Homilies on Romans, Homily 24

“And do this, knowing the time, that it is now time to wake up from sleep.” After giving them the appropriate commands, he again urges them to carry out good works, in view of what is pressing upon them. For he means that the time of judgment is at the doors. So he also wrote to the Corinthians, “The remaining time is short.” (1 Cor. vii. 29.) And again to the Hebrews, “For in just a little while, He who is coming will come and will not delay.” (Heb. x. 37.) In those cases he said these things to encourage people in trouble and to comfort them in the struggles of their trials, which followed one another so closely. But in the passage before us he does it to wake those who are asleep, since this language serves both purposes for us. And what does he mean when he says, “It is now time to wake up from sleep?” He means that the Resurrection is near, the terrifying Judgment is near, and the day that burns like a furnace is near. From now on, then, we must shake off our apathy, “for now our salvation is nearer than when we believed.” You see how he places the Resurrection close beside them. For as time advances, he means, the span of our present life is dwindling, and the life to come is drawing nearer. If, then, you are prepared and have done everything He has commanded, that day is salvation for you (3 mss. and Cat. σωτηρία σοι); but if the opposite is true, it is not. For the moment, however, he encourages them with kindness rather than fear, also seeking in this way to loosen their attachment to the things of this present world. Now, they were likely to be most eager at the beginning of their efforts, when their desire was at full strength, but as time went on, all their eagerness might wither away to nothing. So he says that they should do the reverse: as time goes on, they should grow more vigorous instead of slackening. The nearer the King is, the more they should prepare themselves; the nearer the prize, the more alert they should be for the contest. Even runners do this: when they approach the end of the course and are about to receive the prize, they spur themselves on all the more. That is why he said, “Now our salvation is nearer than when we believed.” Ver. 12. “The night is nearly over; the day is near.” If the night is ending and the day is drawing near, let us now do what belongs to the day, not to the night. This is what we do in everyday life. When we see the night giving way to morning and hear the swallow twittering, each of us wakes our neighbor, even though it is still night. As soon as the night is actually passing, we hurry one another along and say, “It is day now!” We all set about the day's work, getting dressed, leaving our dreams behind, and shaking off sleep completely, so that the day will find us ready, and we will not have to begin getting up and stretching when the sun is already shining. Let us do the same here. Let us put away fantasies, free ourselves from the dreams of this present life, lay aside its deep sleep, and dress ourselves in virtue. For he means to convey all this when he says, “So let us throw off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light.” Yes, for the day calls us to take our battle positions and fight. But do not be afraid when you hear of battle formations and weapons. Putting on physical armor is a heavy and unpleasant task. But here it is something desirable, something worth praying for. For these weapons are made of Light! They will make you shine more brightly than a sunbeam, radiating a brilliant gleam, and they will keep you safe, because they are weapons; and they make you glitter, because they are weapons of light! What, then? Do you have no need to fight? Yes, you must fight, but without distress and exhausting labor. For this is really no war, but a ceremonial dance and a festival: such is the nature of the weapons, such the power of the Commander. And just as a bridegroom comes joyfully out of his room, so does the person protected by these weapons. For he is both soldier and bridegroom. But when he says, “The day is near,” he does not leave it merely near; he places it beside us already. For he says, “Let us walk properly,” (A.V. honestly, in this sense) “as in the day.” For it is already day. And he also draws them on by appealing to a sense of proper behavior, something most people emphasize strongly in their exhortations. For they cared a great deal about public esteem. And he does not say, “You must walk,” but “Let us walk,” making the exhortation free of anything harsh and the rebuke gentle. “Not in wild partying and drunkenness.” He is not forbidding drinking, but drinking too much; not enjoying wine, but enjoying it to excess (μετά παροινίας). He sets the same limit in what he says next: “Not in sexual immorality and unrestrained lust”; for here too he does not forbid sexual intercourse, but sex outside marriage. “Not in conflict and envy.” So the deadly passions he wants to extinguish are lust and anger. That is why he removes not only the