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1. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity"--it is always seasonable
to utter this but more especially at the present time. Where are now
the brilliant surroundings of thy consulship? where are the gleaming
torches? Where is the dancing, and the noise of dancers' feet, and
the banquets and the festivals? where are the garlands and the curtains
of the theatre? where is the applause which greeted thee in the city,
where the acclamation in the hippodrome and the flatteries of
spectators? They are gone--all gone: a wind has blown upon the tree
shattering down all its leaves, and showing it to us quite bare, and
shaken from its very root; for so great has been the violence of the
blast, that it has given a shock to all these fibres of the tree and
threatens to tear it up from the roots. Where now are your reigned
friends? where are your drinking parties, and your suppers? where is
the swarm of parasites, and the wine which used to be poured forth all
day long, and the manifold dainties invented by your cooks? where are
they who courted your power and did and said everything to win your
favour? They were all mere visions of the night, and dreams which
have vanished with the dawn of day: they were spring flowers, and when
the spring was over they all withered: they were a shadow which has
passed away--they were a smoke which has dispersed, bubbles which
have burst, cobwebs which have been rent in pieces. Therefore we
chant continually this spiritual song--"Vanity of vanities, all is
vanity." For this saying ought to be continually written on our
walls, and garments, in the market place, and in the house, on the
streets, and on the doors and entrances, and above all on the
conscience of each one, and to be a perpetual theme for meditation.
And inasmuch as deceitful things, and maskings and pretence seem to
many to be realities it behoves each one every day both at supper and at
breakfast, and in social assemblies to say to his neighhour and to hear
his neighbour say in return "vanity of vanities, all is vanity."
Was I not continually telling thee that wealth was a runaway? But
you would not heed me. Did I not tell thee that it was an unthankful
servant? But you would not be persuaded. Behold actual experience
has now proved that it is not only a runaway, and ungrateful servant,
but also a murderous one, for it is this which has caused thee now to
fear and tremble. Did I not say to thee when you continually rebuked
me for speaking the truth, "I love thee better than they do who
flatter thee?" "I who reprove thee care more for thee than they who
pay thee court?" Did I not add to these words by saying that the
wounds of friends were more to be relied upon than the voluntary kisses
of enemies. If you had submitted to my wounds their kisses would not
have wrought thee this destruction: for my wounds work health, but
their kisses have produced an incurable disease. Where are now thy
cup-bearers, where are they who cleared the way for thee in the market
place, and sounded thy praises endlessly in the ears of all? They
have fled, they have disowned thy friendship, they are providing for
their own safety by means of thy distress. But I do not act thus,
nay in thy misfortune I do not abandon thee, and now when thou art
fallen I protect and tend thee.
And the Church which you treated as an enemy has opened her bosom and
received thee into it; whereas the theatres which you courted, and
about which you were oftentimes indignant with me have betrayed and
ruined thee. And yet I never ceased saying to thee "why doest thou
these things?" "thou art exasperating the Church, and casting
thyself down headlong," yet thou didst hurry away from all my
warnings. And now the hippodromes, having exhausted thy wealth, have
whetted the sword against thee, but the Church which experienced thy
untimely wrath is hurrying in every direction, in her desire to pluck
thee out of the net.
2. And I say these things now not as trampling upon one who is
prostrate, but from a desire to make those who are still standing more
secure; not by way of irritating the sores of one who has been
wounded, but rather to preserve those who have not yet been wounded in
sound health; not by way of sinking one who is tossed by the waves,
but as instructing those who are sailing with a favourable breeze, so
that they may not become overwhelmed. And how may this be effected?
by observing the vicissitudes of human affairs. For even this man had
he stood in fear of vicissitude would not have experienced it; but
whereas neither his own conscience, nor the counsels of others wrought
any improvement in him, do ye at least who plume yourselves on your
riches profit by his calamity: for nothing is weaker than human
affairs. Whatever term therefore one may employ to express their
insignificance it will fall short of the reality; whether he calls them
smoke, or grass, or a dream or spring flowers, or by any other name;
so perishable are they, and more naught than nonentities; but that
together with their nothingness they have also a very perilous element
we have a proof before us. For who was more exalted than this man?
