Therefore, do not let us call Him to account for what has happened, but glorify Him in all things. For not by chance, or in vain, does He allow such things often to come about, nor does He despise those who are to enjoy solace from money, but instead of this He puts another means of support in their way, and, besides the trial, gives the shipwrecked man a greater reward. Indeed, giving thanks to God in trials of this kind is much higher than alms, for we do not give by alms alone, but if we bear bravely the losses inflicted by others, we shall gain immense fruit from it. In order to prove this to you I will make it clear to you from what happened to Job that patience is better than alms-giving. When Job was rich, he opened his house to the poor and gave away all that he possessed, but he was not so magnificent at the time he was opening his house to the needy, as when he heard unmoved that it had fallen to the ground: he was not so renowned when he covered the naked with the fleece of his sheep as when, hearing that fire had broken out and consumed all his cattle, he gave thanks. Then he was kind, now he became mortified: then he had compassion on the poor, now he gave thanks to his Lord. Nor did he say to himself: ‘What is the meaning of this? The sheep, from which thousands of poor were fed, are destroyed: for if I was unworthy to enjoy this abundance, I should have been spared, at least, for the sake of those who shared it.’ He neither said nor thought anything of the sort, but he knew that God was ordering it all for the best. And to show you that he beat the devil more effectually by giving thanks when despoiled than by showing mercy when rich, consider that, at the time of his wealth, the devil had some reason, even if falsely, for saying, Does Job worship Thee for nothing? Now when God took away everything, and stripped him completely, and Job kept his good-will towards God, then was that shameless mouth stopped, and he had nothing more to say: that just man was more glorious than before. To bear with fortitude and thanksgiving the being despoiled is a much greater thing than for a rich man to give alms, as has been shown in the case of this just man. Then his kindness to his fellow-man was overflowing, now he proved his exceeding love for God. I insist on this, not without reason, but because many men by frequent alms have supported widows, and then been deprived of their substance. Others have lost everything through a fire breaking out; others have encountered shipwreck; others through slanderings and abuse have, after generous alms-giving, fallen into the extreme of poverty, and into weakness and disease, and have been helped by no one in any way. In order, therefore, that we should not say, as many often do, ‘No man knows anything,’ what I have said will suffice to put an end to this difficulty. ‘So and so, who gave so much in alms,’ you say, ‘lost everything.’ And what if he did? For, if he give thanks for this great loss of his, he will propitiate God’s good-will the more, and reap not double riches, as Job did, but the hundred-fold in eternal life. If he does suffer here, the very fact of his bearing it all bravely will increase his reward. God, in calling him to greater trials and struggles, allowed him to fall from abundance into poverty. Has fire perchance often broken out in your house and destroyed your substance? Remember what happened to Job, give thanks to the Lord, Who was able to stop it and did not stop it, and you will receive a reward as great as if you had poured forth all those things into the hands of the poor. Or, are you living in poverty and hunger, and a thousand dangers? Call to mind Lazarus, who was hard pressed by sickness, and poverty, and solitude, and numberless things of the kind, and all this after so much goodness; call to mind the Apostles, who passed their lives in hunger and thirst and nakedness; and the prophets, and patriarchs, and just, and you will find them one and all, not amongst the rich, not amongst those who feast, but amongst those suffering hunger and affliction and anguish.
Pondering on these things, give thanks to God for the share He has allotted to you, not in hatred, but in tender love, since He would not have allowed those men to suffer evils so great, if He had not loved them dearly, because He made them more illustrious through these evils. No good is so great as thanksgiving, as nothing is worse than blasphemy. Let us not be astonished that, when we are paying much attention to spiritual things, we suffer a great deal. It is as with thieves, who do not break into places where mud and chaff and reeds are, but where gold and silver are, and are ever on the watch. Thus the devil gives his special attention to those who are taken up with spiritual things. Snares are numerous where goodness exists, and envy is to be found where there is alms-giving. But we have one great weapon by which we may resist all these machinations, the giving thanks to God in all things. Tell me, did not Abel, who reserved the first-fruits for God, fall by his brother’s hand? Yet God allowed it, not hating the man who had honoured him, but loving him much, and adding to the crown of Abel’s beautiful sacrifice the further crown of martyrdom. Moses wished to succour some one who had been wronged, and he confronted the greatest dangers on this account, and fled from his country, and God allowed it, to teach you what the patience of the saints is. If, knowing beforehand that we should suffer no evil, we were thus to give ourselves up to spiritual things, we should not appear to be doing a great thing, possessing this pledge of security. Now, it so happens that those who do this are chiefly admirable because, foreseeing dangers, and penalties, and deaths, and a thousand evils, they have still neither desisted from their good deeds nor grown faint-hearted through fear of the terrors to come. As the three children said, There is a God in heaven Who can deliver us, and even if He do not, know, O king, that we do not worship thy gods, and do not adore the golden statue which thou hast set up, so when you are about to do something for God, expect many dangers, many penalties, many deaths, and wonder not nor fear at them. Son, he says, when thou comest to serve God, prepare thy soul for temptation. For no one who has chosen a hand-to-hand fight may expect to bear off the crown without wounds. And you who are to wrestle with the devil in every possible way, live not a life of ease and luxury. Your rewards and promises are not here, but God promises you all glory in the world to come. When, therefore, either you yourself do a good action and reap contrary effects, or you see another enduring them, rejoice