God commanded the things concerning the Amalekites; and he transgressed these too. From this he went on to his outrages against David, and so, slipping quietly and little by little, he did not stop until he came to the very pit of destruction and threw himself in. So too with Cain: the devil did not at once urge him to kill his brother, since he would not have persuaded him; but first he prepares him to offer the poorer things, saying, “This is no sin”; second, he kindled jealousy and envy, saying, “Nor does this matter”; third, he persuaded him to kill and to deny the murder; and he did not depart until he had put the finishing touch to the evils. Therefore one must beat back the beginnings. For indeed, even if the first sins stopped at themselves, even so one ought not to despise the first offenses; but as it is they go on to something greater when the mind is careless. Therefore one must do everything to take away their beginnings. For do not look at the nature of the sin, that it is small, but that, neglected, it becomes the root of a great one. For if one may say something wonderful, great sins do not need so much care as small and paltry ones. For the very nature of the sin makes us turn away from those; but the small ones, by this very fact, throw us into carelessness, and do not let us rise up nobly for their removal. Therefore they quickly become great while we sleep. This one may see happening in bodies too. So too with Judas this great evil was born. For if stealing the money of the poor had not seemed to him a small thing, he would not have been carried on to this betrayal. If being caught by vainglory had not seemed a small thing to the Jews, they would not have slipped into becoming killers of Christ. And one may see all evils arising from this. For no one leaps into wickedness quickly and all at once. For the soul has, it has a certain shame implanted in us, and a reverence for what is good, and it would not at once become so shameless as to cast away everything at one stroke; but quietly and little by little men perish, when they are careless. So too idolatry came in, men being honored beyond measure, both the living and the departed; so too images were worshiped; so too sexual immorality prevailed, and the other evils. And consider. Someone laughed out of season; another rebuked him; another dissolved his fear, saying, “It does not matter. For what is laughing? What could come of it?” From this jesting was born, from this foul speech, then a foul deed. Again another, rebuked for slandering his neighbor and reviling and speaking ill, despised it, saying, “Speaking ill is nothing.” From this he bred unspeakable hatred, truceless enmity, countless revilings; from the revilings, blows; from the blows, often murder.

[4] From the small things, then, that wicked demon so brings in the great; and from the great, despair, having found this other method, no less than the former. For sinning does not destroy so much as despairing. For he who has offended, if he is sober, quickly repents and corrects what was done; but he who has given up and does not repent falls for this reason from correction, not applying the remedies of repentance. He has a third grievous ambush too: as when he puts a guise of piety on the sin. “And where,” someone says, “did the devil prevail so much as to deceive even in these things?” Hear, and guard against his devices. Christ commanded through Paul that a wife should not be separated from her husband, and that they should not deprive one another except by agreement; but some women, supposedly out of love of self-control, withdrawing from their own husbands as though doing something pious, have pushed them into adultery. Consider, then, how great an evil it is that women who undergo so much labor should be charged as having done the greatest wrongs, and pay the utmost penalty, and push those who live with them into the pit of destruction. Others again, abstaining from foods by a law of fasting, went on little by little to abhorring them; which itself brings the greatest punishment. And this happens when some establish their own preconceptions contrary to what seems good to the Scriptures. Those among the Corinthians too thought it was a mark of perfection to taste of everything indifferently, even of things forbidden; but nevertheless this was not a mark of perfection, but of the utmost lawlessness. Therefore Paul severely rebukes them, and said they were liable to the utmost penalty. Others again think it pious to wear their hair long. And this too is among the things forbidden, and carries much shame. Again others pursue immoderate grief over their sins as something profitable; but this too belongs to the devil’s method, and Judas showed it; from this, at any rate, he hanged himself. Therefore Paul too feared for the man who had committed sexual immorality, lest he suffer something of the kind, and urged the Corinthians to snatch him away quickly, “lest such a one be swallowed up by excessive grief.” Then, showing that such a thing belongs to the devil’s ambush, he says, “Lest we be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his designs”—that he attacks with much guile, he means. For if he made war openly and manifestly, the victory would be easy and ready; or rather even now, if we are sober, it will be easy. For God has armed us against each of these ways. For to persuade us not to despise even the small things, hear what he exhorts, saying, “Whoever says to his brother, Fool, will be liable to the Gehenna of fire”; and, “He who has looked with licentious eyes is a complete adulterer.” And he calls those who laugh wretched, and everywhere takes away the beginnings and the seeds of evils, and says that one must give account for an idle word. Therefore Job too tended even the thoughts of his children. And against despair he says, “Does he who falls not rise? Or does he who turns away not turn back?” and again, “I do not desire the death of the sinner so much as that he turn and live”; and, “Today, if you hear his voice.” And many other such words and examples lie in Scripture. And against being destroyed under a guise of piety, hear Paul saying, “lest such a one be swallowed up by excessive grief.” Knowing these things, then, let us wall off, with the understanding that comes from the Scriptures, all the ways that turn the careless aside. And do not say, “What is it if I look at a beautiful woman with curiosity?” For if you commit the adultery in the heart, you will quickly dare that in the flesh too. Do not say, “What is it if I pass by this poor man?” For if you pass by this one, you will pass by the next; if that one, then another. Nor again, “What is it if I covet my neighbor’s goods?” For this, this destroyed Ahab; and yet he offered a price, but he took from one who was unwilling. For one must not buy by forcing, but by persuading. And if the one who offered the fitting price was so punished, because he took from one unwilling, the one who does not even do this, but seizes from one unwilling, and that while living under grace, of what punishment will he not be worthy? So that we may not be punished, then, keeping ourselves pure of all violence and robbery, and guarding against the beginnings of sins along with the sins, let us care for virtue with much zeal; for so we will also enjoy the eternal good things, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the praetorium and gathered the whole cohort around him; and they stripped him and put a scarlet cloak on him, and they wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and a reed in his right hand. And kneeling before him they mocked him, saying, Hail, King of the Jews.”

As if at some signal, the devil was then dancing in them all. For grant that the Jews, wasting away with envy and jealousy, raged against him like drunkards: but the soldiers—from where, and for what cause? Is it not plain that it was the devil who was then revelling in them all? For they made their insults against him a pleasure, being cruel and savage men. When they ought to have been humbled, ought to have wept, as the people did, this they did not do; on the contrary, they insulted him and trampled on him, perhaps themselves gratifying the Jews, or else doing everything out of their own perversity. And the insults were of many kinds. For that divine head they at one time struck with their fists, at another outraged with the crown of thorns, at another beat with the reed—foul and accursed men.

What excuse will we have any longer for being moved by insults, after Christ suffered these things? For what happened was the utmost limit of outrage. Not one member only, but the whole body throughout was outraged: the head through the crown and the reed and the blows; the face, spat upon; the cheeks, struck; the whole body through the scourges, through being wrapped in the cloak, and through the pretended worship; the hand through the reed, which they gave him to hold instead of a scepter; the mouth again through the offering of the vinegar. What could be harder than these things? What more insulting? For what was done passes all words. For as if afraid that they might seem to fall short in any part of the daring deed—having killed the prophets with their own hands, but this one by a judge’s vote—so they do everything: they become his murderers with their own hands, and they condemn him and pass sentence on him both among themselves and before Pilate, saying, “His blood be on us and on our children”; and they trample on him and insult him by their own doing, binding him, leading him away; and they make themselves the authors of the insults offered by the soldiers; and they nail him, and revile him, and spit on him, and mock him. For Pilate contributed nothing here; they did everything themselves, becoming accusers and judges and executioners and everything.

