These main characteristics of the people are abundantly illustrated in detail, as will be seen hereafter, in the homilies of Chrysostom. He is ever, in them, labouring with indefatigable industry and earnestness to lift the Christians above the frivolity and vices of the rest of the population. His opportunities for investigating the condition of the Christian community were great during his diaconate. He did not as yet preach; but by observations on life and manners, he laid up copious materials for preaching. And he was not idle in the use of his pen, for to this period may be assigned the treatise on Virginity; a letter addressed to a young widow; a book on the martyr Babylas; and, perhaps, though this cannot certainly be determined, the six books on the Priesthood.181
The letter to a young widow must have been written soon after the destruction of the Emperor Valens and his army by the Goths in A.D. 378, since it contains a reference to that event as a recent occurrence,182 yet it must have been antecedent to the crushing defeats inflicted on them by Theodosius in A.D. 382, because the writer implies that at the time of composition the Goths were overrunning large tracts of the empire with impunity, and mocking the helplessness and timidity of the imperial troops.183 The whole book is penetrated with that profound sense of the misery and instability of things human, which the corruption of society and recent calamities of the empire impressed with peculiar force on the minds of reflecting persons; which produced among pagans either melancholy or careless indifference, but made Christians cling with a more earnest and tenacious trust to the hopes and consolations of the Gospel.
Therasius, the husband of the young widow, had died after five years of married life. He is described by Chrysostom as having been distinguished in rank, in ability, and, above all, in virtue; as having held a high position in the army, with a reasonable expectation of soon becoming a prefect. But these very excellencies and brilliant prospects, which seemed to aggravate the sense of his loss, “ought,” Chrysostom observes, “to be regarded as sources of consolation. If death were a final and total destruction, then indeed it would have been reasonable to lament the extinction of one so benevolent, so gentle, so humble, prudent, and devout, as her late husband. But if death was only the landing of the soul in a tranquil haven, only a transition from the worse to better, from earth to heaven, from men to angels and archangels, and to Him who is the Lord of angels, then there was no place left for tears. It was better that he should depart and be with Christ, his true King, serving Whom in that other world, he would not be exposed to the dangers and animosities which attended the service of an earthly monarch. They were, indeed, separated in body, but neither length of time nor remoteness of place could sunder the friendship of the soul. Endure patiently for a little time, and you will behold again the face of your desire; perhaps even now, in visions, his form will be permitted to visit you.”184 If it was the loss of the prefecture that she specially deplored, let her think from what dangerous ambitions her husband had been preserved; think of the fate of Theodorus, who was tempted by his high station to lay a plot against the Emperor, and suffered capital punishment for his treason.185 The loftier a man’s ambitions in life, the more probable a disastrous fall. Look at the tragical fate of the Emperors in the course of the past fifty years. Two only, out of nine, had died natural deaths; of the other seven, one had been killed by a usurper,186 one in battle,187 one by a sedition of his domestic guards,188 one by the man who had invested him with the purple.189 Julian had fallen in battle in the Persian expedition. Valentinian I. died in a fit of rage, and Valens had been burnt, together with his retinue, in a house to which the Goths set fire. And of the widows of these Emperors, some had perished by poison, others had died of despair and broken hearts. Of those who yet survived, one was trembling for the safety of an orphan son,190 another had with difficulty obtained permission to return from exile.191 Of the wives of the present Emperors, one was racked by constant anxiety on account of the youth and inexperience of her husband,192 the other was subject to no less anxiety for her husband’s safety, who ever since his elevation to the throne had been engaged in incessant warfare with the Goths.193 Human ambition was a hard taskmistress, who employed arrogance and avarice as her agents; “do not then, mourn that your husband has been emancipated from her tyranny.” Most of the wisest and noblest characters even of the pagan world had resisted the allurements of ambition—Socrates, Epaminondas, Aristides, Diogenes, Crates. Shall the Christian then complain, if God takes one away from these temptations? He who cared least about glory, who was natural and modest, and unambitious, often acquired most glory, whereas he who was most eager and anxious to secure it, often obtained nothing but derision and reproach. She believed that her husband might have obtained the prefecture; it was a reasonable hope, but there was many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip, and he who was king to-day was dead to-morrow. “Strive, then, to equal and even surpass your husband in piety and goodness, that you may be admitted into the same home, and reunited to him in a bond far more lovely and enduring than that of earthly wedlock.”
In the long treatise “De Virginitate,” Chrysostom boldly declares his preference for celibacy, but at the same time he exposes and denounces the mischievous error of Marcionites and Manichæans, who condemned marriage altogether as positive sin. “They were mistaken in supposing that abstinence from marriage would procure them a high place in heaven, because, even if it were granted that marriage was a positive sin, it must be remembered that not those who abstained from sin, but those who did positive good, would receive the highest rewards; not one who abstained from calling his brother ‘Raca,’ but he who loved his enemies. The celibacy of heretics, such as the Manichæans, was based on the false conception that all created matter was evil, and that the Creator Himself was an inferior being to the Supreme Deity. Hence their celibacy was the work of the devil; they belonged to those mentioned only to be condemned in 1 Tim. iv. 1-3 ‘as forbidding to marry.’194 Chastity of body was worthless, if the soul within was depraved; but celibacy rightly cultivated, to preserve the purity of the soul towards God, was better than marriage, better as heaven was better than earth, and angels better than men.” He confronts the common objection: if all men embraced celibacy, how would the race be propagated? “Myriads of angels inhabit heaven, yet we believe they are not propagated by matrimony, and it was only by the special provision and will of God, that matrimony itself produced offspring. Sarah was barren till God vouchsafed her Isaac. Marriage was the inferior state to conduct us to the higher; it was to celibacy as the Law to the Gospel, it was a crutch to support those who would otherwise fall into sin, but to be dispensed with when possible. Let those, then, who reproached and derided celibacy, put a restraint upon their lips, lest like Miriam, or the children who mocked Elisha, they should be severely punished for pouring contempt on so holy a state.”195