and be glad, for the deed becomes a source of greater reward to you; only be not cast down, do not lose your fervour, grow not faint-hearted, but rather go on your way with greater readiness. Since the Apostles, also, were scourged and stoned and perpetually in prison for what they preached, not only after their liberation from dangers, but in the very midst of them, they announced the tidings with all the more willingness. We may see Paul catechising and instructing even in prison, even in his chains, and again before the tribunal, and in the shipwreck, and the storm, and in a thousand dangers. Do you also emulate these saints, and, as long as you can, hold to good works. Even if you see the devil assailing you on a thousand sides, never turn away. In distributing your money, you may perhaps have suffered shipwreck, yet Paul, who was more precious than any money, in preaching the word, went to Rome, suffered shipwreck, and endured numberless evils. And this he clearly says in the words: We have often wished to come to you, but Satan has prevented us. And God allowed it by an abundant manifestation of His power, showing that, in spite of the devil’s making and unmaking in a thousand ways, the Gospel was by no means lessened or impeded thereby. So Paul gave thanks to God in everything, knowing that God was proving him by these things; and he showed his burning zeal everywhere by allowing no obstacle to stand in his way. Now, the more we meet with failure, the greater will be our hold of spiritual works; and do not let us say, ‘Why did God allow there to be impediments?’ He allowed them that He may prove your zeal the more to the multitude, and your true love. For lovers are remarkable for never departing from the good pleasure of the beloved one. He who is remiss and luxurious is prostrated by the first touch of tribulation; but the fervent and watchful man, even if he be impeded in a thousand ways, sets himself the more to work at God’s business, doing his part perfectly, and giving thanks in every thing. This let us also do. Thanksgiving is an immense treasure, great riches, an inexhaustible good, a strong weapon. Blasphemy has a present penalty, and causes our destruction over and above what we have suffered. Have you lost money? If you have given thanks, you have gained your soul and won greater riches for yourself, and propitiated God the more; but, if you have blasphemed, you have destroyed your own salvation without gaining any of those things, and have slain your own soul.
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Showing the power of the Cross, St. Paul says: The Jews too ask for signs, and the Greeks seek after wisdom: but we preach Christ crucified, a scandal to the Jews, a folly to the Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Gentiles, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. There is a deep meaning in these words. For he wishes to say how God conquered by contraries, and that the promulgation of the Gospel does not come from man. What he says amounts to this. When we say to the Jews, ‘Believe,’ they reply, ‘Raise up the dead, cure those who are possessed, show us signs’. How do we answer these things? By saying, that He Whom we preach was crucified and died. This was sufficient not only not to move those who did not wish to be moved, but also to repulse those who had the will; yet still He is not repulsed, but draws men after Him, and conquers and gets the better of them. Again, the Gentiles demand of us eloquent discourses and elaborate reasonings, and we reply to them also by preaching the Cross, and that which seems to be weakness to the Jews, the Gentiles consider folly. Now, when we not only do not offer them what they ask for, but the very contrary, for the Cross not only does not seem to be a sign tested, according to human reason, but the destruction of signs: not only not a manifestation of power, but a proof of weakness: not only not an embodiment of wisdom, but a personification of folly; when, then, those who look for signs and wisdom not only do not receive what they seek, but listen to things which are the exact contrary of their desires, and, furthermore, are persuaded by them, is not the power of Him Who is preached beyond words? It is as if some one were to show those who are tossed on the waves and longing for harbour, not the land, but a more angry sea, would he induce them to follow him? Or if a physician were to tell a man broken by pain and desiring remedies that he will restore health, not by medicine but by again using the knife, would his patient yield himself to his guidance? This implies very great power. So the Apostles made their way not only by signs, but by a line of action seemingly in opposition with signs, as Christ had done in the case of the blind man. For wishing to cure him, He used a course which increased the affliction, as He put clay upon his eyes. Just, then, as He cured the blind man by putting clay upon him, so he drew the world to Himself through the Cross, which indeed was an increase, not a removal of scandal. So He acted in the Creation, preparing contraries by contraries. He built up with sand the limits of the sea, curbing the strong with the weak; He placed the earth upon the water, causing that which was hard and firm to be upborne by flowing and liquid matter. Again, through the prophets He made iron float with a little wood. Thus He drew the world after Himself through His Cross. For as water supports the earth, so the Cross supports the world. Therefore it is a great proof of power and wisdom to persuade by contraries. And if the Cross seems to be a subject of scandal, still not only it does not scandalise, but it draws to itself. St. Paul had all these things in his mind and was struck with astonishment when he said that the folly of God is wiser than man, and the weakness of God is stronger than man, applying this folly and this weakness to the Cross, not that it was really foolish and weak but that it seemed so: for he answers them according to their estimate. That, in fact, which philosophers had been unable to do by their reasonings was effected by this apparent folly. Now who was the wiser? He Who persuaded many, or he who persuaded a few—or rather no one? He Who convinced man of the greatest things, or he who used his powers of persuasion about things which do not exist at all? How Plato and his school laboured about the line, the angle, and the point, and about even numbers and odd numbers, and about their being equal and unequal, discoursing to us about such like cobwebs, for such things are less profitable to our life than even cobwebs, and so helping us neither much nor little, he came to the end of his life.