And these things are read among us when all come together. For so that the pagans may not say, “You display the bright and glorious things, such as the signs and wonders, to the crowds and the peoples, but you hide these shameful things,” the grace of the Spirit arranged that on a public festival, when men and women are present in full numbers, in short everyone, on the great evening of the Pascha—then all these things should be read; when the whole world is present, then these things are proclaimed with a clear voice. And while these things are read and made known to all, Christ is believed to be God and, along with everything else, is worshiped for this very reason, that he deigned to come down so far for us as

both to suffer these things and to train us in all virtue. Let us then read these things continually; for great is the gain, very great the benefit from it. For when you see him mocked by gestures and by deeds, and worshiped with such a farce, and struck with fists, and suffering the uttermost, even if you are a very stone, you will become softer than any wax, and you will cast all inflammation out of your soul.

Hear, then, what follows too. When they had mocked him, “they led him away to crucify him,” it says; and having stripped him they took his garments, and sitting down they watched him, to see when he would expire. And they divide his garments among themselves, which is done in the case of utterly worthless and outcast condemned men, who have no one and are in complete desolation. They parted the garments through which such great miracles had been done. But the garments did nothing then, since Christ held back his unspeakable power. And this too was no small addition to the outrage. For as toward one dishonored and outcast, as I said, and the meanest of all, so they dared everything. To the robbers, at any rate, they did nothing of the kind; but against Christ they dared everything. And they crucified him in the middle, so that he might share in their reputation. And they gave him vinegar to drink, this too to insult him; but he would not. Another evangelist says that when he had tasted it he said, “It is finished.” What does “It is finished” mean? The prophecy about him has been fulfilled. “For they gave,” it says, “gall for my food, and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.” But neither does that evangelist show that he drank; for merely to taste does not differ from not drinking, but means one and the same thing.

Yet even here the outrage does not stop. Having stripped him and crucified him and offered him vinegar, they go further: seeing him impaled on the cross, they reproach him, both they themselves and those who passed by. And this was harder than all: that he suffered these things on the charge of being a deceiver and an impostor, and as a boaster, vaunting himself idly in what he said. For this reason they crucified him in public, so that they might make a show of him while everyone looked on; for this reason also by soldiers’ hands, so that, these things being dared even in a public court, the outrage might be heightened. [2] And yet whom would the crowd that followed him lamenting not have moved? But not these wild beasts. That is why he counts those people worthy of an answer, but these no longer. For after doing what they wished, they were eager to ruin his glory as well, fearing his resurrection. For this reason they say these things in public, and they crucified robbers with him, and wishing to show him a deceiver they said, “You who destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross.” For since, when they told Pilate to remove the charge (this was the inscription, “The King of the Jews”), they accomplished nothing, but he stood firm, saying, “What I have written, I have written,” they themselves then tried, by the things with which they mocked him, to show that he is not a king. Therefore they said both those things and these: “If he is King of Israel, let him come down now from the cross”; and again, “He saved others; himself he cannot save,” trying in this way to discredit even his former signs; and again, “If he is the Son of God, and God wants him, let him save him.” O foul and utterly foul men! What then? Were the prophets not prophets, nor the righteous righteous, because God did not snatch them out of their dangers? But surely they were, even while they suffered these things. What, then, could equal your folly? For if the dangers that came on them did not ruin their glory in your eyes, but they were prophets even while suffering what they suffered, much more ought you not to have been offended in his case, since both by what he did and by what he said he had always corrected this suspicion of yours in advance.

Nevertheless, even when these things were being said and done, they accomplished nothing, not even at that very moment. At any rate the man who had rotted in the utmost wickedness and had spent his whole life in murders and burglaries confessed him at the very time these things were being said, and made mention of the kingdom; and the people lamented him. And yet what was happening seemed, to those who did not know the dispensation of the mystery, to bear the opposite witness, that he was weak and powerless; but nevertheless the truth prevailed even through its opposites.

Hearing these things, then, let us arm ourselves against all wrath, against all anger. And if you see your heart inflamed, seal your breast, placing the cross on it; recall something of what happened then, and you will throw off all wrath like dust by the memory of what was done. Consider the words, consider the deeds; consider that he is Master and you a servant; he suffered for your sake, you for your own; he on behalf of those he had benefited and who crucified him, you on your own behalf; he on behalf of those who had insulted him, you often at the hands of those you have wronged; he while the whole city looked on, or rather the whole people of the Jews, strangers and natives alike, before whom he uttered those loving words; you with few present. And what added most to the outrage: even his disciples forsook him. Those who had served him before sprang away; and his enemies and foes, having him impaled in their midst, insulted, reviled, mocked, laughed, jeered—Jews and soldiers below, and on high, on either side, the robbers. For the robbers too insulted him, and both reproached him. How then does Luke say that one rebuked the other? Both things happened: at first both reproached him, but later the one no longer. For lest you should think the thing had been arranged by some agreement, and that the robber was not a robber, he shows you by the insult that up on the cross he was a robber and an enemy, and was changed all at once.

Reflecting, then, on all these things, practice self-command. For what do you suffer such as your Master suffered? Were you insulted in public? But not with such insults. Are you mocked? But not in your whole body, nor scourged and stripped like this. And if you were struck with fists, yet not like this. [3] And add to this, I beg you, by whom, and why, and when, and who it was; and, hardest of all, that while these things were being done no one complained, no one found fault with what was done; on the contrary, all praised it, and joined in mocking and jeering, and so they reviled him as a boaster and a deceiver and an impostor, unable to show in deeds what he had said. But he is silent toward all, preparing for us the greatest remedies of long-suffering. But we, hearing these things, do not bear up even toward our household servants, but leap and kick worse than wild asses—savage and inhuman over wrongs done to ourselves, but taking little account of those done against God. And toward friends we are disposed in the same way: if someone grieves us, we do not bear it; if he insults us, we grow wilder than wild beasts—we who read these things every day. The disciple betrayed him; the rest forsook him and fled; those he had benefited spat on him; the servant of the high priest … jeered and reviled; the robbers accused him; and to none of them did he utter a word, but by silence he overcame them all, teaching you by deeds that the more meekly you bear it, the more you will master those who do you wrong, and you will be admired by all. For who will not admire the one who gently bears the insults of those who abuse him? For just as, even if someone suffers justly, by bearing the evil meekly he is thought by most people to suffer unjustly, so, even if he suffers unjustly but turns insolent, he will incur the suspicion of suffering justly, and he will be ridiculous, dragged away like a captive by his anger and losing his own nobility. For such a man one ought not even to call free, even if he is master of ten thousand slaves.

“But so-and-so provoked you severely?” And what of it? That is when one ought to show self-command; for when there is no one to irritate them, we shall see even wild beasts tame, for they too are not always fierce, but only when someone rouses them. And so we too, if we are quiet only when there is no one to provoke us, what more are we? For those beasts are often justly angered and have much excuse: they are roused when they are stirred and goaded; and besides, they are deprived of reason, and being savage is in their nature. But you, tell me, from what source will you be able to obtain pardon when you turn savage and wild? What terrible thing have you suffered? Were you robbed? For this very reason you ought to bear it, so as to gain the more. But were you deprived of reputation? And what of it? Nothing of yours is diminished by it, if you practice self-command. And if you suffer nothing terrible, why are you angry with the one who has done you no harm, but has even benefited you? For those who honor us make those who are not watchful even more slack, but those who insult and despise us make those who attend to themselves more steadfast. For the careless are wronged more by being honored than by being insulted. And the latter, if we are watchful, become for us the causes of self-command; but the former puff up our pride and fill us with arrogance, vainglory and sloth, and make our soul softer. Fathers bear witness to this, who do not flatter their own sons as much as they rebuke them, fearing that they may take some harm from flattery; and teachers too use this remedy with them. So if one must turn away from anyone, one ought to turn away from flatterers rather than from those who insult; for this bait does more harm than insult to those who are not watchful, and it is harder to master than that passion. And the reward from it is much greater, and the admiration greater. For it is more wonderful to see a man insulted and not moved than beaten and struck and not falling.