We are enabled to understand from this work why the best Christianity in the East was so disparaging of the married state. The woman had not attained her proper place in society. She seems to have been ill-educated, to have been kept, especially before marriage, in a state of unnatural seclusion, which she broke when she could, and was too often treated by the husband like a slave, with severity and distrust. This degrading position was partly a remnant of a pagan state of society, partly the offspring of oriental character and habits of life. Christianity perceived the evil, but had not effected much towards a remedy. Instead of endeavouring to elevate, to soften, and refine the relation of one sex to the other, it encouraged rather a total separation. The treatise now under notice presents curious pictures of domestic life, if such it can be called, in that age. Matrimonial matches were arranged entirely by the parents, the attentions of the suitors were paid to the parents, not to the maiden herself. She suffered an agony of suspense, while the favourite of yesterday was supplanted by the superior charms of some rival of to-day, who in his turn was superseded by a third. Sometimes, on the very eve of marriage, the suitor whom she herself preferred was dismissed, and she was finally handed over to another whom she disliked. The suitors also, on their side, were racked by anxiety; for it was difficult to ascertain what the real character, personal appearance, and manners were of the maiden, who was always kept in the strictest seclusion. Then there was often great difficulty in getting the dowry paid by the father-in-law, which was an annoyance to each of the newly-married pair.196
He draws a highly-wrought picture, with some caustic humour, of the miseries of jealous wives and husbands. When a man constantly suspects “his dearest love,”197 for whom he would willingly sacrifice life itself, what can console him? By day and night he has no peace, and is irritable to all. Some men have even slain their wives, without succeeding in cooling their own jealous rage. The trials of the wife were more severe; her words, her very looks and sighs, were watched by slaves, and reported to her husband, who was too jealous to distinguish false tales from the true. The poor woman was reduced to the wretched alternative of keeping her own apartment, or, if she went out, of rendering an exact account of her proceedings. Untold wealth, sumptuous fare, troops of servants, distinguished birth, amounted to nothing when placed in the balance against such miseries as these. If it was the woman who was jealous, she suffered more than the man, for she could not keep him at home, or set the servants to watch him. If she remonstrated with him, she would be told that she had better hold her tongue, and keep her suspicions to herself. If the husband instituted a suit against the wife, the laws were favourable to him, and he could procure her condemnation, and even death; but if she were the petitioner, he would escape.198
It was very natural that the woman, who, before marriage, was cooped up like a child in the parental home, should break out afterwards into extravagance, dissipation, and frivolity, if not worse. An inordinate amount of time and money was bestowed upon dress, though perhaps not more than by the fashionable ladies of modern times. Women loaded themselves with ornaments, under the delusion that these added to their charms, whereas, Chrysostom observes, if the woman was naturally beautiful, the ornaments only concealed and detracted from her charms. If she was ugly, they only set off her ugliness by the glaring contrast, and the effect on the spectator was ludicrous or painful. But the adornment of the virgin who had dedicated herself to God was altogether spiritual. She arrayed herself in gentleness, modesty, poverty, humility, fasting, vigils. Incorporeal graces and incorporeal beauty were the objects of her love and contemplation. She treated enemies with such perfect courtesy and forbearance, that even the depraved were put to shame in her presence. The goodness of the soul within overflowed into all her outer actions.199 From this rapturous description of a highly spiritual kind of life, Chrysostom passes, with versatile quickness, to a somewhat ludicrous picture of the petty cares of life in the world. “The worldly lady thinks it a fine thing to drive round the Forum; how much better to be independent, and use her feet for the purpose for which God gave them! There was always some difficulty about the mules: she and her husband wanted them at the same time; one or both were lame or turned out to grass. A quiet and modestly-dressed woman needed no carriage and attendants to protect her in her passage through the streets, but might walk through the Forum, free from any annoyance. Some might say it was pleasant to be waited on by a troop of handmaids; but, on the contrary, such a charge was attended with much anxiety. Not only had the sick to be taken care of, but the indolent to be chastised, mischief, quarrels, and all kinds of evil doings to be corrected; and if there happened to be one distinguished by personal beauty, jealousy was added to all these other cares, lest the husband should be so captivated by her charms as to pay more attention to her than to her mistress.200 If it was replied to all these objections against married life, that Abraham and other saints in the Old Testament were all married men, it must be remembered that a much higher standard was required under the New Dispensation. There were degrees of perfection. When Noah was said to be ‘perfect in his generation,’ it meant relatively to that age in which he lived, for what is perfect in relation to one era becomes imperfect for another. Murder was forbidden by the Old Law, but hatred and wrath under the New. A larger effusion of the Holy Spirit rendered Christian men fully grown as compared with the children of the Old Dispensation. Degrees of virtue, impossible then, were attainable now; and as the moral standard under the Old Dispensation was lower, so the rewards of obedience were less exalted. The Jews were encouraged to obedience by the promise of an earthly country, Christians by the prospect of heaven. The Jews were deterred from sin by menaces of temporal calamity; the Christian, of eternal punishment. Let us, therefore, not spend our care upon money-getting and wives and luxurious living, else how shall we ever become men rather than children, and live in the spirit? for when we have taken our journey to that other world, the time for contest will have passed; then those who have not oil in their lamps will be unable to borrow it from their neighbours, or he who has a soiled garment to exchange it for another robe. When the Judge’s throne has been placed, and He is seated upon it, and the fiery stream is ‘coming forth from before Him’ (Dan. vii. 10), and the scrutiny of past life has begun: though Noah, Daniel, and Job were to implore an alteration of the sentence passed upon their own sons and daughters, their intercession would not avail.”201
