Leaves from St. John Chrysostom

by Saint John Chrysostom

Both servers and served eat at one and the same table, have the same food, the same clothes, the same lodging, the same rule of life. He is great there who is eager over a lowly task. Mine and thine do not exist, and the thing itself, the cause of endless strife, has been banished. And why do you wonder that there is one rule, one table, and one dress for all, where there is one spirit in all, not according to the body only (for this is the case with all men), but according to charity? For how could charity ever be set against itself? Neither poverty nor riches are to be found there, neither fame nor disgrace. How, then, could folly or vainglory creep in? Some are great, some are little amongst the number according to a moral reckoning, but as I was saying, no one takes note of it. The weak man does not grieve as being despised, for there is no one to despise him. Even should anyone insult another, this is their principal training, bearing contempt and contumely and shabby treatment both in word and act; they live with the lowly and the maimed, for these are the guests of their repasts, and thus they are worthy of heaven. One dresses sores, another leads the blind, another supports the lame. There are neither flatterers nor parasites, or rather they do not even apprehend what flattery is. How, then, could they ever be puffed up? For a great equality reigns among them, consequently the contentedness produced by goodness. In this way the most wretched are better taught than by being obliged to give them the first places. Just as a meek man schools an impetuous man to lowliness, so does a man who makes no account of reputation, but despises it, teach the ambitious. This they do lavishly, for, in proportion as we fight over the first places, do they wrestle not to have them, but to be hindered; and their burning zeal is, not who shall be honoured, but who shall not be honoured. Moreover, their very works incline them to moderation, and do not tolerate vanity. For, tell me, how can a man who is tilling and watering and planting the earth, or plaiting baskets, or weaving a sack, or doing any other manual labour, ever think great things of himself? Who, that is living in poverty, and struggling with hunger, will be sick with this complaint? No man. Therefore their lowliness is well contented. And just as moderation is difficult here, through the crowd of flatterers and admirers, so is it perfectly easy there. They have only the desert before them: they see birds flying, and the breeze through the trees, and the soft wind blowing, and streams flowing through ravines. How, then, could a man living in so great a solitude be puffed up? Neither can we find any excuse, that, being in the thick of the fight, we think great things of ourselves. For Abraham, when in company of the Chananæns, said, I am dust and ashes, and David, in the din of arms, I am a worm and no man, and the Apostle in the midst of the world, I am not worthy to be called an apostle. Therefore, what shall we have to say for ourselves, if, even with these great examples before us, we are not sober? As they are worthy of a thousand crowns for being the first to walk upon the path of goodness, so do we deserve as many chastisements for not arriving at a like zeal, neither for the example of those who have departed hence and lie in their sepulchres, nor for the living who are wonderful through their deeds. What could you allege for not being converted? Are you unlettered, and have you not read the epitaphs so as to know the goodness of those men of old? This is indeed the chief point of accusation, the church being ever open, not to go in and partake of those pure waters. Besides, if you did not know the dead through their epitaphs, you should have had these living men before your eyes. ‘But if there was no one to point them out to us?’ Come with me and I will show you the dwelling-places of these holy ones: come and learn a useful lesson from them. They are shining lights throughout the world, they surround cities like strong walls. They have taken possession of deserts in order to teach you to look down upon worldly agitations. They, then, in this strength of theirs, are able to enjoy peace in the midst of the tempest: you, who are tossed about on all sides, should be at rest, and have a short breathing time from the ever rolling waves.

· · · · · · ·

The Prisoner of Jesus Christ.
(Homilies on Epistle to the Ephesians, viii., vol. iv., p. 175.)

