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Ephesians iv.
"Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger,
and clamor, and railing, be put away from you,
with all malice."
AS bees will never settle down in an unclean
vessel,-and this is the reason why those who
are skilled in these matters sprinkle the spot
with perfumes, and scented ointments, and sweet
odors; and the wicker baskets also, in which
they will have to settle as soon as they come out
of the hives they sprinkle with fragrant wines,
and all other sweets, that there may be no
noisome smell to annoy them, and drive them away
again,-so in truth is it also with the Holy
Spirit. Our soul is a sort of vessel or
basket, capable of receiving the swarms of
spiritual gifts; but if there shall be within it
gall, and "bitterness, and wrath," the
swarms will fly away. Hence this blessed and
wise husbandman well and thoroughly cleanses our
vessels, withholding neither knife nor any other
instrument of iron, and invites us to this
spiritual swarm; and as he gathers it, he
cleanses us with prayers, and labors, and all
the rest. Mark then how he cleanses out our
heart. He has banished lying, he has banished
anger. Now, again, he is pointing out how
that evil may be yet more entirely eradicated;
if we be not, saith he, "bitter" in spirit.
For it is as is wont to happen with our bile,
if there chance to be but little of it, there
will be but little disturbance if the receptacle
should burst: but if ever the strength and
acridness of this quality becomes excessive, the
vessel which before held it, containing it no
longer, is as if it were eaten through by a
scorching fire, and it is no longer able to hold
it and contain it within its appointed bounds,
but, rent asunder by its intense sharpness, it
lets it escape and injure the whole body. And
it is like some very fierce and frightful wild
beast, that has been brought into a city; as
long as it is confined in the cages made for it,
however it may rage, however it may roar, it
will be unable to do harm to any one; but if it
is overcome by rage, and breaks through the
intervening bars, and is able to leap out, it
fills the city with all sorts of confusion and
disturbance, and puts everybody to flight.
Such indeed is the nature also of bile. As
long as it is kept within its proper limits, it
will do us no great mischief; but as soon as
ever the membrane that incloses it bursts, and
there is nothing to hinder its being at once
dispersed over the whole system, then, I say,
at that moment, though it be so very trifling in
quantity, yet by reason of the inordinate
strength of its quality it taints all the other
elements of our nature with its own peculiar
virulence. For finding the blood, for
instance, near to it, alike in place and in
quality, and rendering the heat which is in that
blood more acrid, and everything else in fact
which is near it; passing from its just
temperature it overflows its bounds, turns all
into gall, and therewith at once attacks
likewise the other parts of the body; and thus
infusing into all its own poisonous quality, it
renders the man speechless, and causes him to
expire, expelling life. Now, why have I
stated all these things with such minuteness?
It is in order that, understanding from this
bitterness which is of the body the intolerable
evil of that bitterness which is of the soul,
and how entirely it destroys first of all the
very soul that engenders it, making everything
bitter, we may escape experience of it. For as
the one inflames the whole constitution, so does
the other the thoughts, and carries away its
captive to the abyss of hell. In order then
that by carefully examining these matters we may
escape this evil, and bridle the monster, or
rather utterly root it out, let us hearken to
what Paul saith, "Let all bitterness be"
(not destroyed, but) "put away" from you.
For what need have I of trouble to restrain
it, what necessity is there to keep watch on a
monster, when it is in my power to expel him
from my soul, to remove him and drive him out,
as it were, into banishment? Let us hearken
then to Paul when he saith, "Let all
bitterness be put away from you." But, ah,
the perversity that possesses us! Though we
ought to do everything to effect this, yet are
there some so truly senseless as to congratulate
themselves upon this evil, and to pride
themselves upon it, and to glory in it, and who
are envied by others. "Such a one," say
they, "is a bitter man, he is a scorpion, a
serpent, a viper." They look upon him as one
to be feared. But wherefore, good man, dost
thou fear the bitter person? "I fear," you
say, "lest he injure me, lest he destroy me;
I am not proof against his malice, I am afraid
lest he should take me who am a simple man, and
unable to foresee any of his schemes, and throw
me into his snares, and entangle us in the toils
which he has set to deceive us." Now I cannot
but smile. And why forsooth? Because these
are the arguments of children, who fear things
which are not to be feared. Surely there is
nothing we ought so to despise, nothing we ought
so to laugh to scorn, as a bitter and malicious
man. For there is nothing so powerless as
bitterness. It makes men fools and senseless.