The long treatise “De S. Babyla contra Julianum et Gentiles” presents several interesting subjects for consideration. In the history of the grove of Daphne we have a singular instance of the way in which Grecian legend was transplanted into foreign soil. Daphne, the daughter of the Grecian river-god Ladon, was, according to the Syrian version of the myth, overtaken by Apollo near Antioch. Here it was, on the banks, not of the Peneus, but of the Orontes, that the maiden prayed to her mother earth to open her arms and shelter her from the pursuit of the amorous god, and that the laurel plant sprang out of the spot where she disappeared from the eyes of her disappointed lover. The horse of Seleucus Nicator, founder of the Syrian monarchy, was said to have struck his hoof upon one of the arrows which Apollo had dropped in the hurry of his chase; in consequence of which the king dedicated the place to the god. A temple was erected in his honour, ample in proportions, and sumptuous in its adornments; the interior walls were resplendent with polished marbles, the lofty ceiling was of cypress wood. The colossal image of the god, enriched with gold and gems, nearly reached the top of the roof; the draped portions were of wood, the nude portions of marble. The fingers of the deity lightly touched the lyre which hung from his shoulders, and in the other hand he held a golden dish, as if about to pour a libation on the earth, “and supplicate the venerable mother to give to his arms the cold and beauteous Daphne.”202 The whole grove became consecrated to pleasure, under the guise of festivity in honour of the god. A more beautiful combination of delights cannot well be conceived. The grove was situated five miles to the south-west of Antioch, among the outskirts of the hills, where many of the limpid streams, rushing down towards the valley of the Orontes, mingled their waters. The road which connected the city with this spot was lined on the left hand with large gardens and groves, baths, fountains, and resting-places; on the right were villas with vineyards and rose-gardens irrigated by rivulets. Daphne itself was, according to Strabo,203 eighty stadia, or about ten miles, in circumference. It contained everything which could gratify and charm the senses; the deep impenetrable shade of cypress trees, the delicious sound and coolness of falling waters, the fragrance of aromatic shrubs. Such a combination of all that was voluptuous told with fatal and enervating effect upon the morals of a people who were at all times disposed to an immoderate indulgence in luxurious pleasures. Roman troops, and even Roman emperors, fell victims to the allurements of the spot.204 The annual celebration of the Olympian games instituted here by Commodus was especially the occasion of shocking excesses of every kind. But by the order of Gallus Cæsar an attempt was made to introduce a pure association into the spot hitherto abandoned to the licentiousness of pagan rites. The remains of Babylas, the Bishop of Antioch, who had suffered martyrdom in the reign of Decius, were transferred from their resting-place in the city to the grove of Daphne. The chapel or martyry erected over the bones of the Christian saint stood hard by the temple of the pagan deity. Here it confronted the Christian visitor, as a warning to him not to take part in pagan and licentious rites, abhorrent to the faith for which the Bishop had died. But the remains of the martyr were not permitted to rest in peace. When Julian visited Antioch, he consulted the oracle of Apollo at Daphne respecting the issue of the expedition which he was about to make into Persia. But the oracle was dumb. At length the god yielded to the importunity of repeated prayers and sacrifices so far as to explain the cause of his silence. He was disturbed by the proximity of a dead body: “Break open the sepulchres, take up the bones, and remove them hence.” The demand was interpreted as referring to the remains of Babylas, and the wishes of the crestfallen oracle were complied with.205 But the insult done to the Christian martyr was speedily avenged. Soon after the accomplishment of the impious act, a violent thunderstorm broke over the temple, and the lightning consumed both the roof of the building and the statue of the deity. At the time when Chrysostom wrote, some twenty years after the occurrence, the mournful wreck was yet standing; but the chapel again contained the relics of the saint and martyr, and conferred blessings on the pilgrims who resorted thither in crowds. The ruined and deserted temple, side by side with the carefully-preserved church of the martyr, thronged by devotees, presented a striking emblem of the fate of paganism, crumbling and vanishing away before the presence of the new faith, blasted by the lightning flash of a mightier force. A great portion of the treatise of Chrysostom is occupied by an analysis of his old master Libanius’s elegy over the fate of the stricken shrine of pagan worship. The affected and inflated tone of the sophist’s composition deserves the sarcasm and scorn which his pupil unsparingly pours upon it.
CHAPTER VIII.
ORDINATION TO THE PRIESTHOOD BY FLAVIAN—INAUGURAL DISCOURSE IN THE CATHEDRAL—HOMILIES AGAINST THE ARIANS—ANIMADVERSIONS ON THE CHARIOT RACES. A.D. 386.
Chrysostom had used the office of a deacon well. The lofty tone of Christian piety, the boldness, the ability, the command of language manifested in his writings, marked him out as eminently qualified for a preacher. His treatises, indeed, are distinguished by a vehemence and energy which belong more to the fervour of the orator than to the calmness of the writer. No doubt also men had not forgotten the talent for speaking which he had displayed when he began to practise, nearly twenty years before, as a lawyer. The Bishop Flavian ordained him a priest in 386, and immediately appointed him to be one of the most frequent preachers in the church. The bishop of a see like Antioch at that time rather resembled the rector of a large town parish than the bishop of modern times. He resided in Antioch, and discharged the duties of a chief pastor, assisted by his staff of priests and deacons. Where the whole Christian population amounted to not more than 100,000 souls, as in Antioch,206 that division into distinct districts, such as were formed in Alexandria,207 Rome, and Constantinople, with separate churches, served by members of the central staff in rotation, or by pastors especially appropriated to them, does not seem to have been made. Chrysostom officiated and preached in the great church, where the bishop also officiated. The less learned and less able priests were appointed to the less responsible duties of visiting the sick and the poor, and administering the sacraments. The vocation of Chrysostom, however, was especially that of a teacher. It will be readily acknowledged how difficult, how delicate an office preaching was, in an age when Christianity and Paganism were still existing side by side, and when the opinions of many men were floating in suspense between the old faith and the new, and were liable to be distracted from a firm hold upon the truth by Judaism and heresies of every shade.
Either on the occasion of his ordination, or very soon after it, Chrysostom preached an inaugural discourse, in the presence of the bishop. It is distinguished by that flowery and exaggerated kind of rhetoric which he occasionally displays in all its native oriental luxuriance, and which is due to the school in which he was brought up, rather than to the man. On such a public and formal occasion he appears less as the Christian teacher than as the scholar of Libanius the Rhetorician. His self-disparagement at the opening of his discourse, and his flattering encomiums on Flavian and Meletius at the close, would to modern, certainly at least to English, ears sound intolerably affected. No doubt, however, they were acceptable to the taste of his audience at Antioch; and, indeed, the whole discourse contains nothing more overstrained or ornate than is to be found in some of the most celebrated performances of the great French preachers in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
A few paraphrases will suffice to illustrate the character of his discourse.
“He could scarcely believe what had befallen him, that he, an insignificant and abject youth,208 should find himself elevated to such a height of dignity. The spectacle of so vast a multitude hanging in expectation on his lips quite unnerved him, and would have dried up fountains of eloquence, had he possessed such. How, then, could he hope that his little trickling stream of words would not fail, and that the feeble thoughts which he had put together with so much labour would not vanish from his mind?
