Homilies on Second Corinthians 15

'So that even though I made you sorry with my letter, I do not repent, though I did repent.'

He thereafter makes his defense concerning the letter, now that it was without danger to heal them, the sin having been corrected, and he shows the benefit of the thing.

For he did this even before, saying, 'For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you, not that you should be grieved, but that you might know the love which I have more abundantly toward you.'

And he does this even now, establishing it thus by more words.

And he did not say, 'Before indeed I repented, but now I do not repent';

but how? 'I do not repent now, though I did repent.'

Even if the things written by me were such, he says, as to exceed the measure of rebuke, and to cause me to repent;

yet the great gain that came from them does not permit me to repent.

But he said these things, not as having rebuked without measure, but to magnify their praises.

For you displayed such a correction, he says, that even if it had happened that I struck you rather severely, so much so as even to condemn myself, I now praise myself from the outcome.

For just as with little children, when they have received a treatment that causes pain—like an incision, or a cauterization, or a bitter medicine—we thereafter fondly caress them without fear;

For I see, he says, that that letter, even if only for an hour, grieved you.

Now I rejoice, not that you were grieved, but that you were grieved unto repentance.

Having said, 'I do not regret it,' he also states the reason, setting forth the usefulness that comes from the written words, and defending himself prudently, and saying, 'Even if only for an hour.'

For the grievous part was brief, but the beneficial part is lasting.

Now the logical thing would have been to say, 'Even if it grieved you for an hour, yet it gladdened you continually, and benefited you.'

But before speaking of the gain, he passes again to their praises, and to the demonstration of his own care for them, saying, 'Now I rejoice, not that you were grieved.'

For what gain is it to me that you were grieved? But rather, 'that you were grieved unto repentance.'

—because the grief had some gain.

For a father too, when he sees his child being cut, does not rejoice because the child is in pain, but because it is being set right.

See how from the facts he transfers the whole achievement to them, and reckons the grievous element to the letter, saying, 'It grieved you for an hour,' while he declares that the profit arising from it is their own achievement.

For he did not say, 'The letter corrected you,' even though it was so, but 'that you were grieved unto repentance.'

For you were grieved according to God, that you might suffer loss in nothing through us.

For if we had not done this, he says, we would have caused you loss.

And he says that the achievement is theirs, but the loss would have been his, had he kept silent.

For if they were going to be corrected through a rebuke, then had we not rebuked, we would have caused you loss;

and the harm would have come about not only to you, but also to us.

For just as the man who does not supply the merchant with what is needed for the voyage is himself the one causing the loss;

so too we, if we had not provided you the occasions for repentance, would have caused you loss.

Do you see that not to rebuke those who sin is a loss both to the teacher and to the disciple? 'For grief according to God works repentance unto salvation not to be repented of.'

For this reason, he says, even if I did regret it before I saw the fruit and how great the gain, I do not regret it now.

For such is grief according to God.

And thereafter he philosophizes about it, showing that grief is not everywhere a grievous thing, but only when it comes to be according to the world.

And what is 'according to the world'? If you are grieved on account of money, on account of glory, on account of one who has died—all those things are according to the world.

For he who is grieved on account of glory envies, and is often driven to destruction;

such a grief as Cain also grieved, such as Esau.

So then he calls 'grief according to the world' this grief that ends in the harm of those who grieve.

For indeed grief is profitable only in respect of sins.

He who grieves over the loss of money does not undo the loss;

he who grieves over one who has died does not raise up him who lies dead;

he who grieves over sickness not only does not correct it, but even aggravates the disease;

but he who grieves over sins, this man alone accomplishes something more from his grief;

for he consumes and does away with his sins.

For since the remedy was prepared for this purpose, here alone it is effective and displays its benefit, whereas in the other cases it even does harm.

'And yet Cain,' one may say, 'grieved because he was not well-pleasing before God.'

Not for this reason, but because he saw his brother resplendent;

for if he had been pained on that account, he ought to have emulated and rejoiced together with him;

but as it was, being pained, he showed that he was grieving according to the world.

But David was not so, nor Peter, nor any one of the righteous.

Wherefore they were well-pleasing, grieving either over their own sins or over those of others.

And yet what is more burdensome than grief? But when it comes to be according to God, it is better than the joy that is in the world.

For the latter ends in nothing, but the former works repentance unto salvation not to be repented of.

For indeed this is the marvel of it, that no one would repent of having grieved in this way;

which is most especially the property of worldly grief.