It is the virtue of teachers to seek not honour nor glory from their disciples, but their salvation, and to do all things unto that end; for he who seeks the former would be a tyrant, not a teacher. It was not for your greater personal glorification that God set you over them, but that your business should be forgotten whilst theirs is strengthened. This is a teacher’s part; this was what blessed Paul did, who was removed from vanity and considered himself as one of the multitude, or rather as the least of all. Thus he calls himself their slave, and generally speaks in the attitude of a suppliant. Look at him, at least in this instance, writing nothing imperiously, nothing authoritatively, but mild, conciliating words. I, a prisoner in the Lord, beseech you that you walk worthy of the vocation in which you are called, he says. Tell me, what do you beseech, O Paul? That you may get something for yourself? ‘Certainly not,’ he answers, ‘but that I may save others.’ Yet they who beseech do it for what concerns themselves. ‘And this does concern me,’ he says, ‘as I have written distinctly in another place: Now we live, if you stand in the Lord.’ He was always most eager for the salvation of his disciples. I, the prisoner in the Lord. Great and wonderful dignity, surpassing consulships, and kingdoms, and all things else. This he wrote also to Philemon, saying: As Paul, an old man, and now a prisoner also of Jesus Christ. Nothing is so glorious as a chain for Christ’s sake, as the fetters which hang round those hallowed hands. Better than being an apostle, or a teacher, or an evangelist, is it to be a prisoner for Christ’s sake. If there be a lover of Christ, he will know what I say;[11] if any man be foolish and on fire for his Lord, he understands the power of chains, he would choose to be a prisoner for Christ rather than to dwell in paradise. Paul has shown us those hands of his more glittering than gold or than any royal crown. A band of precious stones does not ennoble a head as iron chains for Christ’s sake. His prison was more glorious than kingly palaces, or than heaven itself. Why do I say ‘than palaces’? That place contained Christ’s prisoner. A lover of Christ knows what this privilege is, he is acquainted with this virtue, he knows what a gain the being in chains for His sake has been to the human race. More glorious far than sitting on His right hand, more solemn than sitting on one of the twelve thrones, is the being imprisoned for His sake. And why do I speak of human things? I shame to put riches and golden ornament in comparison with those chains, but with regard to those great ones, if their deed had no reward, this alone is a great reward and a powerful antidote, the suffering these evils on account of the Beloved. Lovers, I say not of God but of man, know the proverb which speaks of those who take pleasure rather in suffering evils from the loved ones than in being honoured by them. This is seen only in the case of the holy band: I mean the Apostles. Listen to what blessed Luke says: They went from the council rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer reproach for His Name. Now to others it seems ridiculous that dishonour should be accounted honour and a joy, but to those who follow Christ this desire is held to be most blessed of all. If anyone would give me all heaven or those chains, I would choose the chains. If anyone were to place me with the angels above or with Paul in chains, I would choose his prison. If anyone were to make me one of those heavenly Powers or Thrones, or a prisoner as Paul was, I would choose to be a prisoner. Nothing is more blessed than those chains. Would that I could now be in those regions; for it is said that the chains are preserved, as well they may be, and I am in admiration of those men full of desire for Christ; would that I could see those chains, which devils have feared and trembled at, which angels reverence. Nothing is better than suffering some adversity for the sake of Christ. I deem Paul blessed not so much because he was ravished into paradise as for being thrown into prison. I call him blessed not so much because he heard ineffable words as for enduring chains. I hold him blessed not so much for being carried into the third heaven as for his chains. That these were greater than those things, understand what he himself thought of them. He did not say, ‘I, who have heard mysterious words, beseech you,’ but what? I, the prisoner in the Lord, beseech you. And if he did not use the expression in all his epistles, it is not astonishing, for he was not always in chains, only at certain times. I would choose rather to suffer adversity for Christ than to be honoured by Christ. This is true honour and glory, higher than any other. If he became a servant for my sake and divested Himself of His praise, nor deemed that He was glorified except in being crucified for me, what ought I not to suffer? Listen to Him as He says, Glorify Me, O Father. What sayest Thou, Lord? Thou art led to the cross between thieves and malefactors, to suffer the most shameful death; Thou art to be spit upon and struck, and this Thou callest glory? ‘Yea,’ He answers, ‘I suffer these things for those whom I love, and account them a glory indeed.’ If He Who loves the wretched and miserable calls this glory, if He finds His glory, not in being on His Father’s throne, nor in honour, but in being dishonoured, and prefers it, how much more am I bound to hold these things a glory! O happy chains, O blessed hands which those chains adorned! Those hands of Paul’s which raised up the lame man in Lystra and made him walk were less honourable than when covered with chains. If I had been living in those days, it is then that I would have embraced them and placed them on my eyes; I would not have ceased caressing the hands which had been found worthy to wear chains for my Lord’s sake. Do you wonder at Paul because the serpent fastened upon his hand and did no harm? Wonder not: the serpent reverenced the chains, and so did the ocean, for then he was in fetters. If anyone were to give me now the power of raising the dead I would not have it, but I would have those chains. If I were free from the cares of the Church, and were sound in body, I would go that long journey only to look at those chains, to see the prison in which he was bound. Although amongst his wonderful deeds there are many signs everywhere, they are not so enviable as the marks of Christ. And in the Scripture he does not encourage me so much by wonder-working as he does when he is suffering persecution, being scourged, and dragged away. So that, he says, they brought handkerchiefs and aprons from his body to the sick. These were truly wonders, but not so great as those others: They scourged him and laid many stripes upon him, they cast them into prison; and again: They gave praise to God in their chains; and again: They stoned him and drew him out of the city, thinking him to be dead. Would you know what a privilege it is for the body of a servant to wear an iron chain for Christ’s sake? Then listen to Christ’s words: Blessed are ye. Why blessed, O Lord? When you raise the dead? No, not for this. When you cure the blind? Not at all. Then why? When they shall reproach you, and pursue you, and say every evil against you, lying, for My sake. And if evil report makes men so blessed, what will suffering evil not do for them? Listen to that holy one who says this in another place: For the rest a crown of justice awaits me. Yet the chains are brighter than this crown; they will make me worthy of it, he says, and I value nothing so much. Suffering for Christ’s sake is a perpetual remedy to me. May it be given to me to utter those words, I make up in my flesh what is wanting to the sufferings of Christ: and I shall want nothing more.

