Homilies on Philippians

The Philippians are from a city of Macedonia, Philippi, named after its founder, a city that is a colony, as Luke says. Here the seller of purple was converted, a very devout woman … Here Paul was scourged with Silas; here the magistrates begged them to leave, and were afraid of them; and the preaching had a brilliant beginning. He himself also bears them witness to many great things, calling them his crown and saying that they had suffered much: “For to you it has been granted,” he says, “by God, not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him.” When he was writing to them, he happened to be in bonds. That is why he says, “so that my bonds have become manifest in Christ in the whole praetorium”, calling Nero's palace the praetorium. But he was bound and released, and he made this plain to Timothy, saying: “At my first defence no one stood by me, but all deserted me; may it not be counted against them. But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me.” So he shows that the bonds he was in came before that defence. For that Timothy was not present then is clear: “At my first defence,” he says, “no one stood by me.” And by writing this he was informing him; he would not, then, have written it to him if Timothy had known it. But when he was writing this Letter, Timothy was with him; and he shows it by what he says: “I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon”; and again, “Him I hope to send to you at once, as soon as I see how it will go with me.” For he was released from his bonds, and was bound again after he had come to them. And when he says, “Even if I am poured out as a libation upon the sacrifice and service of your faith,” it is not as though this had already happened, but: “even if this should happen, I rejoice,” he says, raising them up from their despondency over his bonds. For that he was not about to die at that time is clear from what he says: “But I trust in the Lord that I myself also shall come to you soon”; and again, “And being convinced of this, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all.” Now the Philippians had sent Epaphroditus to him, to bring him money and to learn how things stood with him; for they were very lovingly disposed toward him. That they sent, hear him saying: “I have received from Epaphroditus the things from you.” So they sent at one and the same time both to encourage him and to find out. For that they also sent to find out how things stood with him he shows straight away at the beginning of the Letter, writing about his own affairs and saying, “I want you to know that what has happened to me has turned out rather for the advance of the gospel”; and again, “I hope to send Timothy to you soon, so that I too may be cheered by knowing how you are.” The words “so that I too” show this: “just as you sent for full assurance about my affairs, so I too send, so that I may be cheered by knowing how you are.” Since, then, they had gone a long time without sending, and sent only then (for he shows this by saying, “now at last you have revived your concern for me”), and then were hearing that he was in bonds (for if they heard about Epaphroditus that he had been sick, though he was not so very eminent as Paul, much more about Paul), it was likely that they were troubled; for this reason in the opening of the Letter he offers much encouragement about his bonds, showing that they ought not only not to be troubled but even to rejoice. Then he also gives counsel about concord and humility, teaching them that this is their greatest safety, and that in this way they can easily overcome their enemies. For it is not being in bonds that grieves your teachers, but the disciples' lack of concord. For the one even gives the gospel growth; the other tears it apart.

So, having urged them to be of one mind, and having shown that concord comes from humility, and having taken a strong stand against the Jews who everywhere were corrupting the doctrine under a pretence of Christianity, calling them both “dogs” and “evil workers”, and having urged them to keep away from them and persuaded them to whom they should attend, and having discussed many points of conduct and set them in order, and having restored their spirits by saying, “The Lord is near,” he mentions with his fitting understanding also what had been sent, and in this way offers much encouragement. He plainly writes to them with especially great respect, and nowhere sets down anything of reproof; and this was a token of their virtue, that they gave their teacher no handle, and that he sent everything to them not by way of rebuke but by way of exhortation. As I said at the beginning, so I will say now: this city showed great aptness for the faith, since the jailer (and you know that the business is full of every vice) at once, upon a single sign, both ran to them and was baptized with his whole house. For the sign that happened he alone saw; but the gain he did not reap alone, but with his wife and his whole house. But even the magistrates themselves … and they did this not out of wickedness, as appears from their sending at once to release him and from their being afraid afterwards. He bears them witness not only in faith and in dangers, but also in doing good, where he says that “at the beginning of the gospel you sent once and again for my need,” when no one else had done this; “for no church,” he says, “shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving.” And he shows that the lapse was due rather to lack of opportunity than to their choice, saying, “Not that you were not concerned for me,” he says, “but you lacked opportunity.” This shows that he had great affection for them. For that he loved them greatly is clear: “For I have no one like-minded,” he says, “who will genuinely care for your affairs”; and again, “Because I have you in my heart, in my bonds.”

4. Knowing these things, then, we too, having so many examples of love, should show ourselves worthy of such patterns, being ready to suffer for Christ. But now there is no persecution. Well then, if nothing else, let us imitate their eager doing of good; and let us not, if we give once and a second time, think we have fulfilled everything. For this must be done through the whole of life; we must please God not once but continually. For the runner too, if he runs ten double laps and gives up the last one, has lost everything; and we, if we begin good works and afterwards grow slack, have lost everything, have ruined everything. Hear the profitable exhortation that says: “Let acts of mercy and faithfulness not fail you.” It did not say, Do it once, or twice, or three times, or ten times, or a hundred times, but continually: “let them not fail you,” it says. And it did not say, Do not yourself abandon them, but, Let them not abandon you, showing that we need them, not they us, and teaching that we must do everything so as to keep them with us. “Bind them,” it says, “on your neck.” For just as the children of the wealthy have a golden ornament about the neck and never take it off, since they wear it as a token of their high birth, so we too must always put on almsgiving, showing that we are children of the compassionate one, who makes the sun rise on the evil and the good. “But unbelievers do not believe.” Well, then, they will come to believe through these things, if we practise them. For if they see that we show mercy to everyone, and claim him as our teacher, they will know that we do this in imitation of him. And this must not be done carelessly, but with attention and care: “Let almsgiving and faithfulness,” it says, “be true in you.” Well did it say “true”; for it does not want it to come from robbery, nor from theft: that is not faithfulness, that is not true almsgiving. For the thief must lie and must perjure himself. “But you, do not be like that; with almsgiving keep faithfulness,” it says. Let us put on this ornament; let us make a golden necklace for the soul, almsgiving I mean, while we are here. For if this time of life passes, we shall no longer use it. How so? There are no poor there, there is no money there, there is no poverty there. While we are children, let us not deprive ourselves of this ornament. For just as with children, when they become men, these things are taken off and they are brought to another adornment, so with us too: there will no longer be almsgiving by money there, but another, far greater. So let us not deprive ourselves of this one; let us make the soul appear beautiful. Almsgiving is a great thing, beautiful and precious; it is a great gift, or rather great goodness. If we learn to despise money, we shall learn other things as well. For see how many good things are born from this. The one who gives alms as alms should be given learns to despise money; the one who has learned to despise money has cut out the root of evils. So he does good no more than he receives good, not only because a debt and repayment are laid up for almsgiving, but because the soul becomes philosophic, lofty, and rich. The one who gives alms is trained not to admire money or gold; and having trained his mind in this, he has made a very great start toward rising up to heaven, and has cut out countless pretexts for strife and quarrelling and envy and despondency. For you know, you know yourselves, that all evils come through money, and countless wars through money. But the one who has learned to despise these has set himself in calm; he no longer fears loss, for almsgiving has taught him this. He no longer covets his neighbour's goods; how could he, who parts with his own and gives them away? He no longer envies the rich man; how could he, who wishes to become poor? He cleanses the eye of his soul. And these are the rewards here; but those there cannot even be told, how many good things he will obtain. He will not stay outside with the foolish virgins, but will go in with the wise, with the bridegroom, holding bright lamps; and the one who has not even tasted those toils will be better off through almsgiving than those who have laboured hard in virginity. So great is the strength of almsgiving: it brings in its nurslings with great boldness. For it is known to the gatekeepers in heaven who guard the doors of the bridal chamber; not only known, but revered; and those whom it recognizes as having honoured it, it will bring in with great boldness, and no one will object, but all give way. For if it brought God down to earth and persuaded him to become man, much more will it be able to raise a man up to heaven. For great is its strength. If, then, from mercy and love for humankind God became man, and it persuaded him to become a servant, much more will it bring the servants into his house. Let us love it, let us cherish it, not one day or two, but through all our time, that it may recognize us. If it recognizes us, the Lord too will recognize us; if it does not know us, the Lord too will not know us and will say, “I do not know you.” But may we not hear that voice, but that blessed one: “Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” May we all obtain it, by the grace and love for humankind in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father, and so on.

“Paul and Timothy, servants of Jesus Christ, to all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with the bishops and deacons: grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” Here, since he is writing to men of equal honour, he does not set down his rank as teacher, but another, itself also great. What is that? He calls himself a servant, and not an apostle. For this too is truly a great rank and the sum of good things: to be a servant of Christ, and not merely to be called one. The servant of Christ is truly free from sin; and being a genuine servant, he will not consent to become the servant of anyone else, since then he would not be a servant of Christ except by halves. Again, writing to the Romans he says, “Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ”; but writing to the Corinthians and to Timothy he calls himself an apostle. Why does he do this? Not because these were better than those or than Timothy … far from it! But rather because he honours them and pays them regard most of all those to whom he wrote; for he also bears witness to great virtue in them. Besides, there he was going to give many directions, and so he took up the rank of apostle; but here he gives them no orders, except what they saw for themselves. “To the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi.” Since it was likely that the Jews too called themselves saints from the first oracle, when they were called “a holy people, a special people”, for this reason he added, “to the saints in Christ Jesus”. For these alone are saints; those others are now profane. “With the bishops and deacons.” What is this? Were there many bishops of one city? Not at all; but he called the presbyters so. For at that time the names were still shared, and the bishop was even called a deacon. That is why, writing to Timothy too, he said … For that he was a bishop is clear from his saying to him, “Do not lay hands hastily on anyone”; and again, “which was given you with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery”; but presbyters would not have ordained a bishop. And again, writing to Titus, he says: “For this reason I left you in Crete, that you might appoint presbyters in every city, as I directed you: if anyone is blameless, the husband of one wife”, which he says of the bishop. And having said this, he at once added: “For the bishop must be blameless, as God's steward, not self-willed.” So, as I said, in old times the presbyters were called bishops and deacons of Christ, and the bishops presbyters; hence even now many bishops write “to my fellow presbyter” and “to my fellow deacon”. But from then on each has been given its own distinctive name, bishop and presbyter. “With the bishops,” he says, “and deacons: grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” Here one might reasonably ask why, when nowhere else does he write to the clergy, not at Rome, not at Corinth, not at Ephesus, but to all the saints in common, or to the faithful, or to the beloved, here he writes to the clergy. Because they had both sent to him and borne fruit, and they had sent Epaphroditus to him. “I thank my God,” he says, “upon every remembrance of you, always.” Writing elsewhere he said: “Obey your leaders …, for they keep watch over your souls, as those who will give account, so that they may do this with joy and not groaning.” If, then, groaning comes from the disciples' wickedness, doing this with joy comes from their progress. This, then, is what he says: whenever I remember you, I glorify God. He does this because he knows many good things of them. “I glorify,” he says, “and I pray.” Not, however, because … for you. “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy.” “Always”: not only when I pray. And he did well to add “with joy”; for it is possible to do this with grief too, as when he says elsewhere, “For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you with many tears.” “For your fellowship,” he says, “in the gospel from the first day until now.”

He bears them a great testimony here, not an ordinary one but a very great one, such as one might bear to apostles and evangelists. For, he says, you were not entrusted with one city and so take care of it alone, but you do everything to become sharers in my labours, present everywhere, working with me and taking part with me in my preaching; not once, nor twice, nor three times, but always, from the time you believed until now, you have taken on the zeal of apostles. See how those who were at Rome turned away from him; for hear him saying, “You know this, that all who are in Asia turned away from me”; and again, “Demas deserted me”; and, “At my first defence,” he says, “no one stood by me.” But these, even while absent, shared his afflictions, sending men to him, serving him as far as they could, and falling short in nothing at all. “And you do this,” he says, “not only now but always,” helping in every way. So helping is fellowship in the gospel. For when he preaches and you serve the preacher, you share his crowns. Even in the outside contests the crown belongs not to the contestant alone, but also to the trainer and the attendant and, in short, to all who train the athlete; for those who strengthen and refresh him may rightly become sharers of the victory too. And in wars too, not only the champion but all who serve him may rightly lay claim to the trophies and share in the glory, since by their service they shared the struggle with him. For serving the saints has no small power but a great one: it makes us partners in the rewards laid up for them. For example, someone has thrown away much money for God's sake, is devoted to God continually, practises great virtue, keeping great exactness down to his words, down to his thoughts, down to everything. It is possible for you too, even without such exactness, to share the rewards laid up for him for these things. How? If you serve him by word and deed, if you encourage him both by supplying his needs and by performing every service. For it is you who make the rough road easier for him. So if you admire those in the deserts, who have taken up the angelic life, and those in the churches who achieve the same as they, if you admire them and grieve that you fall far short of them, you can share with them in another way: by ministering, by serving. For this too belongs to God's love for humankind, that those who are more slothful and cannot take up the hard, rough, and exact life, he leads by another road into the same rank as these. And Paul calls this fellowship: “They share with us,” he says, “in fleshly things; we share with them in spiritual things.” For if God gives a kingdom in return for small and worthless things, his servants too give spiritual things in return for small and material ones; or rather, it is he himself who gives both these and those through them. You cannot fast, or live alone, or sleep on the ground, or keep vigil? You can, if you go about the matter another way: by serving the one who labours in these things, refreshing him and anointing him continually, and lightening the toil that comes from them. He has stood fighting, he is the one receiving wounds; you, tend him as he returns from the contest, receive him with open arms, wipe away his sweat, refresh him … If we serve the saints with such zeal, we shall be sharers of their rewards. This is what Christ too says: “Make friends for yourselves by means of the mammon of unrighteousness, so that they may receive you into their eternal dwellings.” Do you see how these have become partners? “From the first day,” he says, “until now.” “That is why I rejoice,” he says, “over your fellowship.” And I rejoice not only for the past but also for the future; for from the past I infer the future too. “Being confident of this very thing,” he says, “that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion until the day of Jesus Christ.”

See how he also teaches them modesty. For since he bore them witness to a great thing, so that they might not suffer anything merely human, he at once trains them to refer both the past and the future to Christ. How? He did not say, “I am confident that as you began, so you will complete,” but what? “He who began a good work in you will complete it.” He neither deprived them of their achievement (for he said, “I rejoice in your fellowship”, plainly as though they were achieving it), nor did he say the achievements were theirs alone, but primarily God's: “For I am confident,” he says, “that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion until the day of Jesus Christ”, that is, God. And I am so disposed, he says, not only about you, but also about those who come from you. And this too is no small praise, that God works in someone. For if he is no respecter of persons, as indeed he is not, but looks to the will and joins in our achievements, it is clear that we are the cause of drawing him to us. So not even thus did he deprive them of their praises. Since if he worked indiscriminately, nothing would have prevented Greeks and all people from being worked upon, if he moved us like wood and stones and did not look for our part. So by saying, “God will complete it,” this too again becomes their praise, as people who have drawn God's grace to work with them in rising above human nature. And it is praise in another way also: your achievements are such that they are not human but need God's help. And if God will complete it, there will not be much toil; but you must take courage, as people who accomplish everything with ease, since you are helped by him. “Just as it is right for me to think this about you all, because I have you in my heart, both in my bonds and in the defence and confirmation of the gospel, you all being partakers with me of grace.” Here he shows great longing for them, if he had them in his heart and, bound in the very prison, remembered the Philippians. It is no small praise of these men to be remembered by this saint, since this saint's love does not come from partiality but from judgment and right reasoning. So to be loved so intensely by Paul is proof that one is great and admirable. “And in the defence,” he says, “and confirmation of the gospel.” And what wonder if he had them in mind in the prison? Not even at that time, he says, when I was going into the court to make my defence, did you fall out of my memory. So tyrannical is spiritual love: it yields to no occasion, but always holds fast the soul of the one who loves, and allows no affliction or pain to overcome the soul. For as in the Babylonian furnace, though so great a flame rose up, there was dew for those blessed youths, so too the friendship of one who loves and pleases God, taking hold of the soul, shakes off every flame and makes a wonderful dew. “And confirmation of the gospel,” he says. So his bonds were a confirmation of the gospel, and so was his defence. And very soundly: for if he had refused the bonds, he would have seemed a deceiver; but as it is, by enduring everything, bonds and affliction, he shows that he suffers these things for no human reason, but for God who repays. For no one would have chosen to die and to take on so many dangers, no one would have consented to offend such an emperor (Nero, I mean), unless he looked to another king, far greater. So the bonds were a confirmation of the gospel. See how abundantly he turned everything into its opposite. What they thought was weakness and a charge against him, this he calls confirmation; and if this had not happened, the gospel would have been in weakness. Then he shows that his love does not come from partiality but from judgment. Why? “I have you,” he says, “in my bonds and in my defence, because you are partakers with me of grace.” What is this? Was this the Apostle's grace, to be bound, to be driven about, to suffer countless terrible things? Yes: “My grace is sufficient for you,” he says, “for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I am content,” he says, “with weaknesses, with insults.” Since, then, I see you showing your virtue by deeds, and being partakers of this grace, and that with zeal, it is natural that I infer these things. For I who have had experience of you, and know you best of all, and your achievements, that though you are so far away from us you strive not to be left behind by us in afflictions, but to share in the trials for the gospel and to have no less than I who have entered the contests, you who are far off, I am worthy to bear witness to these things. And why did he not say “partakers” but “fellow partakers”? I myself too, he says, share with another, so that I may become a fellow partaker of the good things in the gospel. And what is wonderful is that they were all so disposed as to be called fellow partakers of Paul: “For you all,” he says, “are fellow partakers with me of grace.” From these beginnings, then, I am confident that you will be such to the end. For it is not possible for so bright a beginning to be quenched and come to an end, but it points to great endings.

[4.] Since, then, it is possible to share in another way too, in grace, in trials and afflictions, let us share too, I beg you. How many of those standing here, or rather all of you, would wish to share with Paul in the good things laid up! It is possible, if you will, to fight alongside and help those who have taken up his ministry, those who suffer something terrible for Christ. Have you seen your brother in a trial? Reach out a hand. Have you seen your teacher struggling? Stand by him. “But no one is like Paul,” someone says. At once arrogance, at once they pass judgment. No one is like Paul, I too admit; but “whoever receives a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward.” Were those people admired because they worked with Paul? Not for that, but because they worked with one who had taken up the preaching. Paul was honoured because he suffered these things for Christ. No one is like Paul. Why do I say like Paul? Not even a little near that blessed man; but the preaching is the same as it was then. And not only when he was in bonds did they share with him, but from the beginning; for hear him saying, “You yourselves also know, Philippians, that in the beginning of the gospel no church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you only.” And even without trials the teacher has much toil: wakefulness, labour in the word, teaching, blame, accusations, charges, envy. Are these small things, to put up with countless mouths, when he could be minding his own affairs? Alas, what shall I do? I am caught between two things and at a loss. I want to urge and exhort you to support and help the saints of God; but I fear that someone may suspect something else, that I say this not for your sake but for theirs. But know that I say this not for their sake but for your own. And if you will attend, I will persuade you by the words themselves: the gain is not equal for you and for them. For if you give, you will give things that a little later, willing or unwilling, you will part with and leave to others; but what you receive is far greater. Or are you not so disposed, that by giving you will receive? If you are not so disposed, I do not even want you to give; so little am I pleading on their behalf. Unless someone has first so disposed himself, as receiving rather than giving, as gaining countless things, as being benefited rather than benefiting, let him not give; if he gives as doing the receiver a favour, let him not give. For it is not my great concern that the saints be fed; even if you do not give, another will. So what I want is this: that you have consolation for your own sins; and the one who does not give in this way will have no consolation. For giving is not what makes almsgiving, but giving with zeal, rejoicing, grateful to the receiver: “Not from grief,” it says, “nor from compulsion; for God loves a cheerful giver.” If anyone does not give in this way, let him not give; for this is loss, not almsgiving. If, then, you know that you will gain, not they, know that the gain becomes greater for you. Their body is fed, but your soul is approved; none of their sins is forgiven them when they receive, but most of your offences are cut away. Let us share with them, then, in their contests, so that we may also share in their … those who do this do not consider that they give rather than receive. Adopt Christ as your son, and you will have great security. Do you want to share with Paul too? Why do I say Paul, when it is Christ who receives?

And so that you may know that I say and do everything for your sake, not out of concern for others' relief: if there is one of those who preside over a church living in plenty and needing nothing, even if he is a saint, do not give, but prefer to him the one who is in need, even if he is not so admirable. Why? Because Christ too wishes it so, as when he says, “When you give a dinner or a luncheon, do not invite your friends or your relatives, but the maimed, the lame, the blind, who cannot repay you.” For such receptions are not to be given indiscriminately, but to the hungry, to the thirsty, to the naked, to strangers, to those who have fallen from wealth into poverty. For he did not simply say, “I was fed,” but, “I was hungry”: “For you saw me hungry,” he says, “and fed me.” The claim is twofold: if one must feed someone who is simply hungry, much more when the one who is hungry is also a saint. If, then, he is a saint but not in need, do not give; for there is no gain in this. Christ did not command it; or rather, the man who lives in plenty and still receives is not even a saint. Do you see that we have said these things not for the sake of shameful gain but for your profit? Feed the hungry, that you may not feed the fire of Gehenna. When he eats of what is yours, he sanctifies even the leftovers. Think how the widow fed Elijah: she did not feed him more than she was fed; she did not give more than she received. This happens now too, and much more. For it is not a jar of meal or a flask of oil, but what? A hundredfold, and eternal life is the reward for such things. … She was a widow, famine pressed upon her, and none of these things hindered her; she had children, and not even so was she held back. She became equal to the woman who put in the two small coins. She did not say to herself, “What shall I get from this man? He needs me. If he had any power, he would not be starving; he would have ended the drought; he would not be liable to the same things. Perhaps he too has offended God.” She thought none of these things. Do you see how good it is to do good with simplicity and not to be overly inquisitive about the one who receives it? If she had wished to be inquisitive, she would have hesitated and would not have believed. So too Abraham, if he had wished to be inquisitive, would not have received angels. For it is not possible, it is not, for one who is overly exact in these matters ever to meet a saint; such a one most of all falls among impostors. How so, I say? The devout man does not want to appear devout, and does not put on an appearance, even if he is going to be spurned; but the impostor, since he makes a trade of the thing, … So the one who does good even to those who seem not devout will come upon the devout; but the one who looks for those reputed … Therefore, I beg you, let us do everything in simplicity. Suppose the one who comes to you is an impostor: you were not commanded to busy yourself with these things. “Give to everyone who asks you,” he says; and, “Do not hold back from ransoming” those led to death; and yet most of those put to death suffer this because they were caught in crimes, but “do not hold back,” it says. For in this way we shall be like God, in this way we shall be admired and obtain the immortal good things; which may we all obtain, and so on.

“For God is my witness, how I long for you all in the affections of Jesus Christ. And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more in knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve the things that excel, that you may be sincere and without offence for the day of Christ, filled with the fruits of righteousness which come through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.” He calls God as witness not as one who is distrusted, but he does it from great affection, and from being thoroughly persuaded and confident. For since he had said that they shared with him, so that they might not think that he longs for them for that reason and not simply for their own sake, he therefore added, “in the affections of Christ”. What is this? Instead of “according to Christ”: because you are faithful, because you love Christ, because of the love that is according to Christ. And he did not say “love”, but what was warmer, “the affections of Christ”, as if to say: as one who has become your father through the kinship according to Christ. For this kinship gives us affections, warm and fiery affections; for he gives affections to his genuine servants. “In those affections,” he says; as if one should say, I love you not with natural affections, but with warmer ones, those of Christ. “How I long,” he says, “for you all.” I long for you all, since you are all of this kind. It is not possible, then, to say how I long for you; for I cannot set the longing before you in words; therefore I leave it to God to know, who searches the hearts. He would not have called God as witness if he were flattering them; for that is not without danger. “And this I pray,” he says, “that your love may abound”; for this good is insatiable. See how, though he was loved, he wished to be loved still more. For one who loves in this way wants the one he loves never to stop anywhere in love; for there is no measure to this good. That is why Paul wants it always to be owed, saying, “Owe no one anything, except to love one another.” The measure of love is to stop nowhere. “That your love,” he says, “may abound still more and more.” See the warmth of the expression: “still more and more,” he says, “that it may abound in knowledge and all discernment.” He does not admire friendship without qualification, nor love without qualification, but the love that comes from knowledge; that is, not that you should show the same love toward everyone, for that is not love but coldness. What is “in knowledge”? That is, with judgment, with reasoning, with discernment. For there are some who love without reason, at random and as it happens; and so such friendships are not strong either. “In knowledge,” he says, “and all discernment, so that you may approve the things that excel”, that is, the things that are profitable … I say these things, he says, not for my own sake but for yours; for there is fear that someone may be corrupted by love for the heretics. This is the whole of what he hints at in speaking so. And see how he puts it: I do not say these things for my own sake, he says, but that you may be sincere, that is, that you may not accept any spurious doctrine under the pretence of love. How, then, does he say elsewhere, “If possible, be at peace with all people”? He said, “be at peace”, showing this: do not love in such a way as to be harmed by the friendship. For “if your right eye causes you to stumble,” he says, “tear it out and throw it from you.” But “that you may be sincere”, that is, with respect to God, “and without offence”, with respect to people. For friendships often harm many. For even if it harms you in nothing, he says, another stumbles. “For the day of Christ”, that is, that you may then be found pure … “filled with the fruits of righteousness which come through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God”, that is, having an upright life together with your doctrines. For it is not enough simply to be upright; one must be filled with the fruits of righteousness. For there is a righteousness that is not according to Christ, such as a life that is simply virtuous; but, “which come through Jesus Christ,” he says, “to the glory and praise of God.” Do you see that I do not speak of my own glory, but of God's righteousness? In many places he also calls almsgiving righteousness. Do not let love harm you, he says, as regards knowing what is profitable; and do not, because you love so-and-so, fall. I want your love to grow, not, however, so that you are harmed; and I do not want you to hold to things by mere partiality, but after testing whether we speak rightly. And he did not say, “that you may choose our views,” but, “that you may approve.” And he did not say openly, “Do not associate with so-and-so,” but: I want your love to be for what is profitable, not so that you are disposed without discernment. For it is useless if you do not work righteousness for Christ's sake and through him. See, “through him” again. Does he then use God as an assistant? Far from it! I said this, he says, not that I may be praised, but that God may be glorified. “I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has turned out rather for the advance of the gospel, so that my bonds have become manifest in Christ in the whole praetorium and to all the rest.”

It was likely that, hearing that he was in bonds, they would be pained and think that the preaching was being hindered. What, then, does he do? He at once removes this suspicion and says: “What has happened to me has turned out rather for the advance of the gospel.” And this too is a mark of one who loves: to make his own affairs known to them, as to people who are anxious. What are you saying? You are bound, you have been hindered; and how does the gospel advance? “So that my bonds,” he says, “have become manifest in Christ in the whole praetorium.” This not only did not stop the mouths of the others or make them cowardly, but this very thing gave them still more courage. If, then, those who were near the dangers not only suffered no harm but took more courage, much more ought you to take courage. For if, when bound, he had borne it miserably and fallen silent, it was likely that they too would have suffered the same; but if, bound, he spoke still more boldly, he gave them more courage than if he had not been bound. And how did his bonds turn out for the advance of the gospel? God so arranged it, he says, that my bonds in Christ, my bonds for Christ, should not be hidden “in the whole praetorium”; for at that time they called the palace so. And not in the praetorium only, “but also in the whole city,” he says. “And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my bonds, are much more bold to speak the word without fear.” This shows that even before they were confident and spoke with boldness, but now much more. If, then, others take courage because of my bonds, he says, much more do I; if I am the cause of courage to others, much more to myself. “And most of the brothers in the Lord.” Since it was a great thing to say that my bonds gave them courage, he forestalled this by saying, “in the Lord”. Do you see how, even when he is obliged to speak grandly, he does not depart from modesty? “Much more bold,” he says, “to speak the word without fear.” “Much more” shows that they had already begun. “Some indeed preach Christ even from envy and strife, but some also from goodwill.” What this means is worth learning. When Paul was held in custody, many of the unbelievers, wanting to stir up a fierce war against him from the emperor, themselves also preached Christ, so that the emperor's anger might become greater, since the preaching was being spread abroad, and the whole of his wrath might fall on Paul's head. So his bonds became the occasion of two things: to some they gave great courage; others, leading them to hope for my destruction, they prompted to preach Christ. “Some from envy”: that is, envying my glory and my steadfastness, and wishing me to perish, and contending with me, they work along with me; or so that they themselves might be honoured, and thinking to draw off some of my glory. “But some also from goodwill”: that is, without hypocrisy, with all eagerness. “The one proclaim Christ from rivalry, not purely”, that is, not sincerely, nor for the sake of the thing itself; but for what? “Supposing that they add affliction to my bonds.” For thinking that in this way I shall fall into greater danger, they bring affliction upon affliction. What cruelty! What devilish working! They saw him bound and thrown into prison, and still envied him; they wanted to increase his misfortunes and make him liable to greater wrath. And well did he say, “supposing”; for it did not turn out so. They thought to grieve me by this, but I rejoiced that the preaching was advancing. So it is possible to do a good work from no good will; and not only is no reward laid up for it, but even punishment. For since they preached Christ wanting to surround Christ's herald with greater dangers, they not only will receive no reward, but will also be liable to penalty and punishment. “But the others from love, knowing that I am set for the defence of the gospel.” What is “I am set for the defence of the gospel”? That is, cutting down my accountability before God, and helping me somewhat toward my defence. What he means is this: I was commanded to preach; I am going to give account and to make my defence for the work I was commanded; so, to make my defence easy for me, they help me. For if many are found who have been instructed and have believed, my defence will be easy. “What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretence or in truth, Christ” … See the philosophic spirit of the man: he did not accuse them severely, but stated what was happening. For what difference does it make to me, he says, whether it is this way or that? “Only that in every way, whether in pretence or in truth, Christ is proclaimed.” He did not say, “Let him be proclaimed,” as laying down a law; but first he stated what was happening; and second, even if he had said it as laying down a law, not even so would he have been bringing in heresies.

