Homilies on Romans, Homily 14

“Therefore, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if through the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” After showing how great the reward of a spiritual life is, that it makes Christ dwell in us, gives life to our mortal bodies, gives them wings to heaven, and makes the way of virtue easier, he appropriately introduces an exhortation to this effect: “Therefore” we ought “not to live according to the flesh.” But that is not what he says. He puts it much more forcefully and powerfully: “we are debtors to the Spirit.” For that is what saying “we are debtors, not to the flesh” implies. And this is a point he proves everywhere: what God has done for us is not something He owed us, but comes entirely from grace. After this, however, what we do is no longer a voluntary offering, but a debt. For he says, “You were bought with a price; do not be servants of other people” (1 Cor. vii. 23); and he writes, “You are not your own” (ib. vi. 19); and again, in another passage, he reminds them of these very things in these words: “If (most mss. om. “if”) One died for all, then all died, so that from now on they should not live for themselves.” (2 Cor. v. 15.) To establish this, he says here too, “We are debtors.” Then, since he said we are “not” debtors “to the flesh,” to keep you from thinking again that he is attacking the nature of the flesh, he does not stop speaking, but continues, “to live according to the flesh.” For there are many things we do owe it: food, warmth, rest, medicine when it is sick, clothing, and a thousand other kinds of care. So, to keep you from supposing that this is the care he wants to abolish when he says, “We are not debtors to the flesh,” he explains by saying, “to live according to the flesh.” He means, the care I want to abolish is the kind that leads to sin, just as I want it to have what heals it. He shows this further on. For when he says, “Make no provision for the flesh,” he does not stop there, but adds, “to satisfy its lusts.” (Rom. xiii. 14.) He gives us this instruction here too, meaning: Let it receive care, for we do owe it that, but let us not live according to the flesh; that is, let us not make it the mistress of our life. It must follow, not lead. It must not govern our life, but must accept the laws of the Spirit. Having defined this point and proved that we are debtors to the Spirit, he next shows what benefits make us debtors. He does not speak of past benefits (a particularly striking proof of his judgment), but of those to come, although even the former would have been enough. Still, here he does not list them or even mention those indescribable blessings, but the things to come. For a benefit already given once and for all generally does not draw people onward as strongly as one they expect in the future. After adding this, he first frightens them with the pains and evils that come from living according to the flesh, in these words: “For if you live according to the flesh, you will die.” In this way he points to that deathless death, punishment, and vengeance in hell. Or rather, if we examine the matter closely, such a person is dead even in this present life. We made this clear to you in the last discourse. “But if through the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” You see that we are discussing the deeds of the flesh, rather than the essence of the body. For he does not say, “if through the Spirit you put to death” the essence “of the body,” but “the deeds of” it; and not all its deeds, but those that are evil. This is clear from what follows, for he says that if you do this, “you will live.” How could this possibly be true if his words applied to all deeds? Seeing, hearing, speaking, and walking are deeds of the body. If we put these to death, we will be so far from living that we will have to suffer the punishment of a murderer. What sort of deeds, then, does he mean us to put to death? Those that tend toward wickedness, those that pursue vice. There is no way to put these to death except through the Spirit. For you can put an end to the others by killing yourself, and you have no right to do that. But (you can put an end) to these only through the Spirit. For if This is present, all the waves are calmed, the passions cower under It, and nothing can rise up against us. So you see how, as I said before, he bases his exhortations to us on things to come, and shows that we are debtors for more than what has already been done. The benefit of the Spirit is not only that He has freed us from our former sins, but that He makes us invulnerable to future ones and considers us worthy of immortal life. Then, to state another reward as well, he continues: Ver. 14. “For all who are led by the Spirit of God are the sons of God.” Now this is again a much greater honor than the first. That is why he does not simply say, All who live by the Spirit of God, but “all who are led by the Spirit of God,” to show that he wants Him to exercise the same power over our life that a pilot exercises over a ship, or a charioteer over a pair of horses. He wants to put not only the body but the soul itself under reins like these. For he does not want even the soul to be independent, but places its authority too under the power of the Spirit. To keep them from becoming careless about their conduct after baptism because of their confidence in the Gift of the Font, he means to say that even if you receive baptism, if you are unwilling to be “led by the Spirit” afterward, you lose the dignity given to you and the privilege of your adoption. That is why he does not say, All who have received the Spirit, but “all who are led by the Spirit”; that is, all who live by this throughout their entire lives, “are the sons of God.” Then, since this dignity was given to the Jews too—for it says, “I said, you are Gods, and all of you children of the Most High” (Ps. lxxxii. 6); and again, “I have nourished and brought up children” (Is. i. 2); and likewise, “Israel is My firstborn” (Ex. iv. 22); and Paul too says, “To whom belongs the adoption” (Rom. ix. 4)—he next declares the great difference between this honor and the former one. For although the names are the same, he means, the realities are not. He clearly proves these points by introducing a comparison drawn from the people who have attained this standing (κατορθούντων), from what was given to them, and from what was to come. First he shows what those of old were given. What was it? “A spirit of bondage.” And so he continues: Ver. 15. “For you have not received the spirit of bondage again, leading to fear.” Then, instead of stopping to mention the opposite of bondage, the spirit of freedom, he names something far greater, the Spirit of adoption. Through this he includes the other at the same time, saying, “But you have received the Spirit of adoption.” This is clear. But what the spirit of bondage means is less clear and needs explaining. In fact, what he says is far from clear; it is very puzzling. For the Jewish people did not receive the Spirit. What does he mean here, then? He