Orations (other than the Theological Orations) 19.2–19.17

Since I could not restrain by reason the talk of the many, and the rush and eagerness that now possesses everyone to teach and speak the things of the Spirit without the Spirit, I took another way, a better and less toilsome one, as I persuade myself: to train everyone to quiet by the example of silence; so that, if they think something great of us, they might respect our superiority, and if they think us small and worth only as much as we are, they might show moderation toward one of equal standing. This is the reason for my silence; this is the mystery of our endurance.

But what happens? They pull me this way and that, tear at me, and go to law over my labours, exacting my discourse relentlessly as if it were any other debt; they love me more than I love myself; and they are all wiser than I, knowing better than I the time for speech or silence. They say they will not let go, striking us with reproaches like flint with steel, until from a small spark they kindle the blaze of words. Some of them even promise better things and set great prizes before my discourses: first, to do good to themselves, by giving to God and to us the opportunity to bear fruit for the word; and then also to all these here, through the assessment, who are my portion (if indeed my father’s portion is mine), my flock, whom I would greatly wrong if I were not eager to benefit them in every way. And the finest thing is that what they ought to have achieved with much labour, this they offer in return for the discourses themselves. O the noble rivalry, in which they strive to defeat me! O the praiseworthy gift! See how great is the work of my silence: it has made discourses themselves more desirable to you. See the fruit of our obscurity. Would that discourses might bring as much benefit as silence!

Since, then, this is your view, and you have conquered the unconquered and set up a trophy over my philosophy, come, let me say something to you better than silence. I will speak, then, not anything soft or relaxed, nor in the harmony most pleasant to the many (for I would not repay my lovers well by speaking so), but something very manly and vigorous, by which you may perhaps become better, carried over from the flesh to the spirit and lifted up sufficiently in mind. “Sons of men, how long will you be heavy of heart?” (for I will begin my address to you from the loud-voiced David). “Why do you love vanity and seek falsehood?”, supposing this present life to be something great, with its luxury, its petty glory, its lowly power, and its false prosperity? These belong no more to those who have them than to those who hoped for them, nor to these more than to those who never even expected them; like dust tossed and scattered by a whirlwind, now to some, now to others; flowing away like smoke, mocking like a dream, and like a shadow that cannot be grasped; neither beyond hope when absent for those who do not possess them, nor reliable when present for those who have them. [5] Shall we not look up to heaven? Shall we not sober up? Shall we not take the rheum from our eyes? Shall we not know what true wealth is, what real splendour is, and where is a dignity that does not fall; what is endless happiness, and where is the good that is unshaken, neither displaced nor plotted against? Shall we not acquire these with much sweat and toil, if so it must be? Shall we not, if we must delight in anything here, delight in our hopes? Shall we not recognize the holy martyrs, both all the others, who are spread throughout the world like common bonds, and those whose festival this is? For what did they endure wounds, chains, and rackings, the threat of fire, the edge of the sword, the savagery of beasts, darkness, hunger, pits, the seizure of goods, the loss of limbs, and finally death, and all eagerly, as though they were contending in other people’s bodies? To become what, and to inherit what? It is clear to everyone, even if we do not say it. Shall we not, with the same hope, under the same judge and president of the games, draw up our ranks against the same tyrant, the bitter persecutor of souls then and now, the invisible enemy and foe? Shall we not show the same courage in this world, as in a common theatre, if not in the peak of danger, which brings a quick release as well, at least in the daily contests and wrestlings, so that we too may be counted worthy of the same crowns, since they are very near?

I urge everyone, man and woman, old and young, townsman and countryman, private person and ruler, rich and poor (for the same contest calls all), to strip eagerly for this contest, and not to grow soft or delay or let slip the moment, which cannot be had again. For the present time is for work, the future for recompense. “Rise, let us go hence,” you have heard the Saviour say, not only leading his disciples of that time away from the place in Judea, but leading away all later disciples too from here, and drawing them to himself as he is lifted up, as the promise says. Let us follow a good Master; let us flee worldly desires; let us flee the deceitful world and its ruler; let us belong purely to him who made us; let us honour the image, revere our calling, and change our life. Why do we make ourselves low, when we have been made lofty? Why do we linger among visible things? … one [offers] …, another having nothing; one his eagerness, another his welcome of the eager; one praiseworthy action, another well-aimed contemplation; one timely speech, another reasonable silence; one teaching without stumbling and a life that does not contradict it, another a docile and well-disposed hearing; one pure virginity that cuts itself off entirely from the world, another honourable marriage that does not separate altogether from God; one fasting without pride, another enjoyment that is not licentious; another undistracted attention in prayers and spiritual hymns, another in protecting those in need; all tears, all purification, all ascent and straining toward what lies ahead.