Let us examine the matter, if you please, and we shall find that even if he had permitted preaching in the way those men preached, not even so was heresy being brought in. How? Because those men preached soundly; it was their aim and the intention with which they did so that was corrupt; the preaching was not altered. And they were under great necessity to preach in this way. Why? Because if they had preached otherwise, not as Paul did, if they had taught otherwise, not as he did, they would not have increased the emperor's anger; but as it was, by increasing his preaching and teaching in the same way and making disciples equal to his, they were able to provoke the emperor to war against him, since the multitude of disciples appeared great. But some wretched and senseless person, forgetting this passage, says: “Surely they would have done the opposite: they would have driven away those who had already believed, and not made the faithful increase, if they wanted to sting him.” What, then, shall we say? That those men looked to this one thing, to surround him with the present dangers, not to let him escape; and they thought they would grieve him and quench the preaching more by this than by that. For otherwise they would have quenched the emperor's anger and let him go out and preach again; but in this way they thought to destroy the whole thing through him, by destroying him. And this was not something many could see, but only certain bitter and very wicked men. Then: “And in this I rejoice; yes, and I will rejoice.” What is “yes, and I will rejoice”? Even if it goes further, he says. For they work with me even against their will, and for the labours they have undergone they will receive punishment, but I, who contribute nothing, shall receive a reward. Is there anything more wretched than the devil, who devised that a preaching should procure punishment for those who obey him? Do you see in how many evils he entangles his own? He devises punishment and penalty for them out of the preaching and these labours. And what other enemy and foe of their salvation would have arranged the whole thing so? Do you see that the one who fights the truth has no strength, but rather strikes himself, like one who kicks against the goads? “For I know,” he says, “that this will turn out for my salvation through your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” Nothing is more wretched than the devil: so everywhere he surrounds his own with useless labours and tears them apart; and he not only does not let them obtain the prizes, but knows how to make them liable to punishment. For he lays down for them not only such preaching, but also such fasting and such virginity, which not only will deprive them of rewards, but will bring great evil upon those who pursue it; of whom he says elsewhere also, “seared in their own conscience.” Therefore, I beg you, let us give thanks to God for everything, that he has both lightened our labours and increased our rewards. For the rewards that those among us who marry chastely enjoy, those who live as virgins among them do not enjoy; but the virgins among the heretics have become liable to the penalty of fornicators. Why? Because they do something not with a right aim, but to slander God's creatures and his ineffable wisdom. So let us not be slothful: God has given us contests suited to our strength, involving no hardship. But let us not despise them on this account. For if the heretics strain themselves with useless labours, what defence shall we have if we will not bear even the lesser ones, which bring a greater reward? What is burdensome, what is grievous in Christ's commands? You cannot live as a virgin? You may marry. You cannot strip yourself of all your goods? You may give from what you have: “Your abundance,” he says, “for their want.” These things seem to be burdensome, I mean despising money and overcoming bodily desire; but the rest require no expense, no force. For what force is there, tell me, in not speaking ill, in not slandering at all? What force in not envying the goods of others? Or what force in not being taken captive by glory? To be tortured and bear it belongs to endurance; to practise philosophy belongs to endurance; to bear poverty belongs to endurance; to wrestle with hunger and thirst belongs to endurance. But when there is none of this, and it is possible, while enjoying what you have, as befits a Christian, not to envy what belongs to others, what force is there? Envy comes from nowhere else but from being attached to present things; or rather, so do all evils. For if you thought money and the glory of this world were nothing, you would not have envied those who have them. Where does it come from? … The whole comes from …

But since you gape at them, and admire them and are dazzled, that is why the passions of envy trouble you, and those of vainglory too; and everything comes from this, from admiring the things of the present life. Do you envy so-and-so because he is rich? Yet such a man deserves pity and tears. But you will say at once, laughing: “I deserve tears, not he.” You too deserve tears, not because you are poor, but because you think yourself pitiable. For those who have nothing wrong and yet are distressed we weep for, not because they have something wrong, but because, not having it, they think they have. Tell me, if someone freed from fever is restless and tosses about, lying healthy on his bed, does he not deserve tears more than those who have fever, not because he has fever (for he has none), but because, having nothing wrong, he thinks he has something? You too deserve tears for this reason, because you think yourself pitiable, not because of your poverty; for on account of your poverty you are even to be called blessed. Why do you envy the rich man? Because he has made himself liable to more cares? Because he is in a harsher slavery? Because with countless chains, like a dog, he is bound to his possessions …, and even the time of rest he has as a time of tumult, unpleasantness, grief, and anxiety? … There was a noise? At once he jumped up. So-and-so was robbed? The one who has lost nothing is more anxious than the one who lost. For the one lost once, and having grieved, laid the care aside; but this one has it continually. Night has come, the harbour of our ills, the consolation of our misfortunes, the medicine of our wounds. For those held by some severe grief often did not give way or yield to friends and relatives and household, and often even to fathers who comforted them, but were even angered at their very words; for the bitterness of grief afflicts our souls more than any burning heat; yet when sleep bade them stop, they could not even look it in the face. So as a body that is burning and very hot finds relief in a lodging with many springs and the comfort of a light breeze, so night hands our soul over to sleep. Or rather, it is not night or sleep that does this, but God, who knows that this race is wretched, has done all these things. But we do not pity ourselves; but, as if we were our own enemies, we have devised a tyranny greater than the necessity and rest of nature: the sleeplessness that comes from wealth. For “the anxiety of wealth,” it says, “drives away sleep.” And see how great is God's care: he did not entrust rest to our purpose, nor the need for sleep to any choice, but bound it by the necessities of nature, so that we might be benefited even against our will; for sleeping belongs to nature. But we, as though we hated ourselves very much, as though warring against and afflicting others, have devised a tyranny from money greater than this natural necessity. Day has come? And such a man fears informers. Night has fallen? He trembles at robbers. Death is at hand? He is stung more than by death that his things go to others. He has had a child? His desire grows greater, and then he seems to be poor. He has had none? He grieves the more. Do you, then, call this man blessed, who can take pleasure from nowhere? Do you envy him who is tossed by the waves, while you stand in the calm harbour of poverty? Truly this too is a defect of human nature, not to bear good things nobly, but to grow insolent in prosperity. And these things are here; but when we depart there, hear what the rich man says, the master of countless good things, as you call them; for I would not call these things good, but indifferent. This master of countless good things, then, hear what he says and in what need he stands: “Father Abraham,” he says, “send Lazarus, that he may drip on my tongue with the tip of his finger, for I am being roasted.” For even if that rich man suffered none of the things I have described, even if he spent his whole life in security and without care (why do I say his whole life? that single moment; for it is a moment: “our whole age,” it says, “is as a single moment” compared with the endless age), if, then, everything had gone for him according to his wish, is he not pitiable for these words, or rather for these realities? Did your table not flood with wine? But now you are not master even of a drop of water, and that while you stand in great need. Did you not see the poor man covered with sores? But now you ask to see him, and no one grants it. He was by your gate, but now he is in the bosom of Abraham; you lay under great roofs, but now in the fire of Gehenna.

Let the rich hear these things; or rather, not the rich but the unmerciful. For he was not punished because he was rich, but because he did not show mercy. For it is possible to be rich and merciful and to obtain every good thing. And that is why he sees no one else but the one who had needed him, so that he might learn that he suffered these things justly, being brought to remember what he had done. Were there not countless righteous poor men? But the one who lay at his gate, he is the one who appears to him, teaching him and us how good it is not to trust in money. Poverty did not harm the one at all toward obtaining the kingdom; wealth did not help the other at all toward escaping Gehenna. Up to what point is one needy? Up to what point poor? He is not, he is not poor who has nothing, but he who desires much; he is not rich who has acquired much, but he who needs nothing. For what use is it to have acquired the whole world, but to live in more despondency than one who has nothing? It is our dispositions that make people rich and poor, not abundance of money or lack of it. Do you, who are poor, want to become rich? You may, if you will, and no one prevents you: despise the money of the world; think it nothing, as indeed it is nothing; cast out the desire for wealth, and you have become rich. This is the rich man: the one who does not wish to be rich; the one who does not wish to be poor, this is the poor man. Just as the sick man is the one who is restless even in health, not the one who bears disease more easily than all health, so here too the poor man is the one who cannot bear poverty, but in wealth thinks himself poorer than the poor; not the one who bears poverty more easily than the rich: for this man is the richer. Tell me, why do you fear poverty? Why do you tremble? Is it not because of hunger? Is it not because of thirst? Is it not because of cold? Or is it not for these things? But there is no one, there is no one, … “Look at the generations of old and see: who trusted in the Lord and was forsaken? Or who hoped in him and was put to shame?” And again, “Look at the birds of the sky: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and your heavenly Father feeds them.” No one could show us anyone who has quickly perished of hunger and cold. Why, then, do you tremble at poverty? You cannot say. For if you are supplied with necessities, why do you tremble at it? Because you have no crowd of servants? This is to be freed from masters, this is continual blessedness, this is freedom from care. But because you have no vessels and couches and furniture made of silver? What more does the one who has acquired these have than you in the enjoyment? Nothing; for the use is equal, whether they are made of this material or of that. But because you are not feared by the many? May you never be! For what pleasure is it to make some people tremble and be afraid of you? But because you fear others? But it is possible not to fear. “Do you wish not to fear the authority? Do what is good, and you will have praise from it.” “But we are easily despised,” someone says, “and ready to suffer ill.” Above all, it is not poverty that does this, but wickedness. For while many poor men pass their whole lives without trouble, rulers, rich men, and men in power have ended more wretchedly than all evildoers, robbers, and grave-robbers. For what poverty is in your case, wealth is in his. Just as those who wish to do harm harm you here because you are despised, so they harm him because they envy and grudge; and these more than those; this necessity is stronger for doing harm. For the one who envies does everything with all his strength and power, but the one who despises often even pitied the despised man; and this very thing became the cause of his escape, that he was poor, that he could not have power. “You will achieve great things,” we say to him, “if you destroy so-and-so, if you kill one poor man? What reward will you not reap?” And so we calm their anger. But over the rich envy stands guard, and does not stop until it has done what it wishes and poured out its poison. Do you see that neither poverty nor wealth is good, but our will? If, then, this is rightly disposed, neither will wealth be able to cast us out of the kingdom, nor will poverty make us have less; but we shall bear poverty gently, being harmed neither in the enjoyment of the good things to come, nor here; but we shall both enjoy these and obtain the good things in heaven; which may we all obtain, and so on.

“And in this I rejoice; yes, and I will rejoice. For I know that this will turn out for my salvation through your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope, that I shall be put to shame in nothing, but with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death.” Nothing painful in the present life can sting the great and philosophic soul: not enmities, not accusations, not slanders, not dangers, not plots. For as one that has fled to some high mountain peak is out of reach of all who climb up from the earth below, such was Paul's soul, having taken a place higher than any peak, the place of spiritual philosophy, the true philosophy. For that of the outsiders is mere words and children's toys. But our discourse is not about these now; for the present we speak of Paul. That blessed man, having the emperor at war with him, had besides other enemies grieving him in various ways, and with bitter slander. And what does he say? Not only am I not pained by these things nor cast down, but I even rejoice and will rejoice; not for a season, he says, but always I will rejoice over these things. “For I know that this will turn out for my salvation”, the salvation to come. How will it not turn out so, when even the enmity against me and the rivalry toward me benefit the preaching? “Through your prayer,” he says, “and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope.” See the humility of this blessed man. He was in the contests, struggling; he had achieved countless things; he was already lying close to the very crown (for he was Paul: what more could one say?); and he writes to the Philippians, “Through your prayer I can be saved”, he who had acquired salvation by countless achievements. “And the supply,” he says, “of the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” What is “supply”? If through your prayers, he says, I am counted worthy of the grace. For “supply” means this: if it is supplied, if more of the Spirit is given to me. “For salvation”: that is, deliverance; I shall escape the present danger as I did the first. For about that one he says: “At my first defence no one stood by me; may it not be counted against them; but the Lord stood by me and strengthened me.” This, then, he now prophesies too, saying, “through your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope.” For so, he says, I hope. For so that we, in our turn, may not leave everything to the prayers of others while contributing nothing ourselves, see how he sets down his own part, hope, the cause of all good things; as the prophet says, “Let your mercy, Lord, be upon us, as we have hoped in you”; as he also says elsewhere, “Look at the generations of old and see: who hoped in the Lord and was put to shame?” And again this blessed man says, “And hope does not put to shame.” “According to my eager expectation,” he says, “and hope, that I shall be put to shame in nothing.” This is Paul's hope: to hope that I shall nowhere be put to shame. Do you see how great a thing it is to hope in God? Whatever happens, he says, I shall not be put to shame; that is, these men will not get the better of me. “But with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ will be magnified in my body.” Those men expected through this snare to catch Paul and to quench the preaching, as though their trickery would prevail. This, then, is what he says: that will not happen; I shall not die now; “but as always, so now also Christ will be magnified in my body.” How? Many times I have fallen into dangers in which everyone despaired of us, or rather we despaired of ourselves (“for we had the sentence of death in ourselves”), but the Lord rescued us from them all. So now too he will be magnified in my body. And so that no one may think and say, “If you die, will he not be magnified?”, Yes, he says, I know; but I did not say this because life alone will magnify him; death will too. For the present he says, “by life”: they are not destroying me; but even if they had destroyed me, Christ would be magnified so too. How? By life, because he rescued me; by death, because not even death persuaded me to deny him. Because he gave me such eagerness and made me stronger than death: in the one case, because he freed me from dangers; in the other, because he did not let me fear the tyranny of death. So he will be magnified by life and by death.

He says these things not as one about to die, but for the time when he does die, so that they may not feel anything merely human. For that he said this not as one about to die (which grieved them most), see how he comforts them on this point, all but saying: I say this, not as one who will die. That is why, going on, he added: “And being convinced of this, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all.” And “I shall be put to shame in nothing” means this: dying brings me no shame, but even great gain. Why? I am not immortal; yet I shall be more glorious than if I were immortal. For it is not the same thing for an immortal to despise death as for a mortal. So not even this is a shame, to die now; however, I shall not die. “I shall be put to shame in nothing,” neither in living nor in dying, he says; for I shall bear both nobly, whether to live or to die. Well said; this belongs to a Christian soul. “But with all boldness,” he says. Do you see how I am not put to shame? For if the fear of death had cut short my boldness, dying would deserve shame; but if death, when it came, frightened me not at all, this is no shame. If I live, I shall not be put to shame by living, for I preach the preaching; if I die, I shall not be put to shame by dying, for fear did not hold me, since I show the same boldness. For do not, because I spoke of bonds, think the thing a shame. It has become the cause of such good things for me, that it has even given others courage. For being bound for Christ is not a shame, but betraying something of Christ's out of fear of bonds: that is a shame; so that, if this is absent, bonds even bring about boldness. Do not, since I have often escaped dangers (and I can boast of these to the unbelievers), think it already a shame if something of the kind does not happen; for this too gives you boldness no less than that. See how he puts it forward in his own person, as he does in many places elsewhere too; as with the Romans: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel,” he says; as with the Corinthians: “These things I have transferred to myself …” “Whether by life or by death.” He does not say this as one who did not know; for he knew that he would not die then, but afterwards; but he already prepares their souls beforehand. “For to me,” he says, “to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” For even if I die, he says, I shall not be dead, having life in myself. They would have destroyed me then, if they had been able through fear to cast the faith out of my soul; but as long as Christ is with me, even if death comes, I live. And even in this life, this is not my living, but Christ is. If, then, not even in this life is it this, “the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith”, I say this there too: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” Such must the Christian be. I do not live, he says, the common life. How, then, do you live, blessed Paul? Do you not see the sun? Do you not breathe the common air? Are you not fed by the same foods as everyone? Do you not tread the earth as we do? Do you not need sleep? Clothing? Shoes? What do you mean, “I do not live”? How do you not live? Why do you boast? These words are not boasting. For if the facts did not bear witness, one might rightly say it was boasting; but if the facts bear witness, what boasting is there? Let us learn, then, how he does not live; for elsewhere too he says, “I have been crucified to the world, and the world to me.” How then he says, “It is no longer I who live,” and how again, “to me to live is Christ,” hear. The word “life” has many senses, beloved, that is, it signifies many things, as does the word “death”. There is this life of the body, and there is the life of sin, as he himself says elsewhere: “If we died to sin, how shall we still live in it?” So it is possible to live the life of sin. (Attend carefully, I beg you, so that we do not labour in vain.) There is the eternal and immortal life, and with it the heavenly life: “For our citizenship,” he says, “is in heaven.” There is the life of the body, of which he says, “In him we live and move and have our being.” So he does not say he does not live the natural life, but this life of sins, which all people live; and rightly. For how does one who does not desire the present life live it? How does one who hastens to another live it? How does one who despises death live it? How does one who desires nothing here live it? For as one made of adamant, even if struck ten thousand times, would never turn, so neither would Paul. “It is no longer I who live,” he says, that is, the old man; and again elsewhere, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from the body of this death?” So one who does nothing for the sake of food, nothing for clothing, nothing for anything of the present, how does he live? He does not even live the natural life; the one who cares for nothing of this world's affairs does not live. We live this life, who do everything for its sake; but he did not live it, for he busied himself with nothing here. How, then, did he live? So too we say of some people: “So-and-so is not present to me,” when he does nothing that concerns me; again, “So-and-so is not alive to me,” likewise. For that he does not renounce the natural life he says elsewhere: “The life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me”; that is, I live a new and changed life.

All these things he says to comfort the Philippians. Do not think, he says, that I am being deprived of this life; for even while I was alive I was not living this life, but that which Christ wished. For tell me, does the one who despises money, luxury, hunger and thirst, dangers, health, safety, live this life? Does the one who has nothing here, who often wished to throw it away when necessity arose and did not cling to it, live this life? Not at all. I must make this plain to you by an example. Suppose someone is in great wealth, and has servants and gold, and makes no use of any of them: is he rich with that wealth? Not at all. Let him also see his servants squandering his property and wandering about at random, and let him care for none of them; and, if you like, let him not be pained even when beaten: shall we say that he is in wealth? Not at all; and yet it is his. So also Paul: “For to me,” he says, “to live is Christ.” If you wish to examine my life, it is he. “And to die is gain.” Why? Because I shall be with him more clearly; so that dying is living more. Those who kill me will do me no harm, sending me on to my own life and freeing me from this one, which does not belong to me. What then? While you are here, are you not Christ's? Very much so. “But if to live in the flesh, this is fruit of work for me; and what I shall choose I do not know.” So that no one may say, “If that is life, why did Christ leave you here?”, it is “fruit of work,” he says. So it is possible to use the present life as one ought, without living it as most do. He says this so that you may not think that life is being disparaged, nor say, “If we are of no use here, why do we not destroy ourselves, why do we not kill ourselves?” By no means, he says; it is possible to gain even while here, if we do not live this life but another. But perhaps someone will say, “Does this bear fruit for you?” Yes, he says. Where now are the heretics? See, he calls living in the flesh “fruit of work”; and of work indeed. How is it fruit of work? “The life I now live in the flesh I live by faith.” That is why it is fruit of work. “And what I shall choose I do not know.” Ah, how great his philosophy was! How he cast out the desire for the present life, and yet did not disparage it! By saying, “to die is gain,” he cast out the desire; by saying, “to live in the flesh is fruit of work,” he showed that the present life too is necessary. How? If we use it as we ought, if we bear fruit; for if it is fruitless, it is no longer life. For trees too that bear no fruit we turn away from just like dry ones, and hand over to the fire. For living, again, belongs to the things that are intermediate and indifferent; but living well or badly is up to us. So let us not hate living; for it is possible to live well too. And if we use it badly, not even so shall we disparage it. Why? Because it is not life that is the cause, but the will of those who use it badly. For God made you live so that you might live for him; but you, living for sin through wickedness, make yourself liable to every charge. What do you mean, tell me, Paul? You do not know what you will choose? Here he revealed a great mystery: that it was in his power to depart; for when there is a choice, we have the power. “What I shall choose,” he says, “I do not know.” Is it, then, in your power? Yes, he says, if I wished to ask the favour of God. “For I am hard pressed between the two, having the desire.” See the tender affection of this blessed man; and with this he comforts them, when they see that he himself has the power of choice, that this is happening not by human wickedness but by God's arrangement. Why, then, are you pained, he says, at my death? It would have been far better to depart long ago. “For to depart,” he says, “and be with Christ is very much better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake.” These words prepare them for his coming end, so that they may bear it nobly; these words teach philosophy. It is good, he says, to depart and be with Christ; for death too belongs to the indifferent things. For death is not an evil, but to be punished after death is an evil; nor is death a good, but to depart and be with Christ is a good. What comes after death is either good or evil. So let us not simply mourn those who die, nor simply rejoice over those who live; but what? Let us mourn sinners, not only when they die but also while they live; and let us rejoice over the righteous, not only while they live but also when they have died. For the former, even while living, are dead; the latter, even having died, live. The former, even while here, are pitiable to all, since they offend God; the latter, having passed over there, are blessed, since they have gone to Christ. Sinners, wherever they are, are far from the King; that is why they deserve tears. But the righteous, whether here or there, are with the King, and there more, and nearer, not by sight, not by faith, but “face to face,” he says.

So let us not simply weep for the dead, but for those who die in sins: these deserve lamentation, these beating of breasts and tears. For what hope is there, tell me, in departing with sins, where it is not possible to put off sins? For as long as they were here, there was great expectation that they would change, that they would become better; but if they depart to Hades, where nothing can be gained from repentance (“For in Hades,” it says, “who will confess to you?”), how do they not deserve lamentation? Let us weep for those who depart so, I do not forbid it; let us weep, but not unseemly, not tearing our hair, not baring our arms, not tearing our faces, but in the soul quietly shedding a bitter tear. For it is possible, even without this display, to weep bitterly, and not merely to play; for what some people do differs in no way from play. Those breast-beatings in the market place are not from sympathy but from display, ambition, and vainglory; many women do it as a trade. Weep at home, with no one seeing: this is from sympathy, this benefits you too. For one who mourns that man in this way will be much more eager never to fall into the same things himself; sin will be fearful to you from then on. Weep for the unbelievers; weep for those who differ in nothing from them, those who depart without the seal: these truly deserve lamentation, these wailing. They are outside the palace with the condemned, with those sentenced. “For truly I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” Weep for those who have died in wealth and devised no consolation for their own souls from their wealth, who received the power to wash away their sins and did not wish to. Let us all weep for these, privately and in common, but with decorum, but with dignity, not so as to make a spectacle of ourselves. Let us weep for these not one day, or two, but all our life. This tear is not from irrational passion, but from tender affection; that other is from irrational passion, and that is why it is quickly quenched. But when it comes from the fear of God, it always remains. Let us weep for these, then; let us help them as far as we can; let us devise some help for them, small, yet able to help. How, and in what way? By praying ourselves, and urging others to make prayers for them, and giving to the poor for them continually. The thing brings some consolation; for hear God saying, “I will defend this city for my own sake and for the sake of David my servant.” If the mere memory of a righteous man had such power, when works are also done for someone, how will they not have power? … Not in vain was it laid down by the apostles that remembrance of the departed should be made at the awesome mysteries; they know that great gain comes to them, great benefit. For when the whole people stands with hands raised, a priestly assembly, and the awesome sacrifice is set forth, how shall we not prevail upon God in calling on him for these? But this is about those who have passed away in faith; the catechumens are not counted worthy even of this consolation, but are deprived of all such help except one. What is that? It is possible to give to the poor for them; the thing brings them some refreshment. For God wishes us to be benefited by one another. Why else did he command us to pray for the peace and stability of the world? Why for all people? And yet among all of them here there are robbers, grave-robbers, thieves, and people full of countless evils; yet nevertheless we pray for all, for perhaps there will be some conversion of them. Just as, then, we pray for the living who differ in nothing from the dead, so it is possible to pray for those too. Job offered sacrifices for his children and freed them from their sins: “Perhaps,” it says, “they have thought something in their heart.” So does one provide for his children. He did not say, as most people now do, “I am leaving them property”; he did not say, “I shall give them glory”; he did not say, “I shall buy an office”; he did not say, “I shall purchase fields”; but what? “Perhaps they have thought something in their heart.” For what use are all those things, which remain here? None. I will make the King of all gracious to them, he says, and from then on they lack nothing; for “The Lord is my shepherd,” it says, “and I shall lack nothing.” This is great wealth, this is treasure. If we have the fear of God, we need nothing; but if we do not have this, even if we have the kingdom itself, we are poorer than all. Nothing is equal to one who fears the Lord. “For the fear …” Let us acquire it; let us do everything for it; even if we must give up our life, let us not spare it, even if we must cut up our body; let us do everything to obtain this fear. For so we shall be richer than all, and shall obtain the good things to come, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“And what I shall choose I do not know. But I am hard pressed between the two, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is very much better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake. And being convinced of this, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith, so that your boasting may abound in Christ Jesus in me through my coming to you again.” Nothing is more blessed than Paul's soul, since nothing is nobler. But now it is timely to say the opposite about all of us: nothing is weaker or more wretched than we are. That is why we all shudder at death: some because of the multitude of their sins, of whom I myself am one; others from love of life and wretchedness, of whom may I never be; for those who fear this fear are unspiritual. This, then, which we all shudder at, he prayed for, and pressed on toward it, saying, “to depart is very much better”, and, “what I shall choose I do not know.” What are you saying? When you are about to pass from here to heaven and to be with Christ, do you not know what you will choose? But these things were far from Paul's soul. For to whom, if someone said this and confirmed it, would he not seize it at once? Yes, he says; but just as departing and being with Christ is not in our power, so neither, when one can obtain this, is remaining here in our power; but both belonged to Paul and to his soul. What are you saying? You know and are convinced that you are going to be with Christ, and you hesitate, saying, “I do not know what I shall choose”? And you choose not that alone but also being here, I mean remaining in the flesh? What can this be? Did you not live a very bitter life? In vigils, in shipwrecks, in hunger and thirst and nakedness, in anxieties, in cares? You were weak with the weak, and for those who … “in afflictions,” he says, “in hardships, in distresses, in beatings, in imprisonments, in tumults”, “… less one I received; three times I was beaten with rods; once …; dangers in the city, dangers in the wilderness, dangers among false brothers.” When the whole nation of the Galatians went back to the observance of the law, did you not cry out, saying, “You who are justified by the law have fallen from grace”? How many things did you not mourn at one time or another; and do you still long more for this grievous life? Even if none of these things had happened to you, but you had achieved all that you achieved in security and luxury, should you not, fearing the uncertainty of the future, have hastened to some harbour? What merchant, tell me, with a ship full of countless treasures, when he could run into harbour and rest, would choose to stay at sea? What contestant, when he could be crowned, would choose to go on contending? What boxer, when he could put on the crown, would choose to go into the contest again and have his head battered? What general, when he could leave the war with glory and trophies and rest with the king in the palace, would consent still to sweat and fight battles? How, then, do you, living so very bitter a life, wish to remain here still? Did you not say, “I fear lest perhaps, having preached to others, I myself should be disqualified”? If for no other reason, for this at least you ought to have desired release. Even if the present were full of countless good things, at least for the sake of Christ, whom you long for, you ought to have longed for release from them. Ah, Paul's soul! There has been nothing equal to it, nor will there be. You fear the future, you are held fast by countless terrors, and you do not wish to be with Christ? No, he says; and this for Christ's sake, so that those whom I have made his servants I may make more devoted; so that the field I planted I may make bear fruit. Did you not hear me, that I seek not my own advantage but that of my neighbours? Did you not hear that I prayed to be accursed from Christ so that many might come to him? I who chose that, shall I not much more choose this, gladly suffering loss by the delay and postponement, so that some salvation may come to them? “Who shall tell your mighty acts, O Lord,” when you did not let Paul be hidden, when you showed the world such a man? All the angels praised you with one accord when you made the stars; and so too when you made the sun; but not as much as when you showed Paul to us and to the whole world. Because of this the earth became brighter than heaven; this man, more radiant than the light of the sun, sent forth brighter flashes and spread brilliant rays. What fruit he bore for us, not fattening ears of grain nor nourishing pomegranates, but bringing forth the fruit of godliness, bringing it to its prime, and continually restoring it when it fell. Rightly so: for this sun can do nothing for fruit once it has rotted, but Paul called back from sins those who had countless rottings. And this sun gives way to the night, but he did not give way to the devil; nothing overcame him, nothing prevailed over him. The sun, borne from on high, sends its rays downward; but he, rising from below, not only filled the space between heaven and earth with light, but as soon as he opened his mouth, filled the angels with great delight. How? For if there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, and he by his first address caught many, how will he not fill the powers above with joy?

