I say these things, not in scorn nor in reproach at his misfortune, but in the wish to soften your judgment, and to enkindle your pity, and to persuade you to be satisfied with the chastisement already inflicted. For there are amongst you many inhuman men who would even reproach me for receiving him at the sanctuary. I should desire to soften their cruelty by dwelling on the sufferings of this man. Why do you reproach me, beloved brethren? Because, you say, he who warred incessantly against the Church has found shelter in it. For this very reason you should have praised God the more for allowing him to fall into a need so great as to learn both the power and the kindness of the Church: the power, on the one hand, to outlive so overwhelming a reverse inflicted by his enemies, and the kindness with which she who was persecuted extends her shield, and covers him with her own wings, putting him in perfect security, and bearing no memory of former things, but opening her heart to him with the most tender love. This is more wonderful than any trophy, this is a magnificent victory: by this the heathen is converted and even the Jew put to shame: this it is which shows forth the brightness of her countenance; that, taking her foe captive, she spares him; that whereas all men forsake him, she alone, as a tender mother, hides him in her own sanctuary curtains, and encounters imperial wrath, an angry populace, a boundless hatred, on his account. This is the altar’s adornment. What adornment is it, you ask, that the man who is abominable, and avaricious, and cursed, should touch the altar? Speak not thus, since the harlot too touched the feet of Christ, and she was indeed full of sin and impurity, yet it was no reproach to Jesus, but a great wonder and song of praise, for she who was unclean did not defile the Holy One; on the contrary, He, the Good and the Pure, made that abandoned harlot clean through His touch. Do not bear malice, O man. We are servants of Him Who was crucified, and Who said, Forgive them, for they know not what they do. ‘But,’ you say, ‘it was he who, by various laws and regulations, cut off flight to the altar.’ Consider, then, that experience has taught him the value of his own action, and he himself has been the first to break the law which he made. He has become a spectacle to the world, and in his silence he raises a voice of warning to all men, ‘Do not likewise, that you may not suffer in like manner’. Through his misfortune he has become a teacher, and through it the altar sends forth a great radiance. It is now especially terrible, and evident to all men, because it holds the lion in chains. The royal statue would be greatly adorned, not so much by depicting the king as he sits on the throne, clothed in purple, and wearing his crown, as by barbarians under the royal feet, with their hands tied behind them and their faces to the ground. You yourselves, in your eagerness to come here, can testify that he has spoken no word, for indeed the spectacle before us to-day is noteworthy, and I see here as many people collected together as in the holy Easter festival. He in his silence has called them; his deeds have spoken louder than the voice of a trumpet. You have come here, virgins from your chambers, women from your drawing-rooms, men leaving the marketplace deserted, that you may contemplate human nature convicted, and see the perishableness of earthly things laid bare, the shameful spectacle of that which was yesterday, and but lately so brilliant. So much for the success born of avarice, which is more shamefaced than any old woman’s blotches: the change of fortune has passed over it like a sponge, and wiped away both paint and titles.