For what is more longed-for than a true-born child? And what is more painful than such a death? Yet nevertheless the fathers who at the height of their mourning could bear nothing and tore themselves to pieces—these, after a time, repent, because they grieved beyond measure, seeing that they gained nothing thereby, but rather crushed themselves the more grievously.

But grief according to God is not such;

rather it has two advantages: that a man is not condemned for the things over which he grieves, and that this grief ends in salvation;

of both of which that other grief is deprived.

For indeed they grieve to their harm, and after grieving vehemently, they condemn themselves, bringing forth this as the greatest sign that they did it to their own harm.

But grief according to God is the opposite;

wherefore he also said, 'It works repentance unto salvation not to be repented of.'

For no one will condemn himself if he is grieved over sin, if he mourns and crushes himself.

And the blessed Paul, having said this, does not need to bring in an example from elsewhere for what he has said, nor to bring forward into their midst those who grieved in the ancient histories, but he brings forward the Corinthians themselves, and from what they did he furnishes the proof, so that he might both instruct them with praises and draw them the more to himself.

For behold, he says, this very fact of your being grieved according to God, how much earnestness it wrought in you! For not only, he says, did the despondency not cast you into condemning yourselves as having done this in vain, but it even made you more earnest.

Then he states the proofs of their earnestness.

—toward that man who had sinned.

for indeed such great earnestness and such swift correction belonged to men who greatly feared.

And lest he should seem to be exalting himself, see how quickly he softened it, saying, 'But a longing';

for indeed you avenged the laws of God that had been outraged.

In everything you proved yourselves to be pure in the matter.

Not merely by not daring to commit it;

but also by not taking pleasure in it together with him.

For since in the former Epistle he had said, 'And you are puffed up,' here he says, 'And of this suspicion also you cleared yourselves, not only by not praising, but even by rebuking and being indignant.'

So then, even if I wrote to you, it was neither for the sake of him who did the wrong, nor for the sake of him who was wronged.

For lest they should say, 'Why then do you rebuke us, if we were pure in the matter?'—standing against this both earlier and forestalling it, he said what he said, namely, 'I do not regret it, even though I did regret it.'

For so far am I from repenting now of the things I wrote then, he says, that I repented then rather than now, when you commended yourselves.

Do you see again his forcefulness and love of contention, how he turned the argument to the opposite? For from the very things by which they thought he had been worsted, as having rebuked in vain, on account of

their progress, from these very things he shows that it is just for him to speak with boldness.

For he no longer refuses thereafter to show favor without fear, whenever it is permissible to do this.

For the very one who says such things above, that 'He who is joined to a harlot is one body';

and, 'Deliver such a one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh';

and, 'Every sin that a man may do is without the body';

and all such statements, how is it that here he says, 'Not for his cause that had done the wrong, nor for his cause that suffered the wrong'? He is not contradicting himself, but rather following his own line closely.

How does he follow his own line? Because it was his earnest concern to display the affection which he had toward them.

He does not therefore do away with his care for that man, but he shows both his love toward them, as I said, and that a greater fear shook him — a fear for the whole Church.

For he was afraid lest the evil should spread further, and, advancing on its way, should seize upon the whole Church.

Wherefore also he said, 'A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump.'

But now, since they had set matters right, he no longer puts it in that way, but otherwise.

And he hints at the same thing, yet he handles the discourse more sweetly, saying, 'That our earnest care for you might be made manifest unto you' — that is, 'That you might know how I love you.'

Now this is the same as the former, yet being expressed differently, it seemed to convey a different impression.

For that it is the same, unfold its meaning, and you will see no difference at all.

'For since I love you exceedingly,' he says, 'I was afraid lest you should suffer some distress from that quarter, lest you yourselves should receive the grief.'

Just as, therefore, when he says, 'Doth God take care for oxen?' he does not mean this, that He does not care;

for it is not possible that anything which exists should subsist, being deprived of God's providence;

but that it was not principally on account of the oxen that He gave the law;

so also here: 'First indeed I wrote for your sake, but secondly also for his sake. And I had love within me even apart from the epistle,' he says.

'But I desired to show it both to you and to all in general by means of those writings.'

'Since we have shown both our earnest care for you, and the whole matter has been set right for us.'

Even as also elsewhere he said, 'For now we live, if ye stand fast in the Lord';

and again, 'For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of glorying? Are not even ye?' For this is life, this is comfort, this is consolation to a teacher of understanding — the advancement of his disciples.

For nothing so marks out the man who holds authority as tender affection toward those under his rule.

For indeed it is not merely begetting that makes a father, but also loving after having begotten.

