Leaves from St. John Chrysostom

by Saint John Chrysostom

The Folly of the Cross.
(Homilies on First Epistle to Corinthians, xiv., vol. ii., p. 36.)

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Showing the power of the Cross, St. Paul says: The Jews too ask for signs, and the Greeks seek after wisdom: but we preach Christ crucified, a scandal to the Jews, a folly to the Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Gentiles, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. There is a deep meaning in these words. For he wishes to say how God conquered by contraries, and that the promulgation of the Gospel does not come from man. What he says amounts to this. When we say to the Jews, ‘Believe,’ they reply, ‘Raise up the dead, cure those who are possessed, show us signs’. How do we answer these things? By saying, that He Whom we preach was crucified and died. This was sufficient not only not to move those who did not wish to be moved, but also to repulse those who had the will; yet still He is not repulsed, but draws men after Him, and conquers and gets the better of them. Again, the Gentiles demand of us eloquent discourses and elaborate reasonings, and we reply to them also by preaching the Cross, and that which seems to be weakness to the Jews, the Gentiles consider folly. Now, when we not only do not offer them what they ask for, but the very contrary, for the Cross not only does not seem to be a sign tested, according to human reason, but the destruction of signs: not only not a manifestation of power, but a proof of weakness: not only not an embodiment of wisdom, but a personification of folly; when, then, those who look for signs and wisdom not only do not receive what they seek, but listen to things which are the exact contrary of their desires, and, furthermore, are persuaded by them, is not the power of Him Who is preached beyond words? It is as if some one were to show those who are tossed on the waves and longing for harbour, not the land, but a more angry sea, would he induce them to follow him? Or if a physician were to tell a man broken by pain and desiring remedies that he will restore health, not by medicine but by again using the knife, would his patient yield himself to his guidance? This implies very great power. So the Apostles made their way not only by signs, but by a line of action seemingly in opposition with signs, as Christ had done in the case of the blind man. For wishing to cure him, He used a course which increased the affliction, as He put clay upon his eyes. Just, then, as He cured the blind man by putting clay upon him, so he drew the world to Himself through the Cross, which indeed was an increase, not a removal of scandal. So He acted in the Creation, preparing contraries by contraries. He built up with sand the limits of the sea, curbing the strong with the weak; He placed the earth upon the water, causing that which was hard and firm to be upborne by flowing and liquid matter. Again, through the prophets He made iron float with a little wood. Thus He drew the world after Himself through His Cross. For as water supports the earth, so the Cross supports the world. Therefore it is a great proof of power and wisdom to persuade by contraries. And if the Cross seems to be a subject of scandal, still not only it does not scandalise, but it draws to itself. St. Paul had all these things in his mind and was struck with astonishment when he said that the folly of God is wiser than man, and the weakness of God is stronger than man, applying this folly and this weakness to the Cross, not that it was really foolish and weak but that it seemed so: for he answers them according to their estimate. That, in fact, which philosophers had been unable to do by their reasonings was effected by this apparent folly. Now who was the wiser? He Who persuaded many, or he who persuaded a few—or rather no one? He Who convinced man of the greatest things, or he who used his powers of persuasion about things which do not exist at all? How Plato and his school laboured about the line, the angle, and the point, and about even numbers and odd numbers, and about their being equal and unequal, discoursing to us about such like cobwebs, for such things are less profitable to our life than even cobwebs, and so helping us neither much nor little, he came to the end of his life.

How he wearied himself to show that the spirit is immortal, and did he not die without making any clear statement or convincing a single man amongst his disciples? But it was through unlearned men that the Cross brought conviction, and drew the world to itself. It spoke to men, not of chance things, but of God, and of piety in the truth, of the Gospel polity, of future judgment, and it made uncouth men and unlearned men philosophers.

This is how the folly of God is wiser than man, and His weakness stronger. How is it stronger? It is stronger in that it spread over the whole earth and seized all men by force, and whereas thousands and thousands did their utmost to stamp out the name of the Crucified One, just the contrary came to pass. For this name took root and was propagated all the more, whereas they were destroyed and consumed, and living men fighting a dead One, gained not a stroke. Consequently when a heathen tells me that I am a fool, he proves that he himself is doubly one; inasmuch as considered by him to be a fool, I appear wiser than the wise; and when he calls me weak, he shows himself to be weaker. For publicans and fishermen set up those very things by the goodness of God which philosophers, and orators, and despots, and the whole world vainly striving with all its might could not even devise.