gives this name to the letter, for it was spiritual, and so he also called the Law spiritual, and the water from the Rock, and the Manna. “For they ate,” he says, “the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink.” (1 Cor. x. 3, 4.) He gives the Rock this name too, when he says, “For they drank from that spiritual Rock that followed them.” He calls them spiritual because all the rites performed then were supernatural, rather than because those who took part in them received the Spirit. And in what sense were those written laws laws of bondage? Consider the whole dispensation, and you will see this clearly too. For their recompense was close at hand, and the reward followed immediately, proportionate to what they did and like a daily ration given to household servants. Abundant terrors reached their height before their eyes, their purifications concerned their bodies, and their self-restraint extended only to their actions. With us, however, it is different, since even the imagination and conscience are cleansed. For He does not say only, “You shall not murder,” but also, you shall not be angry. Likewise, it is not simply, “You shall not commit adultery,” but, you shall not look lustfully. So both our steady practice of virtue and every individual good deed are to come from desire for Him, rather than fear of immediate punishment. Nor does He promise a land flowing with milk and honey, but makes us joint-heirs with the Only-Begotten. In every way He draws us away from present things, promising above all to give us things worthy of people made sons of God: nothing perceptible to the senses or bodily, but things that are all spiritual. And so, even if they had the name of sons, they were like slaves; but we, having been made free, have received adoption and are waiting for Heaven. With them He spoke through others; with us He speaks Himself. Everything they did was driven by fear, but spiritual people act out of longing and intense desire. They show this by going beyond the commandments. The others, like hired workers and stubborn people, never stopped grumbling; but these do everything to please the Father. Likewise, they blasphemed when they received benefits, but we give thanks when we are put in danger. And if both of us need punishment when we sin, even here the difference is great. For we are not brought back by being stoned, branded, and maimed by the priests, as they were. It is enough for us to be excluded from our Father’s table and kept out of sight for a certain number of days. Among the Jews, the honor of adoption existed in name only, but here the reality followed too: the cleansing of Baptism, the giving of the Spirit, and the provision of the other blessings. There are several other points as well that show our noble birth and their low condition. After indicating all these by speaking of the Spirit, fear, and adoption, he gives another fresh proof that we have the Spirit of adoption. What is it? That “we cry, Abba, Father.” Those who have been initiated know how great this is (St. Cyr. Jer. Cat. 23, §11, p. 276, O.T.), since with good reason they are instructed to use this word first in the Prayer of the initiated. But someone may say, did they not also call God Father? Do you not hear Moses saying, “You deserted the God who fathered you?” (Deut. xxxii. 15. LXX.) Do you not hear Malachi reproaching them and saying that “one God formed you,” and there is “one Father of you all?” (Mal. ii. 10. LXX.) Still, although these and other words are used, we do not find them anywhere addressing God by this name or praying in these words. But all of us, priests and laypeople, rulers and ruled, are commanded to pray this way. These are the first words we speak after those marvelous birth pangs and that strange and unusual way of giving birth. If they called Him this in any other instances, they did so on their own initiative. But those in the state of grace do it because they are moved by the Spirit working within them. For there is a Spirit of Wisdom, through which those who were unwise became wise, and this reveals itself in their teaching. There is a Spirit of Power, through which the weak raised the dead and drove out demons; a Spirit of the gift of healing, a Spirit of prophecy, and a Spirit of tongues. In the same way there is also a Spirit of adoption. And just as we recognize the Spirit of prophecy because the person who has it foretells things to come, speaking not on his own initiative but moved by Grace, so it is with the Spirit of adoption: through it, the person given this gift calls God Father, moved by the Spirit. Wishing to express this as a completely genuine relationship by birth, he also used the Hebrew language. For he does not simply say, “Father,” but “Abba, Father,” a name that is a special sign of the relationship between trueborn children and their fathers. After mentioning the difference in their conduct, the difference in the grace they were given, and the difference in their freedom, he offers another proof of the superiority that accompanies this adoption. What kind of proof is it? Ver. 16. “The Spirit Itself bears witness with our spirit that we are the children of God.” For, he says, I base my assertion not merely on the words, but on the source from which the words arise, since we speak this way because the Spirit prompts us. He puts this more plainly in another passage: “God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, Abba, Father.” (Gal. iv. 6.) And what does “Spirit bears witness with spirit” mean? The Comforter, he means, together with that Gift given to us. For the voice belongs not only to the Gift, but also to the Comforter who gave the Gift, since He Himself has taught us through the Gift to speak this way. But when the “Spirit bears witness,” what room is left for doubt? If a man, an angel, an archangel, or any other such power promised this, there might be some reason for doubt. But when the Highest Essence gives this Gift and “bears witness” through the very words He commanded us to use in prayer, who would still doubt our dignity? For even when the Emperor chooses someone and publicly proclaims the honor given to him, no one dares to dispute it. Ver. 17. “And if children, then heirs.” Notice how he increases the Gift little by little. Since it is possible to be children without becoming heirs (for by no means are all children heirs), he adds this too: that we are heirs. But the Jews, besides not having the same adoption as we do, were also excluded from the inheritance. For “He will utterly destroy those wicked men, and lease the vineyard to other farmers” (Matt. xxi. 41). Before this, He said that “many will come from the East and from the West and sit down with Abraham, but the children of the Kingdom will be thrown out.” (ib. viii. 11, 12.) Yet even here he does not stop, but sets out something still greater. What is it? That we are heirs of God; and so he adds, “heirs of God.” What is greater still is that we are not simply heirs, but also “joint-heirs with Christ.” Notice how eager he is to bring us close to the Master. Since not