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ST. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM

A TREATISE TO PROVE THAT NO ONE CAN HARM THE MAN WHO DOES NOT INJURE
HIMSELF.

[Translated by Rev. W. R. W. Stephens, M.A.
Prebendary of Chichester Cathedral, and Rector of Wooldeding, Sussex.]


   1. I KNOW well that to coarse-minded persons, who are greedy in the
pursuit of present things, and are nailed to earth, and enslaved to
physical pleasure, and have no strong hold upon spiritual ideas, this
treatise will be of a strange and paradoxical kind: and they will laugh
immoderately, and condemn me for uttering incredible things from the very
outset of my theme. Nevertheless, I shall not on this account desist from
my promise, but for this very reason shall proceed with great earnestness
to the proof of what I have undertaken. For if those who take that view of
my subject will please not to make a clamour and disturbance, but wait to
the end of my discourse, I am sure that they will take my side, and condemn
themselves, finding that they have been deceived hitherto, and will make a
recantation, and apology, and crave pardon for the mistaken opinion which
they held concerning these matters, and will express great gratitude to me,
as patients do to physicians, when they have been relieved from the
disorders which lay seige to their body. For do not tell me of the judgment
which is prevailing in your mind at the present time, but wait to hear the
contention of my arguments and then you will be able to record an impartial
verdict without being hindered by ignorance from forming a true judgment.
For even judges in secular causes, if they see the first orator pouring
forth a mighty torrent of words and overwhelming everything with his speech
do not venture to record their decision without having patiently listened
to the other speaker who is opposed to him; and even if the remarks of the
first speaker seem to be just to an unlimited extent, they reserve an
unprejudiced hearing for the second. In fact the special merit of judges
consists in ascertaining with all possible accuracy what each side has to
allege and then bringing forward their own judgment.

   Now in the place of an orator we have the common assumption of mankind
which in the course of ages has taken deep root in the minds of the
multitude, and declaims to the following effect throughout the world. "All
things" it says "have been turned upside down, the human race is full of
much confusion and many are they who every day are being wronged, insulted,
subjected to violence and injury, the weak by the strong, the poor by the
rich: and as it is impossible to number the waves of the sea, so is it
impossible to reckon the multitude of those who are the victims of
intrigue, insult, and suffering; and neither the correction of law, nor the
fear of being brought to trial, nor anything else can arrest this
pestilence and disorder, but the evil is increasing every day, and the
groans, and lamentations, and weeping of the sufferers are universal; and
the judges who are appointed to reform such evils, themselves intensify the
tempest, and inflame the disorder, and hence many of the more senseless and
despicable kind, seized with a new kind of frenzy, accuse the providence of
God, when they see the forbearing man often violently seized, racked, and
oppressed, and the audacious, impetous, low and low-born man waxing rich,
and invested with authority, and becoming formidable to many, and
inflicting countless troubles upon the more moderate, and this perpetrated
both in town and country, and desert, on sea and land. This discourse of
ours of necessity comes in by way of direct opposition to what has been
alleged, maintaining a contention which is new, as I said at the beginning,
and contrary to opinion, yet useful and true, and profitable to those who
will give heed to it and be persuaded by it; for what I undertake is to
prove (only make no commotion) that no one of those who are wronged is
wronged by another, but experiences this injury at his own hands.

   2. But in order to make my argument plainer, let us first of all
enquire what injustice is, and of what kind of things the material of it is
wont to be composed; also what human virtue is, and what it is which ruins
it; and further what it is which seems to ruin it but really does not. For
instance (for I must complete my argument by means of examples) each thing
is subject to one evil which ruins it; iron to rust, wool to moth, flocks
of sheep to wolves. The virtue of wine is injured when it ferments and
turns sour: of honey when it loses its natural sweetness, and is reduced to
a bitter juice. Ears of corn are ruined by mildew and droughts and the
fruit, and leaves, and branches of vines by the mischievous host of
locusts, other trees by the caterpillar, and irrational creatures by
diseases of various kinds: and not to lengthen the list by going through
all possible examples, our own flesh is subject to fevers, and palsies, and
a crowd of other maladies. As then each one of these things is liable to
that which ruins its virtue, let us now consider what it is which injures
the human race, and what it is which ruins the virtue of a human being.
Most men think that there are divers things which have this effect; for I
must mention the erroneous opinions on the subject, and, after confuting
them, proceed to exhibit that which really does ruin our virtue: and to
demonstrate clearly that no one could inflict this injury or bring this
ruin upon us unless we betrayed ourselves. The multitude then having
erroneous opinions imagine that there are many different things which ruin
our virtue: some say it is poverty, others bodily disease, others loss of
property, others calumny, others death and they are perpetually bewailing
and lamenting these things: and whilst they are commiserating the sufferers
and shedding tears they excitedly exclaim to one another "What a calamity
has befallen such and such a man! he has been deprived of all his fortune
at a blow." Of another again one will say: "such and such a man has been
attacked by severe sickness and is despaired of by the physicians in
attendance." Some bewail and lament the inmates of the prison, some those
who have been expelled from their country n and transported to the land of
exile, others those who have been deprived of their freedom, others those
who have been seized and made captives by enemies, others those who have
been drowned, or burnt, or buried by the fall of a house, but no one mourns
those who are living in wickedness: on the contrary, which is worse than
all, they often congratulate them, a practice which is the cause of all
manner of evils. Come then (only, as I exhorted you at the outset, do not
make a commotion), let me prove that none of the things which have been
mentioned injure the man who lives soberly, nor can ruin his virtue. For
tell me if a man has lost his all either at the hands of calumniators or of
robbers, or has been stripped of his goods by knavish servants, what harm
has the loss done to the virtue of the man?

   But if it seems well let me rather indicate in the first place what is
the virtue of a man, beginning by dealing with the subject in the case of
existences of another kind so as to make it more intelligible and plain to
the majority of readers.