Did he not surpass the whole world in wealth? had he not climbed to
the very pinnacle of distinction? did not all tremble and fear before
him? Yet lo! he has become more wretched than the prisoner, more
pitiable than the menial slave, more indigent than the beggar wasting
away with hunger, having every day a vision of sharpened swords and of
the criminal's grave, and the public executioner leading him out to
his death; and he does not even know if he once enjoyed past pleasure,
nor is he sensible even of the sun's ray, but at mid day his sight is
dimmed as if he were encompassed by the densest gloom. But even let me
try my best I shall not be able to present to you in language the
suffering which he must naturally undergo, in the hourly expectation of
death. But indeed what need is there of any words from me, when he
himself has clearly depicted this for us as in a visible image? For
yesterday when they came to him from the royal court intending to drag
him away by force, and he ran for refuge to the holy furniture, his
face was then, as it is now, no better than the countenance of one
dead: and the chattering of his teeth, and the quaking and quivering
of his whole body, and his faltering voice, and stammering tongue,
and in fact his whole general appearance were suggestive of one whose
soul was petrified.
3. Now I say these things not by way of reproaching him, or
insulting his misfortune, but from a desire to soften your minds
towards him, and to induce you to compassion, and to persuade you to
be contented with the punishment which has already been inflicted. For
since there are many inhuman persons amongst us who are inclined,
perhaps, to find fault with me for having admitted him to the
sanctuary, I parade his sufferings from a desire to soften their
hardheartedness by my narrative.
For tell me, beloved brother, wherefore art thou indignant with me?
You say it is because he who continually made war upon the Church has
taken refuge within it. Yet surely we ought in the highest degree to
glorify God, for permitting him to be placed in such a great strait as
to experience both the power and the lovingkindness of the
Church:--her power in that he has suffered this great-vicissitude
in consequence of the attacks which he made upon her: her
lovingkindness in that she whom he attacked now casts her shield in
front of him and has received him under her wings, and placed him in
all security not resenting any of her former injuries, but most
lovingly opening her bosom to him. For this is more glorious than any
kind of trophy, this is a brilliant victory, this puts both Gentiles
and Jews to shame, this displays the bright aspect of the Church: in
that having received her enemy as a captive, she spares him, and when
all have despised him in his desolation, she alone like an affectionate
mother has concealed him under her cloak, opposing both the wrath of
the king, and the rage of the people, and their overwhelming hatred.
This is an ornament for the altar. A strange kind of ornament, you
say, when the accused sinner, the extortioner, the robber is
permitted to lay hold of the altar. Nay! say not so: for even the
harlot took hold of the feet of Jesus, she who was stained with the
most accursed and unclean sin: yet her deed was no reproach to
Jesus, but rather redounded to His admiration and praise: for the
impure woman did no injury to Him who was pure, but rather was the
vile harlot rendered pure by the touch of Him who was the pure and
spotless one. Grudge not then, O man. We are the servants of the
crucified one who said "Forgive them for they know not what they
do." But, you say, he cut off the right of refuge here by his
ordinances and divers kinds of laws. Yes! yet now he has learned by
experience what it was he did, and he himself by his own deeds has been
the first to break the law, and has become a spectacle to the whole
world, and silent though he is, he utters from thence a warning voice
to all, saying "do not such things as I have done, that ye suffer
not such things as I suffer." He appears as a teacher by means of
his calamity, and the altar emits great lustre, inspiring now the
greatest awe from the fact that it holds the lion in bondage; for any
figure of royalty might be very much set off if the king were not only
to be seen seated on his throne arrayed in purple and wearing his
crown, but if also prostrate at the feet of the king barbarians with
their hands bound behind their backs were bending low their heads. And
that no persuasive arguments have been used, ye yourselves are
witnesses of the enthusiasm, and the concourse of the people. For
brilliant indeed is the scene before us to day, and magnificent the
assembly, and I see as large a gathering here to-day as at the Holy
Paschal Feast. Thus the man has summoned you here without speaking
and yet uttering a voice through his actions clearer than the sound of a
trumpet: and ye have all thronged hither to-day, maidens deserting
their boudoirs, and matrons the women's chambers, and men the market
place that ye may see human nature convicted, and the instability of
worldly affairs exposed, and the harlot-face which a few days ago was
radiant (such is the prosperity derived from extortion) looking uglier
than any wrinkled old woman, this face I say you may see denuded of
its enamel and pigments by the action of adversity as by a sponge 4.