How he wearied himself to show that the spirit is immortal, and did he not die without making any clear statement or convincing a single man amongst his disciples? But it was through unlearned men that the Cross brought conviction, and drew the world to itself. It spoke to men, not of chance things, but of God, and of piety in the truth, of the Gospel polity, of future judgment, and it made uncouth men and unlearned men philosophers.
This is how the folly of God is wiser than man, and His weakness stronger. How is it stronger? It is stronger in that it spread over the whole earth and seized all men by force, and whereas thousands and thousands did their utmost to stamp out the name of the Crucified One, just the contrary came to pass. For this name took root and was propagated all the more, whereas they were destroyed and consumed, and living men fighting a dead One, gained not a stroke. Consequently when a heathen tells me that I am a fool, he proves that he himself is doubly one; inasmuch as considered by him to be a fool, I appear wiser than the wise; and when he calls me weak, he shows himself to be weaker. For publicans and fishermen set up those very things by the goodness of God which philosophers, and orators, and despots, and the whole world vainly striving with all its might could not even devise.
What, indeed, has the Cross not introduced? The belief concerning the immortality of the soul, and the resurrection of the body, the despising of present things, the desire of eternal. And it made angels out of men, who practise everywhere the philosophy of all endurance. But amongst heathens, too, you say, ‘There have been many who have despised death’. Tell me who they are. Do you allude perchance to the drinker of hemlock? But, if you like, I will show you thousands of such men in the Church. For if, when a persecution came, all men could get off by taking hemlock, they would all have been more illustrious than he was. Besides, he drained the cup, not being free to drink or not to drink: willing or unwilling, he had to suffer, which was not courage, but necessity. Thieves and murderers under sentence of their judges have suffered harder things. It is just the very contrary amongst us; for the martyrs endured, not in spite of themselves, but willingly, and having it in their power not to suffer, showed forth a fortitude beyond all proof. Therefore it is not surprising if Socrates drank hemlock, both because he could not do otherwise, and because he had reached extreme old age, for he said that he was seventy years old when he despised life, if this be indeed despising it; I should not say so, nor would anyone else. But show me a man rejoicing in torments for his belief, as I can show you thousands all over the world. Who bore bravely the tearing out of his nails, the racking of his joints, the hacking asunder of his members, one after the other, the stretching upon a gridiron, or plunging into a caldron? Show me this. For death by hemlock is equivalent to slumbering quietly away, as it is said to be an end which is sweeter than sleep. And if certain men have even endured torments, they have forfeited the praise due to them by dying for criminal causes: some for betraying secret things, others for aiming at domination, others for being taken in the most shameful deeds; others, again, either vainly or foolishly, without any cause, have destroyed themselves. But it is not so with us. And this is why their deeds have been hushed in silence, whilst ours are flowering and increasing day by day. This was in Paul’s mind when he said: ‘The weakness of God is stronger than all men put together’. For the divinity that was in the tidings is clear from this. How, indeed, was it that twelve unlettered men attempted things of this importance, twelve men, whose life was spent on seas and rivers and in deserts, who scarcely entered city or marketplace? How did they manage to set themselves in battle array over the whole world? The recorder of their deeds shows them to have been faint-hearted and unmanly, and himself to have no desire to conceal their shortcomings, which were themselves the greatest proof of the truth. Now, what does he say about them? That when Christ was taken, after seeing Him work countless wonders, some fled, and the one who remained, the chief of all, denied Him. How was it, then, that those who, whilst Christ lived, could not endure Jewish anger, should have been able to range themselves against the whole earth after He was dead and buried, if, as heathens say, He did not rise from the dead, nor have any communication with them, nor infuse courage into them? Would they not have said to themselves, ‘How is this? He was not powerful enough to save Himself, and will He help us? He did not help Himself whilst alive, and will He, now that He is dead, put out His hand to us? In life He did not gain over even one people, and shall we persuade the whole world by speaking His name?’ And, indeed, how would it be reasonable not only to do these things, but even to conceive the doing? Whence it is evident that if they had not seen His resurrection, and had not witnessed a very great proof of His power, they would not have made such a venture. For if they had, indeed, numberless friends, would they not have made enemies of them all by disturbing ancient customs and removing ancestral landmarks? Now, they had all for enemies both at home and abroad. But if they had been in universal veneration on account of outward gifts, would not all men have detested them for introducing a new manner of life? Seeing, however, that they were without all these things, this in itself would have been enough to make them hated and despised by all.