   3. What then is the virtue of a horse? is it to have a bridle studded
with gold and girths to match, and a band of silken threads to fasten the
housing, and clothes wrought in divers colours and gold tissue, and head
gear studded with jewels, and locks of hair plaited with gold cord? or is
it to be swift and strong in its legs, and even in its paces, and to have
hoofs suitable to a well bred horse, and courage fitted for long journies
and warfare, and to be able to behave with calmness in the battle field,
and if a rout takes place to save its rider? Is it not manifest that these
are the things which constitute the virtue of the horse, not the others?
Again, what should you say was the virtue of asses and mules? is it not the
power of carrying burdens with contentment, and accomplishing journies with
ease, and having hoofs like rock? Shall we say that their outside trappings
contribute anything to their own proper virtue? By no means. And what kind
of vine shall we admire? one which abounds in leaves and branches, or one
which is laden with fruit? or I what kind of virtue do we predicate of an
olive? is it to have large boughs, and great luxuriance of leaves, or to
exhibit an abundance of its proper fruit dispersed over all parts of the
tree? Well, let us act in the same way in the case of human beings also:
let us determine what is the virtue of man, and let us regard that alone as
an injury, which is destructive to it. What then is the virtue of man? not
riches that thou shouldest fear poverty: nor health of body that thou
shouldest dread sickness, nor the opinion of the public, that thou
shouldest view an evil reputation with alarm, nor life simply for its own
sake, that death should be terrible to thee: nor liberty that thou
shouldest avoid servitude: but carefulness in holding true doctrine, and
rectitude in life. Of these things not even the devil himself will be able
to rob a man, if he who possesses them guards them with the needful
carefulness: and that most malicious and ferocious demon is aware of this.
For this cause also he robbed Job of his substance, not to make him poor,
but that he might force him into uttering some blasphemous speech; and he
tortured his body, not to subject him to infirmity, but to upset the virtue
of his soul. But nevertheless when he had set all his devices in motion,
and turned him from a rich man into a poor one (that calamity which seems
to us the most terrible of all), and had made him childless who was once
surrounded by many children, and had scarified his whole body more cruelly
than the executioners do in the public tribunals (for their nails do not
lacerate the sides of those who fall into their hands so severely as the
gnawing of the worms lacerated his body), and when he had fastened a bad
reputation upon him (for Job's friends who were present with him said "thou
hast not received the chastisement which thy sins deserve," and directed
many words of accusation against him), and after he had not merely expelled
him from city and home and transferred him to another city, but had
actually made the dunghill serve as his home and city; after all this, he
not only did him no damage but rendered him more glorious by the designs
which he formed against him. And he not only failed to rob him of any of
his possessions although he had robbed him of so many things, but he even
increased the wealth of his virtue. For after these things he enjoyed
greater confidence inasmuch as he had contended in a more severe contest.
Now if he who underwent such sufferings, and this not at the hand of man,
but at the hand of the devil who is more wicked than all men, sustained no
injury, which of those persons who say such and such a man injured and
damaged me will have any defence to make in future? For if the devil who is
full of such great malice, after having set all his instruments in motion,
and discharged all his weapons, and poured out all the evils incident to
man, in a superlative degree upon the family and the person of that
righteous man nevertheless did him no injury, but as I was saying rather
profited him: how shall certain be able to accuse such and such a man
alleging that they have suffered injury at their hands, not at their own?

   4. What then? some one will say, did he not inflict injury on Adam, and
upset him, and cast him out of paradise? No: he did it not, but the cause
was the listlessness of him who was injured, and his want of temperance and
vigilance. For he who applied such powerful and manifold devices and yet
was not able to subdue Job, how could he by inferior means have mastered
Adam, had not Adam betrayed himself through his own listlessness? What
then? Has not he been injured who has been exposed to slander, and suffered
confiscation of his property, having been deprived of all his goods, and is
thrown out of his patrimony, and struggles with extreme poverty? No! he has
not been injured, but has even profited, if he be sober. For, tell me, what
harm did this do the apostles? Were they not continually struggling with
hunger, and thirst and nakedness? And this was the very reason why they
were so illustrious, and distinguished, and won for themselves much help
from God. Again what harm was done to Lazarus by his disease, and sores,
and poverty and dearth of protectors? Were they not the reasons why
garlands of victory were more abundantly woven for him? Or what harm was
done to Joseph by his getting evil reported of, both in his own land, and
in the land of strangers? for he was supposed to be both an adulterer and
fornicator: or what harm did servitude do him or expatriation? Is it not
specially on account of these things that we regard him with admiration and
astonishment? And why do I speak of removal into a foreign land, and
poverty, and evil report, and bondage? For what harm did death itself
inflict on Abel, although it was a violent and untimely death, and
perpetrated by a brother's hand? Is not this the reason why his praise is
sounded throughout the whole world? Seest thou how the discourse has
demonstrated even more than it promised? For not only has it disclosed the
fact that no one is injured by anybody, but also that they who take heed to
themselves derive the greater gain (from such assaults). What is the
purpose then it will be said of penalties and punishments? What is the
purpose of hell? What is the purpose of such great threatenings, if no one
is either injured or injures? What is it thou sayest? Why dost thou confuse
the argument? For I did not say that no one injures, but that no one is
injured. And how is it possible, you will say, for no one to be injured
when many are committing injury? In the way which I indicated just now. For
Joseph's brethren did indeed injure him, yet he himself was not injured:
and Cain laid snares for Abel, yet he himself was riot ensnared. This is
the reason why there are penalties and punishments. For God does not
abolish penalties on account of the virtue of those who suffer; but he
ordains punishments on account of the malice of those who do wickedly. For
although they who are evil entreated become more illustrious in consequence
of the designs formed against them, this is not due to the intention of
those who plan the designs, but to the courage of those who are the victims
of them. Wherefore for the latter the rewards of philosophy are made ready
and prepared, for the former the penalties of wickedness. Hast thou been
deprived of thy money? Read the word "Naked came I out of my mother's womb,
and naked shall I return thither."(1) And add to this the apostolic saying
"for we brought nothing into this world; it is certain we can carry nothing
out."(2) Art thou evil reported of, and have some men loaded thee with
countless abuse? Remember that passage where it is said "Woe unto you when
all men shall speak well of you"(3) and "rejoice ye and leap for joy when
they shall cast upon you an evil name."(4) Hast thou been transported into
the land of exile? Consider that thou hast not here a fatherland, but that
if thou wilt be wise thou art bidden to regard the whole world as a strange
country. Or hast thou been given over to a sore disease? quote the
apostolic saying "the more our outward man decayeth, so much the more is
the inward man renewed day by day."(5) Has any one suffered a violent
death? consider the case of John, his head cut off in prison, carried in a
charger, and made the reward of a harlot's dancing. Consider the recompense
which is derived from these things: for all these sufferings when they are
unjustly inflicted by any one on another, expiate sins, and work
righteousness. So great is the advantage of them in the case of those who
bear them bravely.