Do ye not see that malice is blind? Have ye
never heard, that he that diggeth a pit for his
neighbors, diggeth it for himself? How, it
may be said, ought we not to fear a soul full of
tumult? If indeed we are to fear the bitter in
the same way as we fear evil spirits, and fools
and madmen, (for they indeed do everything at
random,) I grant it myself; but if we are to
fear them as men skillful in the conduct of
affairs, that never. For nothing is so
necessary for the proper conduct of affairs as
prudence; and there is no greater hindrance to
prudence than wickedness, and malice, and
hollowness. Look at bilious persons, how
unsightly they are, with all their bloom
withered away. How weak they are, and puny,
and unfit for anything. So also are souls of
this nature. What else is wickedness, but a
jaundice of the soul? Wickedness then has no
strength in it, indeed it has not. Have yea
mind that I again make what I am saying plain
to you by an instance, by setting before you the
portraits of a treacherous and a guileless man?
Absalom was a treacherous man, and "stole all
men's hearts." (2 Sam. xv. 6.) And
observe how great was his treachery. "He went
about," it saith, "and said, 'Hast thou no
judgment?'" wishing to conciliate every one to
himself. But David was guileless. What
then? Look at the end of them both, look, how
full of utter madness was the former! For
inasmuch as he looked solely to the hurt of his
father, in all other things he was blinded.
But not so David. For "he that walketh
uprightly, walketh surely" (Prov. x. 9);
and reasonably; he is one that manages nothing
over-subtilely, the man who devises no evil.
Let us listen then to the blessed Paul, and
let us pity, yea, let us weep for the
bitter-minded, and let us practice every
method, let us do everything to extirpate this
vice from their souls. For how is it not
absurd, that when there is bile within us
(though that indeed is a useful element, for
without bile a man cannot possibly exist, that
bile, I mean, which is an element of his
nature,) how then, I say, is it not absurd
that we should do all we can to get rid of this,
though we are so highly benefited by it; and yet
that we should do nothing, nor take any pains,
to get rid of that which is in the soul, though
it is in no case beneficial, but even in the
highest degree injurious. He that thinketh that
he is "wise among you," saith he, "let him
become a fool, that he may become wise." (1
Cor. iii. 18.)
Hearken too again to what Luke saith, "They
did take their food with gladness and singleness
of heart, praising God, and having favor with
all the people."
(Acts ii. 46, 47.) Why, do we not see
even now that the simple and guileless enjoy the
common esteem of all? No one envies such an one
when he is in prosperity, no one tramples upon
him when he is in adversity, but all rejoice
with him when he does well, and grieve with him
in misfortune. Whereas whenever a bitter man
fares prosperously, one and all lament it, as
though some evil thing happened; but if he is
unfortunate, one and all rejoice. Let us then
pity them, for they have common enemies all over
the world. Jacob was a guileless man, yet he
overcame the treacherous Esau. "For into a
malicious soul wisdom shall not enter."
(Wisd. i. 4.) "Let all bitterness be put
away from you.", Let not even a remnant
remain, for it will be sure, if stirred, as if
from a smouldering brand, to turn all within to
an entire blaze. Let us then distinctly
understand what this bitterness is. Take, for
example, the hollow-hearted man, the crafty,
the man who is on the watch to do mischief, the
man of evil suspicion. From him then "wrath"
and "anger" are ever produced; for it is not
possible for a soul like this to be in
tranquillity, but the very root of "anger" and
"wrath" is "bitterness." The man of this
character is both sullen, and never unbends his
soul; he is always moody, always gloomy. For
as I was saying, they themselves are the first
to reap the fruit of their own evil ways.
"And clamor," he adds.
What now, and dost thou take away clamor also?
Yes, for the mild man must needs be of such a
character, because clamor carries anger, as a
horse his rider; trip the horse, and you will
throw the rider.
Moral. This let women above all attend to,
them who on every occasion cry aloud and bawl.
There is but one thing in which it is useful to
cry aloud, in preaching and in teaching. But
in no other case whatever, no, not even in
prayer. And if thou wouldest learn a practical
lesson, never cry aloud at all, and then wilt
thou never be angry at all. Behold a way to
keep your temper; for as it is not possible that
the man that does not cry out should be enraged,
so is it not that the man who does cry out should
be otherwise than enraged. For tell me not of a
man being implacable, and revengeful, and of
pure natural bitterness, and natural choler.
We are now speaking of the sudden paroxysm of
this passion.
It contributes then no little to this end, to
discipline the soul never to raise the voice and
cry aloud at all. Cut off clamor, and thou
wilt clip the wings of anger, thou dost repress
the first rising of the heart. For as it is
impossible for a man to wrestle without lifting
up his hands, so is it not possible that he
should be entangled in a quarrel without lifting
up his voice. Bind the hands of the boxer, and
then bid him strike. He will be unable to do
so. So likewise will wrath be disarmed. But
clamor raises it, even where it does not exist.