And what am I saying? It is enough for Paul simply to speak, and the heavens leap and rejoice at it. For if, when the Israelites came out of Egypt, the mountains leapt like rams, when men passed from earth to heaven, how great do you think the joy was? For these reasons, “to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake.” What defence shall we have from now on? For often a man is allotted a small, poor city and does not choose to go elsewhere, preferring his own ease; Paul could have gone to Christ, and did not wish for Christ, Christ whom he so longed for that he would even choose Gehenna for him, and he remained still contending for the sake of men. What defence shall we have? But must one simply remember Paul? See what he achieved. He showed that it was better to depart, persuading them not to grieve; he showed that if he remains, he remains for this reason, for their sake; that it does not happen through the wickedness of those plotting against him. So, to make them trustworthy, he also gave the reason. For if this is necessary, I shall certainly remain; and not simply remain, but with you; for this is “and continue”, that is, I shall see you. For what purpose? “For your progress and joy in the faith.” Here he also rouses them to take heed to themselves. For if I remain for your sake, he says, see that you do not shame my staying. When I was about to see Christ, I chose to remain for your progress. Since my presence contributes to your faith and to your joy, that is why I chose to remain. What then? Did he remain for the Philippians' sake alone? He did not remain for them alone; but he says this to win their hearts. And how was there progress in the faith? So that you may be more firmly established, like nestlings that need their mother until their wings grow firm. This is a proof of great love. So we too rouse some people, as when we say, “I remained for your sake, to make you good.” “So that your boasting,” he says, “may abound in Christ Jesus in me through my coming to you again.” Do you see that this is what “I shall continue with you” means? See the humility: since he said, “for your progress,” he shows that it is also for his own benefit. He does this also when writing to the Romans, saying, “that is, that I may be encouraged together with you,” having said first, “that I may impart some spiritual gift to you.” And what is “that your boasting may abound”? What was also boasting: to be established in the faith (for this is boasting in Christ), to live rightly. “Your boasting in me through my coming to you again”? Yes, he says. “For what is our hope or crown of boasting? Is it not you?” “For we are your boast, as you are ours.” That is, so that I may boast of you the more. How? “That your boasting may abound.” For I can boast more when you have made progress. “Through my coming to you again.” What then? Did he come to them? Look into whether he came. “Only conduct yourselves,” he says, “in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” Do you see that he said everything for this, to urge them to advance in virtue? “Only conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” What is “only”? This alone is what is sought, and nothing else; if this is so, nothing grievous will befall us. “So that whether I come and see you, or am absent, I may hear of your affairs.” He does not say this as having changed his mind, or as no longer coming; but if this happens, he says, I can rejoice even when absent. “That I may hear that you stand firm in one spirit, with one soul.” This is what most of all binds the faithful together and holds love together; that is why Christ says, “that they may be one.” For “a kingdom divided against itself will not stand.” That is why Paul too everywhere gives much counsel about concord; that is why Christ also says, “By this all will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” That is: do not fix your eyes on my expected coming and go to sleep, as though expecting me to come, and then, when you see that I am not coming, grow slack; for I can rejoice just as well from hearing. What is “in one spirit”? That is, in the same gift, the gift of concord, of eagerness. For the Spirit is one, and its being said this way in many places shows it. For so one can also stand in one soul, when we all have one spirit. See, “one” is said of concord; see, many are called one. So it was of old: “The heart and the soul of all,” it says, “were one.” “Striving together for the faith of the gospel.” Does it mean as though … how would that make sense? Did they wrestle against one another? But what he means is this: help one another, he says, in the contest for the faith of the gospel. “And not frightened in anything by your opponents, which is to them a proof of destruction, but to you of salvation.” “Frightened”, he said well; for such are the things that come from enemies: they only frighten. In nothing, then, he says, whatever happens, even dangers, even plots; for this belongs to those who stand rightly. For they can do nothing but frighten. Since it was likely that they were troubled, as Paul was suffering countless things, I do not say, he says, “do not be shaken,” but “do not be frightened”, and even despise them utterly. For if you are so disposed, from this already you will make plain both their destruction and your salvation. For when they see that they contrive countless things and cannot even frighten you, they will receive proofs of their own destruction. For when the persecutors do not get the better of the persecuted, or those who have power of those in their power, will it not be plain to them at once that they will perish, that they have no strength, that their cause is false and its weakness? “And this from God,” he says; “for to you it has been granted for Christ's sake, not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him.” Again he trains them to be modest in mind, referring everything to God and saying that suffering for Christ is a grace, a gift, a free present. So do not be ashamed of a gift; for it truly is much more wonderful than raising the dead and working signs. For there I am a debtor, but here I have Christ as my debtor. So you ought not only not to be ashamed, but even to exult, as having a gift. He calls the virtues gifts, not, however, in the same way as the other things: for those are wholly God's, but these are ours too. But since here too the greater part is God's, he says the whole is his, not overturning free will, but making them modest and grateful. “Having the same conflict which you saw in me.” That is, you have the example too. Here again he lifts them up; for he shows them everywhere contending in the same things as he, struggling in the same contests, both privately and by themselves, by sharing his trials with him. He did not say, “you have heard,” but, “you saw”; for he had struggled there, in Philippi. So this is a great virtue. That is why, writing to the Galatians too, he said, “Did you suffer so many things in vain, if indeed it was in vain?” And again, writing to the Hebrews, he said, “But recall the former days in which, after you were enlightened, you endured a great conflict …, partly being made a public spectacle by reproaches and afflictions, and partly becoming partners of those …” Again, that is, writing to the Thessalonians he said, “For they themselves report about us what kind of entry we had to you”; and again, “For you yourselves know, brothers, our entry to you, that it was not in vain.” And he bears witness to the same in all alike, to contests and struggles. But you will not find this among us now; for now it is something to be glad of if anyone suffers even in money. Yet in money too he bears them great witness; for to some he says, “You accepted the plundering of your property with joy”; to others, “Macedonia and Achaia were pleased to make some contribution for the poor”; and again, “He who …”

Do you see the praises of the men of that time? But we do not bear even slaps or a blow; we do not endure insult, nor loss of money. They were all already zealous and martyrs in their contending; but we have let our love for Christ grow cold. Again I am compelled to accuse the present state of things. And what am I to do? I did not wish to, but I am compelled. For if, by keeping silent and saying nothing, it were possible to make what is happening disappear through silence, one ought to keep silent; but if the opposite happens (for not only does it not disappear when we are silent, but it even grows worse), it is necessary to speak. For one who accuses those who sin, if nothing else, does not let them go further. For no soul is so shameless and bold that, continually hearing people reproach it, it is not abashed and does not relax its great wickedness. For there is, there is a little shame even in the shameless; for God sowed shame in our nature. For since fear was not enough to order us, he also made many other roads to not sinning: for example, being accused by people, fearing the laws that are laid down, loving glory, seeking friendship. All these are roads to not sinning. For often what was not done for God's sake was done out of shame; and what was not done for God's sake was done for fear of people. For what is sought is this: first, to learn not to sin; then afterwards we shall achieve doing it for God's sake. Otherwise why does Paul urge those who are going to overcome their enemies not from the fear of God, but even from expecting vengeance? “For in doing this,” he says, “you will heap coals of fire on his head.” For in the meantime he wants this: that virtue be achieved. So, as I was saying, there is something of shame in us; for we have many natural good things that aid virtue. For example, all people are moved by nature to show mercy, and there is nothing else so good in our nature as this. Hence one might reasonably ask why this especially has been sown in our nature: I mean being broken by tears, being bent, being ready for mercy. No one is by nature idle, no one is by nature free of vainglory, no one is by nature above envy; but mercy lies in all by nature, even if one is cruel, even if one is harsh. And what wonder if we show this toward human beings? We pity even wild beasts; so abundantly is mercy set in us. Even if we see a lion's cub we feel something; much more over one of our own kind. “See how many maimed people,” we often say, knowing that this too is enough to lead us to mercy. Nothing so delights God as mercy. That is why the priests were anointed with oil, and the kings, and the prophets; for they had the oil as a symbol of God's love for humankind. Again, they learned that the ruler must have more mercy; it showed that the Spirit would come upon man because of mercy, since God shows mercy to human beings and loves them: “For you have mercy on all,” it says, “because you can do all things.” That is why they were anointed with oil. For he also instituted the priesthood out of mercy, and the kings were anointed with oil. And if someone praises a ruler, he will say nothing so fitting for him as mercy; for showing mercy is the mark of rule. Consider that the world was made for mercy's sake, and imitate the Master. “The mercy of a man is upon his neighbour, but the mercy of the Lord is upon all flesh.” How “upon all flesh”? Whether you speak of sinners or of the righteous, we all need God's mercy, we all enjoy it, even if it is Paul himself, even if Peter, even if John. And hear them saying it; for there is no need of our words. “For what did I do …” What then? After these things did he not need mercy? Hear what he says again: “I laboured more abundantly than all of them, yet not I, but the grace of God that is with me.” And about Epaphroditus he says: “For he was sick, near to death, but God had mercy on him, and not on him only, but on me also, so that I might not have sorrow upon sorrow.” And again: “We were burdened beyond our strength, so that we despaired even of life; but we had the sentence of death in ourselves, so that we might not trust in ourselves but in God, who rescued us from such deaths, and will rescue us.” And again: “I was rescued from the mouth of the lion, and the Lord will rescue me.” And everywhere we shall find him boasting of this, that he was saved by mercy.

Peter too was what he was through receiving mercy. For hear Christ saying to him, “Peter, Peter, Satan desired to sift you like wheat, and I prayed for you, that your faith may not fail.” And John was what he was by mercy, and in short all the apostles. For hear Christ hinting at this and saying, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.” For we all need God's mercy: “the mercy of God,” it says, “is upon all flesh.” And if these needed God's mercy, what could one say of the rest? For why, tell me, does he make the sun rise on the evil and the good? What if he held back rain for only one year, would he not destroy everyone? What if he made a plague of rain? What if he rained fire? What if he sent flies? But why do I speak of these? If he made darkness, as he once did, would he not destroy everyone? If he shook the earth, would not everyone perish? “What is man, that you are mindful of him?” It is timely to say it now: if he only threatens the earth, all have become one grave. “As a drop from a bucket,” it says, “so are the nations before him; they will be counted as spittle, as the turn of a scale.” As easy as it is for us to move the balance, so easy is it for him to destroy everything and make it again. Then does not one who has such power over us, and sees us sinning every day and does not punish, bear us up by mercy? Even the beasts exist and are kept by mercy: “Man and beast you will save, O Lord.” He looked upon the earth and filled it with living creatures. Why? For your sake. And why did he make you? Was it not out of goodness? Nothing is better than oil: it is the cause of light both there and here. “And your light shall rise early,” says the prophet, “if you show mercy to your neighbour”; and rightly. Just as this oil gives light to those at sea, so almsgiving there gives us a great and wonderful light. And Paul gave much thought to this mercy. For hear him saying at one time, “Only that we should remember the poor”; at another, “If it is fitting that I go too.” And everywhere, up and down, you see him concerned about this. And again, “And let our people also learn to devote themselves to good works”; and again, “These things are good and profitable to people.” And hear another saying, “Almsgiving rescues from death”; and another, “If you, Lord, should take away mercy, O Lord, who will stand?” and, “If you enter,” he says, “into judgment with your servant …”; and another, “A man is a great thing, and a merciful man is precious.” For this is a man: merciful; or rather, this is God: to show mercy. Do you see how great is the power of God's mercy? This made everything, this created the world, this made angels, through goodness alone. That is why he even threatened Gehenna, so that we might obtain the kingdom; and we obtain the kingdom through mercy. For why, tell me, did God, being alone, make so many beings? Was it not through goodness? Was it not through love for humankind? If you ask why this and that, everywhere you will find goodness. So let us show mercy to our neighbours, so that we may receive mercy ourselves. We gather this mercy not for them more than for ourselves, for that day. When the flame of the fire is fierce, this mercy quenches the fire and gives us light. So we shall be rescued from the fire of Gehenna. For how else will he have pity and show mercy? Mercy comes from love. Nothing so provokes God as being unmerciful. A man who owed ten thousand talents was brought to him, and moved with compassion he forgave him; and that man was owed a hundred denarii by his fellow servant, and he choked him; that is why the master handed him over to the torturers until he paid what was owed. Hearing these things, let us be merciful toward those who are in debt to us, in money, in sins; let no one bear a grudge, if he does not wish to wrong himself. For by not forgiving you do not grieve that man so much as you wrong yourself. For when you take action against him, God does not take action against him; but when you leave it, either he himself takes action, or he forgives your sins. And how, if you do not forgive your neighbour, do you seek the kingdom? So that we may not suffer this, let us forgive everyone, for it is ourselves we forgive; and let us pardon, so that God may pardon us our sins, and so we may obtain the good things to come, and so on.

“If, then, there is any encouragement in Christ, if any consolation of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any affections and mercies, fulfil my joy, that you be of the same mind, having the same love, being of one soul, minding the one thing; doing nothing from rivalry or vainglory, but in humility counting one another better than yourselves; each of you looking not to his own things, but each also to the things of others.” Nothing is better, nothing more tender, than a spiritual teacher: he surpasses the goodwill of any natural father. See, then, what an entreaty this blessed man makes to the Philippians for what was to their advantage. For what does he say, exhorting them to concord, the cause of all good things? See how earnestly, how vehemently, with how much sympathy: “If, then, there is any encouragement in Christ,” he says. That is, if you have any encouragement in Christ; as if he were saying, If you have any regard for me, if you have any care for me, if you ever received any kindness from me, do this. We use this manner of appeal when we make a request about something we set above everything; for unless we set it above everything, we would not wish to receive it as the return for everything, and would not say that everything is shown through it. Now we remind people of fleshly claims; as if a father said to his son, If you have any respect for your father, any memory of your upbringing, any affection for me, any regard for the honour you received from me, any goodwill, do not be an enemy to your brother; that is, in return for all those things, give me this repayment. But Paul does not do so; for he reminds them of nothing fleshly, but of things wholly spiritual. What he says is this: if you wish to give me any encouragement in my trials and any exhortation in Christ, if any consolation of love, if you wish to give any fellowship in the Spirit, if you have any affections and mercies, “fulfil my joy.” “If any affections and mercies.” Paul calls the concord of his disciples a mercy to himself, showing that the danger is extreme if they are not of one mind. If it is possible, he says, to obtain encouragement from you, if it is possible to obtain some consolation from your love, if it is possible to have fellowship with you in the Spirit, if it is possible to share with you in the Lord, if it is possible to receive mercy and pity from you, show the return for all these things in love: I have obtained all these things if you love one another. “Fulfil my joy.” See: so that the exhortation may not seem to be addressed to people still lacking, he did not say, “Make me”, but, “Fulfil”; that is, you have begun to plant in me; you have already given me a share in peace, but I desire to come to the end. What do you want, tell me? That we free you from dangers? That we supply you with something? None of these things, he says; but “that you be of the same mind, having the same love” in which you began, “being of one soul, minding the one thing.” Ah, how many times he says the same thing, from great affection! “That you be of the same mind,” he says, or rather, “that you mind the one thing”. For he made this plain as he went on by saying, “minding the one thing”, which is more than “the same”. “Having the same love”: that is, not merely about faith only, but also in everything else. For it is possible to be of the same mind and not have love. “Having the same love”: that is, to love and be loved alike. Do not enjoy much love yourself and give less to others, so as to be grasping in this too. Even if some do this, do not you put up with it. “Of one soul,” he says: that is, making all bodies your own with one soul; not in substance (for that is not possible), but in will and purpose, let everything be done as from one soul. What is “of one soul”? He made it plain by saying, “minding the one thing”: let the mind be one, as of one soul. “Nothing from rivalry.” Next he also tells the way, how this may come about: “Nothing from rivalry or vainglory,” he says. As I always say, this is the cause of all evils: from this come fights and quarrels, from this envy and contentiousness, from this the cooling of love, when we are in love with the glory that comes from people, when we are slaves of the honour of the many; for it is not possible to be a slave of glory and also a genuine slave of God. How, then, shall we flee vainglory, he says? For you have not yet told the way. Hear what follows: “But in humility counting one another better than yourselves.” Ah, how he has laid down a teaching full of all philosophy and the very fabric of our salvation! If you suppose, he says, that so-and-so is greater than you, and persuade yourself of this, or rather, if you not only say it but are fully convinced of it, you also give him honour; and if you give him honour, you will not be indignant when you see him honoured by another. So do not merely think that he is greater than you, but that he is better, which means great superiority; and you will not be surprised when you see him honoured, nor will you be pained; even if he insults you, you will bear it nobly, for you have considered him greater than you; even if he reviles you, you will yield; even if he does you harm, you bear it in silence. For when once the soul is fully convinced that he is greater, it does not fall into anger at whatever harm it suffers from him, nor into envy. For no one would envy those who are greatly superior; for he considers everything part of their superiority.

Here, then, he trains this one to be so disposed. But when that other too, who enjoys such honour from you, he says, is so disposed toward you, consider how it is a double wall of gentleness. For when you for your part hold him worthy of honour, and he does the same, nothing grievous will ever happen. For if this, done by one, is enough to put an end to all quarrelling, when it comes from both, who will break through this safety? Not even the devil himself; the fortification is many times stronger. For humility is the cause of all good things. And that you may learn it, hear the prophet saying: “If you had desired sacrifice, I would have given it; in burnt offerings you will not delight. A sacrifice to God is a broken spirit; a broken and humbled heart God will not despise.” He does not simply require humility, but the utmost humility. For just as among bodies what is broken would never rise up against what is solid, but whatever terrible things it may suffer, it will itself perish before it attacks another, so with the soul too: it will choose rather to suffer harm always and to die than to attack and retaliate. How long shall we be puffed up with a puffing worthy of laughter? For as we laugh at children when we see them stretching themselves up and being proud, or again when we see them lifting a stone and throwing it, so human arrogance is the offspring of a childish mind and an immature understanding. For “why is earth and ashes proud?” Do you think highly of yourself, man? Why? What is the gain, tell me? And from where do you think highly of yourself over those of your own kind? Do you not share the same nature? The same soul? Have you not been equally honoured by God? But you are wise? Then you ought to give thanks, not be puffed up; … for it denies the gift of the kindness. For the one who exalts himself exalts himself as having achieved it himself; and the one who thinks he has achieved it is ungrateful to the one who gave the honour. Do you have something good? Give thanks to the one who gave it. Hear what Joseph says, and what Daniel. When the king of Egypt sent for him from the prison and inquired before his whole army about a matter in which all the Egyptians, most skilled in such things, had been passed by, he was about to surpass them in everything and appear wiser than the astrologers, the soothsayers, the sorcerers, the magi, all the philosophers of that time, from captivity and slavery, a mere youth (for then the glory is greater: it is not the same to shine when one is known and against expectation, so that the unexpectedness made him more admirable); what, then, did he say when he came before Pharaoh? “Yes, I know”? Not so; but what? With no one refuting him, out of great gratitude, what does he say? “Is not the interpretation of them through God?” See: he at once glorified the Master; that is why he too was glorified. And this is no small thing in the way of glory; for it is far greater that God revealed it than that he achieved it himself. Besides, in this way he showed that what he said was trustworthy, and this is the greatest proof of intimacy with God. For nothing is so good as being made God's own. “For if he was justified by works, he has something to boast about,” he says, “but not before God.” For if one counted worthy of grace boasts in God, that he is loved, since he was forgiven, and the one who works also has something to boast about, but not before God as that one does (for this is a proof of our great weakness), how much more admirable would one be who has received wisdom from God? He glorified God, and was glorified by him: “For those who glorify me,” it says, “I will glorify.” Again his descendant, than whom none was wiser (“For are you wiser,” it says, “than Daniel?”), this Daniel, when all the wise men in Babylon, and again the astrologers, soothsayers, magi, sorcerers, the whole of philosophy, were not only refuted but about to be put to death (for their being put to death was proof that they had deceived before too), came forward and was about to resolve the question, did not himself preen himself either, but first ascribed everything to God and said: “But to me it was revealed, not by any wisdom that is in me beyond all men, O king.” And the king worshipped him, and said that offerings … Do you see a character free from pride? Hear the apostles too, saying at one time, “Why do you stare at us, as though by our own power …?” and at another, “We too are men of like nature with you.” If they so repelled honours that were given them, men doing works greater than Christ's because of Christ's humility and through his power (“For whoever believes in me,” he says, “will do greater works than those I do”), how are we not wretched, who … , let alone demons; who cannot benefit even one person, let alone the whole world, and yet think so highly of ourselves as not even the devil himself …

Nothing is so foreign to a Christian soul as arrogance; arrogance, I say, not boldness or courage, for those belong to it. For this is one thing and that another; just as humility is one thing, and servility, flattery, and fawning another. And, if you wish, I will give you examples of all these. For the opposites seem in a way to stand alongside them, like tares beside the wheat and thorns beside the rose. Children might easily be deceived, but those who are truly men, being experienced in spiritual husbandry, know how to separate what is truly good from what is evil. Come, then, let us set before you examples of them from the Scriptures. What is flattery and servility? … and slandered his own master; or rather, Ahithophel with Absalom. But David was not such, but humble. For flatterers are the deceitful; as, for example, when the magi say, “O king, live forever.” And with Paul in the Acts we shall find many such words, when he speaks with the Jews, not flattering but humble; for he knew how to speak boldly too; as when he says, “Brothers, though I had done nothing against the people or the customs of our fathers, I was delivered a prisoner from Jerusalem.” That these words came from humility, hear how he rebukes them in what follows, saying, “The Holy Spirit spoke well: You will hear with your ears and not understand, and seeing you will see and not perceive.” Have you seen courage? See also the courage of John the Baptist, which he used toward Herod, saying, “It is not lawful for you to have the wife of Philip your brother.” This is boldness, this is courage; but not that of Shimei, when he said, “Get out, you man of blood”; and yet he too spoke boldly. But this is not courage but rashness, insolence, and an unbridled tongue. … “… of his lord”; but it was rashness, not boldness. Elijah too spoke reproachfully, but it was boldness and courage: “It is not I who trouble the people, but you and your father's house.” Elijah again spoke boldly to a whole people, saying, “How long will you limp on both your legs?” This is boldness and courage, to take hold of people; this the prophets also did; but that other was of rashness. Do you want to see words of humility and freedom? Hear Paul saying, “But to me it is a very small thing that I should be examined by you or by any human day; I do not even examine myself. For I know nothing against myself; but I am not justified by this.” This belongs to a mind befitting a Christian. And again, “Does any of you, having a matter against another, dare to go to law before the unrighteous, and not before the saints?” Do you want to see the flattery of the foolish Jews? Hear them saying, “We have no king but Caesar.” Do you want to see humility? Hear Paul again saying, “For we do not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake.” Do you want to see both flattery and rashness? Rashness, that of Nabal; flattery, that of the Ziphites; and how the one reviled David and the others betrayed him in intention? Do you want to see David's philosophy, and not flattery? How he caught Saul and spared him? Do you want to see the flattery of those who killed Mephibosheth, whom David also put to death? To speak simply and, as in an outline, in summary: rashness is when someone grows angry and insults for no fitting reason, either avenging himself or being bold in some unjust way; but boldness and courage is when one dares dangers and deaths, and disregards friendships and enmities for the sake of what pleases God. Again, flattery and servility is when someone courts certain people for nothing that is right, but hunting after something of this life; humility is when someone does this for the sake of what pleases God, and, in order to accomplish something great and admirable, comes down from his own dignity. If we know these things, we are blessed if we do them. For knowing is not enough: “For not the hearers of the law,” he says, “but the doers of the law will be justified”; or rather, knowing even condemns, when it is without action and achievements. So that we may escape condemnation, let us pursue action, so that we may obtain the promised good things, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ.

“For let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not count it robbery to be equal with God, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men; and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even the death of the cross.” Our Lord Jesus Christ, urging his disciples toward great things, sets forth himself as an example, and the Father, and the prophets; as when he says, “For so they did to the prophets who were before you”; and again, “If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you”; and, “Learn from me, for I am gentle …”; and again, “Be merciful, as your Father in heaven.” This blessed Paul also does. For urging them to humility, he brought Christ into the midst; and not here only, but also when he discusses love for the poor he speaks somewhat like this: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that for our sake he became poor though he was rich.” For nothing so rouses the great and philosophic soul to the doing of good as learning that in this it is made like God. For what is equal to this as an incentive? Nothing. Knowing this, Paul, urging them to humility, first exhorted them and made an entreaty, then also spoke so as to shame them, saying, “which is a proof of destruction, but to you of salvation”; and next he sets this down: “For let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not count it robbery to be equal with God, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.” Attend. For as a sword sharpened on both sides, wherever it falls, even among ten thousand battle lines, easily cuts through them and destroys them, because it is sharp on every side and nothing can withstand its edge, so too are the words of the Spirit. For by these words he has struck down the followers of Arius of Alexandria, of Paul of Samosata, of Marcellus the Galatian, of Sabellius the Libyan, of Marcion of Pontus, of Valentinus, of Photinus and Sophronius, and in short all the heresies. Since, then, you are about to see such a spectacle, so many battle lines falling at one blow, be roused, so that the delight of the spectacle may not pass you by. For if in the races of chariots, in the contests of horses, nothing is so delightful as when one man alone drives past whole chariots with their charioteers standing in them, toward the turning post and the finish of the race, and great applause rises from every side and the shouting goes up to heaven, while he, as though winged by that joy and the applause, runs through the whole stadium with his horses, how much greater will the pleasure be here, when we cast down whole companies of heresies and devilish workshops, with their charioteers, by the grace of God, all at once and together? And, if you please, let us first set up the heresies themselves in order. Do you wish it to be the order of impiety, or that of time? Let us take that of time; for that of impiety [is hard to judge; let Sabellius the Libyan] be brought forward first. What, then, does this man say? That “Father” and “Son” and “Holy Spirit” are bare names applied to one person. Marcion of Pontus says that the God who made all things is not good, nor the Father of the good Christ, but another, a just one; and that the Son did not take flesh for us. Marcellus, Photinus, and Sophronius say that the Word is an energy, and that this energy dwelt in the one who was of the seed of David, not a subsistent substance. Arius confesses a Son, but in word only; for he says he is a creature, and much less than the Father. Others say that he did not have a soul. Have you seen the chariots standing? Watch, then, their falls too, how he strikes them all down together, with one blow and at once. How, then, does he strike them down? “For let this mind be in you,” he says, “which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not count it robbery to be equal with God.” Here Paul of Samosata fell, and Marcellus and Sabellius. For “being in the form of God,” he says. If in the form, how do you say, wretched man, that he began from Mary and did not exist before this? And how again that he was an energy? For “in the form of God,” he says, he “took the form of a servant.” For tell me, is the form of the servant the energy of a servant, or the nature of a servant? Surely you will say, the nature of a servant. Then the form of God too is the nature of God; not, then, an energy. See, Marcellus the Galatian too and …

See, Sabellius too. “He did not count it robbery,” he says, “to be equal with God.” But “equal” is not said of one person; for what is equal is equal to something. Do you see the subsistence of two persons, not bare names spoken without realities? Have you heard of the existence of the Only-begotten before the ages? These things, then, against those men. What shall we say next to Arius, who says that the Son is of another substance? Tell me, what is “he took the form of a servant”? He became man, he says. Then also “being in the form of God”, he was God; for “form” is used in both places. If the one is true, so is the other. The form of the servant is man by nature; then the form of God is also God by nature. And not this only, but he also bears witness to his equality, as John does too, and that he is in no way less than the Father: “He did not count it robbery,” he says, “to be equal with God.” But what is their clever argument? Surely, he says, it shows the opposite; for he said that “being in the form of God, he did not seize being equal with God”; and indeed, if he was God, how could he seize it? And how is this not unintelligible? For who would say that so-and-so, being a man, did not seize being a man? For how could one seize what he is? No, he says; but that being a lesser God, he did not seize being equal to the great and greater God. Is there such a thing as a small and a great God? And are you bringing Greek notions into the teachings of the Church? For with them there is a great and a small god; whether with you too, I do not know. For in the Scriptures you will find this nowhere, but “great” everywhere and “small” nowhere. For if he is small, how is he also God? If there is not a small man and a great one, but one nature, and whatever does not belong to this one nature is not a man, how could there be a small God and a great one, when the small one would not be of that nature? The one who is small is not God; for everywhere in Scripture he is called great: “Great is the Lord,” says David, “and greatly to be praised.” See, this is said of the Son too, for he everywhere calls him Lord. And again, “You are great, and do wonders; you alone are God”; and again, “Great is our Lord, and great is his strength, and of his greatness there is no end.” “But these things are said of the Father,” he says, “but the Son is small.” But you say this; Scripture says the opposite; as about the Father, so it speaks about the Son. For hear Paul saying, “Looking for the blessed hope and appearing of the glory of the great God.” But surely he did not speak of the appearing of the Father? And to refute you the more, he added, “according to the appearing of the great God.” Is it, then, said of the Father? Not at all: the continuation does not allow it, saying, “and the appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ.” See, the Son too is great. How, then, do you call him small, and the other great? Hear the prophet too, calling him “Angel of great counsel.” Is the Angel of great counsel not great? Is “the mighty God” not great but small? What, then, do these shameless and bold men say, that being a small God …? I repeat what they say many times, so that you may flee them the more: “Being a small God,” he says, “he did not seize being as the great one.” For what, tell me (but do not think the words are ours), if he was small according to them, and fell far short of the Father's power, how could he have been able to seize being equal with God? For one lesser by nature could not seize being in the greater nature; for example, a man could not seize being equal by nature to an angel; a horse could not seize, even if it wished, being equal by nature to a man. Besides this, I will say this too: what does Paul want to establish by this example? To lead the Philippians to humility, you will surely say. Why, then, tell me, would he have brought this forward? For no one who wishes to urge humility says this: “Be humble, and think less of yourself than your equals; for so-and-so, a slave, did not rise up against his master; imitate him.” But surely, someone might say, this is not humility but arrogance. Learn what humility is, you who have a devilish pride. What, then, is humility? To think lowly things; and the one who thinks lowly things is not the one who is lowly by necessity, but the one who humbles himself. For example (but attend): when someone who could think lofty things thinks humbly, he is humble; but when he thinks humbly because he cannot do otherwise, he is no longer humble. For example, if the emperor submits to the prefect, he is humble, because he came down from his height; but if the prefect does this, he is not being humble; how could he be? For he did not humble himself from a height. It is not possible to be humble otherwise than when one is in a position of power. For if one must be humbled by necessity, even against his will, the achievement no longer belongs to his mind or his will, but to necessity; and humility is so called because it is a lowering of one's mind.

Tell me, if someone who has no power to take more than his share remains in possession of his own, shall we praise him for justice? Not at all. Why? Because necessity has taken away the praise due to the will. Tell me, if someone who cannot become a tyrant and reign remains a private man, shall we praise him? Not at all. Then not here either. For praise, you most ignorant of all people, comes not from abstaining from these things, but from doing good. The one is free from blame, but does not yet share in praise; the other is worthy of commendation. See, then, how Christ too praises in this way, when he 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; I was thirsty and you gave me drink.” He did not say, “Because you did not take more than your share,” nor, “Because you did not seize” (for these are small things), but, “Because you saw me hungry and fed me.” And who would have praised either friends or enemies in this way? One would not even so praise Paul. Why do I say Paul? No one would have praised even an ordinary man as you praise Christ, for not taking a rule that did not belong to him. For to admire such things belongs to people who testify to great wickedness. How? Because in their case such a thing is praise, as with the thief if he no longer steals; but with good people it is not so: a man is not praiseworthy because he did not seize a rule and honour that did not belong to him. And what folly this is! Besides (but attend, I beg you, for the discourse is long), who would urge humility from these things? For the examples must be much greater than the subject to which we exhort; for no one would be urged on by things foreign to him. For example, Christ urged doing good to enemies: he brought forward a great example, that of the Father, “For he makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.” He urged forbearance: he brought forward himself as example: “Learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart”; and again, “If I, the Lord and Teacher, do these things, how much more you?” Do you see how the examples are not far removed? For they must not be so far removed; and we do the same. Yet here the example is not even near. How? Because if he is a servant, he is also lesser and subject to the greater. But this is not humility. For he ought to have done the opposite, to show someone greater obeying the lesser. But since he did not find this in God, I mean a greater and a lesser, he at least put forward equality. If the Son were lesser, it would not be enough to urge humility. Why? Because it is not humility for the lesser not to rise against the greater, not to seize the rule, to obey to the point of death. Besides, see too what he says after the example: “In humility … counting,” he says. For since you are one both in substance and in the honour that comes from God, the thing must from now on be a matter of your judgment. But with greater and lesser he would not have said “counting”, but, “Honour those who are above you,” as he says elsewhere, “Obey your leaders and submit to them.” There the subjection belongs to nature and to the thing itself; here it must come from our judgment. “In humility,” he says, “counting one another better than yourselves,” as Christ also did. So their arguments are overturned in this way. But we must now state our own, having first stated theirs in summary: that in exhorting to humility he would not have brought forward one who was lesser and obeyed the greater. For if he were exhorting slaves to obey masters, it would be fitting; but if free men to obey free men, why did he bring in the subjection of a slave to his master, of a lesser to a greater? For he did not say, “You who are lesser …”, but “counting one another better than yourselves”. And why did he not at least bring in the example of the wife: “As the wife obeys the husband, so you also obey”? If he did not bring in what is equal and free, because it was altogether a small kind of subjection, how much more would he not have brought in that of the slave? As I said before, no one praises anyone in this way for abstaining from evils, nor even mentions it at all; no one wishing to praise a chaste man will say this, that he did not commit adultery, but that he even abstained from his own wife. For nowhere do we set down abstinence from evils as praise; that is laughable. I said that the form of the servant is real and not less; then the form of God too is perfect and not less. Why did he not say, “having come to be in the form of God”, but “being”? This is equivalent to saying, “I am the one who is.” The form shows exact likeness, as a form is. It is not possible for one who is of another substance to have the form of another; for example, no man has the form of an angel, nor does an irrational animal have the form of a man. How, then, could the Son?