   5. When then neither loss of money, nor slander, nor railing, nor
banishment, nor diseases, nor tortures, nor that which seems more
formidable than all, namely death, harms those who suffer them, but rather
adds to their profit, whence can you prove to me that any one is injured
when he is not injured at all from any of these things? For I will
endeavour to prove the reverse, showing that they who are most injured and
insulted, and suffer the most incurable evils are the persons who do these
things. For what could be more miserable than the condition of Cain, who
dealt with his brother in this fashion? what more pitiable than that of
Phillip's wife who beheaded John? or the brethren of Joseph who sold him
away, and transported him into the land of exile? or the devil who tortured
Job with such great calamities? For not only on account of his other
iniquities, but at the same time also for this assault he will pay no
trifling penalty. Dost thou see how here the argument has proved even more
than was proposed, shewing that those who are insulted not only sustain no
harm from these assaults, but that the whole mischief recoils on the head
of those who contrive them? For since neither wealth nor freedom, nor life
in our native land nor the other things which I have mentioned, but only
right actions of the soul, constitute the virtue of man, naturally when the
harm is directed against these things, human virtue itself is no wise
harmed. What then? supposing some one does harm the moral condition of the
soul? Even then if a man suffers damage, the damage does not come from
another but proceeds from within, and from the man himself. "How so," do
you say? When any one having been beaten by another, or deprived of his
goods, or having endured some other grievous insult, utters a blasphemous
speech, he certainly sustains a damage thereby, and a very great one,
nevertheless it does not proceed from him who has inflicted the insult, but
from his own littleness of soul. For what I said before I will now repeat,
no man if he be infinitely wicked could attack any one more wickedly or
more bitterly than that revengeful demon who is implacably hostile to us,
the devil: but yet this cruel demon had not power to upset or overthrow him
who lived before the law, and before the time of grace, although he
discharged so many and such bitter weapons against him from all quarters.
Such is the force of nobility of soul. And what shall I say of Paul? Did he
not suffer so many distresses that even to make a list of them is no easy
matter? He was put in prison, loaded with chains, dragged hither and
hither, scourged by the Jews, stoned, lacerated on the back not only by
thongs, but also by rods, he was immersed in the sea, oftentimes beset by
robbers, involved in strife with his own countrymen, continually assailed
both by foes and by acquaintance, subjected to countless intrigues,
struggling with hunger and nakedness, undergoing other frequent and lasting
mischances and afflictions: and why need I mention the greater part of
them? he was dying every day: but yet, although subjected to so many and
such grievous sufferings, he not only uttered no blasphemous word, but
rejoiced over these things and gloried in them: and one time he says "I
rejoice in my sufferings,"(1) and then again "not only this but we also
glory in afflictions."(2) If then he rejoiced and gloried when suffering
such great troubles what excuse will you have, and what defence will you
make if you blaspheme when you do not undergo the smallest fraction of
them.

   6. But I am injured in other ways, one will say, and even if I do not
blaspheme, yet when I am robbed of my money I am disabled from giving alms.
This is a mere pretext and pretence. For if you grieve on this account know
certainly that poverty is no bar to almsgiving. For even if you are
infinitely poor you are not poorer than the woman who possessed only a
handful of meal,(3) and the one who had only two mites,(4) each of whom
having spent all her substance upon those who were in need was an object of
surpassing admiration: and such great poverty was no hindrance to such
great lovingkindness, but the alms bestowed from the two mites was so
abundant and generous as to eclipse all who had riches, and in wealth of
intention and superabundance of zeal to surpass those who cast in much
coin. Wherefore even in this matter thou art not injured but rather
benefitted, receiving by means of a small contribution rewards more
glorious than they who put down large sums. But since, if I were to say
these things for ever, sensuous characters which delight to grovel in
worldly things, and revel in present things would not readily endure
parting from the fading flowers (for such are the pleasant things of this
life) or letting go its shadows: but the better sort of men indeed cling to
both the one and the other, while the more pitiable and abject cling more
strongly to the former than to the latter, come let us s strip off the
pleasant and showy masks which hide the base and ugly countenance of these
things, and let us expose the foul deformity of the harlot. For such is the
character of a life of this kind which is devoted to luxury, and wealth and
power: it is foul and ugly and full of much abomination, disagreeable and
burdensome, and charged with bitterness. For this indeed is the special
feature in this life which deprives those who are captivated by it of every
excuse, that although it is the aim of their longings and endeavours, yet
is it filled with much annoyance and bitterness, and teems with innumerable
evils, dangers, bloodshed, precipices, crags, murders, fears and
tremblings, envy and ill-will, and intrigue, perpetual anxiety and care,
and derives no profit, and produces no fruit from these great evils save
punishment and revenge, and incessant torment. But although this is its
character it seems to be to most men an object of ambition, and eager
contention, which is a sign of the folly of those who are captivated by it,
not of the blessedness of the thing itself. Little children indeed are
eager and excited about toys and cannot take notice of the things which
become full grown men. There is an excuse for them on account of their
immaturity: but these others are debarred from the right of defence,
because, although of full age they are childish in disposition, and more
foolish than children in their manner of life.

   Now tell me why is wealth an object of ambition? For it is necessary to
start from this point, because to the majority of those who are afflicted
with this grievous malady it seems to be more precious than health and
life, and public reputation, and good opinion, and country, and household,
and friends, and kindred and everything else. Moreover the flame has
ascended to the very clouds: and this fierce heat has taken possession of
land and sea. Nor is there any one to quench this fire: but all people are
engaged in stirring it up, both those who have been already caught by it,
and those who have not yet been caught, in order that they may be captured.
And you may see every one, husband and wife, household slave, and freeman,
rich and poor, each according to his ability carrying loads which supply
much fuel to this fire by day and night: loads not of wood or faggots (for
the fire is not of that kind), but loads of souls and bodies, of
unrighteousness and iniquity. For such is the material of which a fire of
this kind is wont to be kindled. For those who have riches place no limit
anywhere to this monstrous passion, even if they compass the whole world:
and the poor press on to get in advance of them, and a kind of incurable
craze, and unrestrainable frenzy and irremediable disease possesses the
souls of all. And this affection has conquered every other kind and thrust
it away expelling it from the soul: neither friends nor kindred are taken
into account: and why do I speak of friends and kindred? not even wife and
children are regarded, and what can be dearer to man than these? but all
things are dashed to the ground and trampled underfoot, when this savage
and inhuman mistress has laid hold of the souls of all who are taken
captive by her. For as an inhuman mistress, and harsh tyrant, and savage
barbarian, and public and expensive prostitute she debases and exhausts and
punishes with innumerable dangers and torments those who have chosen to be
in bondage to her; and yet although she is terrible and harsh, and fierce
and cruel, and has the face of a barbarian, or rather of a wild beast,
fiercer than a wolf or a lion, she seems to those who have been taken
captive by her gentle and loveable, and sweeter than honey. And although
she forges swords and weapons against them every day, and digs pitfalls and
leads them to precipices and crags and weaves endless snares of punishment
for them, yet is she supposed to make these things objects of ambition to
those who have been made captive, and those who are desiring to be
captured. And just as a sow delights and revels in wallowing in the ditch
and mire, and beetles delight in perpetually crawling over dung; even so
they who are captivated by the love of money are more miserable than these
creatures. For the abomination is greater in this case, and the mire more
offensive: for they who are addicted to this passion imagine that much
pleasure is derived from it: which does not arise from the nature of the
thing, but of the understanding which is afflicted with such an irrational
taste. And this taste is worse in their case than in that of brutes: for as
with the mire and the dung the cause of pleasure is not in them, but in the
irrational nature of the creatures who plunge into it; even so count it to
be in the case of human beings.