Fine too is the fruit of simplicity, and laughter disciplined, anger restrained, the eye trained, and the mind not allowed to wander. Nothing offered to God is so small, even if it is the least and falls far short of what is due, that he does not entirely accept and welcome it, even though he knows how to weigh mercy with just judgment. He accepts Paul’s planting as Paul’s, and Apollos’s watering; the widow’s two mites, the tax collector’s humility, and Manasseh’s confession. Moses pitched the tabernacle below, the copy of the heavenly things, and all brought what had been proclaimed to them, some even of their own accord: some gold, some silver, some precious stones for the ephod; the women fine twined linen, others spun scarlet, others purple, others rams’ skins dyed red; and the women brought goats’ hair for the works of the tabernacle, the meanest thing; and others whatever each man or woman happened to have. All brought, and no one was without a share, not even the poorest. So also let us, for this copy of God’s tabernacle, this Church, which the Lord pitched and not man, which is built up with various beauties of virtue, one bringing a little, another more, but all alike bring our offerings for a perfect work, for a dwelling place of Christ, for a holy temple, being joined and fitted together by the architecture of the Spirit. Yet we shall never bring as much as we have received, even if we bring everything. For our very being is from God, and our knowing God, and our having anything to bring. But the finest and most loving thing is that God measures the gift not by the worth of what is given, but by the ability and disposition of the one who offers.

Do not, then, wait to become good, but become so now; and do not, because you fall short of what is due, fall short in everything. Bring part; be eager for part; and for the rest, ask that pardon be given to your weakness. “You shall not appear before me empty,” he says. Let no one be empty or fruitless, nor any soul barren and childless. Let each bear fruit to God from what he has and from what is his own: the sinner his change of life, the one who runs well his vigour, the young his self-control, grey hairs their prudence, the rich man his sharing, the poor man his thanksgiving, the one in authority his freedom from pride, the tax collector his mildness. Priests, clothe yourselves with righteousness; or, to say it more truly, let us clothe ourselves. Let us not scatter and destroy the sheep of the pasture, for whom the good shepherd laid down his life, who knows his own and is known by his own, calls them by name, and leads them in and out, from unbelief to faith, and from this life to the rest there. Let us fear lest judgment begin with us, and lest, as was threatened, we receive from the Lord’s hand double for our sins, by not entering ourselves and by hindering those who could enter.

“Be content with your wages, soldiers, and demand nothing beyond what is appointed.” John bids you this together with us: the great herald of the truth, the voice that ran before the Word. What does he mean by wages? Clearly the imperial ration and the allowances assigned by law to the various ranks. And the surplus, whose is it? I hesitate to say the blasphemous word; but you understand, I know, even if I spare it. “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”: to the one tax, to the other fear, you who bear the name of public servants; and when I say fear, I forbid greed. “What great thing, then, shall we gain?” you may perhaps say. The greatest of all, if you wish, through me as mediator: good hopes, and the first places in the city above, not in this small one, least among cities, whose government (to speak moderately, honouring it as the place that reared me) is nothing very grand or splendid. There let us wish to be first; let us lay claim to the splendour there; let us rest in Abraham’s bosom in return for compassion here. Let us judge just judgment; let us rescue the poor and needy; let us have mercy on widow and orphan; let us ransom those being put to death, or, to say the very least, let us not put them to death ourselves. Let us not overlook the one who needs us, even for the crumbs from the table; let us not pass by the one covered with sores and lying at our gates; let us not live in luxury while others suffer; let us not loathe our fellow servant. Let us not, friends and brothers, become of the rich man’s portion, nor be in anguish in the flame, nor be separated by the chasm from the holy ones, nor beg Lazarus the poor man to cool our burning tongue with the tip of his finger, and not obtain even that much. Let us be kind, compassionate, sympathetic; let us imitate the goodness of the Master, who makes his sun rise on the good and the evil, and nourishes all alike with rain. Let us not consent to grow rich through the poverty of others; let us not fall so far short of divine equality; nor mix our wealth with the tears of others, by which it will be consumed as by rust and moth, or, to use Scripture’s word, will be vomited up. But are we greedier than we should be? There is a good kind of greed too: let us give something small here, so that we may be rich there. [12] These precepts, then, are common to all, not only to those in public service; for the remedies of a common sickness are common too. But you, assess us justly, assessor of our taxes: assess not my words carefully, which bring no profit, or little, or only the ear’s pleasure and delight, but my people, piously and humanely, respecting, if nothing else, the season itself, because the Saviour too is born during an enrolment. “For a decree went out,” it says, “from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be enrolled”; and it was enrolled. “And Joseph also went up to Bethlehem with Mary, who was betrothed to him, to be enrolled, because he was of the house and lineage of David.” And then the Saviour is born (the marvel!), the creator and master of all, in a poor and small lodging. Let us fear the mystery; let us revere the economy; and let us ourselves contribute something to the season. Now angels rejoice; now shepherds are surrounded with light; now a star from the East runs toward the greatest and unapproachable Light; now magi fall down, bring gifts, and recognize the King of all, rightly inferring the heavenly one from the star; and now Herod rages and kills children, and because of the Liberator destroys those who were to receive liberty. But let us at least be with those who worship, and bring to him who became poor for our sake even to the point of taking a body, not frankincense, nor gold, nor myrrh (the first as to God, the second as to a king, the third as to one who tasted death for us), but mystical gifts, beyond what is seen: to take nothing, to give wealth no advantage over poverty, and not to wrong the creature through the creature. [13] You write with Christ, you weigh with Christ, you assess with the Head, you reckon with the Word. Christ is just now born for you; he is God, and becomes man, and lives among men. What does the story show? It seems to me that it serves to admonish those entrusted with such things, that God always enters into the greatest administrations. And to put the assessors to shame, he shares flesh and the life of men at that very time; and to console us in our servitude and to legislate gratitude (for this must not be overlooked either), he himself pays the double drachma, and not for himself alone but also for Peter, the most honoured of the disciples; since he also became man for us, took the form of a servant, and was led to death for our iniquities. These things the Saviour did, though he was able to save by will alone, as God, since he established all things by a command; but he brought us something greater and more compelling, sympathy and equality of honour. And what of us, the disciples of Christ, who is meek and loving and served us so greatly? Shall we not imitate the Master’s compassion? Shall we not be kind to our fellow servants, so that we too may meet with such treatment when the Lord measures to us as we have measured? Shall we not gain our own souls through gentleness? It is enough that the free serve, and that the difference is so great that, of the same clay, one part rules and another is ruled, one imposes taxes and another is enrolled; that some may wrong and do harm, while others must beg and struggle not to suffer it; and this among those who share the one image and the one dignity, heirs of the same life, for whom Christ died alike. This is enough for the free; let not the yoke be made heavier, nor the penalty of our first sin.