Then, in our case, since we are composite, the form is that of the body; but in the case of what is simple and uncompounded, it is surely that of the substance. And if you say that, because it is said without the article, it does not indicate the Father, in many places it is shown to be said of him without the article. And why do I say in many places? In this very passage: “He did not count it robbery,” he says, “to be equal with God”; and he did not say it with the article, though he was speaking of God the Father. I wish to add our own arguments too, but I fear that we may bury your minds. For the present remember what has been said for the overthrow of those men. For now let us cut out the thorns, and then we shall cast in the good seed, after the thorns have been cut out and the ground has had a little rest, so that, having put off all the wickedness from them, it may receive the divine seeds with great virtue. Let us give thanks to God for what has been said; let us ask him to grant that it be guarded and kept, so that both we and you may rejoice, and to open our mouth in what follows, so that we may again entrust our own arguments to you with the same eagerness. Let us pray to him also to grant us a life worthy of the faith, so that we may live for his glory, so that his name may not be blasphemed because of us. For “woe to you,” it says, “because of whom the name of God is blasphemed.” For if we who have a son (and yet what is more one's own than a son?), if we who have a son, when we are blasphemed because of him, do not receive him, how much more will God, having ungrateful servants who blaspheme and insult him, not turn away and hate them? And whom God hates and turns away from, who will receive? No one but the devil, the demons. And whom the demons take, what hope of salvation will he have? What consolation of life? As long as we are in the hand of God, no one can snatch us; for it is strong. But when we fall out of that hand and its help, we are lost; we lie ready for all to plunder, for all to trample, like a leaning wall and a tottering fence. For when the wall is weak, it will be easy for all to get over. Do not think that what I am about to say is said only of Jerusalem, but also of every human being. What was said of Jerusalem? “Let me sing to my beloved a song of my beloved concerning my vineyard. My beloved had a vineyard on a hill, in a fertile place. And I put a fence around it and a palisade, and planted a choice vine, and built a tower in the middle of it, and dug a wine vat in it; and I waited for it to produce grapes, but it produced thorns. And now, men of Judah and inhabitants of Jerusalem, judge between me and my vineyard. What more ought I to have done for my vineyard that I have not done for it? Because I waited for it to produce grapes, but it produced thorns. Now therefore I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard: I will take away its fence, and it shall be for plunder; and I will pull down its wall, and it shall be for trampling; and I will abandon my vineyard, and it shall not be pruned or dug; and thorns shall come up in it as on waste ground; and I will command the clouds not to rain rain upon it. For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the man of Judah his beloved young plant. I waited for him to do justice, but he did lawlessness, and not righteousness, but a cry.” This is said of each soul too. For when God, who loves humankind, has done everything he ought, and then it produces thorns instead of grapes, he takes away the fence and pulls down the wall, and we shall be for plunder. For hear how another prophet too said, lamenting: “Why have you pulled down its fence, so that all who pass by on the road pluck it? The boar out of the wood has ravaged it, and the wild solitary beast has fed on it.” There he speaks of the Mede and the Babylonian; but here one cannot say this; the boar and the solitary beast is the devil and all his power. He called him a solitary beast, wishing to show his wildness and uncleanness. For when Scripture wishes to show his rapacity, it says, “He goes about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour”; but when it wishes to show his venom, deadliness, and destructiveness, it calls him a serpent and a scorpion: “For tread,” it says, “on serpents and scorpions, and on all the power of the enemy”; but when it wishes to show his strength together with his venom, it calls him a dragon, as when it says, “This dragon, which you formed to sport with.” And everywhere it calls him dragon, crooked serpent, and asp. For the beast is many-coiled and varied and has great strength: it moves everything, troubles everything, turns everything upside down. But do not fear, do not be afraid; only be watchful, and he will be like a sparrow; for “tread,” it says, “on serpents and scorpions.” He has made him something for our feet to trample, if we wish. See, then, how ridiculous, how wretched it is, that the one we received power to trample we see standing over our head. How does this happen? Through us. If we wish, he is great; if we wish, he becomes small. If we take heed to ourselves and are with our King, he shrinks and will be no stronger than a little child in the fight against us; when we depart from him, he becomes great, having taken us … bereft of the great alliance. For he does not approach unless God permits. For if he did not dare to attack herds of swine without God's permission, [much less human beings]. God permits it either to discipline, or to exact punishment, or to make people more approved, as with Job. Do you see him not approaching, not even daring to come near, but afraid and trembling? And why do I speak of Job? Even when he sprang upon Judas he did not dare to take him wholly and enter into him until Christ cut him off from the holy band. Then he attacked from outside, but did not dare to enter within; but when he saw him cut off from the holy flock, he leapt on him more fiercely than any wolf, and did not leave him until he had destroyed him with a double death. These things were written for our admonition. For otherwise what gain is there in knowing that one of the twelve betrayed? What profit? What benefit? Great. For when we learn from where he came to this destructive counsel, we too shall guard against it, so as not to suffer the same. From where, then, did he come to this? From love of money; he was a thief. From this he became so drunk with the passion that he betrayed the Master of the world for thirty pieces of silver. What is worse than this madness? The one to whom nothing is equivalent or equal, before whom the nations are counted as nothing, him he betrayed for thirty pieces of silver. For the tyranny of the love of money is harsh, terrible at driving the soul out of its senses. No one becomes so deranged by drunkenness as by the love of money; not so much by madness and derangement as by the love of money. Why, tell me, do you betray him? You were obscure and unknown, and he called you and made you one of the twelve; he shared his teaching with you; he promised countless good things; he made you work miracles; you shared his table, his journeys, his conversation, his company, everything the others shared. Were these things not enough to restrain you? Why, then, did you betray him? What charge do you have against him, wretch? What kindness did you not receive? He knew your mind, and did not cease contributing his own part. Many times he said, “One of you will betray me”; many times he marked you and spared you; and knowing you to be such, he did not cast you out of the band; he still bore with you, he still honoured you, he still loved you as a genuine disciple and one of the twelve. Finally (what wickedness!) he took a towel and with those undefiled hands washed your defiled feet, and not even this restrained you. You stole the property of the poor; and so that you might not go on to a greater evil, he bore this too; but nothing persuaded you. Even if you had been a wild beast, even if a stone, ought you not to have been changed by the kindnesses shown you, by the miracles, by the teachings? But even when you were so brutish he called you, and through his wonderful works drew you on, you more senseless than stones; yet you became better through none of these things. Perhaps you marvel at the traitor's great folly. Then fear his wound: he became such from love of money, from the passion for wealth. Cut out the passion; for it gives birth to such diseases; it makes people impious and causes them to disregard God, even if we receive countless kindnesses. Cut it out, I beg you; it is no ordinary evil; it knows how to give birth to countless destructive deaths. We have seen his passion; let us fear lest we ourselves fall into the same. That is why it was written, so that we may not suffer the same; that is why all the evangelists recounted this, to bring us to our senses. Flee it from afar. Love of money is not only loving much, but loving money at all. The love of money is terrible, asking for more than one needs. Was it talents of gold that persuaded the traitor then? It was thirty pieces of silver: for thirty pieces of silver he betrayed the Master. Do you remember when I said before that greed is shown not in taking much, but much more in taking little? See how great an evil this man did for a little gold, or rather not for gold but for silver. It is not possible, it is not, for a lover of money ever to see the face of Christ; this is one of the impossible things. It is the root of evils. If someone who has one evil falls from that glory, where will the one who carries the root stand? One who is a slave of money cannot be a genuine slave of Christ. Christ himself declared that the thing is impossible: “You cannot serve God and mammon,” he says; and, “No one can serve two masters.” For they give opposite commands. Christ says, “Spare the poor”; mammon says, “Strip them even of what they have.” Christ says, “Empty out what you have”; mammon says, “Take even what they have.”

Have you seen the opposition, have you seen the war? Do you want us to show how one cannot easily obey both, but must despise one of them? Or is there no need of argument? How? Do we not see it in actions, Christ despised and mammon honoured? Do you see how even the words are burdensome? How much more the deeds? But in deeds they do not appear burdensome in the same way, since we are held by the passion. For now, when the soul is even a little free of the passion, as long as it stands here, it can judge rightly; but when it has gone over there and been seized by the fever and come into the pleasure of the thing, it no longer has a pure judgment, no longer an incorruptible tribunal. Christ says, “Unless one renounces all his possessions, he is not my disciple”; mammon says, “Take the bread from the hungry.” Christ says, “Clothe the naked”; this one says, “Strip the naked.” Christ says, “You shall not disregard those of your own flesh”; mammon says, “You shall not pity those of your own flesh; even if you see your mother, even if your father, despise them.” And why do I speak of father and mother? Destroy even your own soul. … And yet it is obeyed. Alas! That the one who commands cruel, harsh, and savage things is obeyed rather than the one who orders what is gentle and saving for us. That is why there is Gehenna, that is why fire, that is why a river of fire, that is why the undying worm. I know that many do not like hearing us say these things. Nor do I like saying them; for what need is there to say them? I would like always to tell you about the kingdom, the rest, “the water of rest, the place of green pasture”: “By the water of rest,” it says, “he has nourished me; in a place of green pasture, there he has made me dwell.” I would like to speak of the place “where pain and grief and sighing have fled away”; I would like to describe the delight of being with Christ, although it surpasses all speech and all understanding; but even so I would like to speak of these things as far as I can. But what am I to do? It is not possible to speak of a kingdom to one who has a fever and is in a bad state; for the time being one must speak of health. It is not possible to speak of honour to one liable to judgment; for the time being what is sought is to be freed from judgment, from punishment and penalty. If this does not happen, how will that come? That is why I say these things continually, so that we may quickly come to those. For God too threatened Gehenna for this reason, so that no one may fall into Gehenna, so that we may all obtain the kingdom. And we too mention Gehenna continually for this reason, to push you toward the kingdom, to soften your minds by fear and prepare you to do what is worthy of the kingdom. So do not be annoyed at the heaviness of the words; for the heaviness of the words makes our souls light from sins. Iron too is heavy, and the hammer is heavy; but it fashions useful vessels of gold and silver, and straightens what is bent; and if it were not heavy, it could not straighten the bent material. So too our heavy word can set the soul in order. Let us not, then, flee the heaviness of the words, nor the blows that come from them. The blow does not come down to break or crush the soul, but to set it right. We know how to strike, how to bring the blow, by the grace of God, so as not to shatter the vessel, but to smooth it, to straighten it, to make it useful to the Master, so as to present it gleaming with health and finely engraved on that day when the river of fire …, so as to present it not needing the burning there. For if we do not refine you with fire here, you must certainly be put to the fire there, and there is no other way: “For the day of the Lord is revealed in fire.” It is better for you to be burned by our words for a short time than forever by that flame. For that this will certainly happen is clear, and I have often given you unanswerable reasonings. One ought indeed to be persuaded by the Scriptures alone; but since some are contentiously disposed, we have also raised many points from reasoning. And nothing prevents us from stating the same ones now. What were they? God is just: we all admit this, Greeks and Jews and heretics and Christians. But here many who have sinned have departed unpunished, and many who did right have departed having suffered countless terrible things. If, then, God is just, where will he give these their good things, where will he give those their punishments, if there is no Gehenna, if there is no resurrection? Keep repeating this argument, then, to them and to yourselves, and it will not let you disbelieve the resurrection. And the one who does not disbelieve the resurrection will be eager to live with great attention, so as to obtain the eternal good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“For let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not count it robbery to be equal with God, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men; and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even the death of the cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven and things on earth and things under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” We have spoken about the heretics; now it is timely to state our own view as well. They say that “did not count it robbery” means “to seize”; we have shown that this is altogether stale and absurd, since no one urges humility on this basis, nor so admires God, nor even a man. What, then, does it mean, beloved? Attend now to what is said. Since many people think that when they are humble they are deprived of their own dignity, diminished and lowered, he, removing this fear and showing that one must not be so disposed, says of God that God, the only-begotten Son of the Father, who is in the form of God, who has nothing less than the Father, who is equal to him, “did not count it robbery to be equal with God”. Learn what this means. Whatever one has seized and taken contrary to what is fitting, he does not dare to lay aside, fearing that he may lose it, that he may fall from it, but holds it fast continually; but one who has some natural dignity is not afraid even to come down from that dignity, knowing that he will suffer no such thing. For example, to take one case, Absalom seized the tyranny, and thereafter did not dare to lay it aside. And we will come to another example too. If the examples cannot present the whole, do not be annoyed; for examples are like this: they leave the greater part for the mind to reckon. Someone has risen against a king and seized the kingdom: he does not dare to lay aside or conceal the thing; for if he once conceals it, he is lost at once. Or let us come to some other example: someone has seized something; he holds it continually, for if he lays it aside, he has lost it at once. And in general those who have something by robbery are afraid to lay it aside and conceal it, and not to be continually in the position they are in. But not those who do not have it by robbery; for example, man has the dignity of being rational. I find no example. For there is among us no natural rule; for none of the good things is natural to us, since all have been allotted to the nature of God. What, then, do we say? That the Son of God was not afraid to come down from his dignity; for he did not count the Godhead robbery; he did not fear that anyone might take away his nature or his dignity. That is why he even laid it aside, confident that he would take it up again; and he concealed it, considering that he was in no way diminished by this. That is why he did not say, “He did not seize,” but, “He did not count it robbery”: because he did not hold the rule by having seized it, but as natural, not given, but abiding and secure. That is why he does not refuse even to take the guise of his guardsmen. The tyrant is afraid to lay aside the purple in war, but the king does it with great security. Why? Because he does not hold the rule as robbery. So he did not refuse to lay it aside, as one who had seized it; but as one who held it by nature, and as something that could never depart, he concealed it. This being equal with God he did not hold as robbery, but as natural; that is why he emptied himself. Where are those who say that he submitted to necessity, that he was made subject? “He emptied himself,” he says; “he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death.” How did he empty himself? “Taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men, and being found in fashion as a man.” Here, with reference to “counting one another better than yourselves”, he said, “he emptied himself”. For if he was made subject, the thing would not even be humility, unless he chose it of himself, unless from himself. For if he did not know that this had to happen, he will be imperfect; if, knowing it, he waited for the time of the command, he will be one who did not know the time; or if he knew both that it had to happen and when it had to happen, why did he wait to be made subject? “To show the Father's superiority.” This does not show the Father's superiority, but his own lowliness. For is not the name of Father enough to show the Father's precedence? For apart from this, everything is the same for the Child. Besides, this honour cannot even pass from the Father to the Son. Apart from this, everything of the Father's is common to the Child.

Here those of Marcion's party seize upon the text and say, “See, he did not become man, but ‘being made in the likeness of man’.” But how is it possible to be made in the likeness of men? By putting on a shadow? Then this is a phantom, and not the likeness of a man; for the likeness of a man is another man. And what will you say to John, who says, “The Word became flesh”? But this blessed man himself also says elsewhere, “in the likeness of sinful flesh”. “And being found in fashion as a man.” See, he says, “in fashion” and “as a man”. But this, to be as a man and to be a man in fashion, is not truly being a man; for to be a man in fashion is not to be a man by nature. Do you see with what fairness I set out the arguments of the enemies? For this is a brilliant victory and one won with abundance to spare, when we do not hide what seems strong in their case; for to hide it is deception rather than victory. What, then, do they say (let us take it up again)? “In fashion” is not “by nature”; and “to be as a man”, and “to be in the likeness of a man”, this is not to be a man. Then also “taking the form of a servant” is not taking the form of a servant. So there is a conflict here; and why do you not resolve that one first? For just as you think these words are against us, so we say that one is against you. For he did not say, “as the form of a servant”, nor “in the likeness of the form of a servant”, nor “in the fashion of the form of a servant”, but, “he took the form of a servant”. What, then, is it? For there is a conflict. There is no conflict, God forbid; but what is their cold and ridiculous argument? “He took the form of a servant,” they say, “because he girded himself with the towel and washed the disciples' feet.” Is this the form of a servant? But this is not the form of a servant, but the work of a servant. It is one thing to do the work of a servant and another to take the form of a servant. For why did he not say, “He did the work of a servant,” which was clearer? Nowhere in Scripture is “form” said instead of “work”; for the difference is great: the one belongs to nature, the other to activity. And in ordinary usage too we nowhere take “form” to mean “work”. Besides, according to them he did not even do the work, nor did he gird himself. For if the thing was an appearance, it was not reality. If he did not have hands, how did he wash? If he did not have a waist, how did he gird himself with the towel? And what garments did he take? “For he took his garments,” it says. So just as the work is not found to have happened here, but it is only a deception, so neither did he wash the disciples' feet. For if the incorporeal nature did not appear, it was not in a body. Who, then, washed the disciples? What, again, shall we say to Paul of Samosata? And what did he say, someone asks? He says the same; but this is not emptying, that one who is of human nature and a mere man should wash his fellow servants. For what we said to the Arians must be said to these too; for they differ from one another in nothing but a little time; for both these and those say that the Son of God is a creature. What, then, shall we say to them? If a man washed men, he did not empty himself, he did not humble himself; if, being a man, he did not seize being equal with God, he is not praiseworthy. For God to become man is great humiliation, unspeakable, indescribable; but for one who is a man to do the things of men, what humiliation is that? And where is the form of God called a work of God? For if he was a mere man and is called the form of God because of his works, why do we not say the same of Peter? For he did greater works than he. Why do you not say of Paul too that he had the form of God? Why did Paul not bring in the example from himself, he who did countless servile things and refused nothing? For he says, “For we do not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake.” These things are laughable and nonsense. “He emptied himself,” he says. How did he empty himself, tell me, and what is the emptying, and what the humiliation? Is it because he worked miracles? But Paul did this, and Peter too; so this is not peculiar to the Son. What, then, is it that he says, “being made in the likeness of men”? He had many things of ours, and many he did not have: for example, he was not born of intercourse; for example, he did not commit sin. These belonged to him which belong to no human being. He was not only what appeared, but also God. For he appeared as a man, but he was not like the many, even if he was like them in the flesh. This, then, is what he says, that he was not a mere man; that is why he says, “in the likeness of men”. We are soul and body; but he is God and soul and body. That is why he says, “in the likeness”. For so that you may not, hearing that “he emptied himself”, think of a change and a falling away and some annihilation, remaining what he was, he says, he took what he was not; and having become flesh, he remained God the Word. So in this respect he was like a man; and that is why he says, “and in fashion”, not meaning that the nature changed or that there was some confusion, but that he came to be in fashion. For having said, “he took the form of a servant”, he was thereafter bold to say this too, since that stops everyone's mouth. Since also when he says, “in the likeness of sinful flesh”, he does not mean that he did not have flesh, but that that flesh did not sin, but was like the sinful. Like in what? In nature, not in wickedness; that is why it was like a sinful soul. As there, then, the “like” is because not everything is equal, so here too “likeness” is because not everything is equal: for example, not being born of intercourse, being without sin, not being a mere man. And well did he say, “as a man”; for he was not one of the many, but as one of the many. For God the Word did not change into a man, nor was his substance changed, but he appeared as a man, not deluding us with appearances, but training us to humility. When, then, he says, “as a man”, this is what he means; since elsewhere too he calls him a man, when he says, “One God, and one mediator, the man Christ Jesus.” We have spoken against these too; and to those who say that he did not take a soul it is necessary to say: if the form of God is perfect God, the form of the servant too is a perfect servant. Again the discourse turns to the Arians. “Being in the form of God,” he says, “he did not count it robbery to be equal with God.” Here, about the Godhead, nowhere “became”, nowhere “took”; but “he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men.” Here, about the humanity, “took” and “became”. This he became, this he took; that he was. Let us not, then, confuse, nor separate. One God, one Christ, the Son of God. And when I say “one”, I mean union, not confusion, not of this nature changing into that one, [but united with it]. “He humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even the death of the cross.” “See,” he says, “he became obedient; he was not equal to the one he obeyed.” This does not make him less at all, you ungrateful and senseless people; for we too often obey friends, and this makes us in no way less. As Son he obeyed the Father willingly, not falling into the rank of a servant, but by this very thing above all preserving the wonder of his genuine sonship, by his great honour toward the Father. He honoured the Father, not so that you might dishonour him, but so that you might admire him the more, so that from this too you might learn that he is a genuine Son, by honouring the Father most of all. No one has so honoured God. As great as was his height, so great a humiliation he underwent in counterpoise. As he is greater than all, and no one is equal to him, so too in honour toward the Father he surpassed all, not compelled, nor unwilling. And this too belongs to his virtue, which I do not know how to describe. Ah! It is a great thing even to become a servant, and quite unspeakable; but to undergo death too is again much more. But there is another thing greater and more wonderful than this. What is it? That not every death is alike. For this one seemed the most shameful of all, this one full of disgrace, this one accursed: “For cursed,” it says, “is everyone who hangs on a tree.” That is why the Jews too were eager to destroy him by this, so as to make him disgraceful, so that even if no one turned away from him because he was put to death, they would because he was put to death in this way. That is why two robbers were crucified with him, one on each side, so that he might share their reputation, and so that what was said might be fulfilled, “And he was numbered with the lawless.” But by so much the more the truth shines, by so much it becomes more radiant. For when there are so many contrivances by the enemies against his glory, and yet it shines through, the wonder is shown to be greater. For not only by killing him, but by killing him in this way, they thought to make him abominable and to show him more abominable than all; and they could do nothing. And both the robbers were so wicked (for afterwards one of them repented) that even on the cross they reviled him; and neither the consciousness of their own sins, nor being under punishment, nor suffering the same things themselves, restrained their madness. That is what the one said to the other, stopping his mouth: “Do you not even fear God, since we are under the same sentence?” Such was their wickedness. But nothing of his own glory was impaired by this. That is why he says, “Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name which is above every name.”

4. When blessed Paul lays hold of the flesh, he then speaks of all the lowly things without fear. For as long as he had not said that he took the form of a servant, but was discussing the Godhead, see how loftily he speaks (loftily, I mean, as far as he is able; for he does not speak according to his dignity, nor can he): “Being in the form of God,” he says, “he did not count it robbery to be equal with God.” But when he had said that he became man, he thereafter speaks of lowly things without fear, confident that it does no harm to the Godhead for lowly things to be said, since his flesh receives them. “Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven and things on earth and things under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Let us say to the heretics: if these things are said of one who was not made flesh, if of God the Word, how did he highly exalt him? As having given him something more? Then he was imperfect in this respect, and became perfect because of us. For if he had not done us good, he would not have obtained the honour. “And gave him,” he says, “a name.” See, according to you he did not even have a name. And how, if he received a debt, is he found to have received it by grace and gift, and “the name which is above every name”? And let us see what name … “That at the name of Jesus Christ,” he says, “every knee should bow.” They call the glory a name. This glory, then, is above all glory; and glory, in short, is to worship him. You are far from God's majesty, you who think you know God as he knows himself. From this it is clear how far you are from the knowledge of God; and it is clear from this too. Is this glory, tell me? Then before men came to be, before the angels, before the archangels, he was not in glory. For if this is the glory, the glory above all glory (for this is “above every name”), even if he was in glory, it was in a lesser one than this. Then for this reason he made the things that exist, so that he might come to be in glory, no longer out of goodness, but as needing glory from us. Do you see the folly? Do you see the impiety? If they said these things about the one made flesh, it would make sense; for God the Word allows these things to be said of the flesh; for it does not touch the nature, but the whole concerns the dispensation. But as it is, said about the Godhead, there is no pardon for those who … God made man immortal; even if I speak of the whole, I know what I say. What is “of things in heaven and things on earth and things under the earth”? That is, the whole world, angels and men and demons; or that both the righteous and sinners. “And every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” That is, that all should say this; and this is the glory of the Father. Do you see that everywhere, when the Son is glorified, the Father is glorified? So too when the Son is dishonoured, the Father is dishonoured. For if this is so with us, where the difference between fathers and sons is great, much more with God, where there is no difference, both honour and dishonour pass over to him. For if the world is subjected to the Son, he says, this is the glory of the Father. Then also when we say that he is perfect, lacking nothing, that he is not less than the Father, this is the glory of the Father. This too is a great proof of his power, goodness, and wisdom, that he begot such a Son, in no way less, either in goodness or in wisdom. When I say that he is wise as the Father and in no way less, this is a proof of the Father's great wisdom; when I say that he is powerful as the Father, this is a proof of his power; when I say that he is good as the Father, this is the greatest sign of his goodness, that he begot such a one, in nothing lacking or falling short of him; when I say that he is not less in substance but equal, nor of another substance, in this again I admire God, and his power and goodness and wisdom, that he has shown us another such as himself from himself, except for being Father. So whatever great things I say about the Son pass over to the Father. For if this small and slight thing (for it is small compared with God's glory that the world should worship him) becomes the glory of God, how much more all the rest.

Let us, then, believe to his glory, and live to his glory; for one is of no use without the other. So when we glorify him rightly but do not live rightly, then above all we insult him, because while enrolling ourselves under him as Master and Teacher we despise him and do not fear his fearful judgment seat. For it is no wonder that pagans live impurely, nor does it deserve such condemnation; but that Christians, who share in such great mysteries and enjoy such great glory, should live so impurely, this is the worst of all and unbearable. For tell me: he obeyed with the uttermost obedience; therefore he received the honour on high. He became a servant; therefore he is Master of all, both of angels and of all others. So let us too not think that we come down from our dignity when we humble ourselves. For then above all it is possible to be exalted, and rightly; then above all to be admired. For that the lofty man is lowly and the lowly man lofty, Christ's declaration that says so is enough; yet let us also examine the thing itself. What is it to be humbled? Is it not to be blamed, accused, and slandered? And what is it to be exalted? Is it not to be honoured, praised, glorified? Good. Let us see, then, how this comes about. Satan was an angel; he exalted himself. What then? Was he not humbled more than all? Does he not have the earth as his place? Is he not accused and slandered by all? Paul, being a man, humbled himself. What then? Is he not admired? Is he not praised? Is he not extolled? Is he not Christ's friend? Did he not do greater things than Christ did? Did he not many times command the devil like a captured slave? Did he not … him about like an executioner? Did he not make sport of him? Did he not hold his head crushed under his own feet? Did he not with great boldness pray that others too might do this? Why do I say these things? Absalom exalted himself; David humbled himself. Which, then, became lofty? Which glorious? For what is humbler than the words this blessed prophet spoke about Shimei, saying, “Let him curse; for the Lord has commanded him”? And let us examine it in actual cases, if you please. The tax collector humbled himself, although the thing was not even humility, but he spoke what he said with a sense of his due. The Pharisee exalted himself. But, if you please, leaving persons aside, let us examine the things. Let there be two men, both rich and sharing great honour, and in wisdom and power and the other worldly advantages; and let one of them seek honours from all, and if he does not receive them, be indignant, and exalt himself; and let the other despise the thing, be annoyed with no one about it, and push away honour when it is given. Which, then, is greater: the one who does not receive and seeks it, or the one who despises even those who give it? Clearly the latter; and rightly. For it is not possible to obtain glory otherwise than by fleeing glory. As long as we pursue it, it flees us; but when we flee it, it pursues us. If you wish to be glorious, do not desire glory; if you wish to be lofty, do not make yourself lofty. And besides, all honour the one who does not aim at honour, but spurn the one who seeks it; for the human race is somehow by nature contentious and contrary. So let us despise glory; for in this way we shall be able to become lowly, or rather lofty. Do not exalt yourself, so that you may be exalted by another. The one exalted by himself is not exalted by others; the one humbled by himself is not humbled by others. Arrogance is a great evil; it is better to be a fool than arrogant. For there the folly belongs only to the mind's derangement, but here it is worse; for it is folly with madness. The fool is an evil to himself, but the arrogant man is a plague to others too. This passion is born of senselessness. It is not possible to be high-minded without being a fool; and one who is full of folly is arrogant. Hear a wise man saying, “I saw a man who seemed to himself to be wise; a fool has more hope than he.” Do you see that I did not say without reason that the evil is worse than folly? “For a fool,” it says, “has more hope than he.” That is why Paul too said, “Do not be wise in your own estimation.” Tell me, among bodies, which do we say are healthy? Those that have great bulk and are full inside of much wind and water, or those that are restrained and have a reduced surface? Clearly the latter. So also with the soul: the one that is swollen has a disease worse than dropsy, but the one that is restrained is free of every passion. How many good things, then, does humility bear for us! What do you want? Forbearance, freedom from anger, kindness, sobriety, attentiveness? All these good things come from humility, and their opposites from arrogance. For such a man must be insolent, violent, irascible, bitter, sullen, a beast rather than a man. Are you strong, and do you think highly of yourself? Then for this reason you ought rather to be humble. Why do you think highly of yourself over a thing of no account? For a lion is bolder than you, a boar stronger, and you are not even a gnat compared with them; and robbers too, grave-robbers, gladiators, your own servants, and perhaps the more senseless, are stronger than you. Is this, then, worthy of praise? Will you not bury yourself for thinking highly of yourself over this? But you are handsome and beautiful? That is the boast of crows. You are not more beautiful than the peacock, neither for colour nor for feathers; in these the victory goes to the bird; it far outstrips you in plumage, in colour. The swan too is very beautiful, and many other birds; compared with them you will see yourself as nothing. And often worthless boys, unmarried girls, prostitutes, and effeminate men have had this boast. Is this, then, worth arrogance?

But are you rich? From where? Possessing what? Gold, silver, precious stones? This is the boast of robbers and murderers too, and of those who work the mines. The toil of the condemned, this is your boast! … one can see horses decked out; and among the Persians one might see even camels decked out; and among human beings, all those on the stage. Are you not ashamed, then, to think highly of yourself over things in which irrational animals share with you, and slaves, murderers, effeminate men, robbers, and grave-robbers? But you build splendid houses? And what of it? Many jackdaws live in more splendid ones and have more stately lodgings. Or do you not see those mad about money, who have built houses in fields and desert places, lodgings for jackdaws? But do you think highly of yourself because of your voice? You will never be able to sing more sweetly than the swan and the nightingale. Or of the intricacy of your craft? And what is wiser in this than the bee? What embroiderer, what painter, what geometer will be able to imitate its works? Or of the fineness of your clothing? But here spiders beat you. Or of the swiftness of your feet? Again the first place goes to the irrational animals, the hare and the gazelle, and all the beasts that do not fall behind in swiftness of foot. But you travel abroad? But not more than the birds; for they travel more easily: they need no provisions or pack animals; their wings are enough for everything. This is their ship, this their pack animal, this their carriage, this their wind, and anything one might name. But you see sharply? But not like the gazelle or the eagle. You hear sharply? But the ass more sharply. You have a keen sense of smell? But the dog does not let you get past him. You are good at providing for yourself? But you fall behind the ant. You wear gold? But not as the Indian ants do. As for health? The irrational animals are far better off than we, both in vigour and in abundance; they do not fear poverty. “For look,” it says, “at the birds of the sky: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns.” Then, someone says, God made the irrational animals better than us. Do you see how great is the thoughtlessness? Do you see the lack of examination? Do you see how much the examination of things gives us? The one who thought more of himself than all men was found humbler even than the irrational animals. But let us spare him; let us not punish him, nor, since he thought more of himself than our nature allows, bring him down to the rank of irrational animals and leave him there; but let us raise him up from there, not for his sake (for he deserves to suffer such things), but so that God's love for humankind and the honour he has shown us may be displayed. For there are, there are things in which the irrational animals have no share with us. What are these? Godliness, and the life of virtue. Here you cannot name fornicators, or effeminate men, or murderers; for we are set apart from them. What is this? We know God, we recognize his providence, we philosophize about immortality; here let the irrational animals give way. In these they have nothing in common with us. For though we fall short of them all, we rule them. In this the rule is greater, that though we fall short of them, we reign over them; so that you may learn that you are not the cause of this, but God who made you and gave you reason. We set nets and traps for them, and throw them in, and master them. Among us there is self-control, gentleness, meekness, contempt of money. But since you, being one of the arrogant, have none of these, it is natural that you think either more highly of yourself than of men, or lower even than the irrational animals. For such is arrogance and rashness: it either exalts itself beyond what is fitting, or is humbled again likewise, nowhere keeping due measure. In this respect we are equal to angels: a kingdom has been promised us, the company of the choir with Christ. A man [suffers ill] and does not give way; a man despises death, does not tremble, is not afraid, does not aim at having more. So all who are not such are worse than the irrational animals. For when you have the advantage in bodily things but do not have the advantages of the soul, how are you not worse than the irrational animals? Bring into the midst one of those more irrational in wickedness, of those who live in luxury and greed: the horse is more warlike than he, the boar stronger, the hare swifter, the peacock more beautiful, the swan more melodious, the elephant larger … From where, then, are you worthy to rule the irrational animals? From reason? But it is not so. For when you do not use it as you ought, again you are worse than they; for when, having reason, you are more irrational than they, it would have been better if you had not been made rational at all. For it is not the same to betray a rule one has received and not to have received it at the wrong time. A king who is worse even than his bodyguards would have done better not to put on the purple at all. So it is here too. Knowing, then, that without virtue we are worse even than the irrational animals, let us practise it, so that we may become men, or rather angels, and enjoy the promised good things, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“So then, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. For it is God who works in you both to will and to work for his good pleasure. Do all things without murmurings and disputings, that you may be blameless and harmless, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding forth the word of life, for a boast for me in the day of Christ.” 1. Exhortations must be made with praises; for so they also become acceptable, when we call those we exhort to their own zeal, as Paul did here too. And see how wisely: “So then, my beloved,” he says. He did not simply say, “Obey,” but first praised them and said, “as you have always obeyed”; that is, I urge you to imitate not others but yourselves. “Not as in my presence only, but much more in my absence.” Why “much more in my absence”? Then perhaps you seemed to do everything out of honour and respect for me; but now no longer. If, then, it is shown that you have now increased your effort, it is shown that then too it was not for my sake but for God's. What do you want, tell me? Not that you should listen to me, but that “with fear and trembling you work out your own salvation”; for it is not possible for one who lives without fear to show anything noble and admirable. And he did not simply say “fear”, but added “and trembling”, which is an intensification of fear, wishing to make them more attentive. Paul had this fear; that is why he said, “I fear lest perhaps, having preached to others, I myself should be disqualified.” For if it is not possible to succeed in worldly affairs without fear, how much more in spiritual ones? For tell me, who learned letters without fear? Who became skilled in a craft without fear? And if, where the devil does not lie in wait but only sloth troubles us, we needed so much fear to overcome merely natural sloth, where the war is so great and the hindrances so many, how is it possible ever to be saved without fear? And how might this fear come about? If we consider that God is present everywhere, that he hears everything, that he sees everything, not only what is done and said, but also everything in the hearts and in the depth of the mind; “for he is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” If we so dispose ourselves, we shall do nothing wicked, say nothing, think nothing. For tell me, if you stood continually near the ruler, would you not stand with fear? And how do you, standing before God, laugh and lounge, and are not afraid or shuddering? Do not despise his forbearance; for he is long-suffering to lead you to repentance. Do not bear to do anything without thinking that God is present in everything; for he is present. So whether you eat, or are about to sleep, or are angry, or seize something, or live luxuriously, or do anything whatever, think that God stands by, and you will never fall into laughter, never be kindled to anger. If you have this thought continually, you will continually be in fear and trembling, as standing near the King. The builder, even if he is experienced, even if very skilled, stands with fear and trembling, fearing that he may fall from the building. You too have believed, have done many good things, have gone up to a height: hold yourself in safety, and stand fearing, and keep your eye awake, so that you do not fall from there; for many are the spiritual forces of wickedness that wish to bring you down. “Serve the Lord,” it says, “with fear, and rejoice in him with trembling.” And how is there rejoicing with trembling? This is in fact the only rejoicing. For when we do some good thing, and such as is likely of those who do something with trembling, then only do we rejoice. “With fear and trembling” your own salvation … “Work out”: that is, with great zeal, with great care. But since he said, “with fear and trembling,” and made them anxious, see how he consoles the anxiety. For what does he say? “It is God who works in you.” Do not be afraid because I said “with fear and trembling”; I did not say it so that you might despair, so that you might think virtue something hard to attain, but so that you might pay attention, so that you might not let yourself go. If this is so, God will do everything; take courage. “For it is God who works in you.” If, then, he works, we must offer our will … ordered, not dissipated. “For it is God who works in you both to will and to work.” If he works the willing in us, how does he exhort us? For if he also makes the willing, it is in vain that you say to us, “you obeyed”; for we do not obey. In vain do you say, “in fear and in trembling”; for the whole is God's. I did not say for this reason, “For it is he who works both the willing and the working,” but wishing to relieve your anxiety. If you will, then he will work the willing. Do not be afraid, and do not toil; he gives us both the eagerness and the doing. For when we will, he then increases our willing. For example, I wish to do some good thing; he worked the good itself, and through it he worked the willing too. Or he says this out of great reverence, as when he says that our achievements are gifts.