   7. And how might we cure those who are thus disposed? It would be
possible if they would open their ears to us, and unfold their heart, and
receive our words. For it is impossible to turn and divert the irrational
animals from their unclean habit; for they are destitute of reason: but
this the gentlest of all tribes, honoured by reason and speech, I mean
human nature, might, if it chose, readily and easily be released from the
mire and the stench, and the dung hill and its abomination. For wherefore,
O man, do riches seem to thee worthy such diligent pursuit? Is it on
account of the pleasure which no doubt is derived from the table? or on
account of the honour and the escort of those who pay court to thee,
because of thy wealth? is it because thou art able to defend thyself
against those who annoy thee, and to be an object of fear to all? For yon
cannot name any other reasons, save pleasure and flattery, and fear, and
the power of taking revenge; for wealth is not generally wont to make any
one wiser, or more self- controlled, or more gentle, or more intelligent,
or kind, or benevolent, or superior to anger, or gluttony or pleasure: it
does not train any one to be moderate, or teach him how to be humble, nor
introduce and implant any other piece of virtue in the soul. Neither could
you say for which of these things it deserves to be so diligently sought
and desired. For not only is it ignorant how to plant and cultivate any
good thing, but even if it finds a store of them it mars and stunts and
blights them; and some of them it even uproots, and introduces their
opposites, unmeasured licentiousness, unseasonable wrath, unrighteous
anger, pride, arrogance, foolishness. But let me not speak of these; for
they who have been seized by this malady will not endure to hear about
virtue and vice, being entirely abandoned to pleasure and therefore
enslaved to it. Come then let us forego for the time being the
consideration of these points, and let us bring forward the others which
remain, and see whether wealth has any pleasure, or any honour: for in my
eyes the case is quite the reverse. And first of all, if you please, let us
investigate the meals of rich and poor, and ask the guests which they are
who enjoy the purest and most genuine pleasure; is it they who recline for
a full day on couches, and join breakfast and dinner together, and distend
their stomach, and blunt their senses, and sink the vessel by an overladen
cargo of food, and waterlog the ship, and drench it as in some shipwreck of
the body, and devise fetters, and manacles, and gags, and bind their whole
body with the band of drunkenness and surfeit more grievous than an iron
chain, and enjoy no sound pure sleep undisturbed by frightful dreams, and
are more miserable than madmen and introduce a kind of self-imposed demon
into the soul and display themselves as a laughing stock to the gaze of
their servants, or rather to the kinder sort amongst them as a tragical
spectacle eliciting tears, and cannot recognize any of those who are
present, and are incapable of speaking or hearing but have to be carried
away from their couches to their bed;--or is it they who are sober and
vigilant, and limit their eating by their need, and sail with a favourable
breeze, and find hunger and thirst the best relish in their food and drink?
For nothing is so conducive to enjoyment and health as to be hungry and
thirsty when one attacks the viands, and to identify satiety with the
simple necessity of food, never overstepping the limits of this, nor
imposing a load upon the body too great for its strength.

   8. But if you disbelieve my statement study the physical condition, and
the soul of each class. Are not the bodies vigorous of those who live thus
moderately (for do not tell me of that which rarely happens, although some
may be weak from some other circumstance, but form your judgment from those
instances which are of constant occurrence), I say are they not vigorous,
and their senses clear, fulfilling their proper function with much ease?
whereas the bodies of the others are flaccid and softer than wax, and beset
with a crowd of maladies? For gout soon fastens upon them, and untimely
palsy, and premature old age, and headache, and flatulence, and feebleness
of digestion, and loss of appetite, and they require constant attendance of
physicians, and perpetual doseing, and daily care. Are these things
pleasurable? tell me. Who of those that know what pleasure really is would
say so? For pleasure is produced when desire leads the way, and fruition
follows: now if there is fruition, but desire is nowhere to be found, the
conditions of pleasure fail and vanish. On this account also invalids,
although the most charming food is set before them, partake of it with a
feeling of disgust and sense of oppression: because there is no desire
which gives a keen relish to the enjoyment of it. For it is not the nature
of the food, or of the drink, but the appetite of the eaters which is wont
to produce the desire, and is capable of causing pleasure. Therefore also a
certain wise man who had an accurate knowledge of all that concerned
pleasure, and understood how to moralize about these things said "the fall
soul mocketh at honeycombs:"(1) showing that the conditions of pleasure
consist not in the nature of the meal, but in the disposition of the
eaters. Therefore also the prophet recounting the wonders in Egypt and in
the desert mentioned this in connexion with the others "He satisfied them
with honey out of the rock."(2) And yet nowhere does it appear that honey
actually sprang forth for them out of the rock: what then is the meaning of
the expression? Because the people being exhausted by much toil and long
travelling, and distressed by great thirst rushed to the cool spring, their
craving for drink serving as a relish, the writer wishing to describe the
pleasures which they received from those fountains called the water honey,
not meaning that the element was converted into honey, but that the
pleasure received from the water rivalled the sweetness of honey, inasmuch
as those who partook of it rushed to it in their eagerness to drink.