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He who humbleth himself shall be exalted. Where shall we find this humility? Would you like to go once more to the abode of goodness, to the tents of the blessed, I mean, to the mountains and forests? For it is there that we shall see this perfection of humility. They are men, some famous for outward position, some for wealth, who humble themselves in every particular, in their food, in their dwelling, in their servants, and so in all their life they are writing the word humility as if with pen and ink. Just as smart dressing and a fine house and a large establishment are incentives to vainglory, which thrust men into it, often in spite of themselves, all these things are cut off in the desert. Those men light their own fire, hew their wood, do their own cooking, and themselves wait upon guests. Insult is neither given nor taken, no man is ruled, no man rules, but all are ministering. Each man washes the stranger’s feet, and there is much contention as to who shall do it. This he does, not seeking to find out who the stranger is, whether a slave or a free man; in each case he carries out this service. No man is either great or small. Is there confusion then? God forbid, it is rather the perfection of harmony. If, indeed, a man there be of small account, he who is great does not regard it, but deems himself inferior, and so becomes greater.
Both servers and served eat at one and the same table, have the same food, the same clothes, the same lodging, the same rule of life. He is great there who is eager over a lowly task. Mine and thine do not exist, and the thing itself, the cause of endless strife, has been banished. And why do you wonder that there is one rule, one table, and one dress for all, where there is one spirit in all, not according to the body only (for this is the case with all men), but according to charity? For how could charity ever be set against itself? Neither poverty nor riches are to be found there, neither fame nor disgrace. How, then, could folly or vainglory creep in? Some are great, some are little amongst the number according to a moral reckoning, but as I was saying, no one takes note of it. The weak man does not grieve as being despised, for there is no one to despise him. Even should anyone insult another, this is their principal training, bearing contempt and contumely and shabby treatment both in word and act; they live with the lowly and the maimed, for these are the guests of their repasts, and thus they are worthy of heaven. One dresses sores, another leads the blind, another supports the lame. There are neither flatterers nor parasites, or rather they do not even apprehend what flattery is. How, then, could they ever be puffed up? For a great equality reigns among them, consequently the contentedness produced by goodness. In this way the most wretched are better taught than by being obliged to give them the first places. Just as a meek man schools an impetuous man to lowliness, so does a man who makes no account of reputation, but despises it, teach the ambitious. This they do lavishly, for, in proportion as we fight over the first places, do they wrestle not to have them, but to be hindered; and their burning zeal is, not who shall be honoured, but who shall not be honoured. Moreover, their very works incline them to moderation, and do not tolerate vanity. For, tell me, how can a man who is tilling and watering and planting the earth, or plaiting baskets, or weaving a sack, or doing any other manual labour, ever think great things of himself? Who, that is living in poverty, and struggling with hunger, will be sick with this complaint? No man. Therefore their lowliness is well contented. And just as moderation is difficult here, through the crowd of flatterers and admirers, so is it perfectly easy there. They have only the desert before them: they see birds flying, and the breeze through the trees, and the soft wind blowing, and streams flowing through ravines. How, then, could a man living in so great a solitude be puffed up? Neither can we find any excuse, that, being in the thick of the fight, we think great things of ourselves. For Abraham, when in company of the Chananæns, said, I am dust and ashes, and David, in the din of arms, I am a worm and no man, and the Apostle in the midst of the world, I am not worthy to be called an apostle. Therefore, what shall we have to say for ourselves, if, even with these great examples before us, we are not sober? As they are worthy of a thousand crowns for being the first to walk upon the path of goodness, so do we deserve as many chastisements for not arriving at a like zeal, neither for the example of those who have departed hence and lie in their sepulchres, nor for the living who are wonderful through their deeds. What could you allege for not being converted? Are you unlettered, and have you not read the epitaphs so as to know the goodness of those men of old? This is indeed the chief point of accusation, the church being ever open, not to go in and partake of those pure waters. Besides, if you did not know the dead through their epitaphs, you should have had these living men before your eyes. ‘But if there was no one to point them out to us?’ Come with me and I will show you the dwelling-places of these holy ones: come and learn a useful lesson from them. They are shining lights throughout the world, they surround cities like strong walls. They have taken possession of deserts in order to teach you to look down upon worldly agitations. They, then, in this strength of theirs, are able to enjoy peace in the midst of the tempest: you, who are tossed about on all sides, should be at rest, and have a short breathing time from the ever rolling waves.