Such is the force of this calamity: it has made one who was
illustrious and conspicuous appear the most insignificant of men. And
if a rich man should enter the assembly he derives much profit from the
sight: for when he beholds the man who was shaking the whole world,
now dragged down from so high a pinnacle of power, cowering with
fright, more terrified than a hare or a frog, nailed fast to yonder
pillar, without bonds, his fear serving instead of a chain,
panic-stricken and trembling, he abates his haughtiness, he puts down
his pride, and having acquired the kind of wisdom concerning human
affairs which it concerns him to have he departs instructed by example
in the lesson which Holy Scripture teaches by precept:--"All
flesh is grass and all the glory of man as the flower of grass: the
grass withereth and the flower faileth" or "They shall wither away
quickly as the grass, and as the green herb shall they quickly fail"
or "like smoke are his days," and all passages of that kind. Again
the poor man when he has entered and gazed at this spectacle does not
think meanly of himself, nor bewail himself on account of his poverty,
but feels grateful to his poverty, because it is a place of refuge to
him, and a calm haven, and secure bulwark; and when he sees these
things he would many times rather remain where he is, than enjoy the
possession of all men for a little time and afterwards be in jeopardy of
his own life. Seest thou how the rich and poor, high and low, bond
and free have derived no small profit from this man's taking refuge
here? Seest thou how each man will depart hence with a remedy, being
cured merely by this sight? Well! have I softened your passion, and
expelled your wrath? have I extinguished your cruelty? have I
induced you to be pitiful? Indeed I think I have; and your
countenances and the streams of tears you shed are proofs of it. Since
then your hard rock has turned into deep and fertile soil let us hasten
to produce some fruit of mercy, and to display a luxuriant crop of pity
by falling down before the Emperor or rather by imploring the merciful
God so to soften the rage of the Emperor, and make his heart tender
that he may grant the whole of the favour which we ask. For indeed
already since that day when this man fled here for refuge no slight
change has taken place; for as soon as the Emperor knew that he had
hurried to this asylum, although the army was present, and incensed on
account of his misdeeds, and demanded him to be given up for
execution, the Emperor made a long speech endeavouring to allay the
rage of the soldiers, maintaining that not only his offences, but any
good deed which he might have done ought to be taken into account,
declaring that he felt gratitude for the latter, and was prepared to
forgive him as a fellow creature for deeds which were otherwise. And
when they again urged him to avenge the insult done to the imperial
majesty, shouting, leaping, and brandishing their spears, he shed
streams of tears from his gentle eyes, and having reminded them of the
Holy Table to which the man had fled for refuge he succeeded at last
in appeasing their wrath.
5. Moreover let me add some arguments which concern ourselves. For
what pardon could you deserve, if the Emperor bears no resentment when
he has been insulted, but ye who have experienced nothing of this kind
display so much wrath? and how after this assembly has been dissolved
will ye handle the holy mysteries, and repeat that prayer by which we
are commanded to say "forgive us as we also forgive our debtors" when
ye are demanding vengeance upon your debtor? Has he inflicted great
wrongs and insults on you? I will not deny it. Yet this is the
season not for judgment but for mercy; not for requiring an account,
but for showing loving kindness: not for investigating claims but for
conceding them; not for verdicts and vengeance, but for mercy and
favour. Let no one then be irritated or vexed, but let us rather
beseech the merciful God to grant him a respite from death, and to
rescue him from this impending destruction, so that he may put off his
transgression, and let us unite to approach the merciful Emperor
beseeching him for the sake of the Church, for the sake of the altar,
to concede the life of one man as an offering to the Holy Table. If
we do this the Emperor himself will accept us, and even before his
praise we shall have the approval of God, who will bestow a large
recompense upon us for our mercy. For as he rejects and hates the
cruel and inhuman, so does He welcome and love the merciful and humane
man; and if such a man be righteous, all the more glorious is the
crown which is wreathed for him: and if he be a sinner, He passes
over his sins granting this as the reward of compassion shown to his
fellow-servant. "For" He saith "I will have mercy and not
sacrifice," and throughout the Scriptures you find Him always
enquiring after this, and declaring it to be the means of release from
sin. Thus then we shall dispose Him to be propitious to us, thus we
shall release ourselves from our sins, thus we shall adorn the
Church, thus also our merciful Emperor, as I have already said,
will commend us, and all the people will applaud us, and the ends of
the earth will admire the humanity and gentleness of our city, and all
who hear of these deeds throughout the world will extol us. That we
then may enjoy these good things, let us fall down in prayer and
supplication, let us rescue the captive, the fugitive, the suppliant
from danger that we ourselves may obtain the future blessings by the
favour and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and
power, now and for ever, world without end. Amen.
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