“And how is it possible not to be moved?” someone says. Someone insulted you? Place the sign on your breast; recall all the things that happened then, and everything is quenched. Do not think only of the insults, but of whether anything good has ever come to you from the one who insulted you, and at once you will become gentle. Or rather think, before all, of the fear of God, and quickly you will be moderate and gentle. [4] Along with these, take admonition about these things from your own household servants too. And when you see yourself insulting and him silent, consider that it is possible to practice self-command, and condemn yourself for being harsh; and in the very moment of the insults learn not to insult, and so you will not be pained when you are insulted either. Consider that the one who insults is beside himself and raving, and you will not be indignant when insulted; for those possessed by demons strike us too, and not only are we not moved, but we even pity them. Do this too: pity the one who insults you; for he is held by a terrible beast, wrath, by a harsh demon, anger. Free him, worked on as he is by a harsh demon and being destroyed in a short time. For such is this disease, that it needs no length of time for the ruin of the one it has seized. That is why someone said, “For the sway of his wrath is his downfall,” showing above all its tyranny, that in a short time it works great evils and needs no long continuance; so that if, besides its strength, it were also lasting, it would be hard to overcome.

I wished I could show who the man is who insults and who the man is who practices self-command, and bring the soul of each, naked, into the open. For you would see the one like a sea tossed by waves, the other like a harbor free from turmoil. For it is not troubled by these evil winds, and it easily stills them. For those who insult do everything in order to bite; so when they fail of this hope, they themselves stop as well, and go away corrected. For it is impossible for a man who is angry not to condemn himself severely, just as it is impossible for one who is not angry to condemn himself. For even if one must proceed against someone, it is possible to do it without anger, both more easily and more wisely than with anger, and without suffering anything unpleasant. For if we are willing, the good things will come from ourselves, and we shall be sufficient, with the grace of God, for our own safety and honor. Why do you seek glory from another? Honor yourself, and no one will be able to insult you; but if you dishonor yourself, even if all honor you, you will not be honored. For just as, if we do not harm ourselves, no one else will harm us, so, if we do not disgrace ourselves, no one else will put us to shame. Let there be a man admirable and great, and let everyone call him adulterer, thief, grave-robber, murderer, robber; but let him neither be provoked nor indignant, nor be conscious of any of these things in himself: what insult will he suffer from this? None. “What then,” someone says, “if many hold such an opinion of him?” Not even so has he been insulted; rather they have disgraced themselves, thinking him such when he is not. For tell me, if someone thought the sun was dark, would he have slandered the star, or himself? Himself, plainly, bringing on himself the reputation of a blind man or a madman. So too those who think the wicked good, and those who do the reverse, disgrace themselves. Therefore we ought to take more care to cleanse our conscience, and to give no handle against ourselves, and no evil suspicion; but if others choose to rave even when we are so disposed, not to care much about it, nor to be pained. For the one who gets a reputation for wickedness while being good is not harmed by it in being what he is; but the one who suspected him rashly and in vain has received the utmost harm. Just so the wicked man, if he is suspected of the opposite, gains nothing from it, but will have a greater judgment and will come to greater carelessness. For the man who is such and is suspected might perhaps be humbled and recognize his sins; but when he escapes notice, he falls into insensibility. For if, when all accuse them, offenders scarcely rouse themselves to compunction, when people not only do not accuse them but even praise them, when will those who live with wickedness be able to see clearly? Do you not hear that Paul too lays this charge, that the Corinthians not only did not allow the man who had committed sexual immorality to recognize his own sin, by applauding and honoring him, but even drove him further into wickedness by it? Therefore I exhort you: leaving aside the suspicions of the many, both their insults and their honors, let us be zealous for one thing only, to be conscious of nothing evil in ourselves and not to outrage ourselves. For so we shall enjoy much glory both here and in the world to come; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.

“Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani? that is, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? And some of those standing there, when they heard it, said, This man is calling Elijah. And at once one of them ran and took a sponge, filled it with vinegar, put it on a reed, and gave him to drink.”

This is the sign which he promised earlier to give them when they asked, saying, “An evil and adulterous generation seeks a sign, and no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah the prophet”—meaning the cross and the death, the tomb and the resurrection. And again, showing in another way the power of the cross, he said, “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he.” What he means is this: when you have crucified me and think you have got the better of me, then above all you will know my power. For after he was crucified the city perished, the Jewish order ceased, they fell from their own commonwealth and their freedom, the preaching flourished, the word stretched out to the ends of the world; and land and sea, the inhabited world and the uninhabited, continually proclaim his power. These things, then, he means, and also what happened at the very time of the cross. For it was much more wonderful that these things should happen while he was nailed to the cross than while he walked on the earth. And the marvel lay not only in this, but in that the sign came from heaven, which is what they were asking for, and over the whole world, which had never happened before except in Egypt only, when the Passover was about to be kept; for those things were a type of these.

And consider when it happens: at midday, so that all who dwell on the earth might learn of it, when it was day everywhere in the world; which was enough to convert them, not only by the greatness of the miracle but also by its happening at the right moment. For it happens after all their drunken outrage and lawless mockery, when they had given their wrath its fill, when they had stopped laughing, when they had had enough of jeering and had said everything they wished: then he shows the darkness, so that, even so, letting go their anger, they might profit from the miracle. For this was more wonderful than coming down from the cross: that while he was on the cross he worked these things. For if they thought that he himself had done them, they ought to have believed and feared; or if not he but the Father, even so they ought to have been pierced with compunction; for that darkness was the sign of one angry at what was being dared. That it was not an eclipse but wrath and indignation is plain not only from this but also from its duration: it lasted three hours, whereas an eclipse happens in a single moment, as those know who have seen one; for one happened in our own generation too.

“And how was it,” someone says, “that they did not all marvel and think him God?” Because the human race was then held fast in great carelessness and wickedness. And this miracle was a single one, and once it had happened it passed at once; and no one cared to seek its cause; and the prejudice of impiety and long custom were strong. And they did not even know what the cause of what happened was, and perhaps they thought it had happened by an eclipse or some other natural sequence. And why do you marvel at those outside, who knew nothing and did not inquire because of their great carelessness, when those who were in Judea itself, after so many miracles, still went on insulting him, although he showed them plainly that he himself had done this? For this is why he speaks even after it, so that they might learn that he is still alive and that he himself did this, and might become milder from this as well; and he says, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani,” so that to his last breath they might see that he honors the Father and is no opponent of God. That is why he also uttered a prophetic saying, bearing witness to the Old Testament to his last hour; and not simply a prophetic saying but one in Hebrew, so that it might be familiar and plain to them; and by everything he shows his oneness of mind with the one who begot him.

But see here too their wantonness, their licentiousness and their folly. They thought, it says, that the one he called was Elijah, and at once they gave him vinegar to drink. And another came up and pierced his side with a spear. What could be more lawless than these men, what more brutal, who carried their madness so far as to insult at the last even a dead body? But consider, I pray, how he used their lawless deeds for our salvation. For after the blow, the fountains of our salvation gushed forth from there.

“And Jesus cried out with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit.” This is what he said: “I have authority to lay down my life, and I have authority to take it again,” and, “I lay it down of myself.” For this reason he cried out with a loud voice, so that it might be shown that the thing was done by his authority. Mark at any rate says that Pilate marveled that he was already dead, and that the centurion believed above all for this reason, that he died with authority. This cry tore the veil, and opened the tombs, and made the house desolate. And he did this not as an insult to the temple—for how could he, who said, “Do not make my Father’s house a house of trade”?—but declaring them unworthy even of remaining there, as also when he handed it over to the Babylonians. And not for this reason only did these things happen; what took place was also a prophecy of the desolation to come, and of the change to greater and higher things, and of his power.