“Wherefore he besought them to pray earnestly that he might be inspired with courage to open his mouth boldly in this hitherto unattempted work.209 He wished to offer the first-fruits of his speech in praise to God. As the tiller of the ground gave of his wheat, grapes, or olives, so he would fain make an offering in kind; he would ‘praise the name of God with a song, and magnify it with thanksgiving.’ But the consciousness of sin made him shrink from the task, for as in a wreath not only must the flowers be clean, but also the hands which wove it, so in sacred hymns not only must the words be holy, but also the soul of him who composed them. The words of the wise man who said, ‘praise is not becoming in the mouth of a sinner,’210 sealed up his lips, and when David invited all creation, animate and inanimate, visible and invisible, to ‘praise the Lord of Heaven, to praise him in the height,’ he did not include the sinner in the invitation. He would rather therefore dilate on the merits of some of his fellow-men who were worthier than himself. The mention of their Christian virtues would be an indirect way, legitimate for a sinner, of paying glory and honour to God himself. And to whom should he address his praises first but to their bishop, whom he might call the teacher of their country, and through their country of the world at large? To enter fully, however, into his manifold virtues was to dive into so deep a sea that he feared he should lose himself in its profundities. To do justice to the task would require an inspired and apostolic tongue. He must confine himself to a few points. Although reared in the midst of affluence, Flavian had surmounted the difficulties which impeded the entrance of a rich man into the kingdom of heaven. He had been distinguished from youth by perfect temperance and control over the bodily appetites, by contempt of luxury and a costly table. Though untimely deprived of parental care, and exposed to the temptations incident to wealth, youth, and good birth, yet had he triumphed over them all. He had assiduously cultivated his mind, and had put the bridle of fasting on his body sufficient to curb excess, without impairing its strength and usefulness; and though he had now glided into the haven of a calm old age, yet he did not relax the severity of this personal discipline. The death of their beloved father Meletius had caused great distress and perplexity to the Church, but the appearance of his successor had dispersed it, as clouds vanished before the sun. When Flavian mounted the episcopal throne, Meletius himself seemed to have risen from his tomb.”
All that can be collected from history respecting Flavian’s character confirms and justifies these eulogiums, though English taste would prefer them to have been uttered after his death rather than in his actual presence. Chrysostom concludes by saying that he had prolonged his address beyond the bounds which became his position, but the flowery field of praise had tempted him to linger. “He would conclude his task by asking their prayers: prayers that their common mother the Church might remain undisturbed and steadfast, and that the life of their father, teacher, spiritual shepherd, and pilot, might be prolonged; prayers finally that he, the preacher, might be strengthened to bear the yoke which was laid upon him, might in the great day restore safely the deposit which his Master had committed to his trust, and obtain mercy for his sins through the grace and goodness of the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory, and power, and worship for ever and ever.”
We now enter on a period of ten years, during which Chrysostom constantly resided in Antioch, and was occupied in the almost incessant labour of preaching. The main bulk of those voluminous works which have been preserved to our times belongs to this period; yet there can be no doubt that, numerous as are the extant works, they represent but a fraction of the discourses which he actually delivered. For we know, on his own authority, that he frequently preached twice, occasionally oftener, in the course of a week.211
It does not fall within the scope of this essay to determine how many of the homilies which we possess were delivered in each year, or to enter into a critical examination of every set. But an attempt will be made to extract from them whatever seems to throw light upon the life and times of their author, upon events in which he played a conspicuous part, or which were of great public importance; whatever also illustrates the special condition of the Church,—her general practice, her merits and defects, the dangers and difficulties with which, from dissension within or heresy without, she had at this era to contend.
The field of subjects on which the preacher was called to exercise his powers was varied and extensive. Christianity was imperilled by corruption of morals and corruption of faith. Not the laity only, but the clergy also, at least in the great towns, had become deeply infected by the prevalent follies and vices of the age. Again, between the orthodox Christian and the Pagan every variety of heresy intervened. The Arian, the Manichæan, the Marcionite, the Sabellian, the Jew,—all were, so to say, touching and fraying the edge of pure Christianity; the danger was, lest they should gradually so wear it away as to injure the very vitals of the faith. Such were the evils which Chrysostom bent his energies to redress, such the enemies whom he manfully endeavoured to repel. He is alternately the champion of a pure morality and of a sound faith.
Among the discourses which belong to the first year of his priesthood falls one delivered in commemoration of Bishop Meletius, the predecessor of Flavian.212 He had died at Constantinople about the end of May A.D. 381, and Chrysostom in the commencement of his homily remarks, that five years had now elapsed since the bishop had taken his journey to the “Saviour of his longings.” The tone of the discourse illustrates a characteristic of the times; a passionate devotion to the memory of departed saints which was rapidly passing into actual adoration; a subject on which more will be said hereafter. The shrine which contained the reliques of Meletius was placed in the sight of the preacher and the congregation, who swarmed round it like bees.213 When Chrysostom looked at the great multitude assembled he congratulated the holy Meletius on enjoying such honour after his death, and he congratulated the people also on the endurance of their affection to their late spiritual father. Meletius was like the sound root which though invisible proved its strength by the vigour of its fruit. When he had returned from his first banishment the whole Christian population had streamed forth to meet him. Happy those who succeeded in clasping his feet, kissing his hand, hearing his voice. Others who beheld him only at a distance felt that they too had obtained a blessing from the mere sight. A kind of spiritual glory emanated from his holy person, even as the shadows of St. Peter and St. John had healed the sick on whom they fell. “Let us all, rulers and ruled, men and women, old and young, free men and slaves, offer prayer, taking the blessed Meletius into partnership with this our prayer (since he has more confidence now in offering prayer, and entertains a warmer affection towards us), that our love may be increased and that as now we stand beside his shrine, so one day we may all be permitted to approach his resting-place in the other world.”
