On the Resurrection of Christ 3.653–3.671

own resources to contribute to the praises set before us, I will take refuge in the sacred song we have just sung. Taking my starting points from there, I will pay my debt by weaving my own words onto the wording of Scripture, whatever praises of thanksgiving to the Master the poor servant may have. David, then, was just saying, and we with him: “Praise the Lord, all nations; extol him, all peoples.” He calls every human being descended from Adam to the hymn, leaving no one outside the summons: those of the west, those of the east, those on either side, whoever is neighbor to the north and whoever dwells in the south; he gathers them all together by the psalm. Elsewhere he speaks to some of mankind in part, either calling the holy ones or rousing the children to a hymn; but here he gathers nations and peoples with the psaltery. For when, according to the Apostle, the form of this world has been dissolved, and Christ has appeared to all as King and God, having fully convinced every unbelieving soul and bridled every blasphemous tongue, and has put a stop to the vanity of the Greeks, the error of the Jews, and the untamable wordiness of the heresies, then indeed, then all the nations and the peoples from of old will bow down and offer up worship without resistance, and there will be a wonderful harmony of praise, the holy singing hymns as is their custom, the ungodly supplicating because they must. Then truly the hymn of victory will be sung in harmony by all, both the conquered and the conquerors. Then he too who caused the disturbance, who imagined for himself the dignity of the Master, will be seen by all as a slave fit for the whip, dragged by angels to punishment, and all the servants and accomplices of his wickedness will be subjected to fitting punishments and penalties; and one King and Judge will appear, confessed by all as the common Master; and there will be a settled stillness, as when a magistrate sits on the tribunal, the herald signals silence, and the people, straining eyes and ears, wait to hear the address. For this reason: “Praise the Lord, all nations; extol him, all peoples.” Praise him as mighty; extol him as one who loves humankind: because, when we had fallen and were dead, he made us alive again, and renewed the vessel that had been worn out, and in his love for humankind formed the loathsome remains in the tombs into an incorruptible living being, and brought back the soul that had left the body four thousand years before into its own house, as from a long journey abroad, not at all estranged from its own instrument by time and forgetfulness, but going to it faster than a bird flies down to its own nest. Let us speak of what belongs to the feast, so that we may keep the feast consistently

and in keeping with the events. For what is unfitting and foreign, besides being of no use, is disorderly and absurd, not only in discourses about religion and piety, but also in secular matters and the wisdom of the world. For what orator would be so foolish or so utterly ridiculous that, invited to the brightness of a wedding, he would abandon the fitting and elegant words that share in the delight of the festivity, and sing mournful dirges and lament the bridal chambers with the woes of tragedy? Or, on the contrary, appointed to perform the customary rites for one of the dead, would forget the sorrow and be cheerful before a gathering full of gloom? If in worldly matters order and skill are good, they are surely far more fitting in things great and heavenly. Christ, then, has risen today: God, the impassible, the immortal (wait a little, you pagan, set aside your rash laughter until you have heard everything), not suffering under compulsion, nor forced into his descent from heaven, nor finding the resurrection beyond his hopes as an unexpected benefit, but knowing the end of all things and so making the beginning, having before the eyes of his Godhead the knowledge of what lay ahead. Even before he came down from heaven he saw the turmoil of the nations, the hardness of Israel, Pilate presiding, Caiaphas tearing his robe, the seditious mob inflamed, Judas betraying, Peter fighting in his defense, and himself, shortly afterward, transformed by the resurrection into the glory of incorruption. And with the whole future sketched out in his knowledge, he did not put off his grace toward man nor postpone the dispensation. But just as those who see a sick man being swept along by a torrent, though they know that they too may be entangled in the mud of the stream and have to endure the blows of the stones driven along by the water, nevertheless do not hesitate to go in, out of compassion for the one in danger, so our Savior, who loves humankind, willingly accepted insult and dishonor to save the one perishing through deceit. He came down into life, since he foreknew that his going up would be glorious; he allowed himself to die in his humanity, since he also foreknew the rising. For he did not venture recklessly, like an ordinary man, entrusting the outcome to the uncertainty of the future; rather, as God he arranged what lay before him with a definite and known end. “This, then, is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it,” not with drunkenness and revels, not with dances and drunken violence, but with godlike thoughts. Today one can see the whole world as one household, brought together into the harmony of one