Along with these things he showed who he was also by what followed: by the raising of the dead, [by the darkening of the light, by the change of the elements]. For in Elisha’s day one dead man touched a dead man and rose; but now a voice raised them, while the body lay up on the cross. Besides, those things too were a type of this; for it was so that this might be believed that that also happened. And they are not simply raised: rocks are also split and the earth is shaken, so that they might learn that he was able to blind them too and to tear them apart. For he who split rocks and darkened the world could far more have done these things to them, if he had wished. But he would not; letting his wrath fall on the elements, he wished to save them by gentleness. But they did not abate their madness. For such is envy, such is jealousy: it does not easily stop. Then, too, they were shameless even before the very things they saw; and afterward, when he had risen though a seal lay on the tomb and soldiers were guarding it, and they heard these things from the guards themselves, they even gave money so as to corrupt others too and to steal away the report of the resurrection. Do not marvel, then, that they were unfeeling at that time too, being once for all so prepared to be shameless toward everything; but consider this: how great the signs were that he did, some from heaven, some on earth, some in the temple itself, showing at once his indignation and at the same time that what was inaccessible would henceforth be accessible, and heaven would be opened, and the things of worship would be moved to the true Holy of Holies.

And they said, “If he is King of Israel, let him come down from the cross”; but he shows that he is King of the whole world. And they said, “You who destroy this temple and build it in three days”; but he shows that it will be desolate to the end. Again they said, “He saved others; himself he cannot save”; but he, remaining on the cross, showed this in great abundance in the bodies of his servants. For if it was a great thing for Lazarus to come out on the fourth day, much more was it for all those who had long been asleep to appear alive all at once, which was a sign of the resurrection to come. “For many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised,” it says, “and they went into the holy city and appeared to many.” For so that what happened might not be thought an apparition, they appear to many in the city as well. And the centurion then glorified God, saying, “Truly this man was righteous.” And the crowds who had come together to the sight returned beating their breasts. So great was the power of the crucified one that after so much jeering and mockery and scoffing, both the centurion and the people were pierced with compunction. And some say that there is also an account of the martyrdom of this centurion, who afterward stood firm like a man in the faith.

“And many women were there looking on from afar, who had followed him, ministering to him: Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joses, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.” The women watch these things happening—the women, the most compassionate, the most given to lament. And consider how great their constancy was: they followed him ministering, and they were present even to the point of danger. That is why they saw everything: how he cried out, how he breathed his last, how the rocks were split, and all the rest. And these are the first to see Jesus; and the sex most condemned is the first to enjoy the sight of the good things; this above all shows their courage. The disciples fled, but these were present. And who were they? His mother—for he calls her the mother of James—and the others. Another evangelist says that many also lamented over what was happening and beat their breasts; which above all shows the cruelty of the Jews, that over the very things others were lamenting these men were boasting, and they were neither bent by pity nor checked by fear. For what happened came from great wrath; and they were not simply signs but all of them signs of anger: the darkness, the splitting rocks, the veil torn down the middle, the shaking of the earth; and great was the excess of the indignation.

“And Joseph came and asked for the body.” This was the Joseph who had earlier kept himself hidden; now, however, he dared a great thing after Christ’s death. For he was neither obscure nor one of those who go unnoticed, but one of the council, and very distinguished; from which his courage can especially be seen. For he gave himself up to death, taking on himself the hatred of all by his goodwill toward Jesus, daring to ask for the body and not leaving off until he obtained it. And not only by taking it, but also by burying it at great cost, and in his own new tomb, he shows his love and his courage. And this too was not arranged without purpose, but so that there might not be even a bare suspicion that one man rose in place of another. “And Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb.” Why do these women keep their watch there? They did not yet know anything great and lofty about him, as they should have; that is why they brought ointments and waited at the tomb, so that, if the madness of the Jews abated, they might go and pour them over him.

Did you see the courage of women? Did you see their affection? Did you see their greatness of soul with their money, and their courage even to death? Let us men imitate the women; let us not forsake Jesus in temptations. For they spent so much on him even when he was dead, and risked their lives; but we (for again I will say the same things) neither feed him when he is hungry nor clothe him when he is naked, but seeing him begging we run past. And yet if you saw him himself, each of you would empty out all his possessions. But now too it is he himself; for he himself said, “It is I.” Why, then, do you not empty out everything? For now too you hear him saying, “You do it to me”; and it makes no difference whether you give to this one or to him: you have nothing less than those women who then fed him, but even much more. But do not be troubled. For it is not the same thing to feed him when he appears in person—which would have been enough to draw even a soul of stone—and, on the strength of his word alone, to tend the poor man, the maimed, the bent-over. For there the sight and the dignity of the one who appears share with you in what is done; but here the prize of your love for humankind is wholly yours; and it is the proof of a greater reverence toward him when, on his word alone, you tend your fellow servant and so refresh him in everything. Refresh him, then, believing the one who receives and says, “You give to me.” For if you were not giving to him, he would not have counted you worthy of the kingdom. If you were not turning away from him, he would not send you to hell for overlooking an ordinary person; but because it is he himself who is despised, the charge is great. So too Paul was persecuting him by persecuting his people; that is why he said, “Why are you persecuting me?”

Let us then be so disposed as giving to Christ himself, whenever we give. For his words are more trustworthy than our sight. When, then, you see a poor man, remember the words by which he showed that it is he himself who is fed. For even if what appears is not Christ, yet in this man’s form he himself receives and begs. Are you ashamed to hear that Christ begs? Be ashamed rather when you do not give to him when he begs. For this is shame, this is punishment and penalty. For his begging comes from his goodness, and so we ought even to glory in him; but not giving comes from your cruelty. And if you do not believe now that when you pass by a faithful poor man you are passing him by, you will believe then, when he brings you into the midst and says, “Inasmuch as you did not do it to these, neither did you do it to me.” But God forbid that we should learn it in that way; rather, believing now and bearing fruit, may we hear that most blessed voice which brings us into the kingdom.

But perhaps someone will say, “Every day you speak to us about almsgiving and love for humankind.” Nor will I stop saying it. For if this had been achieved among you, even then I ought not to leave off altogether, so as not to make you more careless; still, if it had been achieved, I might have relaxed a little. But if you have not even reached the middle, say these things not to me but to yourselves. For you are doing the same as if a child, hearing the letter alpha often and not learning it, were to blame his teacher for reminding him of it continually and without end. For who has become readier for almsgiving from these words? Who has thrown away his money? Who half his substance? Who a third? No one. How, then, is it not absurd, when you are not learning, to bid us leave off teaching? On the contrary, you ought, even if we wished to leave off, to hold us back and say, “We have not yet learned these things; how is it that you have left off reminding us?” If someone’s eye were diseased and I happened to be a physician, and then, after putting on plasters and ointments and applying the rest of the treatment, I did him no great good and left off, would he not come to the doors of my surgery and cry out against me, charging me with great negligence because I withdrew while the disease remained? And if, charged with this, I said, “I put on plasters, I applied ointment,” would he have put up with it? Not at all; he would at once have said, “And what is the good of it, when I am still in pain?” Reckon this in the case of the soul too. What if I had often fomented a numb and contracted hand with warm water and could not soften it: would I not have heard the same? Now too we are bathing a contracted and withered hand; and for this reason we will not leave off until we stretch it out completely. Would that you too talked of nothing else, at home and in the marketplace and at table, and at night, even in your dreams. For if we always cared about these things by day, we would be among them even in our dreams.