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It is the virtue of teachers to seek not honour nor glory from their disciples, but their salvation, and to do all things unto that end; for he who seeks the former would be a tyrant, not a teacher. It was not for your greater personal glorification that God set you over them, but that your business should be forgotten whilst theirs is strengthened. This is a teacher’s part; this was what blessed Paul did, who was removed from vanity and considered himself as one of the multitude, or rather as the least of all. Thus he calls himself their slave, and generally speaks in the attitude of a suppliant. Look at him, at least in this instance, writing nothing imperiously, nothing authoritatively, but mild, conciliating words. I, a prisoner in the Lord, beseech you that you walk worthy of the vocation in which you are called, he says. Tell me, what do you beseech, O Paul? That you may get something for yourself? ‘Certainly not,’ he answers, ‘but that I may save others.’ Yet they who beseech do it for what concerns themselves. ‘And this does concern me,’ he says, ‘as I have written distinctly in another place: Now we live, if you stand in the Lord.’ He was always most eager for the salvation of his disciples. I, the prisoner in the Lord. Great and wonderful dignity, surpassing consulships, and kingdoms, and all things else. This he wrote also to Philemon, saying: As Paul, an old man, and now a prisoner also of Jesus Christ. Nothing is so glorious as a chain for Christ’s sake, as the fetters which hang round those hallowed hands. Better than being an apostle, or a teacher, or an evangelist, is it to be a prisoner for Christ’s sake. If there be a lover of Christ, he will know what I say;[11] if any man be foolish and on fire for his Lord, he understands the power of chains, he would choose to be a prisoner for Christ rather than to dwell in paradise. Paul has shown us those hands of his more glittering than gold or than any royal crown. A band of precious stones does not ennoble a head as iron chains for Christ’s sake. His prison was more glorious than kingly palaces, or than heaven itself. Why do I say ‘than palaces’? That place contained Christ’s prisoner. A lover of Christ knows what this privilege is, he is acquainted with this virtue, he knows what a gain the being in chains for His sake has been to the human race. More glorious far than sitting on His right hand, more solemn than sitting on one of the twelve thrones, is the being imprisoned for His sake. And why do I speak of human things? I shame to put riches and golden ornament in comparison with those chains, but with regard to those great ones, if their deed had no reward, this alone is a great reward and a powerful antidote, the suffering these evils on account of the Beloved. Lovers, I say not of God but of man, know the proverb which speaks of those who take pleasure rather in suffering evils from the loved ones than in being honoured by them. This is seen only in the case of the holy band: I mean the Apostles. Listen to what blessed Luke says: They went from the council rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer reproach for His Name. Now to others it seems ridiculous that dishonour should be accounted honour and a joy, but to those who follow Christ this desire is held to be most blessed of all. If anyone would give me all heaven or those chains, I would choose the chains. If anyone were to place me with the angels above or with Paul in chains, I would choose his prison. If anyone were to make me one of those heavenly Powers or Thrones, or a prisoner as Paul was, I would choose to be a prisoner. Nothing is more blessed than those chains. Would that I could now be in those regions; for it is said that the chains are preserved, as well they may be, and I am in admiration of those men full of desire for Christ; would that I could see those chains, which devils have feared and trembled at, which angels reverence. Nothing is better than suffering some adversity for the sake of Christ. I deem Paul blessed not so much because he was ravished into paradise as for being thrown into prison. I call him blessed not so much because he heard ineffable words as for enduring chains. I hold him blessed not so much for being carried into the third heaven as for his chains. That these were greater than those things, understand what he himself thought of them. He did not say, ‘I, who have heard mysterious words, beseech you,’ but what? I, the prisoner in the Lord, beseech you. And if he did not use the expression in all his epistles, it is not astonishing, for he was not always in chains, only at certain times. I would choose rather to suffer adversity for Christ than to be honoured by Christ. This is true honour and glory, higher than any other. If he became a servant for my sake and divested Himself of His praise, nor deemed that He was glorified except in being crucified for me, what ought I not to suffer? Listen to Him as He says, Glorify Me, O Father. What sayest Thou, Lord? Thou art led to the cross between thieves and malefactors, to suffer the most shameful death; Thou art to be spit upon and struck, and this Thou callest glory? ‘Yea,’ He answers, ‘I suffer these things for those whom I love, and account them a glory indeed.’ If He Who loves the wretched and miserable calls this glory, if He finds His glory, not in being on His Father’s throne, nor in honour, but in being dishonoured, and prefers it, how much more am I bound to hold these things a glory! O happy chains, O blessed hands which those chains adorned! Those hands of Paul’s which raised up the lame man in Lystra and made him walk were less honourable than when covered with chains. If I had been living in those days, it is then that I would have embraced them and placed them on my eyes; I would not have ceased caressing the hands which had been found worthy to wear chains for my Lord’s sake. Do you wonder at Paul because the serpent fastened upon his hand and did no harm? Wonder not: the serpent reverenced the chains, and so did the ocean, for then he was in fetters. If anyone were to give me now the power of raising the dead I would not have it, but I would have those chains. If I were free from the cares of the Church, and were sound in body, I would go that long journey only to look at those chains, to see the prison in which he was bound. Although amongst his wonderful deeds there are many signs everywhere, they are not so enviable as the marks of Christ. And in the Scripture he does not encourage me so much by wonder-working as he does when he is suffering persecution, being scourged, and dragged away. So that, he says, they brought handkerchiefs and aprons from his body to the sick. These were truly wonders, but not so great as those others: They scourged him and laid many stripes upon him, they cast them into prison; and again: They gave praise to God in their chains; and again: They stoned him and drew him out of the city, thinking him to be dead. Would you know what a privilege it is for the body of a servant to wear an iron chain for Christ’s sake? Then listen to Christ’s words: Blessed are ye. Why blessed, O Lord? When you raise the dead? No, not for this. When you cure the blind? Not at all. Then why? When they shall reproach you, and pursue you, and say every evil against you, lying, for My sake. And if evil report makes men so blessed, what will suffering evil not do for them? Listen to that holy one who says this in another place: For the rest a crown of justice awaits me. Yet the chains are brighter than this crown; they will make me worthy of it, he says, and I value nothing so much. Suffering for Christ’s sake is a perpetual remedy to me. May it be given to me to utter those words, I make up in my flesh what is wanting to the sufferings of Christ: and I shall want nothing more.
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But some one asks, how are the dead to be raised to life? With what sort of body will they come? Senseless man, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die first. Whereas the Apostle is everywhere so gentle and humble, he makes use of stronger language in this place on account of the adversaries’ unreasonableness. Nor is this enough but he adds arguments and examples, and in this way gets the better even of the most contentious. He had already said: Whereas by man came death, by man came also the resurrection from the dead; and now he dissipates an opinion prevalent amongst heathens. And consider again how he cuts away that which is most plausible about it. He did not say, ‘you ask,’ but made the adversary indefinite, that, using strong language with effect, he might not unduly crush his hearers. He stated two difficulties: the manner of the resurrection and the quality of bodies. And indeed they were in doubt concerning both points by their words: ‘How can that which is dissolved rise again?’ and, ‘With what sort of body will they come?’ How, with what sort of body? Will it be like this corruptible mortal body, or like some other? Then, to show that they are not seeking to clear up doubtful points but to dispute what is indisputable, he uses still stronger language, saying, Foolish man, that which thou sowest is not vivified unless it dieth.
This is also our way of answering those who call in question what is indisputable. Why, for instance, does he not at once take refuge in the power of God? Because he is talking to unbelievers. Whenever he has to deal with believers he is in no great need of arguments. For instance, saying in another place that He shall transform the body of your humility into becoming conformed to the body of His glory, and showing forth something further than the resurrection, he made use of no examples, but, instead of any proof, brought forward the power of God, adding, according to the efficacy of His power and to bring all things into subjection to Him. Here, however, he sets arguments in motion. For since he provided this one from Scripture, he used the same with authority against those who did not believe in the Scriptures, and said: Foolish man, that which thou sowest; that is, you see from what you yourself do day after day the proof of these things, and do you still doubt? This is why I call you foolish, that you ignore what happens every day to yourself, and that whereas you can work a resurrection, you doubt concerning God; therefore he said most emphatically: That which thou sowest; you, that is, who are a mortal and corruptible man.
And see how the words he uses bring home the point in question. It is not vivified, he says, unless it dieth. Passing over the terms which are proper to seeds, such as the sprouting and growth and rotting and withering, he takes those points which correspond to our flesh, the ‘vivifying’ and ‘death,’ which belong properly not to seeds but to bodies. And he does not say that it is vivified after dying, but what is more, that it is quickened because it has died. You see how, as I am always saying, he brings his argument as a proof against itself. That which they made out as conclusive against the resurrection he makes an earnest of it, for they said, ‘He will not rise because he is dead’. Now, how can you meet this? If, indeed, he had not died, neither would he rise again, and because he has died, therefore he rises again. In the same way Christ points this out still more clearly, saying: If the grain of wheat, falling into the earth, doth not die, it remaineth alone, but if it dieth, it beareth much fruit; so here, in illustrating this example, Paul does not say that it does not live, but that it is not ‘quickened,’ making again the power of God his theme, and showing that it is He Who does all, not the properties of the soil. And why did he not at once speak of something more personal—I mean of human seed? For our coming into the world also begins in corruption just as that of the corn does. It was because it was still stronger in our case than in the latter. What he wants is something quite perishable: the corn was partially so, and that is why he introduced it. Besides, the human seed proceeds from a living person, and falls into a living womb, but here the seed is cast into the earth, not into a living body, and becomes dissolved in it, just as in the case of the mortal body. Thus the example was the more pertinent.