all children are heirs, he shows that we are both children and heirs. Next, since not all heirs inherit very much, he shows that we have this advantage too, since we are heirs of God. Again, since it would be possible to be God’s heir without in any sense being a “joint-heir with” the Only-Begotten, he shows that we have this too. And consider his wisdom. He dealt briefly with the unpleasant part, when he said what would happen to those who “live according to the flesh,” namely, that they “will die.” But when he comes to the more comforting part, he gives his discourse plenty of room, expanding on the rewards and pointing out that the gifts too are many and great. For if even being a child is an indescribable grace, just think how great it is to be an heir! And if this is great, being a “joint-heir” is much greater. Then, to show that the Gift does not depend on grace alone, and at the same time to make his words credible, he continues, “If indeed we suffer with Him, so that we may also be glorified together.” If, he means, we share with Him in what is painful, we will much more surely share in what is good. For He gave such blessings to people who had done no good. When He sees them laboring and suffering so much, how could He fail to reward them even more? Having shown that this is a matter of recompense, to make people believe what he said and keep anyone from doubting, he further shows that it has the character of a gift. He showed the one so that even those who doubted might believe what he said, and so that those receiving it might not feel ashamed of always receiving salvation for nothing. He showed the other so that you might see that God’s rewards exceed our labors. He showed the first in the words, “If indeed we suffer with Him, so that we may also be glorified together,” and the second by going on to add: Ver. 18. “The sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in (Gr. εἰς) us.” In the preceding passage, he requires the spiritual person to correct his habits (Mar. and 6 mss. passions), when he says, “You are not debtors to live according to the flesh.” Such a person, for example, should rise above lust, anger, money, vanity, and envy. But here, having reminded them of the whole gift, both what has been given and what is to come, lifted the spiritual person high with hope, placed him close to Christ, and shown him to be a joint-heir of the Only-Begotten, he now leads him confidently even into danger. For overcoming the evil passions within us is different from enduring those trials, floggings, famine, plundering, imprisonment, chains, and executions. These last require a much nobler and stronger spirit. Notice how he both calms and stirs the spirit of those in the struggle. After showing that the rewards are greater than the labors, he urges them to greater efforts, while also keeping them from becoming proud, since the crowns given as rewards still exceed their efforts. In another passage he says, “For our light affliction, which lasts only a moment, produces a far greater and eternal weight of glory” (2 Cor. iv. 17). There he was speaking to people with deeper understanding. Here, however, he does not say that the afflictions are light, but still mixes comfort with them through the compensation offered by the good things to come, in the words, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing.” He does not say, with the rest (ἄνεσιν) to come, but something much greater: “with the glory to come.” For rest does not necessarily bring glory, but glory does bring rest. Then, after saying that it is to come, he shows that it already exists. For he does not say, what will come into being, but “which will be revealed in us,” as though it already exists but has not been revealed. Likewise, he said more clearly elsewhere, “Our life is hidden with Christ in God.” So take courage about it. It has already been prepared and awaits your labors. But if you are troubled because it is still to come, let that very thing make you rejoice instead. For it is stored up there because it is great, indescribable, and beyond our present condition. And so he has not simply said “the sufferings of this present time,” but speaks in a way that shows that the other life has the advantage in quantity as well as quality. For these sufferings, whatever they may be, belong to our present life, but the blessings to come stretch out through ages without end. Since he had no way to describe these blessings in detail or set them before us in words, he names them after what seems especially desirable to us: “glory.” For this seems to be the height and sum of blessings. To spur the listener on in another way too, he elevates his discourse by mentioning creation. Through what he says next, he achieves two things: contempt for present things and desire for things to come. There is a third besides these—or rather, the first—which is to show how God cares for the human race and how highly He honors our nature. Besides this, with this one teaching he demolishes all the philosophers’ doctrines about this world, which they had constructed for themselves like a spiderweb or a child’s mound of earth. But to make these things clearer, let us hear the Apostle’s own words. Ver. 19, 20. “For the eager expectation of creation waits,” he says, “for the revelation of the sons of God. For creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it in hope.” The meaning is something like this. Creation itself is in the midst of its birth pangs, waiting for and expecting these good things we have just spoken about. For “eager expectation” (ἀποκαραδοκία, looking out) means intense expectation. His discourse thus becomes more emphatic, and he personifies this whole world, just as the prophets do when they introduce rivers clapping their hands, little hills leaping, and mountains skipping. We are not to imagine that they are alive or attribute reasoning powers to them, but to learn how great the blessings are, so great that they reach even things without sensation. The prophets often do the same with distressing things, bringing in the vine lamenting, and the wine too, and the mountains and the paneling of the Temple howling. Here too, the purpose is to help us understand how extreme the evils are. Following their example, the Apostle makes creation a living person here and says that it groans and suffers birth pangs. He had not heard any groan reaching him from earth and heaven; he wanted to show the surpassing greatness of the good things to come and the desire for freedom from the evils now pervading them. “For creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it.” What does “creation was subjected to futility” mean? That it became corruptible. Why, and for what reason? Because of you, human being. Since you have received a mortal body subject to suffering, the earth too has received a curse and produced thorns and thistles. But to learn that heaven, when it has grown old along with the earth, will afterward change to a better condition (λἥξιν v. p. 384), hear the Prophet’s words: “You, O Lord, founded the earth in the