passions themselves but even their sources. For nothing kindles lust and inflames anger like drunkenness and lingering over wine. So after first saying, “Not in wild partying and drunkenness,” he went on to say, “Not in sexual immorality and unrestrained lust, not in conflict and envy.” And he does not stop even here. After stripping us of these evil clothes, listen to how he goes on to adorn us: Ver. 14. “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” He no longer speaks of works, but urges them toward greater things. When speaking of vice, he mentioned its works; but when speaking of virtue, he speaks of weapons instead of works, to show that virtue gives the person who possesses it complete safety and complete brilliance. And he does not stop even here. Taking his argument further, to something greater and far more awe-inspiring, he gives us the Lord Himself as a garment, the King Himself. For anyone clothed in Him has absolutely every virtue. But by saying, “Put on,” he tells us to be wrapped in Him on every side. As he says elsewhere, “But if Christ is in you.” (Rom. viii. 10.) And again, “That Christ may dwell in the inner person.” (Eph. iii. 16, 17, al. punct.) For He wants our soul to be His dwelling, and Himself to be wrapped around us like a garment, so that He may be everything to us, both within and without. For He is our fullness; for He is “the fullness of Him who fills all in all” (ib. i. 23): and the Way, and the Husband, and the Bridegroom—for “I have betrothed you as a chaste virgin to one husband,” (2 Cor. xi. 2): and a root, and drink, and food, and life—for he says, “I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me;” (Gal. ii. 20) and Apostle, and High Priest, and Teacher, and Father, and Brother, and Joint Heir, and one who shares the tomb and Cross—for it says, “We were buried together with Him,” and “planted together in the likeness of His Death” (Rom. vi. 4, 5): and a Petitioner—“For we are ambassadors in Christ's place” (2 Cor. v. 20): and an “Advocate to the Father”—for “He also,” it says, “intercedes for us:” (Rom. viii. 34) and house and inhabitant—for He says, “Whoever remains in Me, and I in Him” (John xv. 5): and a Friend; for, “You are My friends” (ib. 14): and a Foundation, and Cornerstone. And we are His members and His inheritance, and building, and branches, and fellow workers. For what is He not willing to be to us, when He makes us cling to Him and fit ourselves to Him in every way? This is a sign of someone who loves intensely. Be persuaded, then: wake from sleep and put Him on, and when you have done so, submit your flesh to His bridle. For this is what he indicates when he says, “And make no provision for the flesh to satisfy its lusts.” Just as he does not forbid drinking, but drinking to excess, or marriage, but sexual immorality, so he does not forbid making provision for the flesh, but doing so “to satisfy its lusts,” as, for instance, by going beyond necessities. To see that he does tell us to provide for it, listen to what he says to Timothy: “Use a little wine for your stomach's sake and your frequent illnesses.” (1 Tim. v. 23.) So here too he wants us to care for it, but for health, not indulgence. For you would cease to be caring for it if you were kindling the flame and stoking the furnace. But to understand more clearly what making provision for it “to satisfy its lusts” means, and to avoid such provision, just think of drunkards, gluttons, people who pride themselves on their clothes, effeminate men, and those who live soft and idle lives, and you will see what he means. For everything they do aims at indulgence and kindling desire, rather than health. But you, who have put on Christ, must prune away all these things and seek just one thing: to keep your flesh healthy. Provide for it to that extent and no further, and devote all your effort to caring for spiritual things. Then you will be able to wake from this sleep without being weighed down by these many desires. For this present life is a sleep, and the things in it are no different from dreams. And just as people who are asleep often say and see things that are far from wholesome, so do we—or rather, we see things much worse. For someone who does or says something shameful in a dream is free of the disgrace when he wakes from sleep, and he will not be punished. But here it is different: both the shame and the punishment are immortal. Again, those who grow rich in a dream discover when day comes that their riches were useless. But here they often discover this even before day comes, and before they depart for the other life, those dreams have flown away. Let us shake off this evil sleep, then, for if the day finds us sleeping, a deathless death will follow. And before that day, we will be exposed to attacks from all the enemies in this world, both men and devils. If they want to destroy us, no one can stop them. If many were keeping watch, the danger would not be so great. But perhaps there is only one, or two, who have lit a candle