The discourses of Chrysostom against Arians and Jews fall within the first year of his priesthood.214 They are among the finest of his productions, and deserve perusal on account of their intrinsic merit no less than of the important points of doctrine with which they are concerned. Antioch, indeed, may in some sort be regarded as the cradle of Arianism. Paul of Samosata, who was deposed from the see of Antioch in A.D. 272, advocated doctrines of a Sabellian character, but that sophistical dialectical school of thought of which the Arians were the most conspicuous representatives may be traced to him. His original calling had been that of a sophist, and he was therefore by training more fitted to attack established doctrines than to build up a definite system of his own. Hence it is not surprising that, though his own tendency was to Sabellian opinions, Lucian, his intimate friend and fellow-countryman, held doctrines diametrically opposite, or what were afterwards called Arian.215 Lucian, when presbyter at Antioch, was the teacher of Eusebius, Bishop of Nicomedia, of Leontius, the Arian Bishop of Antioch, and perhaps also of Arius himself.216 Aëtius, and his pupil Eunomius, originators of the most extreme and undisguised form of Arianism, resided in the beginning of their career at Antioch. Eunomius, in fact, was the founder of a sect which was called Eunomian after him; or sometimes Anomœan, because it denied not only equality but even similarity (ὁμοιότης) between the Father and the Son in the Holy Trinity. It was the most materialistic phase which Arianism developed. Mystery was to be eliminated from revelation as much as possible, sacramental grace was little recognised, asceticism disparaged. Adherents of this school seem to have existed still in some force at Antioch. A system marked by so much of cold intellectual pride was especially repugnant to the fervid and humble faith of Chrysostom. Yet in his assaults upon it he was neither precipitate nor harsh. In his first homily “On the incomprehensible Nature of God,” he says that, having observed several persons who were infected by this heresy listening to his discourses, he had abstained from attacking their errors, wishing to gain a firmer hold upon their interest before engaging with them in controversy. But having been invited by them to undertake the contest, he could not decline it, but would endeavour to conduct it in a spirit of gentleness and love, since “the servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle towards” all, as well as “apt to teach.” He urges all disputants to remember our Lord’s answer when He was buffeted, “If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smitest thou me?”217
He dilates on the arrogance of the Anomœans in pretending to understand and to define the exact nature of God. “Professing themselves wise they only discovered their folly. Imperfect knowledge on so profound a subject was an inevitable part of the imperfection of our human state. The condition of our present knowledge was this: we know many things about God, but we do not know how they are or take place. For example, we may know that He is everywhere and without beginning or end, but how He is thus, we know not. We know that He begat the Son, and that the Holy Spirit proceeded from Him, but how these things can be we are unable to tell. This is analogous to our knowledge of many things which are called natural. We eat various kinds of food, but how they nourish us and are transmuted into the several humours of the body we do not understand.”218
“Again, if the wisest and holiest men have confessed themselves incompetent to fathom the purposes and dispensations of God, how far more inscrutable must His essence be! If David exclaims ‘Such knowledge is too wonderful and excellent for me, I cannot attain unto it;’ and St. Paul, ‘Oh the depth of the riches and wisdom of God! how unsearchable are His judgments, how untraceable His ways!’ if the very angels do not presume to discuss the nature of God, but humbly adore Him with veiled faces, crying ‘Holy, Holy, Holy,’ how monstrous is the conceit and irreverence of those who curiously investigate and pretend to define the exact nature of the Godhead!”219
He proceeds to dwell upon the littleness and feebleness of man, as contrasted with the amazing and boundless power of God. The Eunomians maintained that man could know the nature of God as much as God Himself knew it. “What mad presumption was this! The Prophets exhaust all available metaphors to express the insignificance of man as compared with God. Men are ‘dust and ashes,’ ‘grass,’ and the ‘flower of grass,’ ‘a vapour,’ ‘a shadow.’ Inanimate creation acknowledges the irresistible supremacy of His power; ‘if He do but touch the hills they shall smoke,’ ‘He shaketh the earth out of her place, and the pillars thereof tremble’ (Job ix. 6).” “Seest thou not yon sky, how beautiful it is, how vast, spangled with what a choir of stars? Five thousand years and more has it stood, yet length of time has left no mark of old age upon it: like a youthful vigorous body it retains the beauty with which it was endowed at the beginning. This beautiful, this vast, this starry, this ancient firmament, was made by that God into whose nature you curiously pry, was made with as much ease as a man might for pastime construct a hovel: ‘He established the sky like a roof, and stretched it out like a tent over the earth’ (Isa. xl. 22). The solid, durable earth He made, and all the nations of the world, even as far as the British Isles, are but as a drop in a bucket; and shall man, who is but an infinitesimal part of this drop, presume to inquire into the nature of Him who made all these forces and whom they obey?”220 “God dwells in the light which no man can approach unto. If the light which surrounds Him be inaccessible, how much more God Himself who is within it? St. Paul rebukes those who presume to question the dispensation of God. ‘Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say unto him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?’ How much more, then, would he have reproved dogmatic assumptions respecting the nature of the great Dispenser?221 The declaration of St. John, that no man had seen God at any time, might appear at variance with the descriptions in the prophets of visions of the Deity. As: ‘I saw the Lord sitting on His throne, high and lifted up’ (Isa. vi. 1). ‘I saw the Lord standing above the altar’ (Amos ix. 1). ‘I beheld till the thrones were cast down, and the Ancient of days did sit, whose garment was white as snow,’ etc. (Dan. vii. 9). But the very variety of forms under which God is said to have appeared proves that these manifestations were merely condescensions to the weakness of human nature, which requires something that the eye can see and the ear can hear. They were only manifestations of the Deity adapted to man’s capacity; not the Divine Nature itself, which is simple, incomposite, devoid of shape. So also, when it is said of God the Son that He is ‘in the bosom of the Father,’ when He is described as standing, or sitting, on the right hand of God, these expressions must not be interpreted in too material a sense; they are expressions accommodated to our understandings, to convey an idea of such an intimate union and equality between the two Persons as is in itself incomprehensible.”222