Would that vice had perished, and its first foundation, and the Evil One who sowed tares upon us while we slept, so that neglect of the good became the beginning of evil, as the withdrawal of light is the beginning of darkness. From this came the tree, the bitter taste, the envious serpent, and the disobedience that condemned us to live by the sweat of our face. From this I am naked and shameful, and knew my nakedness, and put on the garment of skin, and fell from paradise, and was turned back to the earth from which I was taken, having this one thing in place of delight, to know my own evils; and I was condemned to unceasing grief in place of a little pleasure, and to war with the one who was wrongly befriended and drew me away through the taste. These are the wages of vice for me; from this come birth in toil, life in toil, and dissolution. Toil is the mother of need, need of greed, greed of wars; and wars are the fathers of taxes, which are the heaviest part of the condemnation. But let us not increase the penalty, since we lie under the same sentence, nor become evil to others. God requires of us kindness toward one another, even though we are punished by him.

There will be another enrolment too, and another assessor, if you hear of a book of the living and a book of those not saved. There we shall all be enrolled, or rather we have already been written, each according to the worth of the life lived here. There wealth has no advantage, nor poverty any disadvantage, nor favour, nor enmity, nor any other of all the things by which justice is cheated here. By the finger of God we have all been written, and the book will be opened to us on the day of revelation. “The small and the great are there,” and the servant together with his master, to quote Solomon, and the king with his subject, and the assessor with the assessed; and that splendour is near. And I will keep silent the ill-omened word; except that as we write, so shall we be written. Make this enrolment better for yourself by showing yourself kind and humane to us. … possession that holds them not, to die to the world, to live to Christ, to empty the flesh, to draw the soul away from the body. If you spare these, or even purely give back to God the servants of God and his initiates, the beholders of heavenly things, the first fruits of our race, its support, the crowns of the faith, the precious pearls, the stones of the temple of which Christ is foundation and cornerstone (I mean the fair fullness of the Church), you would take the best counsel both for them, and for yourself, and for all of us. And I pray that this wealth may come to you from us rather than treasures of much gold and silver, which exist now and in a little while will be no more.

This is the fruit of my words for you; less than you hoped, perhaps, but at least according to our ability. And may you give me in return for my contribution the greater thing, obedience, so that in other matters too you may need my words less, considering one another to stir up love and good works; so that, obtaining a kind and humane enrolment there, and dancing around the King of all, which is the only work of those enrolled there, we may offer to God the praise, the one praise of Father and Son and Holy Spirit, beholding and exalting the glory and splendour of the Godhead, to whom be glory, honour, and worship for ever and ever. Amen.