beginning, and the heavens are the work of Your hands. They will perish, but you will endure; and they will all grow old like a garment, and like a cloak You will fold them up, and they will be changed.” (Ps. cii. 25, 26.) Isaiah declares the same thing when he says, “Look at heaven above and at the earth beneath, for the heavens are like a firmament of smoke, and the earth will grow old like a garment, and those who dwell in it will perish in the same way.” (Is. li. 6.) Now you see in what sense creation is “in bondage to futility,” and how it will be freed from its ruined condition. For one says, “You will fold them up like a garment, and they will be changed”; and Isaiah says, “and those who dwell in it will perish in the same way,” certainly not meaning total destruction. For those who dwell in it, that is, humanity, do not undergo such destruction, but a temporary one, through which they are changed into an incorruptible (1 Cor. xv. 53) state. Creation will therefore be changed in the same way. He indicated all this in passing by saying “in the same way” (2 Pet. iii. 13), which Paul also says further on. For now, however, he speaks about the bondage itself, shows why it came about, and identifies us as its cause. What then? Was creation treated harshly on someone else’s account? By no means, for it was made for my sake. What wrong is done to something made for my sake when it suffers these things to correct me? Indeed, there is no need even to raise the question of right and wrong with things that have neither soul nor feeling. But Paul, since he has made creation a living person, uses none of these arguments I have mentioned. Instead, he speaks differently, wishing to comfort the listener as effectively as possible. How does he speak? What is your objection? he means. It was mistreated for your sake and became corruptible, yet no wrong has been done to it. For it will again become incorruptible for your sake. This, then, is what “in hope” means. When he says that it was subjected “not willingly,” he does not mean that it possesses judgment, but wants you to learn that the whole thing is brought about by Christ’s care and is no achievement of creation’s own. And now tell us, in what hope? Ver. 21. “That creation itself will also be delivered from the bondage of corruption.” Now what is this creation? Not you alone, but also what is beneath you and has neither reason nor sensation: this too will share in your blessings. For “it will be freed,” he says, “from the bondage of corruption.” That is, it will no longer be corruptible, but will accompany your body in the beauty given to it. Just as creation became corruptible when your body did, so now, when your body is made incorruptible, creation too will follow it. To show this, he continues: (εἰς) “Into the glorious freedom of the children of God.” That is, because of their freedom. For when a nurse brings up a king’s child and he comes into his father’s power, she herself enjoys the good things along with him. This, he means, is how it is with creation too. You see how humanity takes the lead in every respect, and how everything is made for humanity’s sake. See how he comforts the person struggling and shows God’s indescribable love for humanity. For why, he means, are you distressed by your trials? You are suffering for yourself; creation is suffering for you. He not only comforts them, but also shows that his words are trustworthy. For if creation, which was made entirely for you, is “in hope,” you should be much more so, since through you creation is to come into the enjoyment of those good things. Likewise, men (3 mss. fathers), when a son is about to appear on receiving an honor, dress even the servants in brighter clothing to honor the son. So God too will clothe creation with incorruption for the glorious freedom of the children. Ver. 22. “For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers birth pangs together until now.” Notice how he puts the listener to shame, almost saying, Do not be worse than creation, and do not take pleasure in settling down among present things. We should not only avoid clinging to them, but even groan over the delay in our departure from here. For if creation does this, you should do so much more, honored as you are with reason. But since this was still not enough to compel their attention, he continues: Ver. 23. “And not only they, but we ourselves also, who have the first-fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves.” That is, we have tasted the things to come. For even if someone were as hard as stone, he means, what has already been given is enough to lift him up, draw him away from present things, and give him wings to pursue things to come. It does this in two ways: through the greatness of the gifts, and through the fact that, great and numerous as they are, they are only first-fruits. For if the first-fruits are so great that through them we are freed even from our sins and attain righteousness and sanctification, and that people of that time both drove out demons and raised the dead by their shadow (Acts v. 15) or garments (ib. xix. 12), consider how great the whole must be. And if creation, without mind or reason and ignorant of these things, still groans, we should do so much more. Next, to give the heretics no opening and avoid seeming to disparage our present world, he says that we groan, not because we find fault with the present order, but because we desire those greater things. He shows this in the words, “Waiting for the adoption.” What are you saying? Let me hear! You insisted at every turn and proclaimed loudly that we had already been made sons, and now you put this good thing among our hopes, writing that we must wait for it? To resolve this through what follows, he says, “namely, the redemption of our body.” That is, perfect glory. Our condition now remains uncertain until our last breath, since many of us who were sons have become dogs and prisoners. But if we die with a good hope, then the gift is secure, clearer, and greater, with no further change to fear from death and sin. Grace will therefore be secure when our body is freed from death and its countless ailments (or passions). For this is full redemption (ἀπολύτρωσις), not merely redemption, but redemption of such a kind that we will never return to our former captivity. So that you will not be puzzled by hearing so much about glory without gaining any definite knowledge of it, he partly reveals the things to come, setting before you the change of your body (Gr. changing thy body), and with it the change of the whole creation. He makes this clearer in another passage, where he says, “Who will change our lowly body so that it may be made like His glorious Body.” (Phil. iii. 21.) And again elsewhere he writes, “But when this mortal has put on immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: Death is swallowed up in victory.” (1 Cor. xv. 54.) But to show that when the body’s corruption ends, the order of things in this life will also end, he wrote elsewhere, “For the form of this world is passing away.” (1 Cor. vii. 