And this leads him on to consider the second error of the Arians—their denial of absolute equality between the three Persons in the Godhead. His arguments are based, as usual, entirely on an appeal to Holy Scripture. He makes a skilful selection and combination of texts to prove his point: that the titles “God” and “Lord” are common to the first two Persons in the Trinity—the names Father and Son being added merely to distinguish the Personality. Had the Father alone been God, then it would have been superfluous to add the name Father at all: “there is one God” would have been sufficient. But, as it was, the titles “God” and “Lord” were applied to both Persons to prove their equality in respect of Godhead. That the appellation of Lord no way indicated inferiority was plain, because it was frequently applied to the Father. “The Lord our God is one Lord,” Exod. xx. 2. “Great is our Lord, and great is his power,” Ps. cxlvii. 5. On the other hand, Christ is frequently entitled God, e.g. “Immanuel—God with us.” “Christ according to the flesh, who is over all, God blessed for ever.” In some instances the Father and the Son are both called Lord, or both God, in the same passage; as, for example, “The Lord said unto my Lord, ... Thy throne, O God (the Son), is for ever and ever; ... wherefore God (the Father), even thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness,” etc.223
The reason why Christ sometimes acted and spoke in a manner which implied human infirmity and inferiority to the Father was twofold: First, that men might be convinced that He did really, substantially, exist in the truth of our human nature; that He was not a mere phantom—the error of Marcion, Manes, and Valentinus—an error which would have been still more prevalent had He not so clearly manifested the reality of his humanity. On the other hand, He was reserved and cautious in declaring the highest mystery—his divine union and equality with the Father—out of condescension to the weakness of man’s intellect, which recoiled from the more recondite mysteries. When He told them that “Abraham rejoiced to see his day,” that “before Abraham was He was,” “that the bread from heaven was his flesh, which He would give for the life of the world,” that “hereafter they should see the Son of Man coming in the clouds,” they were invariably offended. But, on the contrary, He was chiefly accepted when He spoke words implying more humiliation—for example, “I can of my own self do nothing, but as my Father taught me, even so I speak.” “As He spake these words,” we are told, “many believed on Him.”224
Two other reasons might be assigned for this language of self-abasement. One was, that He came to teach us humility,—“Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart.” He “came not to be ministered unto but to minister.” He who bids others be lowly must first and pre-eminently be lowly himself. Therefore He performed such acts as washing his disciples’ feet; and the Incarnation itself was no sign, as the Arian maintained, of inferiority, but only the highest expression of that great principle of self-sacrificing love which He came to teach. Lastly, by such language He directs our minds to the apprehension of a clear distinction between the Persons in the Godhead. If his sayings about Himself had all been of the same type as “I and my Father are one,” the Sabellian error of confounding the Persons would have become yet more prevalent than it was. Thus, we find throughout our Lord’s life, in his acts and language, a careful mixture and variation of character in order to present the two elements—the human and divine—in equal proportions. He predicts his own sufferings and death, yet quickly afterwards He prays the Father that He might be, if possible, spared undergoing them. In the first act is pure divinity; in the second, humanity shrinking from that pain which is abhorrent to human nature.225
This very fact, however, of our Lord’s praying, was laid hold of by the Arians to prove the inferiority of his nature. This argument Chrysostom meets in Homilies IX. and X. The raising of Lazarus had been read in the Gospel for the day. “I perceive,” he says, “that many of the Jews and heretics will find an excuse, in the prayer offered by Christ before performing this miracle, to impugn his power, and say He could not have done it without the Father’s assistance.” But this fell to the ground, because on most other occasions our Lord wrought his miracles without any prayer at all. To the dead maiden he simply said, “Talitha cumi,” and she arose; the woman with an issue of blood was healed without any word or touch from Him. In the case of Lazarus He prayed, as He Himself declared, for the sake of the people, that they might perceive that God heard his prayers—that there was a perfect unanimity between the Father and the Son. Martha, in fact, had asked for a prayer—“I know whatsoever thou shalt ask of God, God will give it thee;” therefore He prayed; just as, when the centurion said, “Speak the word only,” He spake the word and the servant was healed. If He had needed help He would have invoked it before all his miracles. In fact there was no kind of sovereign power which He hesitated to exercise. “Son, be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee” ... “the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins;”—to an evil spirit, “I charge thee, come out of him, and enter no more into him;” ... “to them of old it was said, Thou shalt not kill; but I say, whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause,” etc. He represents Himself as saying on the final day, “Come, ye blessed;” or “Depart, ye cursed.” Thus He claims authority to absolve, to judge, to legislate.
Homilies XI. and XII., against the Anomœans, were delivered some ten years later at Constantinople, but as they contain no special references to the events of that time, the continuity of this subject may be maintained by extracting from them the argument there employed to prove the equality of the Son with the Father. It is based on the passage, “My Father worketh hitherto, and I work” (St. John v. 17); by which our Saviour justified Himself from the accusation of breaking the Sabbath when He healed the paralytic. The words “My Father worketh,” Chrysostom observes, refer to the daily operations of God’s providence, by which he sustains in being those things which he commanded into existence.
This upholding energy, our Lord declares, is active at all times and on all days alike; and if it were not, the fabric of the universe would fall to pieces. He claims a similar right to providential rule, which implies equality with the Father. “My Father worketh, and I work.” If the Son had been inferior, such a method of justifying Himself would only have added force to the charges of his enemies. If a subject of the Emperor were to put on the imperial diadem and purple, it would be no excuse to say that he wore them because the Emperor wore them—“the Emperor wears them, and I wear them;”—on the contrary, it would augment the offensiveness of his presumption and arrogance. If Christ were not equal with the Father, it was the height of presumption to use those words, “My Father worketh hitherto, and I work.”
In dealing with such lengthy homilies, it has been impossible to do more than give specimens in a very condensed form of the main lines of argument which Chrysostom adopts. They vary greatly in value; but two points cannot fail to arrest the notice of any one who reads these homilies through:—First, the profound acquaintance of their author with Holy Scripture; extending apparently with equal force to every part of the sacred volume. Old and New Testament and Apocrypha are almost equally employed for argument, illustration, adornment; he is at home everywhere. Secondly, upon Scripture all his arguments are based: in none of his controversial homilies does Chrysostom take his stand upon the platform of existing tradition, or rely on the authority of the Church alone; “to the law and to the testimony” is always the way with him. And this was a test at that time universally accepted. The dispute with the most rationalistic and critical Arians seems never to have turned on the authority, but only on the interpretation of Scripture. Scripture is appealed to as the supreme court for trying all their differences; the only question was, as to the exact meaning of its decisions.