What, indeed, has the Cross not introduced? The belief concerning the immortality of the soul, and the resurrection of the body, the despising of present things, the desire of eternal. And it made angels out of men, who practise everywhere the philosophy of all endurance. But amongst heathens, too, you say, ‘There have been many who have despised death’. Tell me who they are. Do you allude perchance to the drinker of hemlock? But, if you like, I will show you thousands of such men in the Church. For if, when a persecution came, all men could get off by taking hemlock, they would all have been more illustrious than he was. Besides, he drained the cup, not being free to drink or not to drink: willing or unwilling, he had to suffer, which was not courage, but necessity. Thieves and murderers under sentence of their judges have suffered harder things. It is just the very contrary amongst us; for the martyrs endured, not in spite of themselves, but willingly, and having it in their power not to suffer, showed forth a fortitude beyond all proof. Therefore it is not surprising if Socrates drank hemlock, both because he could not do otherwise, and because he had reached extreme old age, for he said that he was seventy years old when he despised life, if this be indeed despising it; I should not say so, nor would anyone else. But show me a man rejoicing in torments for his belief, as I can show you thousands all over the world. Who bore bravely the tearing out of his nails, the racking of his joints, the hacking asunder of his members, one after the other, the stretching upon a gridiron, or plunging into a caldron? Show me this. For death by hemlock is equivalent to slumbering quietly away, as it is said to be an end which is sweeter than sleep. And if certain men have even endured torments, they have forfeited the praise due to them by dying for criminal causes: some for betraying secret things, others for aiming at domination, others for being taken in the most shameful deeds; others, again, either vainly or foolishly, without any cause, have destroyed themselves. But it is not so with us. And this is why their deeds have been hushed in silence, whilst ours are flowering and increasing day by day. This was in Paul’s mind when he said: ‘The weakness of God is stronger than all men put together’. For the divinity that was in the tidings is clear from this. How, indeed, was it that twelve unlettered men attempted things of this importance, twelve men, whose life was spent on seas and rivers and in deserts, who scarcely entered city or marketplace? How did they manage to set themselves in battle array over the whole world? The recorder of their deeds shows them to have been faint-hearted and unmanly, and himself to have no desire to conceal their shortcomings, which were themselves the greatest proof of the truth. Now, what does he say about them? That when Christ was taken, after seeing Him work countless wonders, some fled, and the one who remained, the chief of all, denied Him. How was it, then, that those who, whilst Christ lived, could not endure Jewish anger, should have been able to range themselves against the whole earth after He was dead and buried, if, as heathens say, He did not rise from the dead, nor have any communication with them, nor infuse courage into them? Would they not have said to themselves, ‘How is this? He was not powerful enough to save Himself, and will He help us? He did not help Himself whilst alive, and will He, now that He is dead, put out His hand to us? In life He did not gain over even one people, and shall we persuade the whole world by speaking His name?’ And, indeed, how would it be reasonable not only to do these things, but even to conceive the doing? Whence it is evident that if they had not seen His resurrection, and had not witnessed a very great proof of His power, they would not have made such a venture. For if they had, indeed, numberless friends, would they not have made enemies of them all by disturbing ancient customs and removing ancestral landmarks? Now, they had all for enemies both at home and abroad. But if they had been in universal veneration on account of outward gifts, would not all men have detested them for introducing a new manner of life? Seeing, however, that they were without all these things, this in itself would have been enough to make them hated and despised by all.

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The Abode of the Humble.
(Homilies on St. Matthew, lxxii., vol. ii., p. 344.)

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He who humbleth himself shall be exalted. Where shall we find this humility? Would you like to go once more to the abode of goodness, to the tents of the blessed, I mean, to the mountains and forests? For it is there that we shall see this perfection of humility. They are men, some famous for outward position, some for wealth, who humble themselves in every particular, in their food, in their dwelling, in their servants, and so in all their life they are writing the word humility as if with pen and ink. Just as smart dressing and a fine house and a large establishment are incentives to vainglory, which thrust men into it, often in spite of themselves, all these things are cut off in the desert. Those men light their own fire, hew their wood, do their own cooking, and themselves wait upon guests. Insult is neither given nor taken, no man is ruled, no man rules, but all are ministering. Each man washes the stranger’s feet, and there is much contention as to who shall do it. This he does, not seeking to find out who the stranger is, whether a slave or a free man; in each case he carries out this service. No man is either great or small. Is there confusion then? God forbid, it is rather the perfection of harmony. If, indeed, a man there be of small account, he who is great does not regard it, but deems himself inferior, and so becomes greater.