What do you say? That I always speak about almsgiving? I too would wish that you had no great need of this counsel, so that I might speak about the battle against Jews and pagans and heretics. But how could one arm those who are not yet healthy? How could one lead them out to the battle line while they still have wounds and scars? Since if I saw you clearly in health, I would have led you out to that battle, and you would have seen, by the grace of Christ, countless dead struck down and their heads carried off one upon another. At any rate in other books we have said much about these things; but not even so can we fully celebrate the victory, because of the negligence of the many. For when we defeat them ten thousand times by our doctrines, they reproach us with the life of the many who assemble among us, with their wounds, the diseases of their souls. How, then, shall we confidently show you on the battle line, when you put us to shame by being at once struck down by the enemy and mocked? For one man’s hand is in pain and is contracted toward giving. How then will such a man be able to hold a shield and put it before him, and not be wounded by the jeers at his cruelty? Others have lame feet—those who go up to the theaters and to the haunts of prostitutes. How then will these be able to stand in the battle, and not be struck down by charges of licentiousness? Another has pain in his eyes and is blinded, not looking straight but full of licentiousness, assaulting the chastity of women and breaking into marriages. How then will he be able to look the enemy in the face, and brandish a spear, and let fly an arrow, pierced as he is on every side by jeers? One may see many, too, suffering in the belly no less than those with dropsy, when they are held fast by gluttony and drunkenness. How then shall I be able to lead these drunken men out to war? Another man’s mouth is rotten: such are the hot-tempered, the revilers and the blasphemers. How then will he ever raise the war cry in battle and do anything great and noble, drunk as he is with another kind of drunkenness and furnishing the enemy with much laughter?

For this reason every day I go round this camp, treating these wounds, healing these sores. And if you ever become sober and fit even to strike others, I will teach you these tactics too, and train you to handle these weapons; or rather your very deeds will be weapons for you, and everyone will at once submit, if you become merciful, if gentle, if mild and forbearing, if you display all the rest of virtue. And if some should contradict, then we shall add what is ours as well, bringing you forward into the midst; whereas now, as far as your part goes, we are actually hindered in this race. Consider: we say that Christ did great things, making angels out of men; then, when we are called to account and bidden to give the proof from this flock, we are muzzled. For I am afraid that instead of angels I may bring out, as from a sty, swine and stallions mad after females. I know that you are pained; but these things have not been said against all of you, only against those who are guilty; or rather not even against them, if they come to their senses, but for their sake. For as it is, everything is lost and corrupted, and the church differs in nothing from a cattle-shed and a stable for asses and camels; and I go about looking for a sheep and cannot see one. So all kick, like horses and wild asses, and fill this place with much dung; for such are their conversations. If you could see what is said at each assembly by men and by women, you would see that their words are more unclean than that dung. Therefore I exhort you to change this evil custom, so that the church may breathe the fragrance of ointment. But as it is, we lay up incense for the senses in it, but we take no great care to cleanse and drive out the uncleanness of the mind. What good is it, then? For we do not disgrace the church so much by bringing dung into it as we disgrace it by saying such things to one another—about gains, about trade, about shopkeeping, about things that are nothing to us—when there ought to be choirs of angels here, and we ought to make the church a heaven, and to know nothing else but earnest prayers and silence with attentive listening. Let us do this at least from now on, so that we may both cleanse our own life and obtain the good things promised, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.

“On the next day, which is after the day of Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate, saying, Sir, we remember that that deceiver said while he was still alive, After three days I rise. Command, therefore, that the tomb be made secure until the third day, lest his disciples come and steal him away and say to the people, He has been raised from the dead; and the last deception will be worse than the first.”

Everywhere error is caught in its own toils, and pleads for the truth against its will. Consider: it had to be believed that he died, and that he was buried, and that he rose; and all these things come about through his enemies. See, at any rate, how these words bear witness to all of them. “We remember,” they say, “that that deceiver said while he was still alive”—so he had died—“After three days I rise. Command, then, that the tomb be sealed”—so he had been buried—“lest his disciples come and steal him away.” So if the tomb is sealed, there will be no foul play. No indeed. Then the proof of the resurrection has become indisputable through the very things you put forward. For since it was sealed, no foul play took place; and if no foul play took place and the tomb has been found empty, it is plain that he rose, clearly and indisputably. Do you see how even against their will they join in the contest for the proof of the truth?

But consider, I pray, the disciples’ love of truth: how they hide nothing of what was said by the enemies, even if they say shameful things. See, at any rate, the enemies even call him a deceiver, and the disciples do not keep silent about it. And these things show both the cruelty of those men, that not even at his death did they let go their anger, and the simple and truth-loving character of these. But it is worth asking this too: where did he say, “After three days I rise”? For one would not find it said so plainly anywhere, except in the example of Jonah. So they knew what he had said, and acted with malice of their own will.

What, then, does Pilate say? “You have a guard; make it as secure as you know how. And they made the tomb secure, sealing the stone, with the guard.” He does not let the soldiers alone seal it; for having learned the facts about him, he no longer wished to act with them. But to be rid of them he puts up with this too, and says, “You seal it as you wish, so that you cannot blame others.” For if the soldiers alone had sealed it, they could have said (though what they said would have been unconvincing and false; still, as they were shameless in other things, so they could have said it in this too) that the soldiers had let the body be stolen and had given the disciples the chance to make up the story of the resurrection. But as it is, having secured it themselves, they cannot say even this. Do you see how they labor for the truth against their will? For they themselves came, they themselves asked, they themselves sealed it with the guard, so as to be one another’s accusers and refuters.

And yet when would the disciples have stolen him? On the Sabbath? And how? For it was not lawful even to go out. And if they did break the law, how would men so cowardly have dared to come out? And how could they have persuaded the crowd? By saying what? By doing what? With what zeal could they have stood up for a dead man? Expecting what return? What reward? They fled when they saw him alive and merely seized; and after his death were they going to speak boldly for him, if he had not risen? And how could that make sense? For that they would neither have wished nor been able to invent a resurrection that had not happened is plain from this. Much had been said to them about the resurrection, and he kept saying, as these very men have said, “After three days I rise.” If, then, he had not risen, it is clear that they, deceived, made enemies of a whole nation for his sake, and become homeless and without a city, would have turned away from him, and would not have wished to put such glory about him, as men deceived and fallen into the utmost dangers because of him. And that they could not have invented the resurrection if it was not true needs no argument. For what did they trust in? Skill in speaking? But they were more unlearned than anyone. Abundance of money? But they had not even a staff or sandals. Distinction of birth? But they were humble men and of humble parents. The greatness of their country? But they came from obscure places. Their own numbers? But they were no more than eleven, and these were scattered. Their teacher’s promises? What promises? For if he had not risen, neither would those have been worthy of their trust. And how would they have borne a raging people? For if their leader could not bear the word of a doorkeeping woman, and all the rest were scattered when they saw him bound, how would they have thought of running to the ends of the world and planting an invented story of a resurrection? For if the one did not stand firm against the threat of a woman, and the others not even at the sight of bonds, how could they stand firm against kings and rulers and peoples, where there were swords and frying pans and furnaces and countless deaths every day, unless they had enjoyed the power and strength of the one who had risen? Such great signs took place, and so many, and the Jews respected none of them, but crucified the one who had done them; and were they going to believe these men simply when they spoke of a resurrection? It is not so; it is not so. It was the strength of the one who rose that did these things.

But consider, I pray, their ridiculous malice. “We remember,” they say, “that that deceiver said while he was still alive, After three days I rise.” And if he was a deceiver and boasted falsely, why are you afraid, and run about, and show such zeal? “We are afraid,” they say, “lest the disciples steal him and deceive the many.” And yet this has been shown to make no sense at all. But nevertheless wickedness is a contentious and shameless thing, and attempts what is unreasonable. And they order the tomb to be secured until the third day, as though fighting for doctrines and wishing to show that even before this he was a deceiver; and they stretch their wickedness even to the tomb. For this very reason he rose sooner, so that they might not say that he had lied and been stolen. For rising sooner brought no reproach, but rising later would have been full of suspicion. For if he had not risen then, while they were sitting there and guarding, but after they had gone away when the three days were over, they would have had something to say against it, even if foolishly. For this reason, then, he came first. For the resurrection had to take place while they were sitting by and guarding. So it had to take place within the three days as well; since if it had taken place after these had passed and the guards had withdrawn, the thing would have been suspicious. That is why he allowed them to seal it as they wished, and soldiers sat by. And they did not care that they were doing these things on the Sabbath, and working; they looked to one thing only, their own wickedness, thinking they would prevail by it. This was the height of folly, and of a fear that now shook them violently. For those who seized him alive are afraid of him dead. And yet if he was a mere man, they ought to have been confident. But so that they might learn that even while he lived he suffered willingly what he suffered, behold, a seal and a stone and a guard, and they could not hold him. Only one thing comes of it: that the burial is made public, and the resurrection is believed because of it. For soldiers sat by, and Jews kept watch.