So just as, when he calls them gifts, he does not drive us out of our free will but leaves free will in us, so when he says that he works the willing in us, he does not take away our free will, but shows that from doing right we receive great eagerness for willing. For just as doing comes from doing, so not doing comes from not doing. Have you given alms? You are urged on the more to give. Have you not given? You have grown idler. Have you been self-controlled for one day? You have an incentive for the second too. … “The ungodly,” it says, “when he comes into the depth of evils, despises.” Just as, then, when he comes into the depth of evils he despises, so when he comes into the depth of good things he is zealous. For as the one, having despaired, becomes more slothful, so the other, considering the multitude of good things, becomes more zealous, fearing lest he lose everything. “For his good pleasure,” he says: that is, because of love, because of his satisfaction, so that what pleases him may come about, so that things may be according to his will. Here he shows, and gives them courage, that he certainly works. For he wishes us to live as he wills. And if he wills, and works to this end himself, he will certainly work this too; for he wishes us to live rightly. Do you see how he does not take away free will? “Do all these things,” he says, “without murmurings and disputings.” The devil, when he cannot draw us away from doing good, contrives in another way to empty our reward. For he brings in either vainglory or arrogance, or, if not this, murmuring, or, if none of these, doubting. See, then, how Paul clears them away. He said what he said about humility, removing arrogance; he spoke about vainglory, pulling down the conceit; and elsewhere, “not in my presence only”; and here he speaks of murmuring and doubting. And why, when he removed this passion among the Corinthians, did he mention the Israelites, but here said nothing of the sort, but simply gave the command? Because there it had already happened; so it needed a stronger blow and a greater rebuke; but here he exhorts that it may not happen. … it was superfluous to secure them more sharply; for when leading them to humility too he did not set beside it the example in the Gospel, where the boasters were punished, but brought in the exhortation from God, and speaks to them as free men, as genuine children, not as servants. For in good things the grateful and noble man is drawn on by those who do right, but the ungrateful man not by these but by those who are punished; the one by honour, the other by punishment. That is why, writing to the Hebrews too, he spoke, bringing Esau into the midst, who sold his birthright for a single meal; and again, “If he shrinks back, my soul has no pleasure in him.” And among the Corinthians many had committed sexual immorality; that is why he said, “Lest when I come again my God humble me before you, and I mourn many of those who sinned before and did not repent of the uncleanness and sexual immorality and licentiousness which they practised.” “That you may become blameless and harmless,” he says: that is, irreproachable, sincere; for murmuring brings no small stain. And what is “without disputings”? “Is it good? Is it not good?” Do not dispute, he says, even if there is toil, even if there is labour, even if anything. He did not say, “so that you may not be punished” (for punishment is laid up for the thing, and he showed this in the Letter to the Corinthians); but here he said nothing of the sort, but, “that you may become,” he says, “blameless and harmless, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding forth the word of life, for a boast for me in the day of Christ.” Do you see that he trains them not to murmur? So murmuring belongs to ungrateful and senseless slaves. For what son, tell me, working in his father's affairs and toiling for himself, murmurs? Consider, he says, that you toil for yourself, that you gather for yourself. Murmuring belongs to those others, when they toil for others, when they labour for others. But the one gathering for himself, why does he murmur? Because his wealth does not increase? But that is not so. The one who acts willingly and not by necessity, why does he murmur? It is better to do nothing than to do it with murmuring; for even what is done is lost. Or do you not see that in our own houses too we always say this: “It is better that these things not be done than with murmuring”? And often we have chosen to be deprived of service rather than put up with a servant who murmurs. For murmuring is terrible, terrible; it is close to blasphemy. Otherwise why did those men pay so great a penalty? The thing is ingratitude. The one who murmurs is ungrateful to God; and the one ungrateful to God is a blasphemer. Especially since at that time trials were continual and dangers came one upon another; there was no rest, no relief; countless terrible things flowed in from every side; but now there is deep peace, now ease.

3. Why, then, do you murmur? Because you are poor? But think of Job. Because you are sick? What then, if, conscious of so many good things and achievements as that saint, you had fallen sick? Think of him again: for a long time he went on teeming with worms, sitting on the dunghill, and scraping off the pus. “For when much time had passed,” it says, “his wife said to him, ‘How long will you hold out, saying, I will wait a little longer? Say some word against the Lord, and die.’” But your child has died? What then, if you had lost them all, and by an evil death, as he did? For you know, you know that it brings great consolation to close the eyes, to touch the beard, to hear the last words. But the righteous man was granted none of these, but all were buried together. And why do I say these things? If you yourself had been commanded to slaughter your son and sacrifice him and see him burned, as that blessed patriarch was, what would you have done? And what was he like, building the altar, laying on the wood, binding the boy? But some reproach you? What would you be, then, if you heard these things from friends who came to console you? For now we have many sins, and are reproached with reason; but then that true man, righteous, God-fearing, abstaining from every evil thing, heard the opposite of these from his friends. And what, tell me, if your wife reproached you, saying, “I am a wanderer and a hired servant, going about from place to place and from house to house, waiting for the sun, when it will set, so that I may rest from the pains that hold me”? Why do you say these things, foolish woman? Is your husband the cause of these things for you? Not he, but the devil. “Say some word against the Lord,” she says, “and die.” Then, if the man lying there speaks and dies, will you be better off? There is no disease worse than that one, even if you say so ten thousand times. It was such that he could not even be in a house and under a roof; it was such that everyone despaired. For he would not have sat outside the city if his disease had not been incurable, being worse off than those held by elephantiasis. For they enter houses and live together with one another; but he spent the nights in the open on the dunghill, naked, naked; he could not even put on a garment. How could he? Perhaps pain would have been added to his pains. His flesh produced pus and worms, and that continually. Do you see how each of us is numbed hearing these things? And if these things are unbearable to hear, are they bearable to see? And if unbearable to see, much more to suffer. Yet the righteous man suffered, and not for two or three days, but for a long time, and he did not sin, not even with his lips. What disease of this kind can you tell me, having many pains? For was this not worse than being maimed? “For I see my food as a stench,” he says. And not this only, but what is rest to us, night and sleep, brought him no consolation, but was harder than any torture. And hear him saying, “Why do you terrify me with dreams and frighten me with visions? If it is morning, I say, When will it be evening?” And suffering such things he did not murmur. And this was not the only terrible thing, but also the evil opinion of the many: for as one who had committed countless evils … those whose fathers I did not count worthy of my sheep-dogs. How many deaths is this not worse than? But though struck on every side by so great a surge, and though a harsh storm, cloud, and squall rose up on every side, he sat as in a calm amid so great and so harsh a surge, and did not murmur. And this before grace, before anything had been said about resurrection, before Gehenna and punishment and penalty. But we, who hear prophets and apostles and evangelists, and see countless examples, and have learned the teachings about resurrection, are still distressed, though no one could say that so many things have befallen him. For even if someone lost money, he did not lose so many sons and daughters; and if he lost them, perhaps it was because he had sinned; but he lost them suddenly, in the midst of the sacrifices, in the midst of the service of God. And if someone lost children and money together in such numbers, which is impossible, he was not also covered with sores continually and scraping off pus; and if this too, he did not also have people trampling on him and reproaching him, which is wont to sting us more than all our misfortunes. For if, having people who encourage us in misfortunes and console us and hold out good hopes to us, we are so distressed, consider what it was to have people reproaching. If “I waited for one to grieve with me, and there was none, and for comforters, and I found none” is terrible and unbearable, how great an evil is it to find, instead of comforters, reproachers? “Miserable comforters are you all,” he says.

If we turned these things over continually, if we reckoned them up, nothing of the present would grieve us, as we looked to that athlete, to that adamantine soul, to that unbreakable and brazen mind; for as though he wore a body of bronze or stone, he bore everything nobly and steadfastly. Considering these things, let us do everything without murmurings and disputings. You do something good, and murmur? Why? Is necessity laid on you? I know, he says, that many around you compel you to murmur (for he hinted at this by saying, “in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation”); but this is the wonder, that even when provoked one suffers nothing of the kind. For the stars too shine at night, appear in darkness, and are in no way harmed in their own beauty, but even appear brighter; but when there is light they do not appear so. So you too, when you remain straight among the crooked, shine the more; this is the wonder, to become blameless. For so that they might not say this, he forestalled it and set it down himself. What is “holding forth the word of life”? That is, being about to live, being among those who are saved. See how he at once sets down the prizes. The lights, he says, hold forth the word of light; you, the word of life. What is “the word of life”? Having the seed of life, that is, having pledges of life, holding life itself, that is, having the seed of life in you; this is what he means by “life”. So all the others are dead; for by saying this he showed it so; otherwise the others too would have held forth the word of life. “For a boast for me,” he says. What is this? I too share, he says, in your good things. So great is your virtue that it not only saves you but also makes me glorious. What boast? … us; that is why he says, “in the day of Christ”: “that I did not run in vain,” he says, “nor labour in vain”; but I can always boast, he says, that I did not run for nothing. “But even if I am poured out as a libation.” He did not say, “But even if I die,” just as he did not when writing to Timothy either; for there too he used the same expression, saying, “For I am already being poured out as a libation”; consoling them about his own end and training them to bear gladly death for Christ. I become, he says, as a libation and a sacrifice. O blessed soul! He calls their bringing to God a sacrifice. So it is much better to offer a soul than to offer oxen. If, then, in addition to this offering I give myself too, he says, as a libation, I rejoice, he says, at my death; for he hints at this by saying, “upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and rejoice with you all; and in the same way you also rejoice and rejoice with me.” Why do you rejoice with them? Do you see how he shows that they ought to rejoice? I rejoice, he says, that I become a libation; and I rejoice with you, because I have offered a sacrifice. “And in the same way you also rejoice and rejoice with me,” he says, as I rejoice at my death. So the end of the righteous is not worthy of tears, but of joy. If they themselves rejoice, we must rejoice with them; for it is absurd for us to weep while they rejoice. “But we miss the companionship,” someone says. These are excuses, a pretext. See, then, what he commands: “Rejoice with me, and rejoice”; and do you miss the companionship? If you were going to remain here yourself, you would say so with reason; but if a little later you will overtake the one who departed, what companionship do you miss? For one misses companionship when someone is separated forever; but if he will travel the same road as you, what companionship do you miss? Why do we not weep for those who are abroad? Do we not, after weeping a little, stop at once after the first or second day? If you miss the companionship, weep only so much as to show your nature; but after that rejoice, as Paul says: I suffer nothing terrible, but even rejoice in departing to Christ: “you also rejoice, rejoice with me,” he says. Let us rejoice, then, we too, when we see a righteous man die, or rather even when we see one of those despaired of. For the one departs to receive the reward of his labours, the other has cut short something of his sins. “But perhaps,” someone says, “he would have changed if he had lived.” But God would not have taken him if he was going to change. For he who arranges everything for our salvation, why would he not have let him remain, if he was going to please him? If he leaves those who do not change, much more those who change. So let lamentation be cut off on every side, let mourning be ended on every side; let us give thanks to God for everything; let us become pleasing to him in everything, so that we may obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“But I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you soon, so that I too may be cheered by knowing how you are. For I have no one like-minded, who will genuinely care for your affairs. For all seek their own, not the things of Christ Jesus.” He said that what had happened to him had turned out for the advance of the gospel, “so that my bonds have become manifest in the whole praetorium”; he said, “Even if I am poured out as a libation upon the sacrifice and service of your faith”; by these things he strengthened them. Perhaps they suspected that the former things were said for the sake of consolation. What, then, does he do, and how does he dispel the suspicion? I am sending Timothy to you, he says; for they longed to hear everything about him. And why did he not say, “so that you may know how things are with me”, but, “so that I may know how you are”? Because Epaphroditus was going to report his affairs before Timothy; that is why he says further on, “to send him back to you”. But your affairs, he says, I wish to learn. For he had probably spent a long time with Paul because of his bodily sickness. So, he says, I wish, as I must, to learn how things are with you. See how he refers everything to Christ, even the sending of Timothy, saying, “I hope in the Lord Jesus”, that is, I am confident that God will make this easy for me, “so that I too may be cheered by knowing how you are”. As I revived you, he says, when you heard what you prayed for concerning me, that the gospel advanced, that those men were put to shame, that by the very things by which they thought to harm me they gladdened me, so I wish to learn your affairs too, “so that I too may be cheered by knowing how you are”. He shows here that they ought to rejoice at his bonds and follow them, for they gave him great pleasure; for “so that I too may be cheered” means “as you were”. Ah, how great a longing he had for Macedonia! To the Thessalonians too he bears the same witness, as when he says, “But we, being bereaved of you for a short season.” And here: “I hope,” he says, “to send Timothy, so that I may know how you are”; which belonged to the greatest care. For when he himself could not come, he sent his disciples, unable to bear being ignorant of their affairs even for a short time; for he did not, of course, learn everything by the Spirit. And this too happened fittingly. For if the disciples had been persuaded of this, they would have become shameless; but as it was, expecting to escape notice, they reformed more easily. And by this especially he turned them, by saying, “so that I too may be cheered”, and made them more zealous, so that Timothy, when he came, might not find things otherwise and report it to him. He himself also clearly used this method, putting off his coming, so that the Corinthians might change. That is why he wrote, “To spare you I did not come again to Corinth.” For love is shown not only by reporting one's own affairs, but also by seeking to learn theirs; for this belongs to a soul that is anxious and careful and always in suspense. At the same time he also honours them by sending Timothy. What are you saying? You are sending Timothy? Why? Yes, he says: “For I have no one like-minded”, that is, of those who care as I do, “who will genuinely care for your affairs.” Did he, then, have no one with him who was like-minded? No one. What does this mean? Instead of “caring for you and concerned for you as I am”. No one would readily choose, he says, to make so long a journey for this reason. The one who loves you as I do is Timothy. For it was possible to send others too, but no one is such. So this is what belongs to one like-minded: to love those taught by him as he does. “Who will genuinely care for your affairs,” he says; that is, as a father. “For all seek their own, not the things of Jesus Christ”: that is, their own rest and being in safety. This he says when writing to Timothy too. Why does he lament these things? To teach us, the hearers, not to fall into the same; to teach the hearers not to seek ease. For the one who seeks ease does not seek the things of Christ but his own; for one must be prepared for every toil, for every hardship. “But you know his proven worth,” he says, “that as a child with a father he served with me in the gospel.” And that I do not speak idly, he says, you yourselves know, that as a child with a father he served with me in the gospel. He commends Timothy here, rightly, so that he may enjoy great honour from them. He does this too when writing to the Corinthians, saying, “Let no one despise him; for he does the work of the Lord, as I also do”; caring not for him but for those who receive him, so that they may carry off a great reward. “Him, then, I hope to send at once, as soon as I see how it will go with me.” That is, when I see where I stand and what end my affairs will have. “But I trust in the Lord that I myself also shall come to you soon.” I am not sending him because I shall not come, but “so that I may be cheered by knowing how you are”, so that I may not be in ignorance even in the meantime. “But I trust in the Lord,” he says; that is, if God wills.

See how he makes everything depend on God, and says nothing from his own mind. “But I thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother and fellow worker and fellow soldier.” And him too he sends with the same praises as Timothy. For he commended the one on two grounds: that he loved them, saying, “who will genuinely care for your affairs”, and that he had proved himself in the gospel; and this one he praised again on the same grounds, for the same reason as the other. How? For to say “brother and fellow worker”, and not stop only there but add “fellow soldier”, shows his great partnership in the dangers, and bears him the same witness as he bears himself. And “fellow soldier” is more than “fellow worker”. For perhaps someone worked with him in simple matters, but no longer in war and dangers; but by saying “fellow soldier” he showed this too. “And your messenger,” he says, “and minister to my need.” That is, I give you back what is yours. Either we send you your own, or the one who teaches you. Again he adds much about his love, saying, “Since he was longing for you all, and was distressed because you had heard that he was sick. For indeed he was sick, near to death; but God had mercy on him, and not on him only, but on me also, so that I might not have sorrow upon sorrow.” Here he also establishes something else, showing that Epaphroditus himself knows very well that he is loved by you. And this is no small thing for drawing out love. How? … he freed you from the grief you had because of his sickness; yet not even so was he free of grief, but was pained because, though he had recovered, he had not seen you. Here he also establishes other things, making his defence that he is sending to them after an interval. Not from sloth, he says; but Timothy I kept back because I had no one else (“for I have no one like-minded,” he says), and Epaphroditus because of his sickness. Then, showing that it was long and took much time, he says, “For indeed he was sick, near to death.” Do you see how much zeal Paul shows to cut out of the disciples' minds every pretext for sloth and negligence, and not to be suspected of not having come out of contempt for them? For nothing can draw the disciple on so much as being persuaded both that the one who presides over him cares for him and that he is distressed for him, which belongs to surpassing love. “You heard,” he says, “that he was sick; for indeed he was sick, near to death.” And that I am not making excuses, hear: “But God had mercy on him.” What do you say, heretic? Here he says that it is God's mercy to hold back one who was about to depart and to bring him back again. Yet if the world is evil, it is not mercy to leave someone in what is evil. But to the heretic it is easy to reply; what shall we say to the Christian? For he too will perhaps raise the question and say: “If to depart and be with Christ is very much better, why does he say he received mercy?” I in turn will ask: why does the same man say that to remain is more necessary for your sake? For just as that was necessary for him, so too for this man, who was going to depart to God with more wealth and greater boldness. For that would happen later, even if not now; but gaining souls is no longer possible once we have departed there. Paul speaks much according to the common habit of his hearers, and does not philosophize everywhere; for his words were addressed to worldly people who still feared death. Then he shows in what esteem Epaphroditus is with him, and by this too makes him respected, if indeed he says that his recovery was so useful to himself that he too received mercy through him. Besides, even apart from this, the present life is a good thing; for if it were not good, why does he set untimely deaths in the rank of punishment? As when he says, “That is why many among you are weak and sick, and a number sleep.” For the life to come is better not than something evil, since this life is not evil, but better than something good. “So that I might not have sorrow upon sorrow,” he says: the sorrow from his death upon the sorrow he had because of his sickness. By these things he shows how much he honours Epaphroditus. “I have sent him, then, the more eagerly.” What is “the more eagerly”? That is, without postponement, without delay, with great speed, having told him to set everything aside and come to you, so that he might be freed of his distress. For we do not rejoice so much when we hear that those we long for are in health as when we see them, especially when the thing has turned out beyond hope, which [is what happened here]. “I have sent him,” he says, “so that when you see him you may rejoice, and I may be less sorrowful.” How less sorrowful? Because if you rejoice, I too rejoice, and he rejoices at such pleasure, and I shall be less sorrowful. And he did not say, “without sorrow”, but “less sorrowful”, showing that his soul was never free of sorrow. For the one who says, “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?”, when was he free of sorrow? As if he said: I am laying aside this despondency. “Receive him, then, in the Lord with all joy.” “In the Lord”, that is, spiritually; that is, with great zeal; or rather, “in the Lord” means, as God wills. Receive him in a way worthy of the saints, and as it is fitting to receive the saints, “with all joy,” he says.

He does all these things for their own sake, not for the sake of those being sent. For the gain is greater for the one who does good than for the one who receives it. “And hold such men in honour.” That is, receive him in a way worthy of the saints. “Because for the work of Christ he came near to death, risking his life, to supply what was lacking in your service toward me.” This man had been sent by the city of the Philippians in common to minister to Paul, or perhaps he had also come bringing him something. For that he also brought money he shows near the end, saying, “having received from Epaphroditus the things from you.” It is likely, then, that when he arrived at the city of the Romans he found Paul in such great and severe danger that not even those close to him could do this safely, but they too approached at their peril; as usually happens especially in great dangers, and when someone who has offended an emperor is thrown into prison and kept under heavy guard: then even his servants' access is walled off, as Paul was probably suffering then; and that Epaphroditus, being a noble man, despised every danger so as to approach and serve and do everything that was needed. So he sets down two things by which he makes him respected: one, that he was in danger of death, he says, for my sake; second, that he suffered these things wearing the person of the city, so that in that danger the reward should be reckoned to those who sent him, as if the city had sent an ambassador. So to receive him with attentiveness and to give thanks for what has happened is rather to share in his daring. And he did not say “for my sake”, but makes it more credible by saying, “for the work of God”. For he does not do it for my sake, but for God he came near to death. What then? If he did not die, it was because God so arranged it; but he himself risked his life and gave himself up, so that, whatever he had to suffer, he would not withdraw from serving me. And if he gave himself up to death to serve Paul, much more would he have suffered this for the preaching; or rather this too was for the preaching, to die for him. For not only for refusing to sacrifice can one bind on the crown of martyrdom, but such occasions also make a martyrdom; and, if one must say something wonderful, such occasions much more than those. For the one who dares death for the lesser thing, much more for the greater. So we too, when we see saints in dangers, should risk ourselves. For it is not possible ever to do anything noble without daring; but the one who provides for safety here must fall from the safety to come. “To supply,” he says, “what was lacking in your service toward me.” What is this? The city was not present, but it served me with every service through him, by sending him. So he filled up the lack in your service, so that on this account too he would deserve to enjoy great honour, because what all ought to have done, he did on your behalf. And he shows that service from those in safety to those in danger is a primary duty; for “what was lacking in the service” is said so as in relation to that. Do you see an apostolic mind? This does not come from arrogance, but from great care. For so that they may not be elated but be modest, he calls the thing not even something great, but a service and a lack. So let us not think highly of ourselves when we provide for the saints, nor think that we do them a favour in this; for the thing is owed to the saints by us, and we do them no favour. For just as taxes are owed to those who stand in the camp and fight by those who are at peace and do not fight (for these stand on their behalf), so it is here. For if Paul had not been teaching, who would have thrown him into prison then? So one must serve the saints. For how is it not absurd to bring everything to one serving as a soldier for the earthly king, both clothing and food, not only according to need but in abundance, but not to supply even the necessary needs to one serving as a soldier for the heavenly King, and drawn up against far harsher foes (“For our struggle,” he says, “is not against blood and flesh”)? What ingratitude, what thanklessness, what meanness is this!

But, as it seems, the fear of men has more power with us than Gehenna and the punishments to come. For this reason everything is turned upside down: civic affairs are carried out every day with great diligence, and cannot be neglected; but of spiritual things no one anywhere takes any account. What is demanded by compulsion and torture, as from slaves and the unwilling, is paid with great readiness; but what is asked of the willing, as of free men, is all neglected. I do not say this against everyone, but against those who neglect these dues. Could not God have made these things compulsory? But he does not wish to; for he spares you more than those who are fed. That is why he does not want you to pay by compulsion, since then there is no reward. And yet many here are meaner than the Jews. Consider how much the Jews gave: tithes, firstfruits, tithes again, and again other tithes, and again others, thirteenths, and the shekel; and no one said, “They eat up a great deal.” The more they received, the greater the reward. They did not say, “They take a great deal, they stuff their bellies,” which I now hear some people saying. And those who build houses and buy fields think they have nothing; but if one of the clergy has plenty of food, or has someone to serve him, so that he is not forced to behave unseemly himself, they count the thing as wealth. Truly we are rich even in these things, and they admit it against their will. For we, even if we have little, are rich; but they, even if they surround themselves with everything, are poor. How long shall we act foolishly? Is it not enough for your punishment that you do nothing, but must you also add the loss that comes from evil speaking? For if you yourself gave him what he has, you have lost your reward by complaining about what you gave; and in general, if you gave, why do you complain? Before, then, you were bearing witness to his poverty by saying that you gave him what he has; why, then, do you complain? You ought not to have given, if you were going to complain. But you say this when another gave? The thing is worse: that, while not even giving, you complain about the good another does. How great a reward do you think those who hear these things have? For they suffer these things for God's sake. How and why? It was possible for them, if they wished, to provide a living …, even if they did not have it from their ancestors. For I hear many saying this too, boldly, when we say that so-and-so is poor: “If he wished,” he says, “he could be rich”; then insultingly, “His ancestor, and his grandfather, and so-and-so, were such and such; but now he wears such a garment.” But what, tell me? Ought he to go about naked? You are exacting about these things; but see that you are not saying them against yourself. But hear Christ's exhortation, which says, “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged.” “But it was possible, if he wished, to live a shopkeeper's or a merchant's life, and he would certainly not have been in want; but he did not wish to.” What, then, does he gain here, tell me? Does he wear silk garments? Does he swagger about the market place with a crowd of attendants? Is he carried on a horse? Does he build houses, though he has a place to stay? If he does these things, I too accuse him, and do not spare him, but say that he is unworthy of the priesthood. For how will he be able to exhort others not to busy themselves with these superfluous things, when he cannot exhort himself? But if he has the necessary food, does he do wrong because of this? Ought he to go about and beg? And would you not be ashamed, tell me, you the disciple? If your fleshly father did this, you would consider the thing a disgrace; but if your spiritual one does, will you not even think it worth sinking into the ground? “The dishonour of a father,” it says, “is the reproach of children.” But what? Ought he to perish of hunger? But this too is not the part of a godly man; for God does not wish it. But when we say these things to them, they at once philosophize: “It is written,” they say, “Do not acquire gold, nor silver, nor two tunics, nor copper in your belts, nor a staff. But these have three and four garments, and spread couches.” I was moved to groan bitterly just now; and if I were not going to behave unseemly, I would even have wept. Why? Because we are such exact examiners of the specks of others, but, having beams in our own eyes, we do not even notice. For tell me, why do you not say this to yourself? “Because it was commanded to the teachers only,” he says. When, then, Paul says, “Having food and covering, with these we shall be content,” does he speak to the teachers only? Not at all, but to all people. And this is clear to those who go through the passage from the start; for having said, “Godliness with contentment is great gain,” then, “We brought nothing into this world, and it is clear that we cannot take anything out,” he at once added, “But having food and covering, with these we shall be content. But those who wish to be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and many foolish desires.”

Do you see that the word was spoken to all? What then? When he says again, “Make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires,” does he not speak to all without distinction? And what of when he says, “Food is for the belly and the belly for food; but God will destroy both the one and the other”? And what of when he says, “But she who lives in luxury is dead while she lives,” speaking about the widow? Is the widow, then, a teacher? Did he not himself say, “I do not permit a woman to teach, nor to have authority over a man”? And if the widow, where the age is old (for old age needs much care, and so does nature itself; for womankind needs more rest, being weak), if, then, where both age and nature are a hindrance, she is not allowed to live luxuriously, but he even says she is dead (for he did not simply say she should not live luxuriously, but, “she who lives in luxury is dead while she lives”; and he cut her off, for the dead woman has been cut off), what pardon will a man have who does these things, for which the old woman is …? But no one even takes these things into consideration; no one examines them. I have now been compelled to say these things, not wishing to free the priests from charges, but out of concern for you. For they, if they hear these things fittingly and justly, being so warned, are not harmed by you at all; but whether you say it or not, they give account to the judge there; so your words do not harm them at all. And if what you say is false, they have gained by being slandered for nothing, but you harm yourselves by it. But with you it is not so; but whether what is said against them is true or false, by speaking ill of them you are harmed. Why? For if it is true, even so you are harmed, by judging your teachers and overturning order; for if one must not judge a brother, much more a teacher; and if false, the punishment and penalty is unbearable; “for of every idle word you will give account.” So we do and suffer everything for your sake. But as I said, no one examines these things, no one busies himself with them, no one says any of them to himself. Do you want me to add other things too? “Unless someone renounces,” says Christ, “all his possessions, he is not worthy of me.” What of when he says, “… of heaven”? And what of when he says, “Woe to you who are rich …”? No one examines this, no one considers this, no one discusses it with himself; but in the affairs of others they all sit as harsh examiners. But this is making them partners in the charges. But so that I may also free the priests, for your sake, from the very charges for which you say they are liable, hear; for to be persuaded about them that they transgress the law of God is a great inclination toward evil. Come, then, let us examine those things too. Christ said, “Do not acquire gold, nor silver, nor two tunics, nor sandals, nor a belt, nor a staff.” What, then, tell me? Did Peter act contrary to the command? How did he not, he who had a belt, a garment, and sandals? For that he had them, hear the angel saying to him, “Gird yourself and put on your sandals”; and yet there was no great need of these sandals; for at that time it was possible to go barefoot, the great need being in winter; but nevertheless he had them. And what of Paul? When, writing to Timothy, he says, “Do your best to come before winter,” then gives instructions and says, “The cloak that I left at Troas with Carpus, bring when you come, and the books, especially the parchments.” See, he spoke of a cloak; and no one can say that he did not have another that he wore. For if he wore none at all, he ordered it brought for nothing; and if it was impossible not to wear one, it is clear that he had another. And what of his staying two whole years in his own hired house? Did the chosen vessel disobey Christ, he who says, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me”? Of whom Christ bore witness, saying, “This man is a chosen vessel to me”? I ought to have left this difficulty with you and offered no solution to the question, but exacted this penalty from you for your neglect of the Scriptures; for all these things come from this. That is why we are harsh examiners of the sins of others, and take no account of our own, because we do not know the Scriptures, because we are not instructed in the divine laws. I ought, then, to have exacted this penalty from you; but what am I to do? I am a father. Fathers grant many things to their children even beyond what is fitting, when their fatherly affections are warmed toward them; and if they see the child downcast and pining, they are stung more than he is, and do not stop until they have removed the cause of his despondency. However, let this be so: even if you have been downcast at not receiving it, it is so that you may receive it well.