31.) Ver. 24. “For we are saved by hope,” he says. Now he had dwelt on the promise of things to come, and this seemed to trouble the weaker listener, if all the blessings were matters of hope. He had already proved that they are more certain than present, visible things, spoken at length about the gifts already given, and shown that we have received the first-fruits of those good things. To keep us from seeking everything in this world and betraying the nobility faith gives us, he says, “For we are (Gr. were) saved by hope.” This is roughly what he means. We must not seek everything in this life, but must also have hope. For this is the only gift we brought to God: believing Him about the things He promised would come. This alone was the way we were saved. If, then, we lose this hope, we have lost everything we ourselves contributed. For I ask you this, he means: Were you not guilty of countless sins? Were you not in despair? Were you not under sentence? Had everyone not lost hope for your salvation? What saved you, then? Simply your hope in God and your trust in Him concerning His promises and gifts. You had nothing else to bring. If this saved you, hold firmly to it now too. For what brought you such great blessings will certainly not deceive you about things to come. It found you dead, ruined, a prisoner, and an enemy, yet made you a friend, a son, a free person, righteous, and a joint-heir, and gave you such great things as no one had even expected. After such generosity and affection, how will it betray you in what follows? Do not say to me, More hopes! More expectations! More faith! For this was how you were saved from the beginning, and this was the only dowry you brought to the Bridegroom. Hold firmly to it, then, and keep it. For if you demand to have everything in this world, you have lost that good act of yours through which you became radiant. This is why he goes on to say, “But hope that is seen is not hope; for why does someone still hope for what he sees?” Ver. 25.—“But if we hope for what we do not see, then we wait for it with patience.” That is, if you expect to find everything in this world, what need is there for hope? What, then, is hope? Confidence in things to come. What great demand, then, does God make of you, when He Himself gives you all these blessings entirely from His own stores? He asks only one thing of you, hope, so that you too may have something of your own to contribute toward your salvation. He indicates this in what follows: “For if we hope for what we do not see, then we wait for it with patience.” Just as God crowns the person who undergoes labors, hardships, and countless struggles, so He also crowns the person who hopes. For the word patience applies to hard work and great endurance. Yet He has granted even this to the person who hopes, to comfort the weary soul. Then, to show that we receive abundant help with this light task, he continues: Ver. 26. “Likewise the Spirit also helps our weaknesses.” For one part is yours, patience, but the other comes from what the Spirit provides, Who also nurtures (Gr. anointeth) you in this hope, and through it in turn lightens your labors. Then, so that you may know that this grace stands beside you not only in your labors and dangers, but works with you even in seemingly very easy matters and contributes its part to the partnership on every occasion, he goes on to say: “For we do not know what to pray for as we should.” He said this to show the Spirit’s great care for us, and also to teach them not to assume that the things human reasoning finds desirable certainly are so. For when they were flogged, driven out, and suffering countless wrongs, they would naturally seek relief, ask this favor of God, and think it beneficial to them. By no means, he says, assume that what seems a blessing to you really is one. For we need the Spirit’s help even in this. Humanity is so weak and amounts to nothing on its own. This is why he says, “For we do not know what to pray for as we should.” So that the learner will not feel ashamed of his ignorance, he does not say, you do not know, but “we do not know.” And he clearly shows from other passages that he did not say this merely to appear modest. For in his prayers he constantly desired to see Rome, yet he did not obtain this as soon as he desired it. And concerning “the thorn” given him “in the flesh” (2 Cor. xii. 8), that is, the dangers, he often pleaded with God and was entirely unsuccessful. So too was Moses, who in the Old Testament prays to see Palestine (Deut. iii. 26); Jeremiah, when he pleaded for the Jews (Jer. xv. 1); and Abraham, when he interceded for the people of Sodom. “But the Spirit Itself intercedes for us with groanings that cannot be expressed.” This statement is unclear because many of the wonders that used to occur then have ceased. So I must explain how things were at that time, and this will make the rest of the subject clear. What, then, was the situation? In those days God gave certain excellent gifts to everyone who was baptized, and these were called spirits. For it says, “the spirits of the Prophets are subject to the prophets.” (1 Cor. xiv. 32.) One had the gift of prophecy and foretold things to come; another had wisdom and taught the people; another had healings and cured the sick; another had miracles and raised the dead; another had tongues and spoke different languages. Along with all these, there was also a gift of prayer, which was likewise called a spirit, and the person who had this prayed for all the people. Since we are ignorant of much that benefits us and ask for things that do not, the gift of prayer came into a particular person at that time. He was appointed to ask on everyone’s behalf for what benefited the whole Church alike, and to instruct the others. Spirit, then, is the name he gives here to grace of this kind and to the soul that receives the grace, intercedes with God, and groans. For the person considered worthy of such grace stood in deep contrition and fell before God with many inward groanings, asking for what benefited everyone. The Deacon today is a symbol of this when he offers prayers for the people. This, then, is what Paul means when he says, “the Spirit itself intercedes for us with groanings that cannot be expressed.” Ver. 27. “But He who searches the hearts.” You see that he is speaking about the spiritual heart, rather than the Comforter. Otherwise he should have said, “He who searches” the Spirit. But so that you may learn that the words refer to a spiritual person who has the gift of prayer, he continues, “And he who searches the hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit,” that is, of the spiritual person. “Because he intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” He does not mean that this person informs God as though He were ignorant. Rather, this happens so that we may learn to pray for the right things and ask God for what pleases Him. For this is what “according to God” means. It was intended to comfort those who came to Him and give them excellent instruction. For it was the Comforter