“Now after the Sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door of the tomb, and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow.” The angel came after the resurrection. Why, then, did he come and take away the stone? Because of the women; for they then saw him in the tomb. So that they might believe that he had been raised, they see the tomb empty of the body. For this reason he removed the stone; for this reason also there was an earthquake, so that they might be roused and wakened. For they had come to pour oil on him, and these things were happening at night, and it is likely that some had fallen asleep. And why, for what reason, does he say, “Do not you be afraid”? First he frees them from fear, and then he speaks about the resurrection. And the “you” shows great honor, and shows that the uttermost awaits those who dared what they dared, unless they repent. “For it is not for you to be afraid,” he says, “but for those who crucified him.” Having freed them from fear, then, both by his words and by his appearance (for he showed a radiant form, as one who brought such good news), he went on, saying, “I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.” And he is not ashamed to call him crucified; for this is the sum of the good things. “He has been raised.” How is that plain? “As he said.” So even if you distrust me, he says, remember his words, and you will not distrust me either. Then another proof too: “Come, see the place where he lay.” That is why he lifted the stone, so that from this too they might receive the proof. “And tell the disciples that you will see him in Galilee.” And he prepares them to bring the good news to others, which most of all made them believe. And he did well to say “into Galilee,” freeing them from troubles and dangers, so that fear might not disturb their faith.

“And they went out from the tomb with fear and joy.” Why? They had seen an astonishing and wonderful thing: the tomb empty where they had seen him laid before. That is why he led them to see it, so that they might become witnesses of both, of the tomb and of the resurrection. For they understood that no one could have taken him away, with so many soldiers sitting by, unless he had raised himself. For this reason they rejoice and marvel, and they receive the reward for such great perseverance: to be the first to see, and to announce the good news not only of what was said but also of what was seen. [3] When, then, they had gone out with fear and joy, “behold, Jesus met them, saying, Rejoice. And they took hold of his feet”; and running to him with exceeding gladness, they received by touch also a proof and full assurance of the resurrection, “and worshiped him.” What then does he himself say? “Do not be afraid.” Again he too drives out fear, preparing the way for faith. “But go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.” Consider how he himself too brings the good news to the disciples through these women; which, as I have often said, brings the sex most dishonored to honor and to good hopes, and heals what had been hurt.

Perhaps one of you wished to be like those women and to take hold of the feet of Jesus. You can now too, as many of you as wish, take hold not only of his feet and his hands but also of that sacred head, when you partake of the awesome mysteries with a pure conscience. And not here only, but on that day too you will see him, coming with that unspeakable glory and the host of angels, if you are willing to be lovers of humankind; and you will hear not only these words, “Rejoice,” but also those: “Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” Become, then, lovers of humankind, so that you may hear these words; and you women who wear gold, who have seen the running of these women, at long last put off the disease of the desire for gold. So if you are emulating these women, exchange the ornament you wear, putting on almsgiving instead. What is the good, tell me, of these precious stones and these gold-spangled garments? “My soul rejoices in them,” she says, “and is gladdened.” I asked you the gain, and you have told me the harm. For nothing is worse than to be busied with these things and to rejoice in them and to be nailed to them. For this harsh slavery becomes more bitter when someone even delights in being a slave. For in what spiritual thing will she ever be zealous as she ought, and when will she laugh as she should at the affairs of this life, the woman who thinks it worthy of joy to be bound with gold? For the one who stays in prison and is pleased with it will never wish to be freed. So it is with this woman too: like one made captive by this evil desire, she will not even bear to hear a spiritual word with the fitting desire and zeal, much less undertake a deed. What, then, is the gain of this finery and this effeminacy? Tell me. “I am delighted,” she says. Again you have told me the harm and the ruin. “But I also enjoy much honor,” she says, “from those who see me.” And what is that? This is the occasion of another corruption, when it lifts you up to pride, to arrogance. Come, then, since you have not stated the gain, bear with me while I relate the harms to you. What, then, are the harms from it? The anxiety, which is greater than the pleasure. That is why many of those who look—the coarser sort, I mean—take more delight in it than the woman who wears it. For you adorn yourself with care, but they feast their eyes without it. Then again another harm: the humbling of the soul, the being envied on every side. For the women near you, stung, arm themselves against their own husbands and fan up grievous wars against you. Besides these, all your leisure and attention is spent on this; the spiritual achievements are not held to firmly; one is filled with pride and arrogance and vainglory, is nailed to the earth and loses her feathers, and instead of an eagle becomes a dog and a pig. For you have left off looking to heaven and flying, and like pigs you bend to the ground, busying yourself about mines and holes, and acquiring an unmanly and servile soul.

“But when I appear I make those in the marketplace turn round.” For this very reason you ought not to wear gold, so as not to become a public spectacle and open the mouths of many accusers. For none of those who turn round admires you; they mock you as fond of finery, as a boaster, as a carnal woman. And if she goes into church, she comes out having gained nothing but countless jeers and insults and curses, not only from those who see her but also from the prophet. For at once Isaiah, loudest of voice, seeing you, will cry, “Thus says the Lord against the ruling daughters of Zion: Because they walked with neck held high, and with winking of the eyes, and in the gait of their feet trailing their tunics and playing with their feet as well, the Lord will uncover their ornament; and instead of a sweet smell there will be dust, and instead of a girdle you will gird yourself with a rope.” These are yours instead of adornment. For these things were said not to those women only, but to every woman who imitates them. And Paul too stands beside him as an accuser, telling Timothy to charge women not to adorn themselves with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly clothing. So wearing gold is harmful everywhere, but especially when you go into church, when you pass by the poor. For if you had been eager to accuse yourself severely, you would not have put on any other dress than this mask of cruelty and inhumanity. [4] Consider at any rate how many hungry bellies you pass with this dress, how many naked bodies with this satanic display. How much better to feed hungry souls than to pierce the lobes of your ears and hang from them the food of countless poor people, idly and in vain! Is being rich a matter for praise? Is wearing gold a commendation? Even if the things you wear came from honest labor, even so what is done would be the greatest accusation; but when they come from injustice as well, consider the excess. But you love praise and glory? Then strip off this ridiculous garment, and then all will admire you, then you will enjoy both glory and pure pleasure; whereas now you are full of jeers, preparing for yourself from these things many occasions of despondency.