   Since then these things are so and no one can deny it, however stupid
he may be: is it not perfectly plain that pure, undiluted, and lively
pleasure is to be found at the tables of the poor? whereas at the tables of
the rich there is discomfort, and disgust and defilement? as that wise man
has said "even sweet things seem to be a vexation."(3)

   9. But riches some one will say procure honour for those who possess
them, and enable them to take vengeance on their enemies with ease. And is
this a reason, pray, why riches seem to you desirable and worth contending
for;--that they nourish the most dangerous passion in our nature, leading
on anger into action, swelling the empty bubbles of ambition, and
stimulating and urging men to arrogance? Why these are just the very
reasons why we ought resolutely to turn our backs upon riches, because they
introduce certain fierce and dangerous wild beasts into our heart depriving
us of the real honour which we might receive from all, and introducing to
deluded men another which is the opposite of this, only painted over with
its colours, and persuading them to fancy that it is the same, when by
nature it is not so, but only seems to be so to the eye. For as the beauty
of courtesans, made up as it is of dyes and pigments, is destitute of real
beauty, yet makes a foul and ugly face appear fair and beautiful to those
who are deluded by it when it is not so in reality: even so also riches
force flattery to look like honour. For I beg you not to consider the
praises which are openly bestowed through fear and fawning: for these are
only tints and pigments; but unfold the conscience of each of those who
flatter you in this fashion, and inside it you will see countless accusers
declaring against you, and loathing and detesting you more than your
bitterest adversaries and foes. And if ever a change of circumstances
should occur which would remove and expose this mask which fear has
manufactured, just as the sun when it emits a hotter ray than usual
discloses the real countenances of those women whom I mentioned, then you
will see clearly that all through the former time you were held in the
greatest contempt by those who paid court to you, and you fancied you were
enjoying honour from those who thoroughly hated you, and in their heart
poured infinite abuse upon you, and longed to see you involved in extreme
calamities. For there is nothing like virtue to produce honour,--honour
neither forced nor feigned, nor hidden under a mask of deceit, but real and
genuine, and able to stand the test of hard times.

   10. But do you wish to take vengeance on those who have annoyed you?
This, as I was saying just now, is the very reason why wealth ought
specially to be avoided. For it prepares thee to thrust the sword against
thy. self, and renders thee liable to a heavier account in the future day
of reckoning, and makes thy punishment intolerable. For revenge is so great
an evil that it actually revokes the mercy of God, and cancels the
forgiveness of countless sins which has been already bestowed. For he who
received remission of the debt of ten thousand talents, and after having
obtained so great a boon by merely asking for it then made a demand of one
hundred pence from his fellow servant, a demand, that is, for satisfaction
for his transgression against himself, in his severity towards his fellow
servant recorded his own condemnation; and for this reason and no other he
was delivered to the tormentors, and racked, and required to pay back the
ten thousand talents; and he was not allowed the benefit of any excuse or
defence, but suffered the most extreme penalty, having been commanded to
deposit the whole debt which the lovingkindness of God had formerly
remitted.(1) Is this then the reason, pray, why wealth is so earnestly
pursued by thee, because it so easily conducts thee into sin of this kind?
Nay verily, this is why you ought to abhor it as a foe and an adversary
teeming with countless murders. But poverty, some one will say, disposes
men to be discontented and often also to utter profane words, and
condescend to mean actions. It is not poverty which does this, but
littleness of soul: for Lazarus also was poor, aye! very poor: and besides
poverty he suffered from infirmity, a bitterer trial than any form of
poverty, and one which makes poverty more severely felt; and in addition to
infirmity there was a total absence of protectors, and difficulty in
finding any to supply his wants, which increased the bitterness of poverty
and infirmity. For each of these things is painful in itself, but when
there are none to minister to the sufferer's wants, the suffering becomes
greater, the flame more painful, the distress more bitter, the tempest
fiercer, the billows stronger, the furnace hotter. And if one examines the
case thoroughly there was yet a fourth trial besides these--the unconcern
and luxury of the rich man who dwelt hard by. And if you would find a fifth
thing, serving as fuel to the flame, you will see quite clearly that he was
beset by it. For not only was that rich man living luxuriously, but twice,
and thrice, or rather indeed several times in the day he saw the poor man:
for he had been laid at his gate, being a grievous spectacle of pitiable
distress, and the bare sight of him was sufficient to soften even a heart
of stone: and yet even this did not induce that unmerciful man to assist
this case of poverty: but he had his luxurious table spread, and goblets
wreathed with flowers, and pure wine plentifully poured forth, and grand
armies of cooks, and parasites, and flatterers from early dawn, and troops
of singers, cupbearers, and jesters; and he spent all his time in devising
every species of dissipation, and drunkenness, and surfeiting, and in
revelling in dress and feasting and many other things. But although he saw
that poor man every day distressed by grievous hunger and the bitterest
infirmity, and the oppression of his many sores, and by destitution, and
the ills which result from these things, he never even gave him a thought:
yet the parasites and the flatterers were pampered even beyond their need;
but the poor man, and he so very poor, and encompassed with so many
miseries, was not even vouchsafed the crumbs which fell from that table,
although he greatly desired them: and yet none of these things injured him,
he did not give vent to a bitter word, he did not utter a profane speech;
but like a piece of gold which shines all the more brilliantly when it is
purified by excessive heat, even so he, although oppressed by these
sufferings, was superior to all of them, and to the agitation which in many
cases is produced by them. For if generally speaking poor men, when they
see rich men, are consumed with envy and racked by malicious ill-will, and
deem life not worth living, and this even when they are well supplied with
necessary food, and have persons to minister to their wants; what would the
condition of this poor man have been had he not been very wise and noble
hearted, seeing that he was poor beyond all other poor men, and not only
poor. but also infirm, and without any one to protect or cheer him, and lay
in the midst of the city as if in a remote desert, and wasted away with
bitter hunger, and saw all good things being poured upon the rich man as
out of a fountain, and had not the benefit of any human consolation, but
lay exposed as a perpetual meal for the tongues of the dogs, for he was so
enfeebled and broken down in body that he could not scare them away? Dost
thou perceive that he who does not injure himself suffers no evil? for I
will again take up the same argument.

   11. For what harm was done to this hero by his bodily infirmity? or by
the absence of protectors? or by the coming of the dogs? or the evil
proximity of the rich man? or by the great luxury, haughtiness and
arrogance of the latter? Did it enervate him for the contest on behalf of
virtue? Did it ruin his fortitude? Nowhere was he harmed at all, but that
multitude of sufferings, and the cruelty of the rich man, rather increased
his strength, and became the pledge for him of infinite crowns of victory,
a means of adding to his rewards, an augmentation of his recompense, and a
promise of an increased requital. For he was crowned not merely on account
of his poverty, or of his hunger or of his sores, or of the dogs licking
them: but because, having such a neighbour as the rich man, and being seen
by him every day, and perpetually overlooked he endured this trial bravely
and with much fortitude, a trial which added no small flame but in fact a
very strong one to the fire of poverty, and infirmity and loneliness.