purpose, set free from its usual business and changed by one signal to eagerness for prayer. The highways have no travelers; the sea today is empty of sailors and voyagers; the farmer has thrown down his mattock and plow and dressed himself in festal attire; the shops are idle from trade; troubles have melted away, like winter when spring appears; the din, disturbances, and storms of life have given way to the peace of the feast; the poor man adorns himself like a rich man; the rich man shows himself more splendid than usual; the old man runs like a young man to share in the gladness; the sick man forces himself past his illness; the child keeps the feast with his senses by a change of clothes, since he cannot yet keep it with his mind. The virgin rejoices greatly in her soul because she sees the reminder of her own hope so bright and so honored; the married woman rejoices, keeping the feast with her whole household, for now she, her husband, the children, the servants, and everyone at the hearth are glad. And just as a new, newly born swarm of bees, flying out for the first time from its hiding place or its baskets into the air and the light, settles all together in one mass on a single branch of a tree, so at this feast whole families run together to their hearths. And truly the present day is well compared, as an imitation, to the day that is to come. For both gather human beings together: that one, all of them; this one, those in each place. And to speak more truly, as far as brightness and good cheer go, this day is more delightful than the one we await, since then those whose sins are uncovered must necessarily be seen mourning; but now the rejoicing admits nothing gloomy. For the righteous man is glad, and he whose conscience is not clean looks for amendment through repentance, and all grief is put to sleep on the present day; no one is so sorrowful as not to find relief in the magnificence of the feast. Now the prisoner is freed; the debtor is forgiven; the slave is set free by the good and kindly proclamation of the church: not slapped shamefully on the cheek and released from blows by a blow, nor displayed to the people on a high platform as in a procession, having insult and shame as the beginning of his freedom, but released so decently that, as is well known, even the one who still remains in slavery receives a benefit. For even if his sins are many and grave, beyond excuse and pardon, the master, out of respect for the calm and kindness of the day, receives the one who had been cast off and was seen among the dishonored, as Pharaoh did the cupbearer from prison. For he knows that at the appointed time of the resurrection, in whose likeness we honor the present day, he too needs the forbearance and goodness of his own Master, and lending mercy here, he expects repayment in due season. Have you heard, you masters? Keep the word as good; do not accuse me before your slaves of having praised the day falsely. Take away the

grief of afflicted souls, as the Lord took away the deadness of bodies; change the dishonored into honor, the afflicted into joy, those without freedom of speech into freedom of speech. Bring out of their corner those who have been cast aside, as out of tombs; let the beauty of the feast blossom like a flower for all. For if the birthday of a human king opens the prison, will not the day of victory, the day of Christ's rising, release the afflicted? You poor, welcome your nourisher; you whose bodies are wasted and maimed, welcome the healer of your misfortunes. For it is because of the hope of the resurrection that virtue is pursued and vice hated; if the resurrection is done away with, one saying will be found to prevail among all: “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” Looking to this day the Apostle despises the life of the moment and longs for the life to come; and belittling what is seen, he says: “If in this life we have hoped, we are of all people most to be pitied.” Because of this day human beings are heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ. Because of this day, the part of the body that carrion birds ate a thousand years ago will be found not missing; and what sea monsters and dogs and the creatures of the sea fed on will rise again with the man when he is raised; and what fire burned up and the worm consumed in the tombs, in short, all bodies that corruption has destroyed since their making, will be given back from the earth entire and whole; and, as Paul teaches, the resurrection will be completed “in the twinkling of an eye.” The twinkling of an eye is the closing of the eyelids, and there could be no speed quicker than this. But you, reckoning in human fashion according to your own power, sketch out in your soul so many intervals of time: first, that the bones that have rotted and turned to earth may be compacted into hardness and smoothness, and, united again from their crumbling into a well-fitted order, come together in their natural joining. Then you think of the flesh molded around them, the stretched bonds of the sinews, and the fine channels of veins and arteries spread out beneath the skin; and of the untold and countless multitude of souls coming from certain unspeakable dwellings, each recognizing its own body as a garment that is its own, quickly dwelling in it again, and distinguishing it without error among so great a multitude of kindred spirits. Consider the souls from Adam on, and the bodies from him on: a multitude of so many houses dissolved, and of householders returning from a long journey abroad, and all accomplished wondrously. For neither is the house that is rebuilt slow, nor does the inhabitant wander and stay out of doors, looking