What, then, can we say? They did not oppose Christ's commands, God forbid, but followed them very closely; for those commands were temporary, and not for always. And I say this not by guessing, but from the divine Scriptures. How? Luke says that Christ said to the disciples, “When I sent you without purse and bag and belt and sandals, did you lack anything? They said to him, No.” Then from now on acquire them. But what was needed, tell me? To have one tunic? What then? If it had to be washed, would one have had to sit naked at home? Or go about naked and behave unseemly, when need called? Consider what it would have been for Paul, who went about the world with such achievements, to sit at home for lack of a garment, and to be hindered in such great affairs. What then? If a severe frost set in and drenched it, or even froze it, how could it be dried? Again, would one have had to sit naked? What then? If cold gripped the body, would one have had to waste away and not speak? For that their bodies were not made of adamant, hear what he says about Timothy: “Use a little wine for your stomach and your frequent illnesses”; and again about another: “I thought it necessary to send to you your minister to my need. For he was sick, near to death; but God had mercy on him, and not on him only, but on me also.” So they were liable to all sufferings. What then? Ought they to perish? Not at all. Why, then, did he give this command at that time? Wishing to show his power, that afterwards too he could have done so, but did not. Why, then, did he not? These would have been far more wonderful than the Israelites, whose sandals did not wear out, nor their garments, though they went through that desert where the sun's ray falls hotter and can scorch the very stones. Why, then, did he do this? For your sake. For since you were going to be not healthy but wounded, he provided you with the means of medicine; and this is clear from the following. For tell me, could he not have fed them himself? If he gave to you, who offended him, would he not much more have given to Paul? He who gave to the Israelites, the murmurers, the fornicators, the idolaters, would he not much more have provided for Peter, who left everything for him? He who allowed wicked men to have, would he not much more have granted it to John, who left even his father for his sake? But he did not wish to; but he feeds them through you, so that you may be sanctified. And see, I beg you, the excess of his love for humankind. He chose that his own disciples should be at a disadvantage, so that you might have a little breathing space. “But if he had made them free of need,” someone says, “they would have been far more wonderful, far more glorious.” But your salvation would have been cut off. So he did not choose that they should become wonderful, but rather that they should be at a disadvantage, so that you might be saved; and he allowed them to be at a disadvantage so that you might be able to be saved. For a teacher who receives is not equally respected; the one who does not receive is honoured most; but the disciple is not benefited, but has his fruit cut off. Do you see the wisdom of God, who loves humankind? For just as he himself did not seek his own glory, nor look to his own interest, but, being in glory, chose to be dishonoured for your sake, so too with the teachers: though he could make them respected, he chose that they should be easily despised for your sake, so that you might be able to gain, so that you might be able to be rich. For so that you may abound in spiritual things, that man is in want in the things of this life. That he could make them free of need, then, he showed in many ways; and that he leaves them in need for your sake is likewise shown. Knowing these things, then, let us turn not to accusations but to doing good; let us not busy ourselves with the faults of others, but reckon up our own; let us consider the achievements of others, and reckon up our own sins; and so we shall please God. For the one who looks at the sins of others and at his own achievements is harmed doubly: from the latter he is lifted to arrogance, from the former he falls into sloth. For when he considers that so-and-so sinned, he will easily sin himself; when he considers that he himself did right, he easily becomes arrogant. But the one who consigns his own achievements to oblivion and looks only at his sins, and does not busy himself with the sins of others but with their achievements, will gain much. How? Hear. When he sees that so-and-so did right, he is roused to equal zeal; when he sees that he himself sinned, he will be humble and modest. If we act in this way and so order our affairs, we shall be able to obtain the promised good things, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord. To write the same things to you is not tiresome to me, and for you it is safe. Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of the mutilation. For we are the circumcision, who worship God in the Spirit, and boast in Christ Jesus, and put no confidence in the flesh.” Despondency and cares, when they strain the soul beyond measure, rob it of its own strength. That is why Paul raises up the Philippians, who were in great despondency. They were despondent because they did not know how things stood with Paul; they were despondent because they thought he had already died, on account of the preaching, on account of Epaphroditus. Giving them full assurance about all these things, he adds: … He said well, “in the Lord”, not according to the world; for it is not possible to rejoice in this. These afflictions, he says, those according to Christ, have joy. “To write the same things to you is not tiresome to me, and for you it is safe. Beware of the dogs.” Do you see how he does not bring in the exhortation at the beginning, but when he had praised them much, when he had admired them, then he does this, and praises again? For this word seems rather harsh; so he shades it on every side. Whom does he call dogs? There were some there, whom he hints at in all his Letters, defiled and despicable Jews, greedy of gain and fond of power, who, wishing to draw away many of the faithful, preached both Christianity and Judaism, corrupting the gospel. Since, then, they were hard to recognize, that is why he says, “Beware of the dogs.” The Jews are no longer children. Once the Gentiles were called this, but now they are. Why? Because just as the Gentiles were strangers to God and to Christ, so these have now become; and he shows by this their shamelessness and boldness, and their great distance from being children. For that the Gentiles were once called dogs, hear the Canaanite woman, what she says: “Yes, Lord; for even the little dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from their masters' table.” And so that they may not have even this, since dogs too are at the table, he adds something by which he also estranges them, saying, “Beware of the evil workers.” And he spoke wonderfully, “… the evil workers”; for they work, he says, but for evil, and their work is much worse than idleness, pulling up what was well laid. “Beware,” he says, “of the mutilation.” Circumcision was a venerable thing among the Jews, since even the law gave way to it, and the Sabbath was less esteemed than it. For so that circumcision might be performed, the Sabbath was broken; but so that the Sabbath might be kept, circumcision was never broken. And see, I beg you, God's arrangement: this, more venerable than the Sabbath, is found to have been omitted at certain times. When, then, it is set aside, much more the Sabbath. That is why Paul cuts down its very name, and says, “Beware of the mutilation.” And he did not say, “Circumcision is evil, circumcision is superfluous,” so as not to strike the men, but he handles it more wisely, drawing them away from the thing while granting them the word; or rather, more earnestly from the thing too. But not so with the Galatians. For since the disease was great there, he brings on the cutting barefacedly and with great authority; but here, since they had done nothing of the kind, he grants them the pleasure of the name, and casts out both those men and this, and says, “Beware of the mutilation. For we are the circumcision.” How? “Who worship God in the Spirit, and put no confidence in the flesh.” He did not say, “We compare that circumcision and this, to see which is better,” but did not even give it a share in the name; but what does he say? That circumcision is mutilation. Why? For they do nothing else but cut the flesh. For when what is done is not lawful, it is nothing else but a cutting and mutilation of the flesh. Either for this reason he called it so, or because they were trying to cut up the Church. And we too speak of mutilation when people do this at random and carelessly and without skill. For if you must seek circumcision, he says, you will find it among us. “Who worship God in the Spirit”: that is, who worship spiritually.

For tell me, which is better, soul or body? Clearly the soul. Then that circumcision is not better; but this alone is circumcision. For as long as the type stood, he rightly brought forward the comparison, writing, “to circumcise the foreskin of your heart.” So too in the Letter to the Romans he abolishes it, saying, “For he is not a Jew who is one outwardly, nor is circumcision that which is outward in the flesh; but he is a Jew who is one inwardly, and circumcision is of the heart, in the Spirit, not in the letter.” But here he deprives it even of the name: it is not even circumcision, he says. For the type, as long as the truth is about to come, is called by this name; but when the truth has come, it is no longer so called. As with a sketch: someone sketches a king in outline; as long as the colours are not applied, it is not called a king; but when they are applied, the type is hidden by the truth and does not appear; and then we say, “See, the king!” And he did not say, “For circumcision is among us,” but, “We are the circumcision”; rightly. For this is a man: virtuous circumcision; this is truly a man. Of those men he did not speak so, but, “Beware of the mutilation”; for they were now in destruction and wickedness. Then, showing that circumcision is no longer in the body but in the heart, he says, “and put no confidence in the flesh, though I myself have confidence even in the flesh.” What does he mean here by “confidence” and “in the flesh”? Boasting, boldness, a ground for pride; and he added this well. For if, being of the Gentiles, he had accused circumcision, and not circumcision only but also those who practised it out of season, he would have seemed to run it down as one deprived of the nobility of Judaism, as one who did not know its venerable things nor had any share in them; but as it is, he who shared in them and accuses them accuses them not as one who did not share, but as one who had condemned them, not through ignorance but above all through knowledge. See, then, what he says in the Letter to the Galatians too, when he was forced to say great things about himself, how even so he shows humility: “For you have heard,” he says, “of my former way of life in Judaism”; and again here, “If anyone else thinks he has confidence in the flesh, I more”; and at once he added, “a Hebrew of Hebrews.” He did not say this first, but after saying, “If anyone else,” showing the necessity, showing that he spoke because of them. If you have confidence, he says, I have more. I say this now; otherwise I would keep silent. And see how inoffensive his refutations are; for by not doing it by name he gave even those men room to recover. “If anyone thinks he has confidence”: he said “thinks” well, either as of people who did not have such confidence, or because that confidence was not really confidence; for it was all a matter of necessity, not of choice. “Circumcised the eighth day.” And first he sets down what they boasted of most, circumcision; then, “of the race of Israel.” By both he showed that he was not a proselyte, nor of proselytes. For from being circumcised on the eighth day, he was not a proselyte; and from “of the race of Israel”, not of proselyte parents either. But so that you may not think that “of the race of Israel” means of the ten tribes, he says, “of the tribe of Benjamin”, that is, of the more esteemed part; for the priests' affairs were in the lot of this tribe. “A Hebrew of Hebrews.” From this he shows that he was not a proselyte, but from of old of the esteemed Jews. For it was possible to be of Israel, but not a Hebrew of Hebrews. For many had already corrupted the thing and were unacquainted with the language, mixing with other nations. Either this, then, or his great nobility he shows by this. “As to the law, a Pharisee.” He now comes to the things of his own choice; for all those were not of choice. For being circumcised was not his doing, nor “of the race of Israel”, nor “of the tribe of Benjamin”; so that even in these he has the advantage the more, even if many shared them with him. Where, then, is the “more”? Especially in this too: in not being a proselyte, in being of the most esteemed tribe, in being from of old from his ancestors, which not many had. But since all these were not of choice, he comes to the things of choice, where the “more” is. “As to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, persecuting the Church.” He says this because it is not enough to show that; for it is possible to be a Pharisee and not a zealot. “As to righteousness.” Since it is possible to [be reckless, or to do this] for the sake of [ambition], and not out of zeal for the law, which the high priests did. But he was not such; but, “as to the righteousness which is in the law, found blameless.” If, then, in nobility, in zeal, in conduct, and in life I surpassed all, why did I let those venerable things go, he says, except because I found the things of Christ greater, and much greater? That is why he added: “But whatever things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ.”

Paul threw away a way of life so exact, begun from his earliest age, such nobility, so many dangers, so many plots, toils, and zeal, and counted as loss what had before been gain, that he might gain Christ; but we do not even despise money that we may gain Christ, but choose rather to fall from the life to come than from present things; and yet this is nothing else but loss. For tell me, let us examine each of the things of wealth one by one, whether it is not a loss, having unspeakable toil but no gain. For what, tell me, is the benefit of many costly garments? What gain do we reap when we wear them? None, but only loss. How? Because the poor man too, wearing a cheap and worn garment, bears the heat in summer no worse than you; or rather he bears it more easily; for worn garments, worn alone, let the body breathe more; but newly made ones, even if finer than a spider's web, do not do so equally. And you, out of superfluous pride, have two and three tunics, often a mantle, a belt, and trousers; but no one blames him for wearing only one tunic; so he bears the heat more easily. From this we see the rich sweating and the poor suffering none of this. When, then, cheap garments sold for nothing give him the same or even better service, and those that force you to lay out much gold do the same, is not the great excess a loss? For it has contributed nothing more to the purpose of need and service; but more gold has been emptied out for you, and it gives the same use and service. You, the rich man, bought it perhaps for a hundred gold pieces or more, and the poor man for a little silver. Do you see the loss? But pride does not let you see. Do you want us to examine this same argument also about the gold they put on horses and on women? For besides other things, being rich also makes people foolish. For they count women and horses worthy of the same honour, and the adornment of both is one; and the women want to appear more splendid by the same things as the teams too, as the hides of the curtains too, under which they are carried. Tell me, what is the gain in adorning a mule or a horse with gold? And the woman wearing so great a mass of gold and stones, what more does she have? “But the gold does not wear out,” someone says. Indeed, those skilled in these matters say it does suffer this: that in the baths and in many places both stones and gold lose much of their value. But let this be so, and let it suffer no harm: what is the gain, tell me? What then? When it falls off and is lost, is it not a loss? What then? When it draws envy and plotting, is it not a loss? For when it benefits the wearer in nothing, but inflames the eyes of the envious and rouses robbers the more, does it not become a loss? And what, tell me? When the husband could use these things for some business bringing gain, but cannot because of his wife's extravagance, but is forced to go hungry and be in straits, and to see her wearing gold, is not the thing a loss? For money (χρήματα) is so called not that we may use it as the goldsmiths' display windows do, but that we may do something good with it. When, then, the desire for gold does not allow this, is not the whole a loss? For the one who does not dare to use it, as though it belonged to others, does not use it, and there is no use anywhere. And what of when we build splendid and great houses and adorn them with columns and marbles and porticoes and walks, setting up images and statues everywhere? Many by these things even summon demons; but let us not examine this. What is the point of the gilded ceiling? Does it not give the same use as for one who has a moderate house? “But it gives much delight,” someone says. But for a day or two, and after that no longer. For if the sun does not amaze us because it is familiar, much more the works of art; but we pay attention to them as to things of clay. For what, tell me, does a crowd of columns, the beauty of statues, and gold on the walls contribute to the best dwelling? Nothing; it belongs to stupidity, insolence, superfluous pride, and folly. Everywhere we must hold to what is necessary and in use, not to what is superfluous.

Do you see that the thing is a loss? Do you see that it is superfluous and useless? For if it gives neither more use nor more delight (for it becomes cloying with time), it is nothing else but loss. But vainglory, standing in the way, does not let us see this. Then Paul let go the things he thought were gain; but shall we not even let go a loss for Christ's sake? How long shall we be nailed to the earth? How long shall we not look up to heaven? Do you not see the old, how they have no sense of what is past? Do you not see those who die, in old age, in youth? Do you not see those deprived of their goods while still alive? Why are we attached to unstable things? Why are we bound to uncertain things? How long shall we not lay hold of the things that remain? What would the old not have given, if it were possible to scrape off old age? And then how great is the unreason of wishing to return to former youth, and readily giving everything for this, to become younger, yet, when it is possible to receive a youth that never has old age, a youth far more spiritual and with great wealth, being unwilling to let go even a little, but holding on to things that are of no benefit even for the present! It cannot rescue you from death; and against sickness, tell me, what does it contribute? It cannot drive away …, it cannot prevent old age, nothing of these necessary things that come by the law of nature; and do you still hold on to them? What is the gain, tell me? From this come drunkenness, gluttony, absurd pleasures of every kind, straining us harder than bitter masters. These are the only things one can gain from wealth, and nothing else, since we do not wish it; for if we wished, we would inherit heaven itself from wealth. “Then wealth is good,” someone says. Wealth does not do this, but the will of the possessor; for that the will does this, consider from this: it is possible for the poor man too to inherit heaven. For, as I have often said, God does not look to the measure of what is given, but to the will of those who give. It is possible, even being in poverty and giving little, to carry off everything. For God requires what is according to one's means; neither does wealth procure heaven, nor poverty Gehenna, but in each case a good or wicked will. Let us set this right, then, and everything will be easy for us. For just as the craftsman, whether he has an iron or a golden adze, works the wood equally, or rather more with the iron one, so here too virtue is achieved more easily through poverty. For of wealth Christ says, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” But of poverty he declared nothing of the kind, but even the opposite: “Sell your possessions and give to the poor, and come, follow me”, as though following came from choice.

Let us not, then, flee poverty as an evil; for it procures the kingdom; and again, let us not pursue wealth as a good; for it destroys those who do not take care; but everywhere lifting our eyes to God, let us use as we ought what has been given us by him: strength of body, abundance of money, and everything else. For it is absurd that, having been made by him, we should make these things useful to others and not to the one who made us. He made you eyes: make them useful to him, not to the devil. How will you make them useful to him? By contemplating his works and glorifying him, and by turning them away from the sight of women. He made you hands? Keep them for him, not for the devil, not for robbery and greed, but for the commandments and good deeds, and lifting them up in earnest prayers, in reaching out a hand to those who have fallen. He made you ears? Give them to him, and not to effeminate songs, nor to shameful things heard: “Let all your discourse,” it says, “be in the law of the Most High”; and again, “Stand in the company of the elders, and if anyone is wise, cleave to him.” He made you a mouth? Let it do nothing that does not please him, but let it sing psalms, hymns, spiritual songs: “so that it may give grace,” it says, “to those who hear”; for building up, and not for overthrow; for praise, and not for accusation; not for plots, but wholly the opposite. He made you feet, not that you may run to evil, but to good things. He made you a belly, not that you may burst it, but that you may practise philosophy. He placed desire for the begetting of children, but not for sexual immorality and adultery. He gave you a mind, not that you may blaspheme him, not that you may be a reviler, but that you may praise. He gave money too, so that we may use it as we ought; and strength, so that we may use this too as we ought. He made crafts so that life may hold together, not so that we may separate ourselves from spiritual things, not so that we may attend to vulgar crafts, but to necessary ones; so that we may serve one another, not so that we may plot against one another. He gave a roof to keep off the rain, so much only, not so that it may be adorned with gold while the poor man perishes of hunger. He gave garments that we may be covered, not that we may make a display, not that they may have much gold while Christ perishes naked. He gave a shelter, not that you alone may have it, but that you may provide it for others too. He gave land, not that you may cut off the greater part of it and spend God's good things on prostitutes and singers, but on the hungry and needy. He gave you the sea, that you may sail, that you may not toil walking, not that you may busy yourself with its depths and bring up stones and the like from there, nor make this your work. “Why, then,” someone says, “are there stones?” Rather you tell me, why are there stones, and how are those so very precious? For their power? For their use? Rather, those that are not such are more useful. For the latter at least contribute to building, but the former to nothing. And these are stronger than those. “But those,” someone says, “produce beauty.” How? It is the work of opinion. Are they whiter? But they are not whiter than very white marble, not even equal. Stronger? But one cannot say this either. More useful? Larger? Not this either. From where, then, were they admired? From nowhere else but from opinion. For if they are neither of beauty (for we shall find others more brilliant and whiter than they), nor useful, nor stronger, from where were they so admired? Is it not from opinion alone? Why, then, did he give them? He did not give them; but you thought them something great. “What then,” someone says, “of the fact that Scripture too admires them?” It speaks, then, according to your opinion. For a teacher too, talking to a child, often admires the same things as the child, when he wants to draw him and lead him on. Why do you seek beauty in garments? Put a garment and shoes on yourself; be adorned with these, be content with these. David says that the judgments of God are “more desirable than gold and much precious stone.” But how would this make sense? These things, beloved, are not useful; if they were useful, he would not have commanded us to despise them; but the divine Scripture speaks according to our opinion. And this too belongs to God's love for humankind. “Why, then,” someone says, “did he give purple and the like?” These are the work of God's magnificence. For he wished to show his wealth by other things too; since he gave bread alone, but you make many dishes of every kind from it, with much pleasure. Besides, vainglory invented all these things; for it seemed good to you to set them before everything. For if some stranger or farmer who knew nothing of them asked you, and, seeing you admiring them, said, “Why do you admire these things?”, what could you say? “Because they are beautiful to see”? But they are not. Let us, then, put an end to such opinion, and hold to what is truly real. For these things have no being, but simply pass by, flowing past like a river. Therefore, I beg you, let us set ourselves on the rock, so that we may escape being easily overturned and obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“But whatever things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ. Yes indeed, and I count all things to be loss because of the surpassing worth of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them refuse, that I may gain Christ, and be found in him, not having my own righteousness which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God upon faith; that I may know him and the power of his resurrection.” Minds that are in their prime for contests with the heretics must be attacked, and continually. For so it is possible to throw their battle line into confusion and to win with abundance to spare, giving them no leisure to breathe. That is why, wishing you to be prepared from the Scriptures for such contests, so that from them too you may be able to stop the mouths of those who contradict, I make the beginning of this discourse from the end of the last. And what was its end, someone asks? Having listed all the Jewish grounds for boasting, those from nature and those from choice, he added: “But whatever things were gain to me, these I have counted loss … all things to be loss because of the surpassing worth of the knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them refuse, that I may gain Christ.” Here the heretics leap in. And this too belongs to the wisdom of the Spirit: to give them hopes of victory, so that they may accept the battle. For if it had been said openly, what they did with other passages they would have done with these too: they would have blotted out the letters, they would have rejected the Scripture, being unable to look it in the face at all. But just as with fish, what can catch them is hidden, so that they may rush at it, and it does not lie in plain view, so it happened here too, by Paul's calling the law a loss. “The law is called refuse,” they say, “it is called loss; it was not possible to gain Christ unless I suffered the loss of it.” They accepted all these things, thinking them to be on their side; but when they had accepted them, then he surrounded them with the nets on every side. For what do those men say, leaping in? “See, the law is a loss; see, it is called refuse. How, then, do you say that it is God's?” These very words are on the side of the law; and how, is clear from what follows. Let us attend carefully to what is said. He did not say, “The law is a loss,” but, “I have counted it loss”; and when he spoke of gain, he did not say, “I have counted,” but, “it was gain”; but when of loss, he said, “I have counted”; rightly: for the former was by nature, but the latter has come about from our own judgment. What then? Is the law not a loss, someone says? It is, but because of Christ; but before, it was gain. It was not thought to be gain, he said, but it was; all but saying: Consider how great a thing it was to bring men brutalized in their nature into the form of men. If the law had not existed, grace would not have been given either. Why? Because it became a kind of bridge. For since it was not possible to go up from great lowliness to the height, it became a ladder. But even if the one who has gone up no longer needs the ladder, he does not for that reason despise it, but is even grateful to it; for it brought him to the point of no longer needing it; and yet, for this very reason, that he does not need it, it is right, he says, to acknowledge his gratitude to it; for he would not have gone up. So also with the law: it led us up to a height; so it was gain; but now we count it loss. How? Not because it is a loss, but because grace is much greater. For just as a poor man in famine, as long as he has silver, escapes the famine; but when he finds gold and cannot keep both, he counts it loss to keep the silver, and letting it go, takes the gold; and he lets it go, not because the silver is a loss (for it is not), but because it is not possible to take the two together, but one must leave the one; so here too. It is not the law, then, that is loss, but sitting by the law and standing away from Christ. So when it leads us away from Christ, then it is loss; but if it sends us on to him, no longer. That is why he says “loss”, that is, because of Christ. If because of Christ, it is not by nature a loss. But why does the law not allow us to come to Christ? Yet it was given for this, he says; and “Christ is the fulfilment of the law,” and “Christ is the end of the law.” It does allow it, if we are willing to obey it. Does the one who obeys the law, then, let the law go? He lets it go, if we pay attention; but if we do not pay attention, he does not. “Yes indeed, and I count all things to be loss.” Why do I say this about the law, he says? Is the world not good? Is the present life not good? But if it leads me away from Christ, I count these things loss. Why? “Because of the surpassing worth of the knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord.” For when the sun has appeared, to sit by the lamp is a loss. So the loss comes from the comparison, from what surpasses. Do you see that he makes a comparison? “Because of the surpassing worth,” he says, not because of what is foreign; for what surpasses surpasses something of the same kind. So by the things from which he makes the superiority by comparison, by these he shows the kinship of the knowledge. “For whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them refuse, that I may gain Christ.” As to “refuse”, it is not yet clear whether he says “refuse” about the law; for it is likely that he says this about worldly things. For having said, “But whatever things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ,” “Yes indeed,” he says, “and I count all things to be loss.” He said “all things”, both the old and the present. But if you will have it the law too, not even so has it been insulted. For refuse comes from the wheat, and the refuse is what is strong in the wheat, the chaff, I mean. So before this the refuse was useful; for we gather it with the wheat, and if there had been no refuse, the wheat would not have come to be. So also with the law.

Do you see how everywhere he calls the thing loss not in itself, but because of Christ? “Yes indeed, and I count all things loss.” Why? Again, “because of the surpassing worth of the knowledge, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things.” Then he adds: “Therefore I count all things loss, that I may gain Christ.” Do you see how on every side he lays hold of the support of Christ, and nowhere lets the law be stripped bare or receive a blow, but surrounds it on every side? “And be found in him, not having my own righteousness which is from the law.” If the one who had righteousness ran to this righteousness because that was nothing, how much more ought those who have none run to it! And he said well, “not having my own righteousness”, not that which I acquired by toils and sweat, but that which I found from grace, he says. If, then, the one who did right is saved by grace, much more you. For since it was likely that they would say that this righteousness, the one that comes through toil, is greater, he shows that it is refuse compared with that. For I would never, having achieved it, have thrown it away and run to this. And what is this? That which is from faith in God; that is, this too is given by God; this righteousness is God's; it is wholly a gift. And God's gifts far surpass in measure the meanness of the achievements that come from our own zeal. And what is faith? “Upon faith,” he says, “that I may know him.” So knowledge comes through faith, and without faith it is not possible to know him. How? Through it one must know the power of his resurrection; for what reasoning will present the resurrection to us? Not one, but faith. And if the resurrection of Christ according to the flesh is known by faith, how is the begetting of God the Word grasped by reasonings? For the resurrection is less than the begetting. Why? Because of the former there have been many examples, but of the latter not one. For many dead rose before Christ, even if they died again after rising; but no one was ever born of a virgin. If, then, what is meaner even than the birth according to the flesh must be received by faith, how is what is much greater, infinitely and incomparably greater, grasped by reasoning? These things make righteousness. For one must believe this, that he was able; but how he was able cannot be set forth; for from faith comes the fellowship of the sufferings. How? For if we did not believe, we would not suffer; if we did not believe [that if we endure with him we shall also reign with him], we would not suffer the sufferings. So both the birth and the resurrection are grasped by faith. Do you see that faith must not be bare, but shown through works? For this man most of all believes that Christ rose, the one who boldly gives himself up to dangers, who shares with him in his sufferings; for he shares with one who has risen, with one who lives. That is why he said: “And be found in him, not having my own righteousness which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God upon faith; that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being conformed to his death, if by any means I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.” “Being conformed,” he says, “to his death”, that is, sharing in it. For just as he suffered at the hands of men, so do I; that is why he said, “being conformed”; and elsewhere again, “I fill up what is lacking of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh.” That is, these persecutions and sufferings fashion that image of his death. For he did not seek his own advantage, but that of the many. So persecutions, afflictions, and distresses ought not only not to trouble you, but even to gladden you, because through them we are conformed to his death; as if he said, we are made into his image; as he says when writing elsewhere, “carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus.” And this comes from great faith. For we believe not only that he rose, but that even after the resurrection he has great power. That is why we travel the same road that he travelled; that is, we become his brothers in this respect too; as if he said, we become Christs in this respect. Ah, how great is the dignity of sufferings! We believe that through sufferings we are conformed to his death. For just as in baptism “we were buried with him in the likeness of his death”, so here we are conformed to his death. There he rightly said, “in the likeness of his death”; for we did not die the whole death; we did not die in the body, in the flesh, but to sin. Since, then, death is spoken of in both cases, but he died in the body and we to sin, … there the man died whom he took, the one in our body; here the man of sin; that is why there he says, “in the likeness of his death”, but here no longer the likeness of death, but “to his death” itself.

For Paul no longer died to sin in the persecutions, but in the body itself; so he endured the same death. “If by any means,” he says, “I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.” What are you saying? Surely all obtain it: “For we shall not all sleep,” he says, “but we shall all be changed”; and not resurrection only, but incorruption, all of them, some for honour, others as provision for punishment. If, then, all obtain the resurrection, and not the resurrection only but incorruption, how did you say, as one about to obtain something special, “if by any means I may attain”? I suffer these things for this reason, he says, “if by any means I may attain to the resurrection from the dead”; for if you had not died, you would not rise. What, then, is it? He seems to hint here at something great; for it was so great that he did not even dare to declare it, but says simply, “if by any means”. I have believed in him and in his resurrection, and I also suffer for him, but I cannot yet be confident about the resurrection. What resurrection does he mean here? The one that leads to Christ himself. I have said that I have believed in him and in the power of his resurrection, and that I am a partaker of his sufferings, and that I am conformed to his death; but nevertheless after all these things I am not yet confident; as he says elsewhere, “Let the one who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall”; and again, “I fear lest perhaps, having preached to others, I myself should be disqualified.” “Not that I have already received it, or am already made perfect, but I press on, if I may also lay hold of that for which I was also laid hold of by Christ Jesus.” “Not that I have already received.” What is “already received”? He means the prize. If the one who suffered so much, if the one who was persecuted, if the one who had the dying, was not yet confident about that resurrection, what could we say? What is “if I may lay hold”? What he said before: “if I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.” His resurrection, he says, if I may lay hold of it; that is, if I can suffer so much, if I can imitate him, if I can become conformed to him. For example, Christ suffered much: he was spat upon, struck, scourged, and finally died. This is the racecourse: through all these one must reach his resurrection, having borne all the contests. Either, then, he means this, or that, if I am counted worthy to obtain an approved resurrection, one that has boldness, I reach his resurrection. For if I can bear all the contests, I shall be able to have his resurrection too, and to rise with glory. For I am not yet worthy, he says; “but I press on, if I may also lay hold.” My life is still in the contest, I am still far from the end, I am still far from the prizes, I still run, I still press on. And he did not say, “I run”, but, “I press on”, rightly. For you know with what intensity the one who pursues pursues: he sees no one, he pushes aside with great force all who cut across his path, and he gathers up mind and eye and strength and soul and body, looking at nothing else but the prize alone. And if Paul, pressing on, who suffered so much, still says, “if I may lay hold,” what could we say, who have fallen back? Then, showing that the thing is a debt, he says, “for which I was also laid hold of by Jesus Christ.” I was among those perishing, he says; I was drowning, I was about to perish; God laid hold of me; for he pursued us with great eagerness as we fled from him. By this he shows all these things; for by saying, “I was laid hold of,” he showed both the eagerness of the one who wished to lay hold, and our great turning away and wandering, and that we were fleeing him.