And the sower does not sow the body which shall be. That which has been said so far is to answer the objection, ‘How shall they rise again?’ this is directed to the question, ‘What sort of body will they have?’ Now what is, Thou sowest not the body which shall be?—not a full ear of corn, nor new grain. For here they were not disputing the resurrection, but the manner of the resurrection, what sort of body the risen one should be, whether like our present one, or more perfect and splendid, and he embraces both points in the same example, and shows that it is a much more perfect one. But heretics, admitting none of these things, retort by saying that it is one body which is sown and another which is risen. How, then, could it be a resurrection since a resurrection refers to something sown? What is there wonderful or awful about the victory over death, if one thing is sown and another thing rises again? Death would not seem to be giving back the trophy which he took. How would the illustration be carried out in what they say? Not one substance is sown and another raised up, but the same substance in an improved condition. Supposing that Christ did not resume the same body when He became the first fruits of the risen; but according to you He cast off His former body although it was without sin, and took another. Whence, then, did this other come from? The first was from the Virgin. Whence the second? Do you see what an unnatural argument it is? Why did He show the marks of the nails? Was it not because He wished to prove that the same body which was crucified had also risen again? How does the sign of Jonas affect him? I presume that it was not one Jonas who was swallowed up, and another who was washed to land again? And what were His words? Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up again. It is plain that He did raise up this temple when destroyed. Therefore, the Evangelist went on to say that He was speaking of the temple of His body. Now, what does St. Paul say? Thou sowest not the body which shall be; that is, not the ear of corn, which is the same and not the same: the same as being the same substance, and not the same inasmuch as it is perfected, and whereas the same substance remains, it rises in renewed vigour. If this were not the case, He would not have required a resurrection at all, unless He had meant to raise up something better. Why, indeed, should He dissolve the house if He did not intend to make it a more striking dwelling-place? This, therefore, St. Paul said in answer to those who look upon it as corruptible. Moreover, lest any man should imagine that he means another body, he softens the difficulty, and himself interprets it so that his hearer should not in any way bring the wisdom of the world to bear upon the point. What need is there, then, of our arguments? Listen to his interpretation of the words, Thou sowest not the body which shall be, to which he added pertinently, but bare grain, as of wheat, or of some of the rest. That is to say, thou sowest not the body which shall be: the corn, for instance, as we look upon it, with stalk and ear, but bare grain, as of wheat, or of some of the rest. And God giveth it a body as He wills. ‘Granted,’ you say, ‘but in that case the work of nature comes in.’ Tell me, what sort of nature? Here it is God Who works everything, not nature, nor soil, nor rain. Hence He makes this clear, and leaving earth, rain, air, sun, and the labour of the agriculturist out of the question, adds: God giveth it a body as He willeth. Seek not, therefore, to understand or to scrutinise the why and the how, when you hear that God’s power and good pleasure come into play. And to each of the seeds its own body. Why then another? He gives each his own. So that when St. Paul says, Thou sowest not the body which shall be, he does not mean that He raises up something else of a different substance, but something better and more splendid: To each one of the seeds its own substance.
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Let no man disbelieve in the Resurrection, but if any man be in doubt, let him consider what great and wondrous things God made out of nothing, and receive them as a pledge of it. That, indeed, which has already taken place is much more marvellous and awe-inspiring. For, consider, He took the earth and moulded it, and made man and earth which was not before. How, then, did earth become man? How did the earth come out of nothing? How all those things proceeding from the earth, the endless families of unreasoning animals, of seeds and plants, which came forth without travail, without rains falling upon them, with no apparent cultivation, neither oxen nor plough nor anything else contributing towards their production. On this account He brought forth in the beginning, from that which was without life and without substance, such great things, both of the physical and animal creation, in order that He might teach you from the first the doctrine of the Resurrection. For this is far more difficult than the Resurrection. It is not indeed an equivalent proof of power to rekindle a smouldering flame and to light a fire by invisible means; it is not the same thing to restore a dilapidated house and to build one from the foundations. In the one case, if there was nothing else, there was material to work from; but in the other not even that. Consequently, He began by the more difficult thing, in order that you might receive that which was easier. I say more difficult, not that it was so to God, but according to our manner of reasoning. For nothing is hard to God; and just as the sculptor who makes one statue can as easily produce a thousand, so it is as easy to God to create a thousand endless worlds, or, rather, as easy as it is to you to think of a city or countless worlds, and indeed much more so. You spend a little time upon the thought, but it is not so with God. In the same proportion as stones are heavier than the swiftest birds, or rather than this mind of ours, so much is our mind removed from God’s swiftness of action. Have you wondered at His power with regard to the earth? Consider again how the heavens were made from nothing, the countless stars, the sun and moon: none of these things were previously in being. Again, tell me how, after they were made, they remained in place, and on what they rested? What was their basis, and what is the earth’s basis? And what comes after the earth? What is that something? Do you see to what a giddy height the light of your reason leads you if you do not hold eagerly to the faith and to the inscrutable power of the Creator? If you will make a guess from human things, you will shortly be able to give wings to your reason. ‘What human things?’ you ask. See you not what potters do? How they remould a broken and shapeless thing into a vessel; how melters make gold and iron and brass out of earth? Again, how others who manipulate glass transform sand into one compact and transparent body? Let me mention dyers of leather, who dress garments: they produce one piece after the other, which they have received, with the dye. Again, as to our own generation: is not the seed, formless and shapeless at first, implanted in the mother’s womb? Whence, then, comes so wonderful a formation of the living man? And what about wheat? Is not a mere seed put into the ground? And does it not rot after it has been put there? Whence come the ear of corn and the stalk and all the rest? Does not a small grain of fig, which is often scattered into the earth, take root and put forth branches and fruit? You receive each one of these things, and do not trouble yourself about them, but would subject God alone, Who disposes of our bodies, to scrutiny! What can justify such a demand?