for where his own particular things are; rather it goes straight to it, like a dove to its own dovecote, even if there are many next to one another in the same place, gleaming with similar shapes. And again, whence comes the recollection and reckoning of the former life, and the thought of each deed, so quickly made complete along with the living being that was dissolved so many ages before? Yet even a man roused from a deeper sleep does not know for a little while who he is or where he is staying, and forgets familiar things, until wakefulness scatters the numbness and rekindles memory and activity. These and similar things, running through the reasonings of the many, fill the mind with surpassing wonder, but bring unbelief in along with the wonder. For since the mind does not find the solution of what perplexes it and is sought, and cannot bring its curiosity to rest by finding an answer and coming to an end, it finally turns to unbelief in the weakness of its own reasonings, casting out and rejecting the truth of things. But rather, since the sermon, advancing on its way, has come to a question that is continually discussed, and one proper and akin to the subject of the present feast, come, let us take the matter back a little to a fitting beginning and try to give full assurance to those who wrongly doubt what is plain. The Creator of all, wishing to make man, brought him into being not as a contemptible creature but as more honorable than all, and showed him to be king of the creation under heaven. Having chosen this, and having completed him as such, wise and godlike, and adorned him with much grace, did he bring him into being with the intention that, once born, he should be destroyed and undergo complete annihilation? That aim would be futile, and it is quite unworthy to attribute such a thought to God. For that would liken him to children, who build eagerly and quickly pull down what they have built, their thinking ending in no useful purpose. But we have been taught the complete opposite: that he made the first-formed man immortal; and when transgression and sin came in, he deprived him of immortality as the penalty for the offense; then the fountain of goodness, overflowing with love for humankind and moved with pity for the work of its own hands, ordered things with wisdom and knowledge, and was pleased to renew us to our ancient state. This is both true and worthy of our conception of God, for it bears witness to his power together with his goodness. To be unfeeling and harsh toward those one rules and shepherds is not the way even of good and excellent men. So the shepherd wants his flock to be healthy and

almost immortal; and the cowherd increases his cattle with all kinds of care; the goatherd prays that his goats may bear twins; and, in short, every herdsman longs for his herd to survive and thrive for him, looking to some useful end. Since this is so, and it has been shown from what we have just said that it is most fitting for the Creator and Craftsman of our race to remold his work that was destroyed, it is plain that those who refuse to believe what follows fight against it for no other reason than that they think it impossible for God to raise what has died and been dissolved. Truly theirs is the mind of the dead and senseless, who reckon impossibility and helplessness in God and transfer the marks of their own weakness to his almighty majesty. But that we may strike at their folly with words of refutation, let what is to come and is disbelieved be proved from what has happened and exists. You have heard that dust was molded and became a man. Teach me, then, I beg you, you who think fit to grasp all things with your own wisdom: how the fine, scattered dust was gathered, how earth became flesh, and the same matter made bones and skin and fat and hair; how, though the flesh is one, the forms, qualities, and textures of the members are different; how the lung is soft to the touch and livid in color, the liver firm and red, the heart compact, the hardest part in the flesh, the spleen loose and dark, the omentum white, a fisherman's net woven by nature. Let us consider these things as well: how the first woman, from a small part of the rib, came to be a whole living being, like the first and complete one; and the part sufficed for everything, and the little made up the whole: the rib became head, hands and feet, the winding and varied structure of the entrails, flesh and hair, eye and nose and mouth, and simply everything (not to draw out the sermon), all wonderful and incredible to us of little power, but the principles of their construction ready at hand to God and fully agreed. How, then, will they seem sensible who grant that one rib became a human being, but do not believe that the same human being is remade from the whole of his own matter? It is not, it is not possible to pry into God's workings with human notions. For if all things were comprehensible to us, the greater would not be greater than we. Why do I speak of God? We cannot even compare with the irrational animals in some powers, but fall short of them. Horses and dogs and many others surpass us in running; camels and mules in strength; asses in finding their way; and the gazelle's sharpness of sight is not found in our eyes.