But if where there is nature there is so great need of love, much more where there is grace.

Thus all the men of old shone forth.

At least, as many as were held in honor among the Hebrews, from this were they made illustrious.

Thus Samuel was shown to be great, when he said, 'But God forbid that I should sin against the Lord in ceasing to pray for you.'

So David, so Abraham, so Elijah, so each of the righteous, both those under the New and those under the Old.

For indeed Moses, for the sake of those under his rule, left behind such great wealth and unspeakable treasures, choosing rather to suffer affliction together with the people of God;

and before his appointment he was a leader of the people through his deeds.

Wherefore also that Hebrew spoke to him very foolishly, 'Who made thee a ruler and a judge over us?' What sayest thou? Thou seest the works, and dost thou doubt about the title? It is as if one, seeing a physician cutting most skillfully and succoring the diseased part of the body, should say, 'Who made thee a physician, and bade thee cut?' 'The art, most excellent sir, and thine own disease.'

So also his knowledge made this man such as he was.

For indeed ruling is an art, and not a mere dignity, and an art higher than all the arts.

For if the rule over external things is an art and a science better than all, much more is this.

For indeed this rule is by so much better than that, as that one is better than the rest;

or rather even much more.

And, if you please, let us examine this argument more precisely.

There is the art of husbandry, there is that of weaving, that of building;

which are also exceedingly necessary, and above all sustain our life.

Of these are the smith's craft, the carpenter's, the shepherd's.

But even of these arts themselves the most necessary of all is husbandry, which also God introduced first, when He fashioned man.

For without shoes and garments it is possible to live, but without husbandry it is impossible.

Such they say are the wagon-dwellers, the nomads among the Scythians, the naked sages of the Indians.

For these have let go the arts of building and of weaving and of shoe-making, and need husbandry alone.

Be ashamed, ye who have need of superfluous arts — of cooks and cake-makers and embroiderers and ten thousand other such — in order to live;

be ashamed, ye who have introduced into life these vain arts;

be ashamed, ye faithful, before those barbarians who have no need of art.

For indeed God made our nature exceedingly self-sufficient, content with few things.

Nevertheless I do not compel, nor do I lay it down as a law, to live thus;

But what did that man ask? 'If the Lord will give me bread to eat, and a garment to put on.'

So also Paul commanded, saying:

'But having food and covering, with these we shall be content.'

First, then, is husbandry, and second weaving, and third after that building;

but the art of shoe-making is the last of all.

At any rate, among us there are many, both household servants and husbandmen, who live without shoes.

These, then, are the useful and necessary arts.

Come, then, let us compare them with the art of ruling.

For on this account I have brought forward the most important of all, that when this one appears better than those, its victory over the rest may be beyond dispute.

Whence, then, shall we show it to be the most necessary of all? Because without this there is no profit in those.

And, if it seems good, letting the others go, let us bring forward into the midst the one that is higher and more important than all, namely husbandry.

What, then, will be the gain of the multitude of husbandmen, when they war against one another and plunder one another's goods? For now indeed the fear of the ruler restrains them, and guards the things done by them;

but if you take this away, superfluous is that toil.

But if one should examine accurately, he will find yet another rule, which is the mother and bond of this one.

What kind is this? That according to which each man must master and rule his own self, chastising the unworthy passions, but nourishing and increasing with all exactness all the growths of virtue.

For there are kinds of rule: one, according to which men rule over peoples and cities, ordering aright this political life;

which Paul, making clear, said:

'Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers;

for there is no power but of God.'

Then, showing its profit, he added, saying that 'The ruler is a minister of God for good';

and again, 'He is a minister of God, an avenger for wrath to him that doeth the evil.'

But there is another kind of rule, namely, that whereby each man who possesses understanding governs himself.

This too he intimated when he said, 'But if you would not be afraid of the authority, do good.'

But here there is also yet another rule, higher than the civil rule.

What then is this? It is the rule in the Church.

Of this too Paul makes mention, saying, 'Obey those who have the rule over you, and submit yourselves, for they watch over your souls, as those who must give account.'

For this rule is so much better than the civil, as heaven is better than the earth; nay rather, by far more still.

Yea rather, by very much more.

For, in the first place, it aims chiefly not so as to chastise sins after they have been committed, but so that they should not arise in the beginning at all;

and next, when they have arisen, its aim is not to cut off the one who is diseased, but that the evil should be done away with.

And of the affairs of this life it takes little account, but transacts all its business for the sake of the things in heaven;

'For our citizenship exists in heaven,' and our life is there.