Again, we cannot fail to be struck by the ease and rapidity with which he glances off from the most controversial and theological parts of his discourse to practical reproof and exhortation. Nothing provoked him more than to see the bulk of that large concourse of people, who had been listening with profound attention to his address, leave the church just as the celebration of the Eucharist was about to commence. “Deeply do I groan to perceive that when your fellow-servant is speaking, great is your earnestness, strained your attention, you crowd one upon another, and stay till the very end; but that, when Christ is about to appear in the holy mysteries, the church is empty and deserted.... If my words had been laid up in your hearts they would have kept you here, and brought you to the celebration of these most solemn mysteries with greater piety; but as it is, my speech seems as fruitless as the performance of a lute-player, for as soon as I have finished you depart. Away with the frigid excuse of many: I can say prayers at home, but I cannot at home hear homilies and doctrine. Thou deceivest thyself, O man; you may indeed pray at home, but it is impossible to pray in the same manner as at church, where there is so large an assembly of your spiritual fathers, and the cry of the worshippers is sent up with one accord; where there is unanimity and concert in prayer; and where the priests preside, that the weaker supplications of the multitude being supported by theirs, which are more powerful, may ascend together with these to heaven. First prayer, then discourse; so say the Apostles—“But we will give ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.”226
Again, as frequently in other discourses, he reproves the congregation for testifying their admiration of his words by applause. “You praise what I have said, you receive my exhortation with tumults of applause; but show your approbation by obedience; that is the praise which I seek, the applause which comes through deeds.”227
His hearers, in fact, were so closely packed, and so much absorbed in listening to his discourse, that pickpockets often practised on them with some success. Chrysostom advises them, therefore, to bring no money or ornaments about their persons to church. It was a device of the devil, who hoped by means of this annoyance to chill their zeal in attending the services, just as he stripped Job of everything, not merely to make him poor but to rob him if possible of his piety.228
But the most inveterate enemy with which Chrysostom had to contend was the circus. Against this he declaims with all the vehemence of Evangelical invectives against horse-racing in modern times. The indomitable passion for the chariot-races, and the silly eagerness displayed about them by the inhabitants of Rome, Constantinople, and Antioch, are among the most remarkable symptoms of the depraved state of society under the later Empire. The whole populace was divided into factions distinguished by the different colours adopted by the charioteers, of which green and blue were the two chief favourites. The animosity, the sanguinary tumults, the superstitions,229 folly, violence of every kind, which were mixed up with these popular amusements, well deserved the unsparing severity with which they were lashed by the great preacher.
A few specimens shall be collected here from other homilies, as well as from those immediately under consideration.
“Again we have the horse-races; again our assembly is thinned. There were many indeed whose absence he little regretted: they were to the faithful amongst the congregation only as leaves to fruit.230 Sometimes, however, the church was deserted by those of whom he had expected more fidelity. He felt disheartened, like a sower who had scattered good seed plentifully, but with no adequate result. Gladly and eagerly would he continue his exertions could he see any fruit of his labours; but when, forgetful of all his exhortations and warnings, and solemn remindings of the terrible doom, the unquenchable fire, the undying worm, they again abandoned themselves to the diabolical exhibitions of the race-course, with what heart could he return to the unthankful task? They manifested, indeed, by applause, the pleasure with which they heard his words, and then they hurried off to the circus, and, sitting side by side with Jew or Pagan, they applauded with a kind of frenzied eagerness the efforts of the several charioteers; they rushed tumultuously along, jostling one another, and shouting, ‘that horse didn’t run fairly,’ ‘that was tripped up and fell,’ and the like.231 Various excuses were pleaded for absence from church—the exigencies of business, poverty, ill health, lameness; but these impediments never prevented attendance at the Hippodrome. In the church the chief places even were not always all occupied, but there old and young, rich and poor, crowded every available space for standing or sitting; pushing, and squeezing, and trampling on one another’s feet, while the sun poured down on their heads: yet they appeared thoroughly to enjoy themselves, in spite of all these discomforts; while in the church the length of the sermon, or the heat, or the crowd, were perpetual subjects of complaint.”232
Such are a few illustrations of one, but perhaps the most notable, form among many in which the impulsiveness and frivolity of the people of Antioch were displayed. “The building which the preacher had so laboriously and industriously reared in the hearts of his disciples was thus cruelly dashed down and levelled to the very ground by a few hours of dissolving pleasure and iniquitous frivolity.”233
Truly indeed might the lamentation of the prophet over the evanescent piety of Ephraim and Judah have been applied to these people: “Your goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away” (Hos. vi. 4).
CHAPTER IX.
HOMILIES AGAINST PAGANS AND JEWS—CONDITION OF THE JEWS IN ANTIOCH—JUDAISING CHRISTIANS—HOMILIES ON CHRISTMAS DAY AND NEW YEAR’S DAY—CENSURE OF PAGAN SUPERSTITIONS. A.D. 386, 387.
In dealing with the Arians, the contest mainly turned, as has been pointed out in the previous chapter, on the interpretation of Scripture; but in doing battle with Pagans and Jews, with the former especially, Chrysostom had of course to take up a different attitude. The method which he adopts towards the Jew is to demonstrate the fulfilment of Old Testament prophecy in the person and work of Jesus Christ, and to insist on the consequent abrogation of the Jewish dispensation. The ground on which he mainly relies against the Pagan is the miraculous establishment and progress of Christianity in the face of unprecedented opposition, as an evidence of its divine origin.
The treatise addressed to Jews and Gentiles combined exhibits a powerful application of both these methods.234 “He would first of all enter the lists against the Pagan. And here caution was requisite. He would not say, when the Pagan asked how the divinity of Christ was to be proved, that Christ created the world, raised the dead, healed the sick, expelled demons, promised a resurrection and a heavenly kingdom, because these were the very questions upon which they joined issue. But he would start from a ground which even the Pagan would accept: no one would venture to deny that the Christian religion was founded by Jesus Christ, and from this simple fact he would undertake to prove that Christ could be no less than God. No mere man could, in so short a time, with such feeble instruments, and in the face of such opposition arising from inveterate custom and forms of faith, have subdued so many and such various races of mankind.235 How contrary to the common course of events, that He who was despised, weak, and put to an ignominious death, should now be honoured and adored in all regions of the earth! Emperors who have made laws, and altered the constitution of states, who have ruled nations by their nod, in whose hands was the power of life and death, pass away; their images are in time destroyed, their actions forgotten, their adherents despised, their very names buried in oblivion:—present grandeur is succeeded by nothingness. In the case of Jesus Christ all is reversed. During his lifetime, all seemed failure and degradation, but a career of glory and triumph succeeded his death.236 Before his death Judas betrayed him, St. Peter denied him; after his death, St. Peter and the rest of the Apostles traversed the world to bear witness to his truth, and thousands of people have died rather than utter what the chief of the Apostles once uttered from fear of a maid-servant’s taunts. ‘His rest shall be glorious:’—this was true, not only of the Master, but also of his disciples. In that most royal city of Rome, monarchs, prefects, generals, flocked to the sepulchres of the fisherman and the tent-maker; and in Constantinople they who wore the diadem were content to lay their bones in the porch of the Apostles’ Church, and to become as it were the door-keepers of humble fishermen.237 Christ had made the most ignominious death, and the instrument of it, glorious. It was written, ‘Cursed is he that hangeth on a tree,’ yet the cross had become the object of desire and love; it was more honourable than the whole world, for the imperial crown itself was not such an ornament to the head: princes and subjects, men and women, bond and free, all delighted to wear it imprinted on the brow. It was conspicuous on the Holy Table, and in the ceremony of ordaining priests; in houses, in market-places, by the wayside, and on mountain sides, on couches and on garments, on ships, on drinking vessels, in mural decorations, the cross was depicted. Whence all this extraordinary honour to a piece of wood, unless the power of him who died upon it was divine?”238