and are keeping watch, as it were, in the dead of night while everyone sleeps. So now we need great wakefulness and vigilance to keep from falling into evils beyond all remedy. Doesn't it seem to be broad daylight now? Don't we think everyone is awake and sober? Yet still—and perhaps you will smile at what I say, but I will say it anyway—we all seem like people sleeping and snoring in the dead of night. If an incorporeal being could be seen, I would show you how most people are snoring while the devil breaks through the walls, butchers us as we lie there, and steals the goods inside, doing everything fearlessly, as though in deep darkness. Or rather, even if we cannot see this with our eyes, let us draw the picture in words. Consider how many have been weighed down by evil desires, how many have been held down by the grievous evil of unrestrained lust and have put out the light of the Spirit. That is why they see one thing in place of another, hear one thing in place of another, and pay no attention to anything said to them here. Or if I am wrong in saying this, and you are awake, tell me what has happened here today, if you have not been hearing it like a dream. I know that some can tell me—and I do not mean this of everyone—but you who fit this description, who have come here for nothing, tell me: which Prophet, which Apostle has spoken to us today? And on what subjects? You would not be able to tell me. For you have been talking a great deal here, just as in a dream, without hearing what is actually happening. I would say this to the women too, since there is a great deal of sleeping among them. If only it were sleep! For someone who is asleep says nothing either good or bad. But someone who is awake as you are says many things that bring harm on his own head: calculating his interest, adding up the accounts of those who owe him, recalling some shameless bargain, planting thorns thickly in his own soul, and keeping the seed from making even the slightest progress. But wake up, pull these thorns out by the roots, and shake off drunkenness, for that is what causes the sleep. By drunkenness I mean not only drunkenness from wine, but also from worldly thoughts, and along with them drunkenness from wine as well. (See p. 443.) I give this advice not only to the rich but also to the poor, especially those who pool their money for parties. For this is really punishment and retribution, rather than enjoyment or relaxation. Enjoyment consists in serious conversation rather than filthy talk, and in eating your fill rather than being ready to burst. But if you think this is pleasure, show me the pleasure when evening comes! You cannot! So far I have said nothing about the harm it leads to; for now I have spoken only about the pleasure that withers so quickly. The party has barely broken up before everything that passed for merriment has flown away. But when I mention the vomiting, the headaches, the countless ailments, and the soul's captivity, what do you have to say to all this? Because we are poor, must we also behave disgracefully? In saying this, I am not forbidding you to meet or eat supper at a common table. I want to keep you from behaving disgracefully, and I want your enjoyment to be real enjoyment, instead of punishment, retribution, drunkenness, and wild partying. Let the Gentiles (ἑλληνες) see that Christians know best how to enjoy themselves, and how to do so in an orderly way. For it says, “Rejoice in the Lord with trembling.” (Ps. ii. 11.) How, then, can someone rejoice? By reciting hymns, offering prayers, and bringing in psalms in place of those vulgar songs. Then Christ too will be at our table and fill the whole feast with blessing: when you pray, when you sing spiritual songs, when you invite the poor to share the food before you, when you govern the feast with great order and moderation. In this way you will make the party a Church, by singing hymns to the Master of all things in place of ill-timed shouts and cheers. And do not tell me that a different custom has become established; correct what is wrong with it. “For whether you eat,” it says, “or drink, or whatever you do, do everything to the glory of God.” (1 Cor. x. 31.) For banquets of that kind produce evil desires and impurities, and lead you to dishonor wives and honor prostitutes. They overturn families and bring countless evils; everything is turned upside down, and you have left the pure fountain and run to the channel of mud. To establish that a prostitute's body is mud, I ask no one but you yourself, who wallow in the mud: don't you feel ashamed of yourself? Don't you think yourself unclean once the sin is over? So I beg you, flee sex outside marriage and its mother, drunkenness. Why sow where you cannot reap—or rather, where even if you reap, the fruit brings you great shame? For if a child is born, it immediately disgraces you and has itself been wronged by being born through you illegitimate and lowborn. Even if you leave it an enormous amount of money, both the son of a