   And, tell me, what was the case of the blessed Paul? for there is
nothing to prevent my making mention of him again. Did he not experience
innumerable storms of trial? And in what respect was he injured by them?
Was he not crowned with victory all the more in consequence,--because he
suffered hunger, because he was consumed with cold and nakedness, because
he was often tortured with the scourge, because he was stoned, because he
was cast into the sea? But then some one says he was Paul, and called by
Christ. Yet Judas also was one of the twelve, and he too was called of
Christ; but neither his being of the twelve nor his call profited him,
because he had not a mind disposed to virtue. But Paul although struggling
with hunger, and at a loss to procure necessary food, and daily undergoing
such great sufferings, pursued with great zeal the road which leads to
heaven: whereas Judas although he had been called before him, and enjoyed
the same advantages as he did, and was initiated in the highest form of
Christian life, and partook of the holy table and that most awful of sacred
feasts, and received such grace as to be able to raise the dead, and
cleanse the lepers, and cast out devils, and often heard discourses
concerning poverty, and spent so long a time in the company of Christ
Himself, and was entrusted with the money of the poor, so that his passion
might be soothed thereby (for he was a thief) even then did not become any
better, although he had been favoured with such great condescension. For
since Christ knew that he was covetous, and destined to perish on account
of his love of money he not only did not demand punishment of him for this
at that time, but with a view to softening down his passion he was
entrusted with the money of the poor, that having some means of appeasing
his greed he might be saved from falling into that appalling gulf of sin,
checking the greater evil beforehand by a lesser one.

   12. Thus in no case will any one be able to injure a man who does not
choose to injure himself: but if a man is not willing to be temperate, and
to aid himself from his own resources no one will ever be able to profit
him. Therefore also that wonderful history of the Holy Scriptures, as in
some lofty, large, and broad picture, has portrayed the lives of the men of
old time, extending the narrative from Adam to the coming of Christ: and it
exhibits to you both those who are upset, and those who are crowned with
victory in the contest, in order that it may instruct you by means of all
examples that no one will be able to injure one who is not injured by
himself, even if all the world were to kindle a fierce war against him. For
it is not stress of circumstances, nor variation of seasons, nor insults of
men in power, nor intrigues besetting thee like snow storms, nor a crowd of
calamities, nor a promiscuous collection of all the ills to which mankind
is subject, which can disturb even slightly the man who is brave, and
temperate, and watchful; just as on the contrary the indolent and supine
man who is his own betrayer cannot be made better, even with the aid of
innumerable ministrations. This at least was made manifest to us by the
parable of the two men, of whom the one built his house upon the rock, the
other upon the sand:(1) not that we are to think of sand and rock, or of a
building of stone, and a roof, or of rivers, and rain, and wild winds,
beating against the buildings, but we are to extract virtue and vice as the
meaning of these things, and to perceive from them that no one injures a
man who does not injure himself. Therefore neither the rain although driven
furiously along, nor the streams dashing against it with much vehemence,
nor the wild winds beating against it with a mighty rush, shook the one
house in any degree: but it remained undisturbed, unmoved: that thou
mightest understand that no trial can agitate the man who does not betray
himself. But the house of the other man was easily swept away, not on
account of the force of the trials (for in that case the other would have
experienced the same fate), but on account of his own folly; for it did not
fall because the wind blew upon it, but because it was built upon the sand,
that is to say upon indolence and iniquity. For before that tempest beat
upon it, it was weak and ready to fall. For buildings of that kind, even if
no one puts any pressure on them, fall to pieces of themselves, the
foundation sinking and giving way in every direction. And just as cobwebs
part asunder, although no strain is put upon them, but adamant remains
unshaken even when it is struck: even so also they who do not injure
themselves become stronger, even if they receive innumerable blows; but
they who betray themselves, even if there is no one to harass them, fall of
themselves, and collapse and perish. For even thus did Judas perish, not
only having been unassailed by any trial of this kind, but having actually
enjoyed the benefit of much assistance.

   13. Would you like me to illustrate this argument in the case of whole
nations? What great forethought was bestowed upon the Jewish nation! was
not the whole visible creation arranged with a view to their service? was
not a new and strange method of life introduced amongst them? For they had
not to send down to a market, and so they had the benefit of things which
are sold for money without paying any price for them: neither did they
cleave furrows nor drag a plough, nor harrow the ground, nor east in seed,
nor had they need of rain and wind, and annual seasons, nor sunshine, nor
phases of the moon, nor climate, nor anything of that kind; they prepared
no threshing floor, they threshed no grain, they used no winnowing fan for
separating the grain from the chaff, they turned no mill-stone, they built
no oven, they brought neither wood nor fire into the house, they needed no
baker's art, they handled no spade, they sharpened no sickle, they required
no other art, I mean of weaving or building or supplying shoes: but the
word of God was everything to them. And they had a table prepared off hand,
free of all toil and labour. For such was the nature of the manna; it was
new and fresh, nowhere costing them any trouble, nor straining them by
labour. And their clothes, and shoes, and even their physical frame forgot
their natural infirmity: for l the former did not wear out in the course of
so long a time nor did their feet swell although they made such long
marches. of physicians, and medicine, and all other concern about that kind
of art, there was no mention at all amongst them; so completely banished
was infirmity of every kind: for it is said "He brought them out with
silver and gold; and there was not one feeble person among their
tribes."(1) But like men who had quitted this world, and were transplanted
to another and a better one, even so did they eat and drink, neither did
the sun's ray when it waxed hot smite their heads; for the cloud parted
them from the fiery beam, hovering all round them, and serving like a
portable shelter for the whole body of the people. Neither at night did
they need a torch to disperse the darkness, but they had the pillar of
fire, a source of unspeakable light, supplying two wants, one by its
shining. the other by directing the course of their journey; for it was not
only luminous, but also conducted that countless host along the wilderness
with more certainty than any human guide. And they journeyed not only upon
land but also upon sea as if it had been dry land; and they made an
audacious experiment upon the laws of nature by treading upon that angry
sea, marching through it as if it had been the hard and resisting surface
of a rock; and indeed when they placed their feet upon it the element
became like solid earth, and gently sloping plains and fields; but when it
received their enemies it wrought after the nature of sea; and to the
Israelites indeed it served as a chariot, but to their enemies it became a
grave; conveying the former across with ease, but drowning the latter with
great violence. And the disorderly flood of water displayed the good order
and subordination which marks reasonable and highly intelligent men,
fulfilling the part at one time of a guardian, at another of an
executioner, and exhibiting these opposites together on one day. What shall
one say of the rocks which gave forth streams of water? what of the clouds
of birds which covered the whole face of the earth by the number of their
carcases? what of the wonders in Egypt? what of the marvels in the
wilderness? what of the triumphs and bloodless victories? for they subdued
those who opposed them like men keeping holiday rather than making war. And
they vanquished their own masters without the use of arms; and overcame
those who fought with them after they left Egypt by means of singing and
music; and what they did was a festival rather than a campaign, a religious
ceremony rather than a battle. For all these wonders took place not merely
for the purpose of supplying their need, but also that the people might
preserve more accurately the doctrine which Moses inculcated of the
knowledge of God; and voices proclaiming the presence of their Master were
uttered on all sides of them. For the sea loudly declared this, by becoming
a road for them to march upon, and then turning into sea again: and the
waters of the Nile uttered this voice when they were converted into the
nature of blood; and the frogs, and the great army of locusts, and the
caterpillar and blight declared the same thing to all the people; and the
wonders in the desert, the manna, the pillar of fire, the cloud, the
quails, and all the other incidents served them as a book, and writing
which could never be effaced, echoing daily in their memory and resounding
in their mind. Nevertheless after such great and remarkable providence,
after all those unspeakable benefits, after such mighty miracles, after
care indescribable, after continual teaching, after instruction by means of
speech, and admonition by means of deeds, after glorious victories, after
extraordinary triumphs, after abundant supply of food, after the plentiful
production of water, after the ineffable glory with which they were
invested in the eyes of the human race, being ungrateful and senseless they
worshipped a calf, and paid reverence to the head of a bull, even when the
memorials of God's benefits in Egypt were fresh in their minds, and they
were still in actual enjoyment of many more.