who provided the gifts and also gave countless blessings. Hence it says, “one and the same Spirit works all these things.” (1 Cor. xii. 11.) This happens for our instruction, and to show the Spirit’s love, It stoops even to this. This is why the person praying is heard: because the prayer is made “according to the will of God.” You see how many ways he teaches them about the love shown to them and the honor given to them. What has God not done for us? He has made the world corruptible for us, and again incorruptible for us. He allowed His Prophets to be mistreated for our sake, sent them into captivity for us, and let them fall into the furnace and undergo countless evils. Indeed, He made them prophets for us, and He made the Apostles for us too. He gave up His Only-Begotten for us; He punishes the devil for us; He has seated us at the Right Hand; He was insulted for us. “For the insults of those who insulted you,” it says, “fell upon me.” (Ps. lxix. 9.) Yet even when we draw back after such great favor, He does not abandon us. He pleads again and, for our sake, urges others to plead for us, so that He may show us favor. This is how it was with Moses. For He says to him, “Leave Me alone, so that I may wipe them out” (Ex. xxxii. 10), to impel him to plead on their behalf. He does the same thing now. That is why He gave the gift of prayer. He does this not because He Himself needs pleading, but so that we will not become indifferent through being saved without effort (ἁπλὥς). This is why He often says that He is reconciled to them for David’s sake, or for this person’s or that person’s sake: to establish this very point again, that reconciliation should take place with all due formality. Still, He would have appeared more loving toward humanity if He had told them on His own initiative that He was no longer angry, rather than through one prophet or another. But He did not take that approach because He did not want this basis for reconciliation to become an occasion for carelessness. That is why He also said to Jeremiah, “Do not pray for this people, for I will not hear you” (Jer. xi. 14). He did not wish to stop his praying (for He earnestly longs for our salvation), but to frighten them. The prophet understood this too and did not stop praying. And so that you may see that He said this to put them to shame, rather than because He wished to turn the prophet away from prayer, hear what it says: “Do you not see what these people are doing?” (Ez. viii. 6, not verbally from LXX.) And when He says to the city, “Though you wash yourself with lye and use much soap (Gr. herb), you are still stained before Me” (Jer. ii. 22), He speaks this way to stir them to repentance, rather than drive them to despair. In the case of the Ninevites, by pronouncing sentence without qualification and offering no hopeful prospect, He frightened them all the more and led them to repentance. So He does here too, both to stir them and to make the prophet more respected, so that at least in this way they might listen to him. Then, since they remained in incurable madness and would not come to their senses even when the others were carried away, he first urges them to remain there. But when they failed to do this and fled to Egypt, He allowed them to do so, but required them not to turn to irreligion as well as to Egypt. (Jer. xliv. 8.) When they did not obey even in this, He sent the prophet along with them so that they would not, after all, suffer complete shipwreck. (Ver. 28.) Since they did not follow Him when He called, He next followed them, to discipline them and keep them from being swept further into vice. He acted like an affectionate father with a child who reacts peevishly to every treatment, taking him everywhere with him and following him around. This was why He sent not only Jeremiah into Egypt, but also Ezekiel into Babylon, and they did not refuse to go. For when they saw their Master’s extraordinary love for the people, they too continued to love them in the same way. It was much as a good servant might take pity on an unmanageable son when he saw the father grieving and lamenting over him. And what did they not suffer for them? They were sawed apart, driven out, insulted, stoned, and subjected to countless wrongs. After all this, they would still run back to them. Samuel, for instance, never stopped mourning for Saul, although Saul had shamefully insulted him and injured him beyond repair. (1 Sam. xv. 35.) Still, he held none of this against him. And Jeremiah wrote Lamentations for the Jewish people. When the Persian general gave him freedom to live safely and in complete liberty wherever he pleased, he preferred the people’s affliction and their harsh confinement in a foreign land to living at home. (Jer. xi. 5.) Likewise, Moses left the palace and its way of life and hurried to share their calamities. Daniel went without food for twenty consecutive days, afflicting himself with the strictest fast to reconcile God to them. (Dan. x. 2.) The three Children too, while in the furnace amid such fierce fire, offered a prayer for them. They were not grieving on their own account, since they were saved. Rather, they considered this the moment for the greatest boldness in speaking, and so they prayed on the people’s behalf. This is why they said, “With a contrite heart and a humble spirit let us be accepted.” (Song. ver. 16.) For them Joshua too tore his clothes. (Josh. vii. 6.) For them Ezekiel also wailed and lamented when he saw them being cut down. (Ez. ix. 8.) And Jeremiah said, “Leave me alone; I will weep bitterly.” (Is. xxii. 4.) Before this, when he did not dare openly to pray for relief from their miserable condition, he asked for some limit to its duration, saying, “How long, O Lord?” (ib. vi. 11.) For the whole family of the saints is full of affection. That is why St. Paul also says, “Therefore, as God’s chosen saints, put on hearts of mercy, kindness, humility of mind.” (Col. iii. 12.) You see how precisely the word fits and how he wants us to be constantly merciful. For he does not merely say, “show mercy,” but put it on, so that mercy may always be with us, just as our clothing is. And he does not say merely mercy, but “hearts of mercy,” so that we may imitate the natural affection of family members. But we do just the opposite. If someone comes to ask us for a single penny, we insult them, abuse them, and call them impostors. Do you not shudder, man, and blush to call someone an impostor for asking for bread? Even if such a person is pretending, he deserves pity for it, because hunger presses him so hard that he takes on such a role. This condemns our cruelty. Since we have not had the heart to give readily, they are compelled to use all kinds of tricks to get around our inhumanity and soften our harshness. If he were asking you for gold and silver, there would be some reason for your suspicions. But if he comes to you for necessary food, why parade your cleverness at such an inappropriate moment and scrutinize him so closely, accusing him of idleness and laziness? For if we must talk this way, we should