Such is the power of this catastrophe: it has made him who was conspicuous and illustrious now appear more miserable than all. If the rich man come in, he will be taught much, for, contemplating him, who had the whole world at his command, thrown down from so mighty a height, trodden under foot, fallen lower than a hare or a frog, fastened without chains to this pillar, and done to death by fear in his anguish though unfettered, he restrains his wrath, humbles his pride, and draws that lesson of wisdom which it behoves him to draw, from human things, and so goes away, learning by facts what the Scripture speaks of in the words, All flesh is grass, and all human glory as the flower of the field, that the grass has been burnt up and the flower thrown away: that man shall be burnt up as swiftly as grass, and trodden under foot as quickly as the flower of the field: that our days are like smoke, and so on. In his turn, the poor man comes in, and, gazing at this spectacle, he does not despair of himself, nor is he afflicted at his own poverty, but he is thankful to his neediness for providing him with a place of refuge, and a calm harbour, and a wall of strength. And often, seeing these things, he would prefer to remain where he is, rather than to have all things for a short time, and then to be in danger of his life. See you how this man’s flight hither is no small advantage to the rich and poor alike, to small people and great people, to bondsmen and freemen? See how each one has gone away with his own lesson drawn from the sight alone? Now, have I succeeded in softening your passion and putting an end to your anger? Have I extinguished your inhumanity and enkindled sympathy within you? Indeed, I think so, for your faces show it, and your tears. If, then, your stony hearts have been softened and mellowed, put forth also the fruit of alms-giving, and, showing the ear of sympathy, let us solicit the emperor, or rather let us call upon our merciful God to mitigate the emperor’s wrath, and to make him kind, so that he may grant us a full pardon. Already, indeed, since the day of his flight, there has been no small change; for when the emperor learnt that he had taken refuge in this place, in the presence of the soldiers who were incited against his crimes and preparing to put him to death, he made a long speech. In it he quieted their anger, alleging not only this man’s delinquencies, but giving him credit for whatever good he had done, and calling upon them to show him mercy in the one case, and in the other to pardon him as a man. Upon their again urging him to avenge the insulter of the emperor, crying out, stamping with their feet, threatening him with death, and brandishing their spears, he drew floods of tears from the driest eyes, and, reminding them of the sacred table to which he had fled, he put an end to their anger.
Let us, then, do our part also, for what excuse would you have if the emperor, when insulted, bears no malice, and you who are not insulted should be thus angry? How, when this spectacle is removed, would you approach the mysteries and recite that prayer in which we are commanded to say, ‘Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us,’ whilst you are calling for revenge against your trespassers? Did he commit great injustice and look down upon all? I do not deny it, but this is no time for judgment, this is the time for mercy; not for chastisement, but for kindness; not for examination, but for concession; not for strict justice, but for pity and kindness. Therefore, let no man be wrathful nor discontented; rather let us supplicate our merciful God to grant him a period of life, and to snatch him from impending death, so that he may redeem his transgressions. Let us go together to our merciful emperor, entreating him, by the Church and by the altar, to release that one man who is seeking refuge at the sacred table. If we do this, the emperor too will approve, and God will ratify the emperor’s decision, and He will give us a great reward for our mercy. For in proportion as He turns away from the hard and inhuman man, and hates him, so does He protect and cherish the kind and merciful man. If he be a just man also, God holds brighter crowns in reserve for him: if he has sinned, He overlooks his iniquities, and gives him this great reward for his kindness to his fellow-man. I desire mercy and not sacrifice, He says. And everywhere in the Scripture you find Him seeking for this and saying that it is the remission of sins. So, then, we shall make Him merciful to ourselves, and atone for our own sins. Thus we shall adorn the Church, and win the applause of our merciful emperor, as I was saying, and all the people will rejoice: the ends of the earth will be in admiration at the kind and gentle spirit of our city, and throughout the whole world those who hear what has taken place will sing our praises. In order that we may enjoy these goods, let us fall down on our knees in supplication, entreat, beseech; let us shield the captive from danger, from flight, from death, so that we ourselves may enjoy lasting goods by the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, to Whom be glory and might, now and for ever and ever. Amen.
FOOTNOTES
[1]Card. Newman.
[2]Palladius, Life of St. Chrysostom, in his works, vol. xiii., pp. 39, 40.
[3]In writing the above sketch, Nirschl’s Lehrbuch der Patrologie und Patristik has been used, and Cardinal Newman’s notice of the Saint quoted once or twice, and everywhere borne in mind.
[4]Translated from the Greek Oxford and Cambridge Edition
[5]Translated from the Greek Oxford Edition.
[6]Compare ἀλλ’ ἤτοι μὲν ταῦτα Θεῶν ἐν γούνασι κεῖται (Ἰλιαδος P. 514).