   14. But the Ninevites, although a barbarous and foreign people who had
never participated in any of these benefits, small or great, neither words,
nor wonders, nor works when they saw a man who had been saved from
shipwreck, who had never associated with them before, but appeared then for
the first time, enter their city and say "yet three days and Nineveh shall
be overthrown,"(1) were so converted and reformed by the mere sound of
these words, and putting away their former wickedness, advanced in the
direction of virtue by the path of repentance, that they caused the
sentence of God to be revoked, and arrested the threatened disturbance of
their city, and averted the heaven-sent wrath, and were delivered from
every kind of evil. "For," we read, "God saw that every man turned from his
evil way, and was converted to the Lord."(2) How turned? I ask. Although
their wickedness was great, their iniquity unspeakable, their moral sores
difficult to heal, which was plainly shown by the prophet when he said
"their wickedness ascended even unto the heaven:" (3) indicating by the
distance of the place the magnitude of their wickedness; nevertheless such
great iniquity which was piled up to such a height as to reach even to the
heaven, all this in the course of three days in a brief moment of time
through the effect of a few words which they heard from the mouth of one
man and he an unknown shipwrecked stranger they so thoroughly abolished,
removed out of sight, and put away, as to have the happiness of hearing the
declaration "God saw that every one turned from his evil way, and He
repented of the evil which God said He would do them." Seest thou that he
who is temperate and watchful not only suffers no injury at the hands of
man, but even turns back Heaven-sent wrath? whereas he who betrays himself
and harms himself by his own doing, even if he receives countess benefits,
reaps no great advantage. So, at least, the Jews were not profited by those
great miracles, nor on the other hand were the Ninevites harmed by having
no share in them; but inasmuch as they were inwardly well-disposed, having
laid hold of a slight opportunity they became better, barbarians and
foreigners though they were, ignorant of all divine revelation, and
dwelling at a distance from Palestine.

   15. Again, I ask, was the virtue of the "three children" corrupted by
the troubles which beset them? Whilst they were still young, mere youths,
of immature age, did they not undergo that grievous affliction of i
captivity? had they not to make a long journey from home, and when they had
arrived in the foreign country were they not cut off from fatherland and
home and temple, and altar and sacrifices, and offerings, and drink
offerings, and even the singing of psalms? For not only were they debarred
from their home, but as a consequence from many forms of worship also. Were
they not given up into the hands of barbarians, wolves rather than men?
and, most painful calamity of all, when they had been banished into so
distant and barbarous a country, and were suffering such a grievous
captivity were they not without teacher, without prophets, without ruler?
"for," it is written, "there is no ruler, nor prophet, nor governor, nor
place for offering before Thee and finding mercy."(4) Yea moreover they
were cast into the royal palace, as upon some cliff and crag, and a sea
full of rocks and reefs, being compelled to sail over that angry sea
without a pilot or signal man, or crew, or sails; and they were cooped up
in the royal court as in a prison. For inasmuch as they knew spiritual
wisdom, and were superior to worldly things, and despised all human pride
and made the wings of their soul soar upwards, they counted their sojourn
there as an aggravation of their trouble. For had they been outside the
court, and dwelling in a private house they would have enjoyed more
independence: but having been cast into that prison (for they deemed the
splendour of the palace no better than a prison, no safer than a place of
rocks and crags) they were straightway subjected to cruel embarrassment.
For the king commanded them to be partakers of his own table, a luxurious,
unclean and profane table, a thing which was forbidden them, and seemed
more terrible than death; and they were lonely men hemmed in like lambs
amongst so many wolves. And they were constrained to choose between being
consumed by famine or rather led off to execution, and tasting of forbidden
meats. What then did these youths do, forlorn as they were, captives,
strangers, slaves of those who commanded these things. They did not
consider that this strait or the absolute power of him who possessed the
state sufficed to justify their compliance; but they employed every device
and expedient to enable them to avoid the sin, although they were abandoned
on every side. For they could not influence men by money: how should they,
being captives? nor by friendship and social intercourse? how should they
being strangers? nor could they get the better of them by any exertion of
power: how was it possible being slaves? nor matter them by force of
numbers: how could they being only three? Therefore they approached the
eunuch who possessed the necessary authority, and persuaded him by their
arguments. For when they saw him fearful and trembling, and in an agony of
alarm concerning his own safety, and the dread of death which agitated his
soul was intolerable: "for I fear" said he "my lord the king, lest he
should see your countenances sadder than the children which are of your
sort and so shall ye endanger my head to the king," (1) having released him
from this fear they persuaded him to grant them the favour. And inasmuch as
they brought to the work all the strength which they had, God also
henceforth contributed his strength to it. For it was not God's doing only
that they achieved those things for the sake of which they were to receive
a reward, but the beginning and starting point was from their own purpose,
and having manifested that to be noble and brave, they won for themselves
the help of God, and so accomplished their aim.