These and such like things are what we say to heathens, for I need no argument with those who are convinced of the Scriptures. For if you were able to understand all that He does, how would God be more than a man? Indeed there are many men whom we fail to understand. But if this happens to us in the case of men, and we do not grasp them, how much more are we to abstain from scrutinising the wisdom of God and from fathoming His reasons—the former, because He Who acts is worthy of confidence; the latter, because the acts themselves are above reasonings. God is not so abject as to do only those things which you, in the weakness of your reasonings, are able to encompass. For, if you cannot grasp a mechanic’s work, how much less that of God the Sovereign Architect! Therefore, do not disbelieve the Resurrection, for you will be so much the further away from the future hope. But what clever thing do opponents say, or rather what exceedingly foolish thing? ‘How,’ they ask, ‘when the body has been mixed with earth, and become earth, and it again has been changed into something else, can it rise again?’ This seems to you to be impracticable, but not so to the Eye which never sleeps, for to It all things are laid bare. In that corruption you see no distinction, but He knows everything; you, again, are ignorant concerning your neighbour’s heart: He is familiar with all. Since, then, you do not know how God raises from the dead, you doubt that He does raise, and will doubt that He knows what is in the human mind; for neither are these things apparent to our bodily eyes. If, indeed, in the case of the body, matter is visible even if it be dissolved—but those conceptions are invisible—therefore, shall He Who is perfectly cognisant of invisible things not see the visible ones and not easily raise up the body? No one will say so! Do not disbelieve in the Resurrection, for this disbelief is in truth a diabolical temptation, and the devil urges it, not only that the Resurrection may be doubted, but also that he may dissolve and destroy virtuous actions. For if a man imagines that he is not to rise again, and not to give an account of his works, he will not easily be righteous, and not being righteous, he will thoroughly mistrust the Resurrection. Each paves the way for the other: wickedness comes from want of faith, and want of faith from wickedness. For when a conscience has burdened itself with much wickedness, and since it is not willing to provide itself with consolation by change to a better course, in fear and anguish at the future punishment, it seeks to ease itself in unbelief. If you say there is neither Resurrection nor Judgment, another man’s comment is: ‘Then I shall give no account of my actions’. But what are Christ’s words? You err, not knowing the Scriptures nor the power of God. In truth, God would not have worked things so great if He had intended not to raise us up again, but to dissolve and annihilate us: He would not have stretched the heavens above our heads, nor the earth under our feet, nor have made all other things for this brief period of life only. But if He has done this for the life which now is, what will He not do for the life to come? If there is to be no future life, then are we far less considered, according to our present condition, than those things which were called into existence for our sakes. For heavens, and earth, and ocean, and rivers are more abiding than we, as also some unreasoning animals: the crow, the elephant, and many others are much longer lived than we. Our life is short and full of labour: it is not so with them, but they have a long life free from despondency and care. Tell me, how is this?—has He made the servants happier than their masters? I repeat it, do not reason in this way, nor humble your intellect, nor disregard the riches of God, having so great a Master. It was God’s design from the beginning to make you immortal, but you were not willing. The being with God, the living a life without suffering, or grief, or care, or labour, or any other anxiety,—all this pointed to immortality. Adam had no need of clothes, nor of shelter, nor of any other protection, but he was more like an angel, and he had a fore-knowledge of many things to come, and was endued with much wisdom. He knew what God had done in secret, as to the creation of woman, and so he said, This is bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh. Afterwards came labour, and sweat, and shame, and cowardice, and bondage: then there was neither grief nor pain, nor effort. But he did not remain in this high state.
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