· · · · · · ·

The Seed not vivified unless it dies.
(Homilies on First Epistle to Corinthians, xli., vol. ii., p. 517.)

· · · · · · ·

But some one asks, how are the dead to be raised to life? With what sort of body will they come? Senseless man, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die first. Whereas the Apostle is everywhere so gentle and humble, he makes use of stronger language in this place on account of the adversaries’ unreasonableness. Nor is this enough but he adds arguments and examples, and in this way gets the better even of the most contentious. He had already said: Whereas by man came death, by man came also the resurrection from the dead; and now he dissipates an opinion prevalent amongst heathens. And consider again how he cuts away that which is most plausible about it. He did not say, ‘you ask,’ but made the adversary indefinite, that, using strong language with effect, he might not unduly crush his hearers. He stated two difficulties: the manner of the resurrection and the quality of bodies. And indeed they were in doubt concerning both points by their words: ‘How can that which is dissolved rise again?’ and, ‘With what sort of body will they come?’ How, with what sort of body? Will it be like this corruptible mortal body, or like some other? Then, to show that they are not seeking to clear up doubtful points but to dispute what is indisputable, he uses still stronger language, saying, Foolish man, that which thou sowest is not vivified unless it dieth.

This is also our way of answering those who call in question what is indisputable. Why, for instance, does he not at once take refuge in the power of God? Because he is talking to unbelievers. Whenever he has to deal with believers he is in no great need of arguments. For instance, saying in another place that He shall transform the body of your humility into becoming conformed to the body of His glory, and showing forth something further than the resurrection, he made use of no examples, but, instead of any proof, brought forward the power of God, adding, according to the efficacy of His power and to bring all things into subjection to Him. Here, however, he sets arguments in motion. For since he provided this one from Scripture, he used the same with authority against those who did not believe in the Scriptures, and said: Foolish man, that which thou sowest; that is, you see from what you yourself do day after day the proof of these things, and do you still doubt? This is why I call you foolish, that you ignore what happens every day to yourself, and that whereas you can work a resurrection, you doubt concerning God; therefore he said most emphatically: That which thou sowest; you, that is, who are a mortal and corruptible man.

And see how the words he uses bring home the point in question. It is not vivified, he says, unless it dieth. Passing over the terms which are proper to seeds, such as the sprouting and growth and rotting and withering, he takes those points which correspond to our flesh, the ‘vivifying’ and ‘death,’ which belong properly not to seeds but to bodies. And he does not say that it is vivified after dying, but what is more, that it is quickened because it has died. You see how, as I am always saying, he brings his argument as a proof against itself. That which they made out as conclusive against the resurrection he makes an earnest of it, for they said, ‘He will not rise because he is dead’. Now, how can you meet this? If, indeed, he had not died, neither would he rise again, and because he has died, therefore he rises again. In the same way Christ points this out still more clearly, saying: If the grain of wheat, falling into the earth, doth not die, it remaineth alone, but if it dieth, it beareth much fruit; so here, in illustrating this example, Paul does not say that it does not live, but that it is not ‘quickened,’ making again the power of God his theme, and showing that it is He Who does all, not the properties of the soil. And why did he not at once speak of something more personal—I mean of human seed? For our coming into the world also begins in corruption just as that of the corn does. It was because it was still stronger in our case than in the latter. What he wants is something quite perishable: the corn was partially so, and that is why he introduced it. Besides, the human seed proceeds from a living person, and falls into a living womb, but here the seed is cast into the earth, not into a living body, and becomes dissolved in it, just as in the case of the mortal body. Thus the example was the more pertinent.