prostitute and the son of a servant girl are disgraced at home, disgraced in the city, and disgraced in a court of law. You too will be disgraced, both during your life and after your death. For even after you have departed, the reminders of your disgraceful behavior remain. Why, then, bring disgrace on all these people? Why sow where the ground makes it its business to destroy the fruit? Where there are so many efforts at abortion? Where there is murder before birth? For you do not even let the prostitute remain merely a prostitute; you make her a murderer too. You see how drunkenness leads to prostitution, prostitution to adultery, and adultery to murder—or rather, to something even worse than murder. For I have no name to give it, since it does not kill what has been born, but prevents it from being born. Why, then, do you abuse God's gift, fight against His laws, pursue a curse as though it were a blessing, turn the chamber of procreation into a chamber of murder, and arm for slaughter the woman who was given for childbearing? For to draw more money by pleasing her lovers and remaining desirable to them, she does not shrink even from this, and so heaps a great pile of fire on your head. For even if the daring deed is hers, you are its cause. Idolatries also come from this, since many devise incantations, libations, love potions, and countless other schemes to make themselves desirable. Yet even after such great disgrace, after murders, after idolatries, many still treat the matter as morally indifferent—yes, even many who have wives. This makes the mixture (φορυτὸς) of evil all the greater. For sorcery is directed against the wronged wife rather than the prostituted womb, and there are countless plots, invocations of devils, consultations with the dead, daily wars, relentless fighting, and jealousies nurtured at home. That is also why Paul, after saying, “Not in sexual immorality and unrestrained lust,” goes on to say, “Not in conflict and envy.” He knows the wars that result: the overturning of families, the wrongs done to legitimate children, and countless other evils. To escape all these things, then, let us put on Christ and be with Him continually. For this is what putting Him on means: never being without Him, always having Him visible in us through our holiness and moderation. So we say of friends that one is wrapped up (ἐνεδύσατο) in another, meaning that they love each other deeply and are constantly together. For someone wrapped up in something seems to become what he is wrapped in. Let Christ, then, be seen in every part of us. And how is He to be seen? If you do what He did. And what did He do? “The Son of Man,” He says, “has nowhere to lay His head.” (Luke ix. 58.) Aim for this yourself. He needed food, and He ate barley loaves. He had to travel, and there were no horses or beasts of burden anywhere; He walked until He was tired. He needed sleep, and He lay “asleep on the pillow in the front (πρύμνῃ, here πρώρας) part of the ship.” (Mark iv. 38.) When it was time to sit down to a meal, He told them to recline on the grass. His clothes were inexpensive, and He often stayed alone, with no entourage following Him. And what He did on the Cross, what He did amid the insults—in a word, everything He did—learn by heart (καταμαθὼν) and imitate. In this way you will have put on Christ, if you “make no provision for the flesh to satisfy its lusts.” For this offers no real pleasure, since these lusts breed others still more intense, and you will never find satisfaction, but only turn yourself into one great torment. Someone who is constantly thirsty gains nothing even from having ten thousand fountains nearby, because he cannot put an end to his illness. So it is with someone who lives continually in lusts. But if you keep to what is necessary, you will never have this fear, and all these things will disappear, drunkenness as well as unrestrained lust. Eat only enough to satisfy your hunger, then, and wear only enough to protect yourself from the elements. Do not lavishly adorn your flesh with clothes, or you may ruin it. For you will make it more delicate and damage its health by weakening it with so much softness. To make it a suitable vehicle for the soul, so that the helmsman can sit securely at the rudder and the soldier can handle his weapons easily, you must keep all its parts properly fitted together. For requiring little, rather than having much, is what protects us from harm. One man is afraid even when no one wrongs him; the other, even when he is wronged, is better off than those who have not been wronged, and is in better spirits for that very reason. So let us seek a way to leave anyone who wants to mistreat us powerless to do so, instead of seeking a way to keep anyone from mistreating us. We can achieve this only by keeping to necessities and desiring nothing more. In this way we will be able to enjoy ourselves here and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, with Whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.