And hence it is especially that the female sex
are so easily overtaken in it. Women, whenever
they are angry with their maid-servants, fill
the whole house with their own clamor. And
oftentimes too, if the house happens to be built
along a narrow street, then all the passers-by
hear the mistress scolding, and the maid weeping
and wailing. What can possibly be more
disgraceful than the sound of those wailings?
What in the world has happened there? All the
women round immediately peep in and one of them
says, "Such a one is beating her own maid."
Whatever can be more shameless than this?
"What then, ought one not to strike at all?"
No, I say not so, (for it must be done,)
but then it must be neither frequently, nor
immoderately, nor for any wrongs of thine own,
as I am constantly saying, nor for any little
failure in her service, but only if she is doing
harm to her own soul. If thou chastise her for
a fault of this kind, all will applaud, and
there will be none to upbraid thee; but if thou
do it for any reasons of thine own, all will
condemn thy cruelty and harshness. And what is
more base than all, there are some so fierce and
so savage as to lash them to such a degree, that
the bruises will not disappear with the day.
For they will strip the damsels, and call their
husbands for the purpose, and oftentimes tie
them to the pallets. Alas! at that moment tell
me, does no recollection of hell come over
thee? What? dost thou strip thy handmaid, and
expose her to thy husband? And art thou not
ashamed, lest he should condemn thee for it?
And then dost thou exasperate him yet more, and
threaten to put her in chains, having first
taunted the wretched and pitiable creature with
ten thousand reproachful names, and called her
"Thessalian witch, runaway, and
prostitute"?
For her passion allows her not to spare even her
own mouth, but she looks to one single object,
how she may wreak her vengeance on the other,
even though she disgrace herself. And then
after all these things forsooth, she will sit in
state like any tyrant, and call her children,
and summon her foolish husband, and treat him as
a hangman. Ought these things to take place in
the houses of Christians? "Aye" say ye,
"but slaves are a troublesome, audacious,
impudent, incorrigible race." True, I know
it myself, but there are other ways to keep them
in order; by terrors, by threats, by words;
which may both touch her more powerfully, and
save thee from disgrace. Thou who art a free
woman hast uttered foul words, and dost thou not
disgrace thyself more than her? Then if she
shall have occasion to go out to the bath, there
are bruises on her back when she is naked, and
she carries about with her the marks of thy
cruelty. "But," say ye, "the whole tribe
of slaves is intolerable if it meet with
indulgence." True, I know it myself. But
then, as I was saying, correct them in some
other way, not by the scourge only, and by
terror, but even by flattering them, and by
acts of kindness. If she is a believer, she is
thy sister. Consider that thou art her
mistress, and that she ministers unto thee. If
she be intemperate, cut off the occasions of
drunkenness; call thy husband, and admonish
her. Or dost thou not feel how disgraceful a
thing it is for a woman to be beaten? They at
least who have enacted ten thousand punishments
for men,-the stake, and the rack,-will
scarcely ever hang a woman, but limit men's
anger to smiting her on the cheek; and so great
respect have they observed towards the sex, that
not even when there is absolute necessity have
they often hung a woman, if she happen to be
pregnant. For it is a disgrace for a man to
strike a woman: and if for a man, much more for
one of her own sex. It is moreover by these
things that women become odious to their
husbands. "What then," ye may say, "if she
shall act the harlot?" Marry her to a
husband; cut off the occasions of fornication,
suffer her not to be too high fed. "What
then, if she shall steal?" Take care of her,
and watch her.-"Extravagant!" thou wilt
say; "What, am I to be her keeper? How
absurd!" And why, I pray, art thou not to
be her keeper? Has she not the same kind of
soul as thou? Has she not been vouchsafed the
same privileges by God? Does she not partake
of the same table? Does she not share with thee
the same high birth? "But what then," ye
will say, "if she shall be a railer, or a
gossip, or a drunkard?" Yet, how many free
women are such? Now, with all the failings of
women God hath charged men to bear: only, He
saith, let not a woman be an harlot, but every
other failing besides bear with. Yea, be she
drunkard, or railer, or gossip, or
evil-eyed, or extravagant, and a squanderer of
thy substance, thou hast her for the partner of
thy life. Train and restrain her. Necessity
is upon thee. It is for this thou art the
head. Regulate her therefore, do thy own
part. Yea, and if she remain incorrigible,
yea, though she steal, take care of thy goods,
and do not punish her so much. If she be a
gossip, silence her. This is the very highest
philosophy.