Therefore it belongs to the well-disposed and sensible to believe what God says, and not to demand the ways and causes of his works, since they surpass us. For one of the curious will be told: “Show me by your reasoning how the things we see came into being. Say by what art he crafted this many-formed work.” If you find these things out, you may reasonably be at a loss and vexed that you do not know the refashioning of the regeneration, while you know the principle of the generation. But if those things are a dream and a fantasy to you, and knowledge of them is impossible from every side, do not be indignant if, not knowing the principle of the construction, you also do not perceive the restoration of what was destroyed. The same craftsman is the maker of the first creation and of the second refashioning. He knows how to fit his own work, which has undergone dissolution, together again into its original state. If wisdom is needed, the fountain of wisdom is with him; if power, he needs no fellow worker or helper. He it is who, in the words of the wisest prophet, measured the water in his hand, the great and boundless heaven with a span, and the earth with a handful. Consider images that give signs of the working of his unspeakable power, and that make our reasonings despair of imagining anything worthy of God's nature. He both is and is called almighty. Perhaps you will not resist this, but will let it stand as agreed. To him who can do all things, nothing is impossible or beyond his means. You have many pledges of faith compelling you to assent to what we say: first, the whole varied and complex creation, which cries out more clearly than any preaching that there is a great and wise craftsman, who devised all that is seen. Besides this, God, being provident and seeing from afar the petty souls of the unbelievers, confirmed the raising of the dead by deed, giving life again to many bodies of the dead. For this reason Lazarus, four days dead, leapt out of the tomb, and the widow's only son was given back to his mother, released from the bier and the funeral procession to the living, and countless others whom it would be tedious to list now. Why speak of our God and Savior, when, to put the doubters to greater shame, he granted even to his servants the apostles the power to raise the dead? The proof, then, is plain. Why then, you quarrelsome people, do you make trouble for us, as though we were expounders of unproven doctrines? As one was raised, so too ten; as ten, so three hundred; as three hundred, so many. For the craftsman of one statue will easily be the maker of ten thousand. Have you not seen how builders model beforehand in a little wax the shapes and plans of great and extraordinary buildings? The principle in the small has the same force in the many great constructions. Great is the heaven, a skilful work of God. And since God [made] man a rational living being

made, so that by understanding his works he might glorify their wise and inventive Maker, you will see the astronomer's globe, small indeed, but turned in the expert's hand as the heaven is by God; the tiniest construction becomes an image of the great creation, and in small things the principle explains what is lofty and beyond our senses. Why have I gone through these things? So that you may know that, if you ask me how the resurrection of the bodies of all the ages will come about, you will quickly hear in reply: How was Lazarus raised on the fourth day? For it is plain that anyone of sound mind will accept the assurance given in one case equally for the many. Supposing God to be the one who acts, say that nothing is impossible, and do not think that the wisdom of the incomprehensible can be grasped by your own thought. For nothing is beyond his reach, while the things of the boundless are unsearchable to you. We shall see this argument well if, besides what has been said, we also examine the manner of our birth: not that first and oldest one, from God, of which we spoke earlier, but the one carried out by nature in succession to this day. For this is baffling and inaccessible to human reasoning. How does the seed, a fluid substance, unformed and shapeless, solidify into a head and harden into shins and ribs, and make a soft and porous brain, and the bone that encloses it so hard and resistant, and the varied structure of the living being, to speak briefly and not drag on by going through each detail minutely? As, then, the seed, shapeless at first, is molded into form and grows into bulk, fashioned by the unspeakable art of God, so it is not unlikely but entirely consistent that the matter in the tombs, which once had form, should be renewed again to its old shape, and the dust become a man again, just as at first it had its origin from there. Let us grant God as much power as the potter has. Let us consider what he does. He takes shapeless clay and works it into a vessel, and setting it out in the sun's rays, dries it and makes it firm. What is molded is a jar, or a dish, or a cask; but if someone falls against it clumsily and overturns it, it is broken in falling and becomes shapeless earth. But the craftsman, if he wishes, quickly repairs what has happened, and shaping the clay again by his art makes the vessel no worse than it was before. This potter is a small creature of God's power; and yet God is disbelieved when he promises