That is why it is worth weeping, that, when all have come back again to their former condition, and when we are liable for a great debt, no one mourns, no one weeps, no one groans. And do not condemn the discourse as irony. For just as before Christ's coming we fled from God, so we flee him now too; for it is possible to flee God, not in place (for he is everywhere), but in works. And that it is not possible to flee him in place, hear the prophet saying, “Where shall I go from your Spirit, and where shall I flee from your presence?” How, then, is it possible to flee God? As it is possible to be far from God, as it is possible to be removed far off: “For those who remove themselves far from you,” it says, “will perish”; and again, “Is it not your sins that separate between me and you?” How, then, does the removal happen? How does the separation come about? By will and soul; for in place it is not possible; for how could one flee the one who is present everywhere? The sinner, then, flees. This is what Scripture says: “The ungodly flees when no one pursues.” We flee God hard, though he always pursues us. The Apostle pursued so as to come near him; we pursue so as to be far away. Are these things not worthy of lamentation? Are they not worthy of tears? Where are you fleeing, wretched and miserable man? Where are you fleeing from your life and your salvation? If you flee God, to whom will you take refuge? If you flee the light, where will you see? If you flee life, from where will you live after that? Let us flee the enemy of our salvation. When we sin, we flee from God, we run away, we go off into a foreign land, like that man who devoured his father's property and went off into a foreign land, who squandered all his father's substance and lived in famine. We too, then, have a father's substance. What is it? He freed us from our sins; he gave us power, strength for the doing of virtue; he gave us eagerness, endurance; in baptism he gave us the Holy Spirit. If we squander these things, we shall then be in famine. For just as the sick, while they are troubled by fevers and bad humours, can neither get up nor work nor do anything, but if someone frees them and brings them to health and then they do not work, this happens through their own sloth; so also with us. A severe disease and a violent fever lay upon us; and we lay not on a bed, but on wickedness itself, flung down in evil as on a dunghill, …, phantoms rather than men. Wicked demons stood around us; the ruler of this world was laughing and trampling on us. The Only-begotten of God came; he sent forth the rays of his coming, and at once drove away the gloom. The King who is on the Father's throne came to us, leaving the Father's throne (and when I say “leaving”, do not again think of a change of place; for he fills heaven and earth; but I say this because of the dispensation). He came to an enemy who hated him, who turned away from him, who could not bear even to see him, who blasphemed him every day. He saw him lying on a dunghill, having every kind of disease. For fever troubled him, that is, evil desire; and inflammations lay upon him, that is, arrogance; and what is called ravenous hunger held him, that is, greed; and rottings on every side, that is, sexual immorality; and blindness of the eyes, that is, idolatry; and deafness and derangement, that is, worshipping stones and wood and speaking to them; and great ugliness, that is, wickedness: something disgusting, and a most grievous disease. He saw us speaking worse than madmen, calling the wood god and the stone likewise; he saw us in such wickedness, and was not disgusted, was not annoyed, did not turn away, did not hate; for he was Master, and would not have hated his own creature. But what does he do? Like the best of physicians he prepares remedies of great value, and is the first to taste them himself; for he himself was the first to pursue virtue, and so gave it to us. And first, like an antidote, he gave the bath, and so we vomited up all wickedness, and everything was banished at once: the inflammation ceased, the fever was quenched, the rottings were cauterized. For all that came from greed, from anger, and the other evils were emptied out through the Spirit; the eyes were opened, the ears were opened, the tongue spoke a good word, the soul received strength, the body received such beauty and bloom as a son of God, newly born, might be expected to have from the grace of the Spirit, such glory as a son newly born to a king and reared in purple might be expected to have. Alas, how great a nobility he granted us! But we [were born], were so nurtured, so benefited: why do we flee our benefactor again? The one, then, who did all these things gives strength too; for it was not possible for those held by the disease to bear it, unless he himself had given us the strength. He gave forgiveness of sins; we set the gift at nought. He gave us wealth; we scattered it, we devoured it all. He gave us strength; we squandered it. He gave us a gift; we quenched it. How? We spent it on nothing needful, we used it in nothing useful. These things destroyed us; and what is most terrible of all, being in a foreign land and eating carob pods, we do not say, “Let us return to the Father and say, We have sinned against heaven and against you”; and that though we have a Father so tender, who greatly longs for our return. If only we depart from wickedness, if only we return to him, he does not even bear to reproach us any more for the past; only let us depart; for returning is a sufficient defence. Why do I say he does not bear to reproach? Not only does he himself not reproach, but even if another reproaches, he is silenced, even if the one reproaching is well approved. So let us return. How long shall we stand apart? Let us take notice of the dishonour, let us take notice of the meanness. Wickedness makes us swine; wickedness brings famine to the soul. Let us recover ourselves and take ourselves up again, and return to our former nobility, so that we may obtain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“… But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and stretching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward calling of God in Christ Jesus.” Nothing so empties out and blows away our achievements as remembering the good things we have done. For it breeds two evils: it makes us more slothful, and lifts us to arrogance. That is why Paul, since he knew that our nature is quick to slide into sloth, and since he had praised the Philippians much, see how he humbles their minds, by many other things above, but especially by the present passage. Saying what? “Brothers, I do not count myself to have laid hold of it.” And if Paul had not yet laid hold of it, and is not confident about the resurrection, nor about what is to come, hardly could they, who had not achieved even the smallest part of what he had, have done so. What he says is this: I do not consider that I have yet laid hold of all virtue; speaking as one might say of a runner, “He has not yet reached it.” I have not yet accomplished everything, he says. And if he says elsewhere, “I have fought the good fight”, and here, “I do not yet count myself to have laid hold of it”, anyone who reads both will know well the reason both for those words and for these. For we must not continually go over the same things and teach you everything; and that he said these things much earlier, but those near the end. “I do not yet count myself to have laid hold of it” … but I am occupied with one thing only, stretching forward to what lies ahead. For this is what he says: “But one thing: forgetting what lies behind and stretching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward calling of God in Christ Jesus.” See how by saying this he showed what it was that made him stretch forward to what lies ahead. The one who thinks he is already perfected, and that nothing is lacking to him for the achievement of virtue, would have stopped running, as having laid hold of everything; but the one who thinks he is still far from the finish will never stop running. This, then, we must always reckon, even if we achieve countless good things. For if Paul after countless deaths, after so many dangers, reckoned this, much more we. Yet I did not fall back, he says, because after running so far I had not been able; nor did I despair; but I still run, I still contend; I look to this alone. So too we must do: forget our achievements and leave them behind. For the runner too [reckons not how many laps he has run, but] how many remain. And let us not reckon how much of virtue we have accomplished, but how much is lacking to us. For what does what has been accomplished profit us, when what remains is not added? And he did not say, “I do not reckon,” nor “I do not remember,” but “forgetting”, making us more attentive. For so we become vehement, when we bring all our eagerness to what is lacking, when we consign those things to oblivion. “Stretching forward”, he says: we are eager to seize it before arriving. For the one who stretches forward is the one who, though his feet are running, is eager to get ahead with the rest of his body, stretching himself forward and stretching out his hands, so as to gain something more of the course. And this comes from great eagerness, from great warmth. So the runner must run, with such zeal, with such eagerness, not having fallen back. And as great as the difference is between one who runs so and one who lies on his back, so great is the difference between Paul and us. He died daily, he was approved daily; there was no season, no time, in which his course did not increase. He did not wish to receive the prize but to seize it; for so it is possible to receive it. Above stands the one who gives the prize; above lies the [prize].

[prize.] See how great a distance it is to run through; see how great the height. There one must fly on the wings of the Spirit; for otherwise it is not possible to cleave this height. One must walk there with the body; for it is possible: “For our citizenship,” he says, “is in heaven”; there is the prize. Do you see how runners live by rule? How they admit nothing that weakens their strength? How they contend every day in the wrestling school under a trainer and by rule? Imitate them, you too, or rather show even more eagerness; for the prize is not equal; many are those who hinder. Live by rule; many things weaken strength; make your soul nimble of foot; for it is possible, since it is a matter not of nature but of will. Let us make it light, so that the rest of the burden may not hinder the swiftness of the feet. Teach the feet to be sure; for there are many slips; and if you fall, you have lost much. However, even if you fall, get up again; it is possible even so [to win; do not attempt slippery places,] and you will not fall; run on firm ground; head up, eye up. This [the trainers tell] runners too; [so strength holds; but if you stoop, you are] undone. Look up, where the prize is; the very sight of the prize makes the will greater; the hope of it does not let one feel the toils of affliction; it makes the length seem small. What is the prize? Not a palm branch, but what? The kingdom of heaven, eternal rest, glory with Christ, an inheritance, brotherhood, countless good things that cannot be told. It is not possible to describe the beauty of that prize; only the one who holds it knows, and the one who is going to receive it. It is not of gold, it is not set with stones; it is far more precious than these. Gold is mud compared with that prize; precious stones are brick compared with the beauty of that prize. If you depart to heaven having that, you will be able to walk there with great honour, and angels will revere you as you bear this prize; you will approach all with great boldness. “In Christ Jesus.” See the grateful man: in Christ Jesus I do this, he says. For it is not possible to pass through so great a distance without his help; there is need of much help, much alliance. He willed you to contend below, but he crowns above; not as here, where the contest is, there too is the crown, but this crown is in the bright place. Do you not see here too that the most honoured of athletes and charioteers are not crowned below in the stadium, but the emperor calls them up and crowns them there? So here too, [he calls them] to [heaven and crowns them there. “As many, then, as are perfect,” he] says, “let us think this; and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal this too to you.” What is “this”? That one must forget what lies behind; so it belongs to the perfect man not to think himself perfect. How, then, do you say, “as many as are perfect”? Tell me, do we think this which you think? For if you have not received, nor been made perfect, how do you bid the perfect think this, which you yourself think, though not yet perfect? “This,” he says, “is perfection.” “And if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal this too to you.” That is, if anyone thinks he has achieved everything. He is securing them; but he did not say so, but what? “And if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal this too to you.” See how restrainedly he says it: God will teach you; that is, God will persuade you, not simply teach you; for Paul taught, but God led them on. And he did not say, “He will lead you on”, but, “He will reveal”, so that the thing may seem rather to belong to ignorance. These things are said not about doctrines, but about perfection of life, and about not thinking ourselves perfect. For the one who thinks he has laid hold of everything has nothing. “Only, to what we have attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us think the same thing.” What is “to what we have attained”? For now, he says, let us hold fast what we have achieved: love, concord, peace; this has been achieved by us. “To what we have attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us think the same thing.” “To what we have attained”: that is, this has already been achieved by us. Do you see that he wants the commands to be a rule? A rule admits neither addition nor subtraction; otherwise it loses its being a rule. “By the same rule”: that is, by the same faith, the same standard. “Be imitators of me,” he says, “and observe those who walk so, as you have us for a pattern.” He spoke above of the dogs, and drew them away from those men; now he brings them to those whom they should imitate. If anyone wishes to imitate us, he says, if anyone wishes to walk the same road, attend to them; even if I am not present, you know the manner of my walking, that is, of my way of life. For he taught not only by words but also by deeds; as in a chorus and an army the rest must imitate the chorus leader and the general and so walk; for it is possible for the ranks to be broken up even by a mutiny.

So the apostles were a pattern, preserving an archetypal image. Consider how exact their life was, so that they lay as an archetype and example and as living laws. For what the writings said, these men showed to all by deeds. This is the best teaching; in this way the teacher will be able to lead the disciple on. But if he himself speaks and philosophizes, but does the opposite in deeds, he is not yet a teacher. For this is easy even for the disciple, to philosophize in words; but there is need of admonition and guidance by deeds; for this makes the teacher respected and prepares the disciple to yield. How? When he sees him philosophizing in words, he will say that he commanded impossible things; and that they are impossible the teacher himself first shows by not doing them. But if he sees virtue perfected through deeds, he could not say this. However, even if the teacher's life is neglected, let us attend to ourselves, and hear the prophet saying, “They shall all be taught by God”; and, “They shall not teach each one his brother, saying, Know the Lord; for all shall know me, from the least of them to the greatest.” You do not have a virtuous teacher? But you have the true Teacher, whom alone one should call teacher: learn from him. He said, “Learn from me, for I am gentle.” Do not, then, attend to the teacher, but to him and to his lessons; take the pattern from there; you have the best image; shape yourself to it. There are countless images of virtuous lives laid up in the Scriptures; for example, if you wish, come after the Teacher to the disciples. One shone through having nothing, another through money: for example, Elijah through poverty, Abraham through money. Whichever you think [easier and more suited to you, go to it.] Again, one through marriage, another through virginity: Abraham through marriage, that other through virginity; walk whichever you wish; for each leads to heaven. One through fasting, John; another without fasts, Job. Again, this same man cared for a wife and sons and daughters and a house, and had great wealth; the other possessed nothing but the garment of hair. And why do I speak of house and wealth and money, when even in a kingdom it is possible to lay hold of virtue? For a royal house would be found more full of business than any private house. David, then, shone in a kingdom, and the purple and the diadem did not weaken him at all; another was entrusted with the leadership of a whole people, Moses I mean, which is even more difficult; for here the authority was greater, and so the difficulty became greater. You have seen men approved in wealth, you have seen them in poverty, you have seen them in marriage, you have seen them in virginity. See on the other hand people lost both in marriage and in virginity, both in wealth and in poverty. For example, in marriage many men were lost, such as Samson, but not because of marriage but because of his own will; in virginity, such as the five virgins; in wealth, the rich man who neglected Lazarus; in poverty, countless poor are still lost even now. In a kingdom I show many lost, in leadership of the people. Do you want to see people saved in the military rank too? See Cornelius. And in the management of a household? Look at the eunuch of the Ethiopian queen. So on every side, if we use wealth as we ought, nothing will destroy us; but if not, everything will destroy us: kingdom, poverty, wealth. But nothing can harm the one who is sober. Tell me, what harm did captivity do? None. For consider Joseph, who became a slave and preserved his virtue; consider Daniel and the three youths, who became captives, and how they shone much more. For virtue shines everywhere, and is unconquerable, and nothing can hinder it. Why do I speak of poverty and captivity and slavery? Not hunger, nor sores, nor disease can harm it; and disease is harder than slavery. Such was Lazarus, such was Job, such too was Timothy, gripped by frequent illnesses. Do you see that nothing can overcome virtue? Not wealth, not poverty, not ruling, not being ruled, not managing affairs, not disease, not disgrace, not being cast out; but leaving all these below on the earth, it reaches to heaven. Only let the soul be noble, and nothing hinders it from being virtuous. For when the workman is strong, nothing external hinders him. For in the crafts too, when the craftsman is experienced and steadfast and knows the whole craft, even if disease comes, he has it; even if he is poor, he has it; whether he has the tool in his hands or not, whether he works or not, … he has lost nothing; for the skill is in him. So also the virtuous man, devoted to God: even if you throw him into wealth, he shows his virtue; likewise in poverty, in disease, in health, in glory, in disgrace.

Did not the apostles pass through everything? “Through glory and dishonour,” he says, “through evil report and good report.” This is what makes an athlete: being fit for everything; such too is the nature of virtue. But if you say, “I cannot preside over many; I ought to live as a monk,” you have insulted virtue; for it can make use of everything and shine through, only let it be in the soul. Is there hunger? Is there plenty? For it shows its own strength, as Paul says: “I know how to abound and how to be in want.” Was it necessary to work? He was not ashamed, but worked for two years. Was it necessary to go hungry? He did not waste away, nor hesitate. Was it necessary to die? He did not become abject; through everything he showed his noble mind and his skill. Let us emulate him, then, and there will be no occasion of grief for us. For what, tell me, will be able to grieve such a man? Nothing. As long as no one takes this away from us, we shall be more blessed than all people, here too, not there only. For let the virtuous man have a wife, children, money, and great glory: amid all these he remains equally virtuous; take them away, and again he will be equally virtuous, neither swamped by afflictions nor puffed up by prosperity; but just as a rock, whether the sea is stormy or calm, stands equally unmoved, neither broken by the waves nor otherwise affected by the calm, so too the firm soul stands steady both in calm and in waves. And just as on a ship the children [are tossed about, while the pilot sits by,] unmoved, watching their confusion and amused, so too the philosophic soul, while all the others are troubled and again laugh out of season amid the changes of affairs, sits unmoved as on a ridge and at the helm of godliness. For what, tell me, can trouble a godly soul? Death? But it knows this to be the beginning of a better life. Poverty? But this works with it toward virtue. Disease? But it counts it as nothing when present. Why do I say disease? Not even ease, nor affliction; for it has afflicted itself beforehand. Disgrace? But the whole world has been crucified to it. Loss of children? But it is not afraid; for when it is fully assured about the resurrection, what can overcome it? Nothing at all. Does wealth puff it up? Not at all; for it knows that money is nothing. Glory? But it has been taught that “all the glory of man is as the flower of grass.” Luxury? But it has heard Paul saying, “she who lives in luxury is dead while she lives.” When, then, it is neither inflamed nor shrunken, what could be equal to this health? But other souls are not such, but change more often than the sea and the chameleon; so that it is quite laughable when you see the same man now laughing, now weeping, now anxious, now let loose beyond measure. And yet Paul says, “Do not be conformed to this age,” for no other reason than that we are citizens of heaven, where there is no change. Unchanging prizes have been promised us; let us, then, show such a way of life, and take hold of the good things already from here. Why do we throw ourselves into a strait, and into surf, and into storm and squall? Let us be in calm. It does not depend on wealth, nor on poverty, nor on glory, nor on disgrace, nor on disease, nor on health, nor on weakness; all these depend on our soul. If it is firm and well trained in the knowledge of virtue, everything will be easy for it. Already from here it will see rest and the calm harbour, and departing there it will obtain countless good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“For many walk, of whom I told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is destruction, whose god is the belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who think of earthly things. For our citizenship is in heaven, from which also we await a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform the body of our humiliation, that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, according to the working by which he is able even to subject all things to himself.” Nothing is so unfitting and foreign to a Christian as to seek ease and rest; nothing so foreign to our profession and enlistment as to be attached to the present life. Your Master was crucified, and do you seek ease? Your Master was nailed, and do you live in luxury? And where is this in a noble soldier? That is why Paul too says, “Many walk, of whom I told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ.” Since there were some who pretended to Christianity but lived in ease and luxury, and this is contrary to the cross, that is why he spoke so. For the cross belongs to a soul that is drawn up for battle …; but they live the opposite way. So even if they say they are Christ's, they are as enemies of the cross; for if they loved the cross, they would try to live the crucified life. Was not your Master impaled? Imitate him in another way, if you cannot in his manner: crucify yourself, even if no one crucifies you. Crucify yourself, I say, not so as to destroy yourself (God forbid, for that is impious), but as Paul said: “For to me,” he says, “the world has been crucified, and I to the world.” If you love your Master, die his death. Learn how great is the power of the cross, how much it has achieved, how much it achieves, how it is the safety of life. Through it everything is accomplished: baptism through the cross (for one must receive the seal); ordination through the cross; whether we are on the roads, or at home, or wherever we may be, the cross is a great good, a saving weapon, an invincible shield, an arrow against the devil. By being at enmity with him, then, you carry the cross, not merely sealing yourself with it, but suffering the things of the cross. Christ knows how to call sufferings a cross, as when he says, “Unless one takes up his cross and follows me”; that is, unless one is prepared for death. But these men, being ignoble and fond of life and of the body, are enemies of the cross; and everyone who is a lover of luxury and of safety here is an enemy of the cross, in which Paul boasts and which he embraces, with which he is eager to be one, as when he says, “I have been crucified to the world, and the world to me.” But now he says, “and I tell you even weeping”. Why? Because the evil had grown, because such people deserve tears. Truly those who live in luxury deserve tears, fattening the wrapper, that is, the body, but taking no account of the soul that is going to give account. See, you live in luxury, see, you get drunk, today and tomorrow, and ten years and twenty and thirty and fifty and a hundred, which is impossible; but, if you like, let us suppose it: what is the end? What the gain? Nothing. Is not living such a life worthy of tears and lamentation? God brought us into this stadium to crown us, and we go away having done nothing noble. So Paul weeps over the things at which others laugh and live wantonly; so sympathetic is he, so does he care for all people. “Whose god,” he says, “is the belly.” That is why it is a god to them: this is “Let us eat and drink.” Do you see how great an evil luxury is? For some, money is god, for others the belly. Are not these too idolaters, and worse than those? “And their glory,” he says, “is in their shame.” Some say that he means circumcision by this; but I do not say this, but it is this: they pride themselves on the things for which they ought to hide their faces. This is what he says elsewhere: “What fruit, then, did you have at that time from the things of which you are now ashamed?” For it is terrible to do shameful things; but to be ashamed while doing them is half as terrible; but when one even prides himself on them, [it is beyond all folly]. Were these things said about those men only, and have those present here with us escaped the charge? Is no one liable to it? Does no one have the belly as god? Nor his glory in his shame? I wish, I wish very much, that none of these things concerned us, and that I knew no one liable to what is said; but I fear that they are said of us rather than of those of that time. For when one spends his whole life in drinking parties and revels, and spends a little on the poor but the greater part on the belly, will it not rightly be said of him too?

Nothing is more shaming than the expression, nothing more cutting: “whose god is the belly, and whose glory is in their shame.” Who are these? “Those who think of earthly things”, who say, “Let us build houses.” Where? On earth, he says. “Let us acquire fields”: on earth again. “Let us obtain office”: again on earth. “Let us obtain glory”: again on earth. “Let us become rich”: everything on earth. These are they whose god is the belly. For those who think of nothing spiritual, but have everything here and think about these things, rightly have the belly as god, saying, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” Then you are grieved about the body, that it is earthly, though this harms you in nothing as regards virtue; but dragging the soul down to earth by luxury and taking no account of this, tell me, do you laugh and let yourself go? And what pardon will you obtain, being so insensible, when you ought to make even the body spiritual? For it is possible, if you will. You received a belly to feed it, not to tear it apart; to master it, not to have it as mistress; that it may serve you for the nourishment of the other members, not that you may serve it, not that you may overstep the bounds. The sea overstepping its bounds does not do so much harm as the belly does to our body together with the soul: the one floods the whole world, the other the whole body. Set it a bound, sufficiency, as God set the sand for the sea; and if it swells, if it rages, rebuke it with the power that is in you. See how God honoured you with reason, that you may imitate him; but you will not, but seeing it overflowing, corrupting the whole nature and turning it into a swamp, you do not dare to restrain or chasten it. “Whose god is the belly.” Let us see how Paul served God, and let us see how the gluttons serve the belly. Do they not endure countless deaths? Are they not afraid to disobey whatever it commands? Do they not perform impossible services for it? Are they not worse than slaves? But Paul was not such; that is why he said, “But our citizenship is in heaven.” So let us too not seek ease here; let us wish to be glorious there, where we are citizens. “From which also,” he says, “we await a Saviour, the Lord Jesus, who will transform the body of our humiliation, that it may be conformed to the body of his glory.” Little by little he has led us up: “from heaven,” he says, “our Saviour,” showing the dignity from the place and from the person. “Who will transform,” he says, “the body of our humiliation.” Our body suffers much now: it is bound, it is scourged, it suffers countless terrible things; but Christ's body too suffered as much. This he hinted at by saying, “that it may be conformed to the body of his glory.” So the body is the same, but it puts on incorruption. “Will transform,” he says: so the form too is different; or he called the change so by an extended use. And he said “the body of our humiliation” because it is now humbled, because it is subject to corruption, to pain, because it seems to be mean and to have nothing more than the rest. “That it may be conformed,” he says, “to the body of his glory.” Ah! This body becomes conformed to that one which sits at the right hand of the Father; to that one worshipped by angels; to that one at which the bodiless powers stood; to that one above every rule and authority and power, to that one it becomes conformed. If the whole world should take up tears and weep for those who have fallen from this hope, it would weep worthily. When so great a promise lies before us, to become conformed to him, does one go off with the demons? I no longer care about Gehenna; whatever you say, I count nothing compared with this loss. What are you saying, Paul? It becomes conformed to that one? Yes, he says. Then, so that you may not disbelieve, he added a reason too: “according to the working by which he is able even to subject all things to himself.” He has power, he says, to subject all things, so as to [abolish] even corruption and death (or rather, he does this too by the same power). For what, tell me, belongs to greater power: to subject angels and archangels and Cherubim and Seraphim and demons, or to make a body incorruptible and immortal? Much more the former than the latter. He has shown greater works of his power.

[From the passage on Phil 4:2–3:] … and he commends them to a man perhaps admirable, whom he also calls yokefellow; to whom perhaps he was accustomed to commend people, as to a fellow worker and soldier and partner and brother; as he does also in the Letter to the Romans, saying, “I commend to you Phoebe our sister, who is a deaconess of the church in Cenchreae.” “Yokefellow.” He calls so either some brother of theirs or the husband of one of them; as if he said: now you are a genuine brother, now a genuine husband, because you have become a member. “Who laboured with me in the gospel.” Your claim to patronage comes from yourselves, not from friendship but from achievements. “Laboured with me.” What are you saying? Women laboured with you? Yes, he says; these too contributed no small part. And though there were many who worked with him, nevertheless these too worked with him in many things. In no small way, then, were the churches knit together at that time; for from the approved, whether men or women, enjoying so much honour from the rest, many good things came about. First, the rest were led to equal zeal; second, they gained by the honour; third, they made those very people more eager and more vehement. That is why everywhere you see Paul taking care of this and commending such people, as he says also in the Letter to the Corinthians: “You know the household of Stephanas, that it is the firstfruits of Achaia.” Some say that “Yokefellow” is a proper name; but whether this or that, one must not be over-exact, but marvel that he bids them receive great patronage.

All things are ours in heaven, both Saviour and city and whatever one might name: “From which,” he says, “we also await a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.” And this belongs to his love for humankind. He himself comes to us again; he does not drag us there, but so takes us and departs; and this belongs to great honour. For if he came to us when we were enemies, much more when we have become friends. He does not entrust this to angels or to servants, but he himself comes on the clouds to call us into his palace. [Those who honour] him, honoured by him, will be caught up through clouds. “For we too,” he says, “shall be caught up in clouds,” we who honour him, “and so we shall always be with the Lord.” Who, then, will be found the faithful and wise servant? Who are those counted worthy of such good things? How pitiable are those who fall away! For if we wept all our time for having missed the kingdom, would we be doing anything worthy of it? For if you name countless Gehennas, you will name nothing equal to that pain which the soul then undergoes, when the whole world is shaken, when the trumpets sound, when the angels run before, the first, then the second, then the third, then countless ranks poured out onto the earth, then the Cherubim (and these are many and countless), then the Seraphim, when he himself comes in that unspeakable glory, when those who have come to bring the elect into the midst go out to meet him; then those with Paul, and all who have been approved, honoured by the King before the whole heavenly host. For even if there were no Gehenna, how great a thing is it that these are honoured and those dishonoured! Gehenna is unbearable, I admit, very unbearable; yet more unbearable than it is falling from the kingdom. Tell me: if some king or son of a king, having gone away and won countless wars and been admired, and having a whole army, should enter some city with his chariot, with trophies, with countless ranks all wearing gold, with all his bodyguards around him holding golden shields, and the whole city were crowned, and all the rulers of the world were with him, and every age followed him, and behind him captives of foreign nations, prefects, satraps, consuls, tyrants, rulers; then, in all that splendour, he should receive and kiss those of the citizens who came to meet him, and stretch out his hand to them, and share every freedom with them, or speak with them, while all stood by, as with friends, and say that he had made that whole journey for their sake, and lead some into his own palace but leave others behind: what punishment is this not worth, even if they are not punished? And if with a man it is so bitter to fall from this glory, much more with God, when all the powers above are present with the King, when the demons are bound and bow down, and the devil himself is led a prisoner, and every opposing power, when the powers of the heavens …, when he himself comes on the clouds. Believe me, from the pain that grips my soul at this account I cannot even finish the discourse. Let us consider how great a glory we are deprived of, when we need not be deprived. For the terrible thing is this, that though we have it in our power not to suffer these things, we suffer them. For when he receives some and leads them away to the Father into heaven, but sends others, weeping and bowed down, to the fire of Gehenna, first made an example before the whole world, how great do you think the pain is? Let us hasten, then, while there is time, and take great care of our own salvation. How many such things we shall have to say as the rich man did: “If someone now allowed us, we would plan something profitable”; but no one allows it. And that we shall say this is clear not only from him but from many others. And that you may learn: how many have fallen into fever and said, “If we recover …!” Many such things we shall say then, but we shall hear what the rich man heard: that there is a chasm, that we received our good things here. So let us groan bitterly, I beg you; or rather, let us not only groan, but also pursue virtue. Let us mourn now for salvation, so that we may not mourn then in vain; let us weep now, and not weep then over wickedness: this weeping belongs to virtue, that one to useless repentance. Let us afflict ourselves now, so that we may not be afflicted then. It is not the same to be afflicted here and there. For here you are afflicted for a short time, or rather you do not even feel the affliction, knowing that you are afflicted for good; but there the affliction is harsher, because it is not in hope, nor with any way out, but endless and forever. May we all be freed and obtain rest. But since there is need of intense zeal and unceasing prayers so as not to miss it, let us be zealous, I beg you; for if we are zealous, we also succeed when we pray; if we pray earnestly, God gives. But if we neither ask him nor do anything of the kind nor work, how is it possible ever to succeed while sleeping? Not at all. For it is something to be glad of to be able to attain it [even while being conformed] to his death, as Paul said, let alone sleeping. “If by any means I may attain,” he says. If Paul said, “if by any means I may attain,” what shall we say? For while sleeping one cannot even accomplish worldly affairs, let alone spiritual ones; while sleeping one cannot even receive anything from friends, let alone from God; fathers do not honour sleepers, let alone God. Let us toil a little, that we may rest forever. One must certainly be afflicted; if we are not afflicted here, it remains for there. Why do we not choose [to be afflicted here, so that we may rest there]? May we all, having lived worthily of Christ and been conformed to his death, obtain the unspeakable good things in Christ Jesus, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

[From the passage on Phil 4:1–3:] [He showed greater works of his power, so that you may believe] these too. So even if you see these men rejoicing, even if you see them [honoured], stand firm; be in no way harmed by them, in nothing be frightened; these hopes are enough to raise up even one very sluggish and drowsy. “So then, my brothers, beloved and longed for, my joy and crown, so stand firm in the Lord, beloved.” “So”: how? As you have stood unbending. See how after the exhortation come the praises: “my joy and crown.” Not … Perhaps simply joy, but also glory; not simply glory, but also a crown; and there is no glory equal to this, when they are Paul's crown. “So stand firm in the Lord, beloved”: that is, in the hope of God. “I exhort Euodia and I exhort Syntyche to think the same thing in the Lord. And I ask you too, genuine yokefellow.” Some say that he is exhorting his own wife here, “genuine yokefellow”; but it is not so, but someone … wife, or the husband of one of them. “Help these women, who laboured with me in the gospel, with Clement also and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life.” Do you see how great a virtue he bears witness to in them? What Christ said to the apostles, “Do not rejoice that the demons obey you, but that your names are written in the book of life”, this Paul too bears witness to in them, saying, “whose names are in the book of life.” These women seem to me to be the chief part of the church there; and he commends …

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to all people. The Lord is near; be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.” “Blessed are those who mourn,” and, “Woe to those who laugh,” says Christ. Why, then, does Paul say, “Rejoice in the Lord always”? Not as opposing Christ, God forbid. For Christ said, “Woe to those who laugh,” hinting at the laughter of this world, that which arises over present things; and he called blessed those who mourn, not those who simply mourn over the loss of their relatives, but those who are pierced to the heart and mourn their own evils, those who reckon up their own sins, or those of others. But this joy is not contrary to that mourning; rather this too is born of that mourning; for the one who mourns his own evils and confesses them rejoices. Besides, it is possible to mourn over one's own sins and to rejoice in Christ. Since, then, they were afflicted by what they suffered (“For it has been granted to you,” he says, “not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him”), that is why he says, “Rejoice in the Lord.” For these words mean nothing else than this: show such a life that you may rejoice. When, then, the things of God are not hindered for you, rejoice. Either, then, he means this, or “in” stands for “with”, as if he said, “Rejoice with the Lord always.” “Again I will say, rejoice.” This belongs to one giving courage and showing that the one who is in God always rejoices; whether he is afflicted, or suffers anything whatever, such a man always rejoices. For hear Luke saying of the apostles that “they returned from the presence of the council rejoicing that they had been counted worthy to be scourged for his name.” If scourgings and bonds, which seem more grievous than anything, give birth to joy, what else will be able to cause us grief? “Again I will say, rejoice.” He did well to double the word. For since the nature of things produced grief, by the doubling he shows that one must certainly rejoice. “Let your gentleness be known to all people.” He said above, “whose god is the belly, and whose glory is in their shame”, and that “they think of earthly things”. Since, then, it was likely that they were hostilely disposed toward the wicked, he exhorts them to have nothing in common with those men, but to treat them with great gentleness, and not only the brothers but also enemies and opponents. “The Lord is near; be anxious for nothing.” For why, tell me, are you distressed? Because they resist? Because you see them living in luxury? “Be anxious for nothing.” The judgment is already at hand; before long they will give account of what they have done. “But you are in affliction, and they in luxury”? But these things will soon reach their end. “But they plot and threaten”? But these things will not go on for them to the end; already the judgment is at hand, when the opposite will be. “Be anxious for nothing”; the time of repayment is already at hand. Even if you behave gently toward those who have done you terrible things, even if there is poverty, even if death, even if anything else terrible, all will pass away. “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” One consolation, then, is that, “The Lord is near”, and that, “I will be with you all the days, until the end of the age.” See also another consolation, and a medicine that releases from grief and hardship and every vexation. What is it? Praying, giving thanks in everything. So he wants prayers to be not only asking but also thanksgiving for what we have. For how will one ask for the future who is not grateful for the past? “But in everything,” he says, that is, in every matter, “by prayer and supplication.” So one must give thanks for everything, even for what seems grievous; for this truly belongs to a grateful man. For the former the nature of things demands; but the latter comes from a grateful soul, very well disposed toward God. These prayers God recognizes, but the others he does not know. So pray in such a way that you may be recognized. For he arranges everything for our advantage, even if we do not know it; and this very fact, that we do not know, is a proof that it is very much to our advantage. “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.” What is this? The peace of God, he says, which he made with men, surpasses all understanding. For who would have expected, who would have hoped that such good things would come? It surpasses every human mind, not speech only: for enemies, for those who hated him, for those who turned away from him, for these he did not refuse to give up his only-begotten Son, so as to make peace with us. This peace, then, that is, the reconciliation, the love of God, will guard your hearts and your thoughts.