For if any of these things is lost, think how many evils are born of it: how many maidservants are whipped, how many men are harassed, how many are led away, how many dwell in prison; and from it come lawsuits and arraignments, and countless curses and accusations on every side: on the wife from her husband, on the husband from his friends, on the soul from itself. “But it will not be lost.” Above all, this is not easy; but even if it were kept safe forever, being kept safe it again brings much anxiety and care and unpleasantness, and no gain. For what income does the house get from it? What benefit is it to the woman who wears it? No benefit, but much unseemliness and accusation on every side. How will you be able to kiss and take hold of the feet of Christ, adorned like this? He turns away from this ornament. That is why he consented to be born in the carpenter’s house, or rather not even in that house, but in a shed and a manger. How, then, will you be able to see him, not having a beauty that he longs for, not wearing an ornament lovely to him, but one hateful to him? For one who comes to him must not be adorned with such garments, but clothed with virtue. Consider what this gold is: nothing else but earth and ashes. Pour water on it, and it has become mud. Consider, and be ashamed at making mud your master, leaving everything and sitting beside it, and taking it about and carrying it everywhere, even when you go into church, when you ought most of all to flee from it. For the church was not built for this, that you might display this wealth in it, but the spiritual wealth. But you, as if entering a procession, adorn yourself on every side in this way, imitating the women on the stage; so lavishly do you carry about this ridiculous rubbish. For this very reason you come in as a ruin to many, and when the church has been dismissed, at home and at table, one may hear most people telling of these things. For they leave off saying, “The prophet said this and that, and the apostle,” and they relate the costliness of the garments, the size of the stones, and all the rest of the unseemliness of those who wear these things. These things make you slow to mercy, you and those who live with you. For none of you would readily choose to break up any of these gold things and feed someone hungry. For when you yourself would choose to be in hardship rather than see them broken up, how would you feed another from them? For most women are disposed toward these things as toward living creatures, and no less than toward their children. “Far from it,” she says. Show me this, then; show it by deeds; for as it is I see the opposite. For who among those strongly gripped by this has ever melted these down and snatched a child’s life from death? And why do I say a child’s? Who has bought back with them his own soul as it was perishing? On the contrary, most people even sell it every day for these things. If bodily sickness comes, they do everything; but if they see the soul corrupted, they do nothing of the kind, but neglect both their offspring and their own soul, so that these things may remain to be eaten by rust in time. And you wear gold worth ten thousand talents, while a member of Christ does not even have the enjoyment of necessary food. The common Master of all gave all alike a share in heaven and in the things in the heavens and in the spiritual table; and do you not give him even a share of perishable things, so that you may remain continually bound with these harsh chains? From this come the countless evils, from this the jealousies, from this the sexual immorality of husbands, when you prepare them not to practice self-command, but teach them to delight in the things with which prostitutes adorn themselves. That is why they are quickly caught. For if you had taught him to look down on these things and to delight in chastity, piety and humility, he would not easily have been caught by the darts of sexual immorality. For a prostitute can adorn herself in that way, and even more; but in these virtues she can no longer. Accustom him, then, to delight in this ornament, which he cannot see lying on a prostitute. And how will you bring him into this habit? If you take off that ornament and put on this one. So your husband will be in safety, and you in honor, and God will be gracious to you, and all men will admire you, and you will obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might forever and ever. Amen.

“While they were going, behold, some of the guard came into the city and reported to the chief priests all that had happened. And when they had assembled with the elders and taken counsel, they gave a large sum of money to the soldiers, saying, Say that his disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep. And if this comes to the governor’s hearing, we will persuade him and keep you free from trouble.”

It was because of these soldiers that that earthquake happened, to astonish them, and so that the testimony might come from them; which is in fact what happened. For the report, coming from the guards, was thus beyond suspicion. For of the signs, some were displayed to the whole world in common, others privately to those who were present there: to the whole world in common the darkness, privately the angel and the earthquake. When, then, they came and reported (for the truth shines out when it is proclaimed by its opponents), they gave money again, so that they might say, it says, that “his disciples came and stole him.” How did they steal him, O most foolish of all men? For because of the brightness and clearness of the truth they could not even make up a lie. Indeed what was said was utterly unconvincing, and the lie had not even a show of plausibility. For how, tell me, would the disciples have stolen him, poor and uneducated men, who did not even dare to show themselves? Was there not a seal lying on the tomb? Were there not so many guards sitting by, both soldiers and Jews? Did those men not suspect this very thing, and were they not anxious and wakeful and on their guard? And for what reason would the disciples have stolen him? To invent the doctrine of the resurrection? And how would it have occurred to them to invent such a thing, men who were content if they could live in hiding? And how would they have taken away the stone that had been secured? How would they have escaped the notice of so many? Even if they had despised death, they would not have tried to venture it idly and in vain with so many guards there. And that they were also cowardly, what happened before made plain; when, at any rate, they saw him seized, they all sprang away. If, then, at that time they did not dare even to stand their ground when they saw him alive, how would they not have feared so great a host of soldiers when he was dead? Was it a door to break open? Was it one man to elude? A great stone lay on the tomb, needing many hands.

Rightly did they say, “And the last deception will be worse than the first,” pronouncing this against themselves: that after such madness, when they ought to have repented, they even outdo their former deeds, fabricating ridiculous fictions—buying his blood while he was alive, and, when he had been crucified and had risen, again undermining with money the account of the resurrection. But consider, I pray, how they are caught everywhere by what they do. For if they had not gone to Pilate nor asked for the guard, they could have been more shameless in such things; but as it is, no longer. For they did everything as if eager to sew up their own mouths. For if the disciples could not keep awake with him, and that while being reproached by him, how would they have dared this? And why did they not steal him before this, but only when you came? For if they had wished to do it, they would have done it while the tomb was not yet guarded, on the first night, when it was both without danger and safe. For it was on the Sabbath that these men came and asked Pilate for the guard and kept watch; but on the first night none of them was present at the tomb.

And what do the cloths stuck fast to the myrrh mean? For Peter saw these lying there. For if they had wished to steal him, they would not have stolen the body naked—not only so as not to dishonor it, but so as not to delay and lose time in stripping it, and give those who wished the chance to get up and seize them. Especially since it was myrrh, a drug that sticks so to the body and was fastened to the clothes; so that it was not easy to pull the clothes off the body, and those doing it would have needed much time. So from this too the theft is unconvincing. Did they not know the fury of the Jews, and that they would let their anger loose on them? And what gain at all would they have had, if he had not risen?

Knowing all these things, then, and that they had invented the story, these men gave money and say, “You say these things, and we will persuade the governor.” For they wished the report to be published, boxing in vain against the truth; and through the very things by which they tried to overshadow it, they made it shine out, even against their will. For this too confirms the resurrection, that they themselves said, “The disciples stole him”; for this is the language of men who admit that the body was not there. When, then, they themselves admit that the body is not there, and their own watch and the seals and the disciples’ timidity show the theft to be false and unconvincing, from this too the proof of the resurrection appears beyond dispute. But nevertheless these shameless men, ready to dare anything, though so many things stopped their mouths, say, “Say it, and we will persuade him, and keep you free from trouble.” Do you see them all corrupted? Pilate, for he was persuaded; the soldiers; the Jewish people? But do not marvel if money got the better of soldiers. For if it showed such strength in the case of the disciple, much more with these. “And this story has been spread abroad,” it says, “until this day.” Do you see again the disciples’ love of truth? How they are not ashamed even to say this, that such a report prevailed against them?

“And the eleven disciples went to Galilee,” “and some worshiped, but some, when they saw him, doubted.” This seems to me to be the last appearance, the one in Galilee, when he sent them out to baptize. And if some doubted, here again admire their truthfulness, how they do not hide even their failings up to the last day. Nevertheless these too were made firm by the sight. What, then, does he say when he sees them? “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth.” Again he speaks to them in a more human way; for they had not yet received the Spirit, who was able to make them lofty. “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you,” giving them a charge about doctrines on the one hand and about commandments on the other. And of the Jews he makes no mention, nor does he bring up what had happened, nor reproach Peter for his denial, nor any of the others for their flight; but he bids them pour out into the whole world, entrusting them with a concise teaching, the one by baptism. Then, since he had laid great things on them, raising their spirits, he says, “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Do you see his authority again? Do you see how those other words too were said in condescension? And he said he would be not with them only, but also with all who believed after them. For the apostles were not going to remain until the end of the age; but he speaks to the faithful as to one body. “Do not tell me,” he says, “of the difficulty of the task; for I am with you, who make all things easy.” This he said continually to the prophets too in the Old Testament: to Jeremiah when he pleaded his youth, and to Moses and to Ezekiel when they shrank back: “I am with you.” This he says here too, to these. But consider here also the difference between them. Those, sent to one nation, often begged to be excused; these said nothing of the kind, though sent to the whole world. And he reminds them also of the consummation, so as to draw them on the more, and so that they might look not only at the present dangers but also at the endless good things to come. “For the painful things,” he says, “which you will undergo end with the present life, since this age itself will come to its consummation; but the good things which you will enjoy remain immortal,” as I have often said before. Thus, having anointed them and raised their spirits by the memory of that day too, he sent them out. For that day is longed for by those who live in good deeds, just as it is fearful to those who live in sins, as it is to the condemned.