to renew the dead. This is great folly. Let us consider also the example of the grain, by which the all-wise Paul teaches the foolish, saying: “Fool, what you sow is not the body that is to be; you sow a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or of some other seed; but God gives it a body as he has chosen.” Let us attend closely to the growth of the wheat, and perhaps we shall be taught the principle of the resurrection. The grain is cast into the earth. Rotting in the moisture, and, as one might say, dying, it ends in a kind of milky substance, which, thickening a little, becomes a sharp white point; and growing until it peeps out of the earth, it changes from white to a color gradually turning green. Then it becomes grass and a head of hair for the clods; spreading over them and scattering moderately, it nourishes beneath it a root with many branches, preparing a foundation in advance for the weight to come. And just as the masts of ships are stretched on every side with many ropes, so that they stay firm, held by balanced pulls, so the ropelike offshoots of the root become holds and props for the ears. When the wheat rises into a stalk and presses upward, God supports it with joints and knots, as one secures a house with tie-beams, because of the expected weight of the head. Then, when the strength is ready, he splits the sheath and brings forth the ear. And there again are greater wonders. For the grain grows around it in rows, and each kernel has its own storehouse; and at the very end the beards stand out in front, sharp and fine, weapons, I suppose, against the seed-picking birds, so that, pricked by their points, they may not harm the fruit. Do you see what wonder-working a single rotted grain has, and with how many it rises after falling alone? But a man receives nothing more; he takes back what he had; and for this reason our renewal appears easier than the growing of the wheat. From here pass on to consider the trees, how winter becomes for them each year a kind of death. For the fruit drops off, the leaf falls, and the wood remains dry, stripped of all grace. But when spring comes on, a most delightful blossom springs up on them, and after the blossom comes the covering of leaves; and then, as a beautiful sight, the tree draws the eyes of men and becomes a workshop of songbirds sitting among the leaves, and a wonderful grace shines around it, so that many have even left a house adorned with gold and with Thessalian and Laconian marble, and have chosen instead the pleasant life under the trees. That is why the patriarch Abraham pitched his tent under an oak, not because he altogether lacked a house, but because he delighted in the pleasure of the branches.

The life of reptiles too leads me to assent to the argument before us. For in winter their life-giving power is deadened, and for the space of six months they lie in their holes, entirely motionless. But when the appointed time comes and thunder has echoed through the world, they take the crash as a kind of signal of life, quickly leap up, and after a long time resume their usual activities. What is the reason for this? Let him who scrutinizes and passes judgment on the acts of God tell me and teach me how thunder lets snakes be roused, though they are dead, yet does not allow men to receive life when the trumpet of God sounds from heaven, as the divine word says: “For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised”; and elsewhere still more clearly: “And he will send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they will gather his elect.” Let us not, then, disbelieve the changes and renewals. For the life of plants and of various animals, and of men themselves, teaches us that nothing among things subject to corruption and coming to be remains the same, but all is in alteration and change. First, if you like, let us observe the change in our ages. We know what the nursing infant is like. A little time passes, and it gains the power to crawl, and is no different from little puppies, supported on four feet. About the third year it stands upright and utters a lisping, stammering voice; then it articulates speech and becomes a charming boy; from that age it passes to adolescence and young manhood; when down has covered the cheek, soon a shaggy beard, and one form after another; then a man in his prime, rough and enduring. When four decades of years have passed, the beginning of decline whitens the head, strength turns to weakness, and finally old age arrives, the complete disappearance of strength. The body bends and stoops toward the ground like ears of wheat that have dried too much, the smooth becomes wrinkled, and the man who was once a youth and a champion is a baby again, lisping, witless, crawling on hands and feet as long ago. What do you think of all these? Is this not alteration? Not manifold changes? Not various novelties transforming the mortal living being even before death? And our sleep and waking, how should they not teach the wise what we are seeking? For the one is an image of death, the other an imitation of the resurrection. That is why some of the wise men outside called sleep the brother of death, because of the likeness of the effects that come from each. For in both alike there is forgetfulness and ignorance of