Christ had declared that the gates of hell should not prevail against his Rock-founded Church. How far had this prediction been verified? In a short space of time Christianity had abolished ancestral customs, plucked up deeply-rooted habits, overturned altars and temples, caused unclean rites and ceremonials to vanish away. Christian altars had been erected in Italy, in Persia, in Scythia, in Africa. “What say I? even the British Isles, which lie outside the boundaries of our world and our sea, in the midst of the ocean itself, have experienced the power of the Word, for even there churches and altars have been set up.” Thus the world had been, so to say, cleared of thorns, and purified to receive the seed of godliness. What a proof of superhuman power! The progress of the Church had been encountered by customs which were not only venerated but pleasant; yet these traditions, handed down through long lines of ancestors, were abandoned for a religion far more severe and laborious, a religion which substituted fasting for enjoyment, poverty for money-getting, temperance for lasciviousness, meekness for wrath, benevolence for ill-will. Men who had long been enervated by luxury, and accustomed to the broad way, had been converted into the narrow, rugged path, not by tens or twenties, but by multitudes under the whole heaven. By whose agency had these mighty results been wrought? By a few unlearned obscure men, without illustrious ancestors, without money, without eloquence.239 And all this in the teeth of opposition of the most varied kind. For where the new doctrine penetrated, it excited divisions and strife; children were set at variance with parents, brother with brother, husband with wife, master with servant. Yet, in spite of persecution and disruption of social ties, the new faith grew and flourished. How could such unprecedented marvels have come to pass but through the divine power, and in obedience to that Word of God which is creative of actual results? Just as, when He said “Let the earth bring forth grass,” the wilderness became a garden, so when the expression of His purpose had gone forth, “I will build my Church,” straightway the process began, and though tyrants and people, sophists and orators, custom and religion, had been arrayed against it, yet the Word, going forth like fire, consumed the thorns, and scattered the good seed over the purified soil.240
In attempting to convince the Jews of the divinity of Jesus Christ by proving the exact fulfilment of Old Testament prophecy in his person and work, Chrysostom displays that intimate familiarity with every part of Scripture which is his eminent characteristic.
The passages are, on the whole, most judiciously selected; some corresponding passage from the New Testament being placed, if possible, against each, with a careful attention even to verbal parallelism. For instance, against the passage in Isaiah, “The Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him,” he places the verse from St. John i. 32, “I beheld the Spirit descending like a dove, and it abode upon him.”241 He refers each event in Christ’s life, his Incarnation, his rejection by the Jews, his betrayal, crucifixion, burial, resurrection, the descent of the Holy Ghost, and the beginning of the Apostolic labours to some corresponding prediction.242 He sometimes, however, falls into the error, less common in him than in other patristic interpreters, of seeing direct references to the Messiah and the Messianic kingdom, to the almost total exclusion of any other meaning. For instance, such passages as “Their sound is gone out into all lands,” “That thou mayest make princes in all lands,” are cited as if exclusively predictive of the propagation of Christianity. In such words as “The virgins that be her fellows shall bear her company,” he sees a distinct foreshadowing of the honour to be paid to virginity under Christianity.243 In other passages, again, he is misled by ignorance of the Hebrew, and a too literal adherence to the Septuagint translation. In the passage, “I will make thy officers peace,” thine “exactors” being rendered in the Septuagint bishops or overseers, he extracts from this word a direct reference to the Christian priesthood.244 “He shall descend like rain into a fleece of wool” is interpreted as significant of the extreme secrecy of Christ’s birth, and the noiseless gentleness with which his kingdom was founded.245 Whereas, the strict translation being “like rain upon new-mown grass,” it is rather illustrative of the fruitful results of Christ’s advent.246
Such occasional defects, however, will not prevent us from according the praise due to the great skill with which, on the whole, he has worked out this method of argument, and the noble vindication of Christianity in this treatise has seldom if ever been surpassed by Chrysostom elsewhere. The several parts of his argument are unfolded in orderly procession, and expressed with an eloquence at once luminous and earnest, and which, though at times copious and ornate, does not degenerate into the mere redundancy, still less into the affectations and flowery artifices, of rhetoric; he is always real and earnest, he is sometimes sublime.
Closely connected with this treatise in subject, and not far distant in time of composition, are the Homilies directed against Jews and Judaising Christians. The Jews, ever since the time of Antiochus the Great, were a considerable body in Antioch, and over the Christian population exerted a seriously pernicious influence. Their position, indeed, in the Empire at large had been increasingly favourable from the reign of Hadrian to Constantine. Though they were not permitted to approach Jerusalem, yet the worship in their synagogues was freely tolerated; they were permitted to circumcise their own children though not the children of proselytes; and their religious organisation in the Empire was held together under the sway of the Patriarch of Tiberias.247 After the recognition of Christianity by the Empire, the Jews, as a natural consequence, were less favourably treated. The statutes of Constantine and Constantius were severe. Those Jews who attempted the life of a Christian were to be burned. No Christians were to become Jews, under pain of punishment. Jews were forbidden to marry Christian women or to possess Christian slaves. The national character of the Jew seems to have deteriorated, as the race became more widely dispersed, and as their wealth and importance increased. They were no longer indeed so morosely and sullenly proud as when they gloried in the possession of a holy city and distinct religious ordinances, and a geographical position which isolated them from the rest of mankind, but neither were their faith or morals so pure. Self-indulgence, sensualism, and low cunning corrupted their life; a superstitious and material cast of thought depraved their faith. Their habits harmonised too well with that propensity to luxury and licentiousness which was the besetting vice of the people of Antioch; their materialism worked hand in hand with the prevailing Arianism, if, indeed, Arianism may not be regarded as in some sort its product. Certainly, whenever popular insurrections caused by religious dissensions occurred either in Antioch or in Alexandria, the Jews ranged themselves on the Arian side, as if the spirit and character of the Arian sect were the most congenial to their own.248