But let us not only fear and shudder, but also change while there is time, and recover from wickedness; for we can, if we will. For if many did this before grace, much more after grace. [3] For what burdensome thing have we been commanded? To cut through mountains? Or to fly into the air? Or to cross the Tyrrhenian Sea? Not at all; but a way of life so easy that it needs no instruments, only a soul and a will. For what instruments did the apostles have, who achieved so much? Did they not go about with a single tunic and barefoot, and prevail over all? For what is difficult in the commands? Have no one as an enemy; hate no one; speak ill of no one. Rather, the opposite of these is the more difficult. “But he said,” someone says, “throw away your money.” Is this, then, the burdensome thing? In the first place, he did not command it but counseled it. Yet even if it were a command, what is heavy in not carrying burdens and untimely cares? But oh, the love of money! Everything has become money; because of this everything has been turned upside down. If someone calls another blessed, he mentions these things; if he calls him wretched, the wretchedness comes from this. And all conversations are about these things: how so-and-so is rich, how so-and-so is poor. Whether someone takes up military service or marriage or a trade or anything else, he does not lay hand to the matter before him until he sees these things flowing in to him abundantly. Then shall we not come together and take counsel how we shall drive away this disease? Shall we not be ashamed at the achievements of our fathers, the three thousand, the five thousand, who had all things in common? What is the gain of the present life, if we do not use it for trading for the life to come? How long will you not make a slave of mammon, which has made slaves of you? How long will you be slaves of money? How long will you not love freedom and tear up the bills of sale of avarice? If you become slaves of men, you do everything if someone promises you freedom; but being captives of avarice, you do not even think how to be freed from this bitter slavery. And yet the one is nothing terrible, but the other is the bitterest tyranny. Consider what a price Christ paid down for us. He poured out his own blood, he gave himself up. But you, even after all this, have fallen back; and what is harder, you even rejoice in the slavery, you take delight in the dishonor, and what should be fled has become desirable.

But since one must not only lament and accuse, but also correct, let us see how this passion and evil has become desirable to us. How, how has it become desirable? “Because,” someone says, “it puts one in glory and security.” What security? Tell me. “In being confident of not going hungry, not being cold, not being harmed, not being despised.” Then if we promise you this security, will you give up being rich? For if wealth is desirable for this reason, and if it is possible to have security without it, what further need have you of it? “And how is it possible,” someone says, “for one who is not rich to obtain these things?” How, rather, is it possible (for I will say the opposite) for one who is rich? For he must flatter many, both rulers and subjects, and be in need of countless people, and be a slave ignobly, and be afraid and tremble, and be wary of the eyes of the envious, and fear the mouths of slanderers and the desires of other lovers of money. But poverty is not like this, but the very opposite. It is a place of refuge and safety, a calm harbor, a wrestling school and training ground of self-command, an imitation of the angelic life. Hear these things, you who are poor, or rather also you who desire to be rich. It is not being poor that is terrible, but not wishing to be poor. Consider poverty nothing terrible, and it will not be terrible to you. For this fear lies not in the nature of the thing but in the judgment of soft-souled men. Or rather I am ashamed if I should have only so much to say on behalf of poverty, that it is nothing terrible; for if you practice self-command, it will be for you a fountain of countless good things. And if someone set before you rule and civic power and wealth and luxury, and then, setting poverty against them, gave you the choice to take whichever you wished, you would at once snatch at this, if you knew its beauty.

And I know that many laugh when these things are said; but we are not disturbed, and we ask you too to bear with us, and you will soon vote with us. For to me poverty seems like a modest maiden, beautiful and comely, but avarice like a woman shaped like a beast, a Scylla or a Hydra or some other such monster fashioned by the mythmakers. For do not bring forward to me those who accuse poverty, but those who shone through it. With her Elijah was nourished and was caught up in that blessed rapture; with her Elisha shone; with her John; with her all the apostles; but with that other, Ahab … were condemned. But if you will, let us not look only at those who shone in poverty, but let us examine the very beauty of this maiden. For her eye is pure and clear, having nothing turbid, as the eye of avarice has, now full of wrath, now filled with pleasure, now troubled by incontinence. The eye of poverty is not like that, but gentle, calm, looking sweetly on all, mild, kindly, hating no one, turning from no one. For where money is, there is the occasion of enmity and of countless wars. Again, the mouth of that other is full of insults, of a certain pride, of much arrogance, of cursing, of deceit; but this one’s mouth and tongue are healthy, full of continual thanksgiving, of blessing, of kindly words, affectionate and healing, of praises, of commendations. And if you would see also the proportion of her limbs, she is of fine stature, and much taller than wealth. And if many flee her, do not marvel; for the foolish flee the rest of virtue too.

“But the poor man,” someone says, “is insulted by the rich.” Again you are telling me the praise of poverty. For who, tell me, is blessed, the one who insults or the one who is insulted? Plainly the one who is insulted. So that one, avarice, bids us insult, but this one, poverty, exhorts us to bear it. “But the poor man goes hungry,” someone says. Paul too went hungry, and was in famine. “But he has no rest.” Neither did the Son of Man have anywhere to lay his head. Do you see how far the praises of poverty have gone, and where they set you? To what men they lead you up, and how they make you an imitator of the Master? If it were good to have gold, Christ would have given it to his disciples, he who gave those unspeakable good things. But as it is, not only did he not give it, but he even forbade them to have it. That is why Peter not only is not abashed at his poverty but even prides himself on it, saying, “Silver and gold I have none; but what I have, this I give you.” Which of you would not have wished to utter this saying? “All of us, very much indeed,” someone might say. Then throw away the silver, throw away the gold. “And if I throw it away,” he says, “shall I receive Peter’s power?” For what made Peter blessed, tell me? Raising the lame man? Not at all; it was not having these things that procured heaven for him. For of those who worked such wonders many fell into hell; but those who did the other obtained the kingdom. And learn this from Peter himself. For there were two things he said: “Silver and gold I have none,” and, “In the name of Jesus Christ, rise and walk.” Which, then, made him illustrious and blessed, raising the lame man or throwing away his money? And learn this from the president of the contest himself. What, then, did he say to the rich man who was seeking eternal life? He did not say, “Raise the lame,” but, “Sell your possessions and give to the poor, and come, follow me; and you will have treasure in heaven.” And Peter in turn did not say, “Behold, in your name we cast out demons,” though he did cast them out, but, “Behold, we have left everything and followed you; what then will we have?” And Christ in turn, answering him, did not say, “If anyone raises a lame man,” but, “Whoever has left houses and fields will receive a hundredfold in this age, and will inherit eternal life.” Let us too, then, emulate this, so that we may not be put to shame, but may stand with boldness before the judgment seat of Christ, so that we may draw him to be with us, as he was with the disciples. For he will be with us too, just as he was with them, if we are willing to imitate them and become emulators of their life and conduct. For it is for these things that God crowns and proclaims, not requiring you to raise a dead man or to set right a lame one. For it is not these things that make one like Peter, but throwing away what one has; for this was the apostle’s achievement. “But you cannot throw it away?” It is quite possible; but I do not compel you, if you do not wish it, nor do I force you; but this I exhort you: to spend at least a part of it on those in need, and to seek nothing beyond your need. For so we shall live a life free from trouble and safe here too, and we shall enjoy eternal life; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always and forever and ever. Amen.