Now, however, some are come to such a height
of indecency as to uncover the head, and to drag
their maid-servants by the hair.-Why do ye
all blush? I am not addressing myself to all,
but to those who are carried away into such
brutal conduct. Paul saith, "Let not a woman
be uncovered." (1 Cor. xi. 5-15.)
And dost thou then entirely strip off her
headdress? Dost thou see how thou art doing
outrage to thyself? If indeed she makes her
appearance to thee with her head bare, thou
callest it an insult. And dost thou say that
there is nothing shocking when thou barest it
thyself? Then ye will say, "What if she be
not corrected?" Chasten her then with the rod
and with stripes. And yet how many failings
hast thou also thyself, and yet thou art not
corrected!
These things I am saying not for their sakes,
but for the sake of you free-women, that ye do
nothing so unworthy, nothing to disgrace you,
that ye do yourselves no wrong. If thou wilt
learn this lesson in thy household in dealing
with thy maid-servant, and not be harsh but
gentle and forbearing, much more wilt thou be so
in thy behavior to thy husband. For she who,
though having authority, does nothing of the
sort, will do it much less where there is a
check. So that the discipline employed about
your maid-servants, will be of the greatest
service to you in gaining the goodwill of your
husbands. "For with what measure ye mete,"
He saith, "it shall be measured unto you."
(Matt. vii. 2.) Set a bridle upon thy
mouth. If thou art disciplined to bear bravely
with a servant when she answers back, thou wilt
not be annoyed with the insolence of an equal,
and in being above annoyance, wilt have attained
to the highest philosophy. But some there are
who add even oaths, but there is nothing more
shocking than a woman so enraged. But what
again, ye will say, if she dress gaily? Why
then, forbid this; thou hast my consent; but
check it by first beginning with thyself, not so
much by fear as by example. Be in everything
thyself a perfect pattern.
"And let railing," saith he, "be put away
from you." Observe the progress of mischief.
Bitterness produces wrath, wrath anger, anger
clamor, clamor railing, that is, revilings;
next from evil-speaking it goes on to blows,
from blows to wounds, from wounds to death.
Paul, however, did not wish to mention any of
these, but only this, "let this," saith he,
"be put away from you, with all malice."
What is "with all malice"? It ends with
this. For there are some, like those dogs that
bite secretly, which do not bark at all at those
that come near them, nor are angry, but which
fawn, and display a gentle aspect; but when
they catch us off our guard, will fix their
teeth in us. These are more dangerous than
those that take up open enmity. Now since there
are men too that are dogs, who neither cry out,
nor fly in a passion, nor threaten us when they
are offended, yet in secret are weaving plots,
and contriving ten thousand mischiefs, and
revenging themselves not in words but in deeds;
he hints at these. Let those things be put away
from you, saith he, "with all malice." Do
not spare thy words, and then revenge thyself in
acts. My purpose in chastising my tongue and
curtailing its clamor, is to prevent its
kindling up a more violent blaze. But if thou
without any clamor art doing the same thing, and
art cherishing the fire and the live coals
within, where is the good of thy silence? Dost
thou not know that those conflagrations are the
most destructive of all which are fed within,
and appear not to those that are without? And
that those wounds are the deadliest which never
break out to the surface; and those fevers the
worst which burn up the vitals? So also is this
anger the most dangerous that preys upon the
soul. But let this too be put away from you,
saith he, "with all malice," of every kind
and degree, great and little. Let us then
hearken to him, let us cast out all "bitterness
and all malice," that we "grieve not the Holy
Spirit." Let us destroy all bitterness; let
us cut it up by the very roots. Nothing good,
nothing healthful, can ever come from a bitter
soul; nothing but misfortunes, nothing but
tears, nothing but weeping and wailing. Do ye
not see those beasts that roar or cry out, how
we turn away from them; the lion, for
instance, and the bear? But not so from the
sheep; for there is no roaring, but a mild and
gentle voice. And so again with musical
instruments, those which are loud and harsh are
the most unpleasant to the ear, such as the drum
and trumpet; whereas those which are not so,
but are soothing, these are pleasant, as the
flute and lyre and pipe. Let us then prepare
our soul so as never to cry aloud, and thus
shall we be enabled also to gain the mastery over
our anger. And when we have cut out this, we
ourselves shall be the first to enjoy the calm,
and we shall sail into that peaceful haven,
which God grant we may all attain, in Jesus
Christ our Lord, with whom, together with the
Holy Ghost, be unto the Father, glory,
might, and honor, now, and ever, and
throughout all ages. Amen.
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