This belongs to a teacher: not only to exhort, but also to pray, and to help by supplication, so that they may neither be swamped by trials nor carried about by deceit; as if he said: he who rescued you in a way that not even the mind can grasp, may he himself keep you and secure you, so that you suffer nothing. Either, then, he means this, or that the peace of which Christ speaks, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you”, this will guard you. For this peace surpasses every human mind. And if you ask how, hear: when he tells us to be at peace with enemies, with those who wrong us, with those who make war on us and are hostile to us, how is this not beyond human understanding? But rather let us look at the first meaning. The peace surpasses all understanding. If the peace does, much more God himself, who gave the peace, surpasses all understanding, not ours only, but also that of the angels and the powers above. And what is “in Christ Jesus”? He will guard you in him, he says, so that you remain and do not fall from faith in him. “Finally, brothers, whatever things are venerable, whatever true, whatever just.” What is “finally”? Instead of “everything has been said to us.” It is the expression of one who is hastening and has nothing in common with present things. “Finally, brothers, whatever things are true, whatever venerable, whatever just, whatever pure, whatever lovely, whatever of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is any praise, think on these things; the things which you also learned and received and heard and saw in me.” What is “whatever lovely”? Lovely to the faithful, lovely to God. “Whatever things are true.” For these are truly true, virtue; but wickedness is a lie; for its pleasure is a lie, and its glory a lie, and all the things of the world a lie. “Whatever pure”, against “those who think of earthly things”. “Whatever venerable”, against “whose god is the belly”. “Whatever just, whatever of good report”: these things are so, he says. “If there is any virtue and if there is any praise.” Here he wants them to take thought for what concerns people too. “Think on these things,” he says. Do you see that he wants to banish every evil thought from our souls? For evil deeds come from thoughts. “The things which you also learned and received.” This belongs to the best teaching: in all exhortations to offer oneself as a pattern; as he also says elsewhere, “as you have us for a pattern”; and again here, “the things which you also learned and received”, that is, you were taught; “and heard and saw in me”, both as to words and deeds and way of life. Do you see that he gives these commands down to every matter? For since it was not possible to be exact about everything, comings and goings, word and bearing and company (for the Christian must take thought for all these), he said briefly and as in summary, “you heard and saw in me”, that is, from me; as if he said: by deeds and by words I led you up. “Do these things”: do not only speak, but also do; “and the God of peace will be with you.” That is, if you keep these things so and are at peace with one another, you will be in calm, in great safety; you will suffer nothing grievous, nothing you do not wish. For when we are at peace with him (and we are at peace through virtue), much more will he be with us. For one who loved us so much that he received us even when we were unwilling, if he sees us running to him, will he not show his friendship much more? Nothing is so hostile to our nature as wickedness. And how wickedness is hostile to us and virtue friendly is clear from this; and, if you wish, let us consider this first from one of the opposites, sexual immorality. It … [makes people] licentious, easily despised by all, doing to them what enemies would do; and often it has surrounded them with diseases and dangers; and many have perished on account of prostitutes and received wounds. And if sexual immorality brings these things about, adultery much more. Is almsgiving so too? Not at all; but like a tender mother it sets the child in great decorum, in good order, in good repute; it makes us occupied with necessary things; it does not leave us, nor draw us away from necessary things, but even makes the soul more intelligent. For nothing is more senseless than those who are given to prostitutes. But do you want to see greed too? This too does to us what an enemy would do. How? It too makes us hated by all; it causes all to pray against us, both those who have been wronged and those who have not, sympathizing with the former and afraid for themselves; all look on such people as common enemies, as wild beasts, as demons; countless accusations everywhere, plots, envy, which belong to enemies. But justice does the opposite: it makes all friends, all intimates, all well disposed toward us; prayers for us are made by all. From this our affairs are in great safety; there is no danger, no suspicion; even sleep comes fearlessly and with safety; there is no care, no lamentation.

Do you see that this is better? And what, tell me? Is envying better, or rejoicing with others? Let us examine all these things, and we shall find that virtue, like a truly tender mother, sets us in safety, but wickedness in dangers, being a precarious and dangerous thing. For hear the prophet saying, “The Lord is the strength of those who fear him, and his covenant is to show it to them.” The one who knows himself guilty of nothing evil fears no one; again, the one who lives in wickedness trusts no one, but even trembles at his servants and looks on them with suspicion. Why do I speak of servants? He cannot bear the tribunal of conscience; not only those outside but also the thoughts within beat him, not letting him be at rest. “What then,” someone says, “must one live paying attention to praise?” He did not say, “Look to praise,” but, “Do also what is praiseworthy, though not for the sake of praise.” [“Whatever things are true”]: for those things are a lie. “Whatever venerable.” The venerable belongs to outward force, the pure to the soul. Give no offence, he says, nor handle. Since he said, “whatever of good report”, so that you may not think that he means simply what is among men, he added, “if there is any virtue and if there is any praise, think on these things”, do these things. He wants us to be in these things continually, to be concerned with these things, to think of these things. For if we are going to be at peace among ourselves, God too will be with us. But if we stir up war, the God of peace will not be with us. For nothing is so hostile to the soul as wickedness; and nothing again sets it in safety like peace and virtue; so our part must begin first, and then we shall draw God to us. God is not a God of war and battle. So put an end to war and battle, both that against him and that against your neighbour; be peaceable toward all. Consider whom God saves: “Blessed are the peacemakers,” he says, “for they shall be called sons of God.” Such people imitate the Son of God continually; imitate him you too; be at peace. The more your brother wars against you, the greater the reward. For hear the prophet saying, “With those who hate peace I was peaceable.” This is virtue, this is greater than human reasoning; this makes one near to God. Nothing so delights God as not bearing grudges; this frees you from sins, this cancels your charges. But if we fight and box with one another, we become far from God. For from fighting enmities are born, and from enmity grudges. Cut out the root, and there will be no fruit; so we shall learn to despise worldly things. For there is not, there is not fighting in spiritual things; but whatever you see happen, whether fights or envy or whatever one might name, it happens for the sake of worldly things; for every fight has its beginning in greed, or envy, or vainglory. If, then, we are at peace, we shall learn to despise even the things on earth. Has someone seized your money? But he has done you no wrong, provided he has not seized the wealth above, he says. Has he hindered your glory? But not the glory with God, only the worthless one; for that is not glory but the name of glory, or rather disgrace. Has he seized your honour? Not yours, but his own. For just as the one who wrongs does not wrong but is wronged, so too the one who plots against his neighbour destroys himself first; “for the one who digs a pit for his neighbour falls into it himself.” So let us not plot against others, so that we may not harm ourselves. When we trip up the glory of others, let us consider that we harm ourselves, that we plot rather against ourselves. For perhaps, if we succeed, we harm him in the eyes of men; but we wrong ourselves before God, provoking him. Let us not harm ourselves. For just as, if we wrong our neighbours, we wrong ourselves, so by doing them good we do ourselves good. When, then, your enemy harms you, consider that he has done you a kindness, if you are sober; do not only not repay him in kind, but do him good. “But the blow remains sharp,” someone says. Consider this, then: that you are not doing him good, but punishing him and doing yourself good; and you will quickly come to do good. “What then,” someone says, “must one act with such an aim?” One ought not to act with this aim; but when the heart cannot bear it, lead it on even by this, he says, and you will quickly persuade it to let go of the enmity, and then you will do good to the enemy as a friend, and so obtain the good things to come; which may we all obtain in Christ Jesus, and so on.

“But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at last you have revived your concern for me; in which you were indeed concerned, but you lacked opportunity. Not that I speak in respect of want; for I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound; in everything and in all things I have been initiated, both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to be in want. I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me. Nevertheless you did well in sharing in my affliction.” I have often said that almsgiving was introduced not for the sake of those who receive but of those who give; for these are the ones who gain the most. Paul shows this here too. How? The Philippians had sent him something after a long time, sending the very man who was to carry back the Letter; see how he both praises them and shows that this was done not for the need of the receivers but for the sake of the givers. He does this so that those who do good may not be lifted to arrogance, and may become more eager to do good, as benefiting themselves more; and so that those who receive may not be careless in receiving, so as not to incur judgment; “for it is more blessed,” he says, “to give than to receive.” What, then, does he mean by saying, “But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly”? I did not rejoice in a worldly way, he says, nor in the way of this life, but in the Lord; not because I had relief, but because you made progress; for that is my relief. That is why he also says “greatly”; since the joy was not bodily, nor did he rejoice over his own relief, but over their progress. And see how, having gently rebuked them for the time past, he quickly shaded it over, teaching them to be in doing good continually and always. “That now at last,” he says. “Now at last” shows a long time. “You have revived”: as of trees that budded, then withered, and budded again. This shows that, having before been in bloom, they withered; so that “you have revived” is both a rebuke and a praise; for it is no small thing for what has withered [to bloom again]. And he shows that they suffered the whole from sloth. “Your concern for me, in which you were indeed concerned.” Here he shows that they were accustomed before this too to be generous in such things. That is why he added, “your concern for me, in which you were indeed concerned.” And so that you may not think it was so in other things too, but only in this, see how he secures it, saying, “now at last you have revived your concern for me”; as if he said: I say “now at last” of this alone; for in other things it was not so. One might ask here how, when he says, “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” and, “These hands ministered to my needs and to those who were with me,” and again, writing to the Corinthians, said, “For it would be better for me to die than that anyone should empty my boast,” he now lets his boast be emptied. How? By receiving. For if his boast was this, to take nothing, how does he now allow it? What, then, can we say? There he rightly did not receive because of the false apostles: “so that in what they boast of,” he says, “they may be found just as we are.” And he did not say, “in what they are”, but “in what they boast of”, showing by this that they did receive, but secretly. That is why he said, “in what they boast of.” And he too received, even if not there; that is why he too said, “This boast of mine will not be stopped.” And he did not simply say, “will not be stopped”, but what? “in the regions of Achaia”; and the words, “… for your service”, show that he received. But Paul rightly received, having so great a work, if indeed he ever received; but those who do nothing, how could they receive? “But I pray,” someone says. But this is not work; for this is to be done along with work. “But I fast.” But not even this is work. But see this blessed man … preaching in many places and working. “But you lacked opportunity,” he says. What is “you lacked opportunity”? It was not from your sloth, he says, but from necessity; you did not have it in hand, nor were you in abundance; for this is “but you lacked opportunity.” He took it from common usage; for so most people speak, when the things of life do not flow to them in abundance but are in straits. “Not that I speak in respect of want.” I said, he says, “now at last”, and rebuked you, not seeking my own interest, nor finding fault for this reason, as being in want; for I did not seek it for this reason. How is it clear that you are not boasting, Paul? To the Corinthians, indeed, he says, “… what you read or also acknowledge”; and he spoke so as to be caught out by them. He would not have said these things if he were boasting; for he spoke to those who knew, and the shame of being caught would have been greater. “For I have learned,” he says, “in whatever state I am, to be content.” So the thing is a matter of teaching, of training, and of practice. For it is not easily achieved, but very difficult and involving much toil. “In whatever state I am,” he says, “to be content. I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound; in everything and in all things I have been initiated.” That is, I know how to use little, and to bear hunger and want. “Both to abound and to be in want.” Yes, someone says; but abounding is not a matter of knowledge, any more than of virtue. It is very much a matter of virtue, no less than the other. How? Because just as straitness prompts many to do evil, so does plenty.

For many, having come into abundance, have often become more slothful and have not known how to bear prosperity; many have often taken occasion from it to work no longer. But not Paul; for when he received, he spent it on others and emptied it out for others. This is knowing how to use what one has well. He was not let loose, nor did he rejoice over his abundance, but he was the same in want and in plenty, neither crushed by the one nor puffed up by the other. “I know how to be full,” he says, “and to be hungry, both to abound and to be in want.” Many do not know how to be full, like the Israelites: for they ate and kicked. But I remain in the same good order. He shows that he was neither pleased now nor grieved before; and if he was grieved, it was not for his own sake but for theirs; for he himself was disposed the same way. “In everything,” he says, “and in all things I have been initiated”: that is, I have had experience of all things in this long time, and all these I have achieved. But since the thing was a great boast, see how quickly he checks it and says, “I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me,” he says. The achievement is not mine, but belongs to the one who gave the strength. But again, since those who do good, when they see that the receiver is not well disposed but despises what is given, become more slothful (for they were disposed as doing a favour and giving relief), so that this may not happen, and no one may say, “Since Paul despises relief, these must become more slothful,” see how he heals this too. For by what he said he pulled down their pride; but by what follows he raised their eagerness: “Nevertheless you did well in sharing in my affliction.” Do you see how he both set himself apart and joined himself to them again? This belongs to genuine and spiritual friendship. Do not think, he says, because I am not in need, that I do not need the thing; I need it for your sake. How, then, did they share in his afflictions? By this; as he also said when in bonds, “you all being partakers with me of grace.” For suffering for Christ is a grace, as he himself says somewhere: “For to you it has been granted by God, not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him.” For since those things, said by themselves, were enough to pain them, that is why he soothes them and accepts and praises them again, and this in measure. For he did not say, “giving”, but “sharing”, showing that they too gained, if indeed they became partners in the contests. He did not say, “lightening my afflictions”, but “sharing in my affliction”, which was more dignified. Do you see Paul's humility? Do you see his nobility? When he had shown that he needed nothing from them for his own sake, then at last he speaks even humble words without fear, the very words beggars use: “as you are accustomed to give”. For he refuses to do or say nothing, so long as he achieves the one thing he wants. What is this? Do not think, he says, that the words are shameless: the reproach, and saying, “now at last you have revived”, and the talk of being in need; for I do not say these things as one in need, but what? From great confidence in you; and you are the cause of this too. Do you see how he soothes them, and how he says, “You are the cause,” having leapt at the thing before the others, and having given us boldness to remind you of such things? And see the dignity: while they were not sending, he did not reproach them, so that he might not seem to be serving his own interest; but when they had sent, then he rebuked them for the time past, and they bore it; for then he would not seem to be serving his own interest. “You yourselves also know, Philippians,” he says, “that in the beginning of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you only.” Ah, how great a praise! If the Corinthians and Romans are urged on by hearing those things from him, but these, when no church had begun (for “in the beginning of the gospel,” he says), showed such zeal toward the saint that, without even having an example, they themselves were the first to begin this fruit-bearing. And one cannot say that they did this while he stayed with them, or for the sake of what concerned themselves; for “when I departed,” he says, “from Macedonia, no church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you only.” What is “receiving”? And what is “shared”? Why did he not say, “No church gave to me,” but, “shared in the matter of giving and receiving”? For the thing is a partnership. “For if we sowed spiritual things among you,” he says, “is it a great thing if we reap your fleshly things?” And again, “that your abundance may be for their want.” Do you see how they shared, in the matter of giving fleshly things and receiving spiritual things? For just as those who sell and buy share with one another, giving each other what they have (for this is partnership), so it is here too. For there is not, there is not anything more profitable than this buying and trading: it takes place on earth, but is completed in heaven; those who buy stand on earth, but they buy and contract for the things in heaven, paying an earthly price.

[3.] But do not condemn me: heavenly things are not bought with money; it is not money itself that buys, but the will of the one who lays down the money, the philosophy of being above worldly things, love for humankind, almsgiving. For if silver bought it, the woman who put in the two small coins would have received nothing great; but since not the silver but the will prevailed, she, showing her whole will, received everything. Let us not say, then, that the kingdom is bought with money: not with money, but with the will shown through money. “Then there is need of money,” someone says? There is need not of money, but of will. If you have this, you will be able to buy heaven even with two small coins; but without it, not even ten thousand talents of gold will be able to do what the two coins did. Why? For when, having much, you lay down less, you have done almsgiving, but not as much as the widow; for you did not lay it down with as much eagerness as she; for she deprived herself of everything, or rather she did not deprive herself, but gave everything to herself. God promised the kingdom not for talents of gold, but for a cup of cold water, that is, for eagerness; not for death, but for will; since it is not even a great thing. For what is it to give one life? He gave one man; but one man is not equivalent. “For even in Thessalonica you sent once and again for my needs.” Again the praise is great, if, while staying in the metropolis, he was fed by the small city. And see, so as not to make them more slothful by always drawing himself out of need, as I said before, having shown in so many ways that he does not need, he made this plain by one thing only, saying, “for my needs”; and he did not say “mine”, but simply, taking care of dignity; and not only this, but also what follows. For since he was aware that it was very humble, he again secures it by a correction, saying, “Not that I seek the gift.” What he said above, “Not that I speak in respect of want,” showing the same, though that is greater than this. For it is one thing not to seek when in want, and another, being in want, not even to think oneself in want. “Not that I seek the gift,” he says, “but I seek the fruit that abounds to your account,” not mine. Do you see that the fruit is born for them? I say these things for your sake, he says, not my own, for your salvation; for I gain nothing by receiving; the grace belongs to the givers. For to those who give the repayment is kept there; but for those who receive, what is given is spent here. Again with praise and sympathy … For since he said, “I do not seek”, so as not again to make them more slothful, he says, “But I have received everything, and abound.” That is, by this gift you have filled up even what was omitted, which was most of all able to make them more eager. For the more philosophic they are, the more those who do good seek even the gratitude of those they benefit. “I have received everything, and abound”: that is, you have not only made up what was lacking in the past time, but even exceeded it. Then, so that he may not seem to reproach them for this, see how he puts the seal on it. For since he said, “Not that I seek the gift,” and “now at last”, and showed that the thing was a debt (for this is “I have received”), he again shows that they did more than the debt, and says, “I have received everything and abound; I am filled.” I do not say these things idly, nor from affection, but what? “having received from Epaphroditus the things from you, an odour of sweet smell, an acceptable sacrifice, well pleasing to God.” Ah, to what height he raised their gift! It was not I who received, he says, not I, but God through me. So even if I do not need it, do not be concerned; for God did not need it either, and yet he accepted it, so that the divine Scripture did not even refuse to say, “The Lord smelled an odour of sweet smell”, which belongs to one delighted. For you know, you know how our soul is affected by sweet smells, how it is delighted, how it is gladdened. So Scripture did not refuse to speak of God in so human and lowly a word, so as to show people that the gifts from them were acceptable. For it was not the savour or the smoke that made them acceptable, but the will that offered them; since, if it were that, Cain's too would have been accepted. So it said that he is delighted, and how he is delighted; for otherwise people would not have learned it. He, then, who is in no need says that he is so delighted, so that they may not become slothful because he needs nothing. And when afterwards, neglecting the rest of virtue, they trusted in these things, see how he corrects them again, saying, “Shall I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats?” This is what Paul too says: “Not that I seek the gift.” “And my God will fill every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”

See how he also prays for them, as the poor do. And if Paul prays for those who give, much more let us not be ashamed to do this when we receive. Let us not receive as though we ourselves were in need, nor rejoice for our own sake, but for the sake of the givers themselves. So we too, the receivers, shall have a reward, if we rejoice for their sake; so we shall not be indignant when they do not give, but rather grieve for them; so we shall also make them more eager, if we teach them that we do not do these things for our own sake. “And my God,” he says, “will fill every need of yours”, or “every grace”, or “every joy”. If it is “every grace”, he means not only this almsgiving on earth, but every achievement; but if it is “every need”, which I think is rather what is said, this is what he wishes to show: since he said before, “you lacked opportunity”, he adds here what he does in the Letter to the Corinthians, saying, “He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed and increase the fruits of your righteousness.” For he prays for them to be in abundance and to have something to sow; and he prays for them not simply to be in abundance, but “according to his riches”. So this too is in measure. For if they had been like him, so philosophic and so crucified, he would not have done this; but since they were men, craftsmen, poor, having wives, rearing children, presiding over households, and they gave even this from little, and had some desire for present things too, he prays for them condescendingly. For it is nothing absurd to pray for sufficiency and abundance for those who use them so. See, then, what he prays for: he did not say, “May he make you rich,” but, “will fill every need of yours”; so that you may not be in want, but have what is needed; since Christ too, giving us a rule of prayer, put this into the prayer, teaching us to say, “Give us today our daily bread.” “According to his riches.” What is this? According to his generosity, that is, what is easy and possible for him, and to do it quickly. And since I spoke of “need”, so that they might not think he will keep them in straits, that is why he added, “according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” Everything will so abound for you, he says, that you have it in his glory. Either, then, he means this, that you lack nothing (“And great grace,” it says, “was upon them all; for there was not a needy person among them”), or he urges them to do everything for his glory; as if he said: that you may use your abundance for his glory. “To our God and Father be the glory forever and ever. Amen.” This glory becomes not the Son's only, but also the Father's. For when the Son is glorified, then the Father is. For since he said that this was to be for Christ's glory, so that no one might think it his alone, he added, “To our God and Father be the glory”, clearly this which comes to the Son. “Greet every saint in Christ Jesus.” This too is no small thing; for even greeting them by letter belongs to great goodwill. “The brothers who are with me greet you.” Yet you said, “I have no one … who will care”; how, then, do you now say, “the brothers who are with me”? Either he means the brothers with him, showing that he has no one with him who is like-minded, not speaking of those in the city (for what necessity did they have to take on the affairs of the apostles?); or that he does not refuse to call these too brothers. “All the saints greet you, especially those of Caesar's household. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.” He raised them up and strengthened them, showing that the preaching had reached even the imperial household. For if those in the palace despised everything for the King of heaven, much more ought they to do this. And this too was a proof of Paul's love, that he told much about them and said great things, so that he brought even those in the palace to longing, so as to greet those they had not seen. For since the faithful were then in affliction, love was great. How? Those separated from one another were joined together, and those far off greeted one another as though near, and each was disposed toward the others as toward his own members. The poor man was disposed alike toward the rich, and the rich toward the poor; and there was no superiority, because all alike were hated and driven out, and for the same things. For just as captives from different cities, when they have been taken away and come to one city, cling greatly to one another, the common misfortune joining them together, so then too, the sharing of sufferings and afflictions joining them together, they had great love for one another.

For affliction is an unbreakable bond, an increase of love, an occasion of compunction and reverence. For hear David saying, “It is good for me, Lord, that you humbled me, that I might learn your statutes”; and again another prophet saying, “It is good for a man when he bears a yoke from his youth”; and again, “Blessed is the man whom you discipline, Lord”; and another saying, “Do not make light of the discipline of the Lord”; and elsewhere, “If you come to serve the Lord, prepare your soul for temptation.” And Christ said to his disciples, “In the world you will have affliction, but take courage”; and again, “You will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice”; and again, “Narrow and hard is the way.” Do you see affliction praised everywhere, everywhere taken up as necessary for us? For if in the outside contests no one could receive a crown without it, unless he fortified himself with toils and abstinence from food and a rule of diet and vigils and countless other things, much more here. For whom do you wish to name? The emperor? But not even he lives a life free from care, but one full of many afflictions and anxieties. Do not look at the diadem, but at the surge of cares through which tumult is born for him; nor look at the purple, but at the soul that is darker than that purple; the crown does not bind the head so tightly as care binds the soul; nor look at the crowd of bodyguards, but at the crowd of despondencies. For one cannot find a private house full of as many cares as the palace. Deaths are expected every day by these very men, and blood is seen before the table and before the drink. And at night one cannot even say how often they leap up and start out of bed in alarm. And this in peace; but if war seizes them, the cares grow still greater. What, then, could be more pitiable than this life? And how many things come from their own people, from their subjects, I mean? Indeed the royal floor is always full even of kindred blood. And, if you wish, I will tell some things, and perhaps you will recognize that it is so; I will speak indeed of old things, but things still kept in memory, since they happened in our own times. So-and-so, they say, suspecting his wife of adultery, bound her naked on the mountains (or: to mules) and gave her to wild beasts, though she had already become the mother of many emperors to him. What kind of life do you think he lived? For he would not have gone to such a punishment unless he had been utterly consumed by the passion. This same man slaughtered his own son; or rather his brother … himself with his children. And it is said that this man also killed his own brother. And one killed himself when caught by a usurper, and another killed his own nephew, who shared the empire with him, which he himself had entrusted to him. Another saw his wife destroyed by pessaries: for since she did not bear children, a wretched and miserable woman (wretched and miserable indeed, who hoped to provide God's gift by her own wisdom) gave her pessaries and destroyed the empress, and was herself destroyed with her. Another again after this was killed by deadly poisons, and the cup was for him no longer a drink but death; and his son had his eye gouged out for fear of what was to come, though he had done no wrong. Another, it is not even good to say how pitiably he ended his life. Of those after these, one was burned, like a wretched and miserable man, with horses and beams and everything else, and his poor wife was left in widowhood; for the griefs she was forced to have in her lifetime, when that man rose up against him, cannot even be told. And the one who rules now, has he not, since he put on the diadem, been in toils, in dangers, in griefs, in despondencies, in misfortunes, in plots? But the kingdom of heaven is not like this; but after receiving it there is peace, life, joy, gladness. But, as I was saying, there is no life without hardship. And if in worldly affairs even the one who is most blessed, the one in the kingship, is full of so many misfortunes, what do you think it is in private life? And how many other evils there are cannot even be told. How many stories have often been invented from these things! Almost all the tragedies on the stage are woven from kings, and the stories; for most of what is in the stories has been invented from what happened; for so it also gives pleasure; for example, the banquets of Thyestes, and how that whole house ended in misfortunes. But these things we know from what has been composed by outsiders; if you wish, we will speak from the Scriptures too. Saul was the first to reign, but you know how he too perished after experiencing countless evils. After him David, Solomon, Abijah, Hezekiah, Josiah likewise. For it is not possible to pass through the present life without affliction, without toils, without despondency. But let us be despondent not over such things as kings are, but over such things as bring us great gain: “For godly grief works repentance to salvation, not to be regretted.” Over these one must grieve, over these be pained, over these be stung. So Paul grieved over sinners, so he wept: “For out of much affliction,” he says, “and anguish of heart I wrote to you with many tears.” For since he had nothing of his own to mourn, he did this for others; or rather he considered those things his own too, as regards mourning. Others were made to stumble, and he burned; others were weak, and he was weak. Such grief is good; it is better than any worldly joy. One who mourns so I prefer to all people; or rather the Lord himself calls those who mourn so blessed, the sympathetic. I do not so much admire him for his dangers (or rather I admire him no less than for the dangers, by which he died every day); but this takes hold of me more. For it came from a soul that loved God and was tender, from love, which Christ himself sought, from brotherly and fatherly sympathy, or rather from something greater than both. So one must be disposed, so one must weep: such tears are full of great gladness; such mourning is an occasion of joy. And do not tell me, “What is the gain of lamenting for those over whom I do this?” Even if we benefit those we lament in nothing, we shall certainly benefit ourselves. For the one who grieves so for others will do this much more for his own sins; the one who weeps so over the sins of others will not pass by his own offences without tears; or rather he will not even sin quickly. But the terrible thing is that, though we are commanded to lament so over sinners, we show no repentance even over our own, but are disposed insensibly while we stumble, and we care about everything and reckon up everything rather than our own sins. That is why we rejoice with a useless joy, the joy of the world, which is quickly quenched, which gives birth to countless griefs. Let us grieve, then, with grief that is the mother of joy, and not take pleasure in joy that gives birth to grief; let us shed tears that sow great pleasure, and not laugh the laughter that gives birth to gnashing of teeth; let us be afflicted with the affliction from which relief springs, and not seek the luxury from which much affliction and pain are born. Let us toil a little on earth, that we may live in delight forever in heaven; let us afflict ourselves in this transitory life, that in the endless one we may obtain relief; let us not let ourselves go in this brief life, that we may not groan in the endless one. Do you not see how many are afflicted even here for the sake of worldly affairs? Consider that you too are one of them, and bear affliction and pain, nourished by the hope of what is to come. You are not better than Paul or Peter, who never obtained relief, who passed their whole life in hunger and thirst and nakedness. If you wish to obtain the same things as they, why do you travel the opposite road? If you wish to arrive at that city of which they were counted worthy, walk that road which leads there. The road of relief does not lead there, but the road of affliction: that one is broad, this one narrow. Let us walk this one, that we may obtain eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.