16. Dost thou then perceive that if a man does not injure himself, no one
else will be able to harm him? Behold at least youthfulness, and captivity
and destitution, and removal into a foreign land, and loneliness, and
dearth of protectors, and a stern command, and great fear of death
assailing the mind of the eunuch, and poverty, and feebleness of numbers,
and dwelling in the midst of barbarians, and having enemies for masters,
and surrender into the hands of the king himself, and separation from all
their kindred, and removal from priests and prophets, and from all others
who cared for them, and the cessation of drink offerings and sacrifices,
and loss of the temple and psalmody, and yet none of these things harmed
them; but they had more renown then than when they enjoyed these things in
their native land. And after they had accomplished this task first and had
wreathed their brows with the glorious garland of victory, and had kept the
law even in a foreign land, and trampled under foot the tyrant's command,
and overcome fear of the avenger, and yet received no harm from any
quarter, as if they had been quietly living at home and enjoying the
benefit of all those things which I mentioned, after they had thus
fearlessly accomplished their work they were again summoned to other
contests. And again they were the same men; and they were subjected to a
more severe trial than the former one, and a furnace was kindled, and they
were confronted by the barbarian army in company with the king: and the
whole Persian force was set in motion and everything was devised which
tended to put deceit or confront upon them: divers kinds of music, and
various forms of punishment, and threats, and what they saw on every side
of them was alarming, and the words which they heard were more alarming
than what they saw; nevertheless inasmuch as they did not betray
themselves, but made the most of their own strength, they never sustained
any kind of damage: but even won for themselves more glorious crowns of
victory than before. For Nabuchadonosor bound them and cast them into the
furnace, yet he burnt them not. but rather benefited them, and rendered
them more illustrious. And although they were deprived of temple (for I
will repeat my former remarks) and altar, and fatherland, and priests and
prophets, although they were in a foreign and barbarous county, in the very
midst of the furnace, surrounded by all that mighty host, the king himself
who wrought this looking on, they set up a glorious trophy, and won a
notable victory, having sung that admirable and extraordinary hymn which
from that day to this has been sung throughout the world and will continue
to be sung to future generations.

   Thus then when a man does not injure himself, he cannot possibly be
hurt by another: for I will not cease harping constantly upon this saying.
For if captivity, and bondage, and loneliness and loss of country and all
kindred and death, and burning, and a great army and a savage tyrant could
not do any damage to the innate virtue of the three children captives,
bondmen, strangers though they were in a foreign land, but the enemy's
assault became to them rather the occasion of greater confidence: what
shall be able to harm the temperate man? There is nothing, even should he
have the whole world in arms against him. But, some one may say, in their
case God stood beside them, and plucked them out of the flame. Certainly He
did; and if thou wilt play thy part to the best of thy power, the help
which God supplies will assuredly follow.

   17. Nevertheless the reason why I admire those youths, and pronounce
them blessed, and enviable, is not because they tramped on the flame, and
vanquished the force of the fire: but because they were bound, and cast
into the furnace, and delivered to the fire for the sake of true doctrine.
For this it was which constituted the completeness of their triumph, and
the wreath of victory was placed on their brows as soon as they were cast
into the furnace and before the issue of events it began to be weaved for
them from the moment that they uttered those words which they spoke with
much boldness and freedom of speech to the king when they were brought into
his presence. "We have no need to answer thee concerning this thing: for
our God in Heaven whom we serve is able to rescue us out of the burning
fiery furnace: and He will deliver us out of thy hands, O King. But if not,
be it known unto thee, O King, that we will not serve thy Gods nor worship
the golden image which thou hast set up."(1) After the utterance of these
words I proclaimed them conquerors; after these words having grasped the
prize of victory, they hastened on to the glorious crown of martyrdom,
following up the confession which they made through their words with the
confession made through their deeds. But if when they had been cast into
it, the fire had respect for their bodies, and undid their bonds, and
suffered them to go down into it without fear, and forgot its natural
force, so that the furnace of fire became as a fountain of cool water, this
marvel was the effect of God's grace and of the divine wonder-working
power. Yet the heroes themselves even before these things took place, as
soon as they set foot in the flames had erected their trophy, and won their
victory, and put on their crown, and had been proclaimed conquerors both in
Heaven and on earth, and so far as they were concerned nothing was wanting
for their renown. What then wouldst thou have to say to these things? Hast
thou been driven into exile, and expelled from thy county? Behold so also
were they. Hast thou suffered captivity, and become the servant of
barbarian makers. Well! this also thou wilt find befell these men. But thou
hast no one present there to regulate thy state nor to advise or instruct
thee? Well !of attention of this kind these men were destitute. Or thou
hast been bound, burned, put to death? for thou canst not tell me of
anything more painful than these things. Yet lo! these men having gone
through them all, were made more glorious by each one of them, yea more
exceedingly illustrious, and increased the store of their treasures in
Heaven. And the Jews indeed who had both temple, and altar, and ark and
cherubim, and mercy-seat, and veil, and an infinite multitude of priests,
and daily services, and morning and evening sacrifices, and continually
heard the voices of the prophets, both living and de- pared, sounding in
their ears, and carried about with them the recollection of the wonders
which were done in Egypt, and in the wilderness, and all the rest, and
turned the story of these things over in their hands, and had them
inscribed upon their door posts and enjoyed the benefit at that time of
much supernatural power and every other kind of help were yet no wise
profited, but rather damaged, having set up idols in the temple itself, and
having sacrificed their sons and daughters under trees, and in almost every
part of the country in Palestine having offered those unlawful and accursed
sacrifices, and perpetrated countless other deeds yet more monstrous. But
these men although in the midst of a barbarous and hostile land, having
their occupation in a tyrant's house, deprived of all that care of which I
have been speaking, led away to execution, and subjected to burning, not
only suffered no harm there from small or great, but became the more
illustrious. Knowing then these things, and collecting instances of the
like kind from the inspired divine Scriptures (for it is possible to find
many such examples in the case of various other persons) we deem that
neither a difficulty arising from seasons or events, nor compulsion and
force, nor the arbitrary authority of potentates furnish a sufficient
excuse for us when we transgress. I will now conclude my discourse by
repeating what I said at the beginning, that if any one be harmed and
injured he certainly suffers this at his own hands, not at the hands of
others even if there be countless multitudes injuring and insulting him: so
that if he does not suffer this at his own hands, not all the creatures who
inhabit the whole earth and sea if they combined to attack him would be
able to hurt one who is vigilant and sober in the Lord. Let us then, I
beseech you, be sober and vigilant at all times, and let us endure all
painful things bravely that we may obtain those everlasting and pure
blessings in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power, now and
ever throughout all ages. Amen.


Taken from "The Early Church Fathers and Other Works" originally published
by Wm. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co. in English in Edinburgh, Scotland, beginning in
1867. (LNPF I/IX, Schaff). The digital version is by The Electronic Bible
Society, P.O. Box 701356, Dallas, TX 75370, 214-407-WORD.

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