address ourselves rather than others. So when you go to God to ask forgiveness for your sins, remember these words. You will know that you deserve to hear them from God far more than the poor man deserves to hear them from you. Yet God has never said such words to you as, “Stay away, since you are an impostor, always coming to church and hearing My laws, but once outside, placing gold, pleasure (ἐπιθυμίαν), friendship, and practically anything above My commandments. Now you act humble, but when your prayers are over, you are brazen, cruel, and inhuman. So get out of here and never come to Me again.” We deserve to hear this and more, yet He has never reproached us in any such way. He is patient, does everything on His part, and gives us more than we ask for. Remembering this, let us relieve the poverty of those who beg from us, and if they deceive us, let us not scrutinize the matter too closely. For we ourselves need salvation of this kind, accompanied by pardon, kindness (φιλανθρωπίας), and abundant mercy. For it is impossible, certainly impossible, for us ever to be saved if our condition is strictly examined; we would have to be punished and utterly ruined. So let us not be harsh judges of others, so that we too will not be required to give a strict account. For we have sins too great to admit any excuse. Therefore let us show greater mercy toward those who have committed inexcusable sins, so that we too may store up similar mercy for ourselves in advance. Yet however generous we may be, we will never be able to contribute as much love for humanity as we need from God, who loves humanity. How, then, is it anything but monstrous, when we need so much ourselves, to scrutinize our fellow servants so closely and do everything we can against our own interests? For in this way you do less to prove him unworthy of your generosity than to prove yourself unworthy of God’s love for humanity. Whoever deals too strictly with a fellow servant is all the more certain to find the same treatment at God’s hand. Let us not speak against ourselves, but give even if they come out of idleness or willfulness. For we too commit many sins willfully—or rather, we commit them all willfully—yet God does not immediately call us to punishment. He gives us a set time for repentance, nourishing us day by day, disciplining us, teaching us, and supplying us with everything else, so that we too may imitate His mercy. Let us then put down this cruelty and drive out this brutal spirit, benefiting ourselves more than others by doing so. For we give them money, bread, and clothing, but we store up for ourselves in advance a very great glory beyond words. For we receive our bodies back incorruptible and are glorified together and reign together with Christ. We will see how great this is from what follows—or rather, there is no way to show it clearly now. But starting from our present blessings, to gain at least some faint idea of it from them, I will try as far as I can to set before you what I have been speaking about. Tell me, then: if you had grown old and were living in poverty, and someone suddenly promised to make you young, bring you into the very prime of life, make you very strong and exceptionally beautiful, and give you the kingdom of the whole earth for a thousand years, a kingdom enjoying the deepest peace, what would you not choose to do and suffer to obtain this promise? (4 mss. and Sav. Mar. object.) See, then, Christ promises much more than this. For the distance between old age and youth cannot compare with the difference between corruption and incorruption, nor can the distance between a kingdom and poverty compare with that between present glory and future glory. The difference is like that between dreams and reality. Or rather, I have still said nothing adequate, since no language can convey to you how great the difference is between things to come and things present. As for time, the idea of a difference has no place. For how can anyone compare a life without limit with our present condition? As for peace, it is as far removed from any present peace as peace is from war. And incorruption is better than corruption by as much as a clear pearl is better than a clod of clay. Or rather, however grandly someone speaks, nothing can convey it to you. Even if I compared the beauty of our bodies then to the light of a sunbeam or the brightest lightning, I would still say nothing worthy of that brilliance. For things like these, what amount of money would not be worth giving up? What bodies—or rather, what souls—would not be worth giving up? At present, if someone brought you into the palace and gave you the opportunity to speak with the king in everyone’s presence, seated you at his table, and let you share his food, you would call yourself the happiest of people. But when you are to go up to Heaven, stand beside the King of the universe Himself, rival angels in brightness, and enjoy that indescribable glory, do you hesitate over whether to give up money? If you had to lay down life itself, you should leap, rejoice, and soar on wings of pleasure. But to obtain an office (ἀρχὴν) as a position from which to plunder (for I cannot call such a thing gain), you risk everything you have, borrow from others, and, if necessary, even pledge your wife and children without hesitation. But when the kingdom of Heaven is set before you, that office (ἀρχἥς) in which no one will replace you, and God invites you to take not a portion of some corner of the earth, but all of Heaven, do you hesitate, hold back, and stare openmouthed with longing for money? Have you forgotten that if the parts of Heaven we see are so beautiful and delightful, the upper Heaven and the Heaven of Heaven must be far more so? But since we cannot yet see this with our bodily eyes, rise in your thoughts, stand above this Heaven, and look up to the Heaven beyond it: to that boundless height, that Light overflowing with awe, the crowds of Angels, the endless ranks of Archangels, and the rest of the incorporeal Powers. Then come down again from above and take hold of the image (cf. Plat. Rep. vii. p. 516) we have of it. Picture the splendor of a king among us: his men in gold armor, his pairs of white mules proudly adorned with gold, his chariots set with jewels, his snow-white cushions (στρωμνὴν Poll. x. 41), the spangles fluttering around the chariot, the dragons depicted in the silk hangings, the shields with their gold bosses, the straps reaching from these to the shields’ rims through so many gems, and the horses with gilded trappings and gold bits. But when we see the king, we immediately lose sight of all these. For he alone draws our eyes to himself, to the purple robe, the crown, the throne, the clasp, the shoes, and all the splendor of his appearance. After carefully gathering all these details together, turn your thoughts again from them to things above and to that awe-inspiring day when Christ comes. Then you will see no pairs of mules, golden chariots, dragons, or shields, but things filled with tremendous awe, striking such amazement that the incorporeal Powers themselves are astonished. For He says, “the powers of the Heavens will be shaken.” (Matt. xxiv. 29.) Then all Heaven is thrown open, the gates of those vaults unfold, and the Only-begotten Son of God comes down with a bodyguard of not twenty or a hundred men, but thousands and tens of thousands of Angels and Archangels, Cherubim and Seraphim, and other Powers. Everything will be filled with fear and trembling as the earth bursts open and everyone ever born, from Adam’s birth to that day, rises from the earth, and all are caught up; (1 Thess. iv. 17) when He Himself appears in such great glory that the sun, the moon, and every other light are overshadowed, outshone by that radiance. What language can convey that blessedness, brightness, and glory? Alas, my soul! For weeping and deep groaning come over me as I reflect on the good things we have fallen away from and the blessedness from which we are estranged. For estranged we are (I am still speaking here of my own case), unless we do some great and astonishing work. Do not speak to me now of hell, for falling away from this glory is more grievous than any hell, and being estranged from that destiny is worse than countless punishments. Yet we still stare openmouthed with longing for this present world and give no thought to the devil’s cunning. Through little things he robs us of those great ones, gives us clay to snatch away our gold—or rather, to snatch Heaven from us—shows us a shadow to dispossess us of reality, and sets phantoms before us in dreams (for that is what this world’s wealth is), so that at daybreak he may reveal us as the poorest of people. Taking these things to heart, late though it is, let us flee this deception and cross over to the side of things to come. For we cannot claim we did not know how vulnerable to misfortune the present life is. Every day events ring in our ears more loudly than a trumpet, proclaiming the worthlessness, absurdity, shamefulness, dangers, and pitfalls of the present scene. What defense, then, can we offer for pursuing things so hazardous and full of shame with such eagerness, abandoning unfailing things that will make us glorious and radiant, and surrendering ourselves completely to the slavery of money? For slavery to these things is worse than any bondage. Those who have been considered worthy to gain their freedom from it know this. So that you too may experience this beautiful freedom, break the bonds and spring out of the snare. Let there be no gold lying stored in your houses. Instead, let your treasure be what is more precious than millions in money: alms and love for humanity. This gives us boldness before God, while the other covers us in deep shame and makes the devil press us hard (σφοδρὸν πνεἵν). Why, then, arm your enemy and make him stronger? Arm your right hand against him, transfer all the splendor of your house into your soul, and store all your fortune in your mind. Instead of a chest and a house, let heaven keep your gold. Let us place all our property on ourselves, for we are far better than walls and more dignified than a floor. Why, then, do we neglect ourselves and lavish all our attention on things we cannot reach once we are gone, and often cannot even keep while we remain here, when we could have riches that would leave us comfortably provided for in this life and the next? For whoever carries his farms, house, and gold on his soul appears with all this wealth wherever he goes. How can this be done? someone may ask. It is possible, and extremely easy. If you transfer them to Heaven through the poor man’s hand, you will transfer them entirely into your own soul. And if death should come upon you afterward, no one will take them from you; you will depart to be rich in the next world too. This was the kind of treasure Tabitha had. So it was not her house, walls, stones, or pillars that proclaimed her wealth, but the bodies of widows provided with clothing, the tears they shed, death running away, and life returning. Let us make treasures like these for ourselves too; let us build houses like these for ourselves. In this way we will have God as our Fellow-worker, and we ourselves will be workers together with Him. For He Himself brought the poor from nonexistence into existence, and you will keep them, once brought into life and being, from perishing through hunger and other distress. By caring for them and setting them upright, you will support the Temple of God everywhere. What can equal this in usefulness or glory? Or if you still have no clear idea of the great honor He bestowed on you when He commanded you to relieve poverty, consider this. If He had given you such great power that you could raise Heaven itself back up if it were falling, would you not think the honor far too great for you? See, now He has considered you worthy of a greater honor. For He has entrusted you with repairing what He values more highly than the Heavens. Of all visible things, nothing equals humanity in God’s esteem. He made Heaven, earth, and sea for humanity, and takes greater pleasure in dwelling with humanity than in Heaven. Yet although we know this, we give no care or forethought to the temples of God. We leave them neglected while providing splendid, spacious houses for ourselves. This is why we lack all good things and are greater beggars than the poorest of the poor: we pride ourselves on houses we cannot take with us when we leave here, and neglect those we could carry away with us. For the bodies of the poor must rise again after their dissolution, and God, Who gave this charge, will bring them forward, praise those who cared for them, and honor them (θαυμάσεται). For when these bodies were about to fall into ruin, at one time from starvation and at another from nakedness and cold, these people repaired them by every means in their power. Yet even with all this praise set before us, we still delay and refuse to undertake this honorable charge. Christ has nowhere to stay, but goes about as a stranger, naked and hungry, while you build country houses, baths, terraces, and countless rooms in thoughtless vanity. You do not give Christ even a share of a little hut, while you decorate upper rooms for jackdaws and vultures. What could be worse than such insanity? What more grievous than such madness? For this is madness in its final stage—or rather, whatever name one uses, none fits it. Yet if we are willing, we can drive out the disorder, persistent as it is. It is not only possible but easy, and not merely easy: getting rid of this plague is even easier than getting rid of bodily ailments, since the Physician is so much greater. Let us then draw Him to ourselves, invite Him to help us in the effort, and contribute our share—I mean willingness and energy. He will require nothing further. If He finds just this, He will provide everything that belongs to His part. Let us then contribute our share, so that in this world we may enjoy true health and may attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, with Whom to the Father be glory, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.