'For it is hidden,' he says, 'with Christ in God.'

And the prizes are there, and the racecourses are for the crowns that are there.

For this life is not dissolved after death, but then it shines forth the more greatly.

For this very reason, those who hold this rule are entrusted with an honor greater not only than that of subjects, but even than that of those who wear the diadems, inasmuch as they fashion men in greater things and unto greater ends.

Neither he who undertakes the civil rule, nor he who undertakes the spiritual, will be able rightly to administer these, unless they first govern themselves as they ought, and keep the laws of both polities with all exactness.

For just as the rule over the many is twofold, so also is that whereby each man governs himself.

And here again the spiritual is better than the civil, as the argument has shown.

One might see also some of the arts imitating rule, and especially agriculture.

For just as the husbandman is a kind of ruler over the plants, pruning and checking some, but increasing and tending others;

even as the best of rulers punish and cut off the wicked, who injure the many, but advance the good and equitable to something greater.

For this reason Scripture also likens rulers to vinedressers.

For what if the plants send forth no voice, as in cities do those who suffer wrongs? Yet nevertheless through the sight they show the injustice, withering and hemmed in by the wicked weeds.

And just as by laws wickedness is chastised, so here too by this art both the badness of the soil and the degeneracy and wildness of the plant are corrected.

For indeed whatever exists in human dispositions we shall find there too—harshness, softness, cowardice, rashness, instability; and some of them luxuriating in wealth unseasonably and to the hurt of their neighbors, while others are impoverished and wronged;

as when the hedges grow luxuriant to the hurt of the plants near them, when other trees, barren and untamed, shooting up to a height, hinder the growth of those beneath them.

And just as rulers and kings have those who injure their rule and make war against it;

so also the husbandman has the onset of wild beasts, the inclemency of the airs, hail, blight, excessive rains, droughts, and all such things.

And these things come to pass so that you may look continually toward the hope that is in God.

For the other arts are constituted also by the diligence of men;

but this one has the greater part in the inclination of God, and depends almost wholly and entirely upon Him;

and it needs the rains from above, it needs the tempering of the seasons, and above all things His providence.

'For neither is he who plants anything, nor he who waters, but God who gives the increase.'

There is here too both death and life, both travail and birth, just as in the case of men.

For it is possible both to be cut off, and to bring forth fruit, and to die, and for that which has died itself to come again anew from above;

wherein the earth also discourses with us in manifold and clear ways concerning the resurrection.

For when the root brings forth fruit, when the seed springs up, is not the thing a resurrection? And one might see much of the providence and wisdom from God lying within this art, if he were to go through it in detail.

But what I wished to say was this: that this art has to do with the earth and plants, whereas ours has to do with the healing of souls.

And by as much as is the difference between plants and souls, by so much is this better than that.

But the rulers of the present life are as much inferior to it again, as it is better to rule over the willing than over the unwilling.

For this is also the rule that accords with nature.

For there everything is done by fear and by necessity;

but here it is the achievement of free choice and of the will.

And not in this respect only is this better than that, but also because it is not merely rule, but fatherhood, so to speak;

for it has the gentleness of a father, and though it enjoins greater things, it persuades.

For the ruler that is from without says, 'If you commit adultery, you are put to death;'

but this one threatens the gravest things even if you look with unchaste eyes.

For indeed this tribunal is august, and corrective of the soul, not of the body only.

By as much then as is the difference between soul and body, by so much again does this rule stand apart from that.

And that one sits as judge of things manifest;

or rather not even of all these, but only of those which are convicted;

and often he even becomes a betrayer of these.

But this tribunal instructs those who enter it, that the One who judges among us will bring all things naked and laid open into the midst, upon the common theater of the whole world, and to escape notice is impossible.

So that far more than the outward laws does Christianity hold together our life.

For both the trembling concerning hidden things, rather than the fearing only concerning things manifest, makes a man more secure; and the requiring an account even of the lesser matters, rather than the punishing of the greater, rouses him the more toward virtue;

it is quite evident that this rule above all others knits together our life.

And if you will, let us also consider the ordinations of rulers;

for here too you will see a great difference.

For it is not possible to obtain this rule by giving money, but by displaying an excellent character;

nor is he who is ordained led to this rule as to human glory and personal ease, but as to toils and sweats and the benefit of the many.

Wherefore also he enjoys much of the help from above, from the Spirit.

And there the rule stands only so far as to declare aloud what must be done;

but here it adds also the alliance both from the prayers and from the grace.

Or rather, there there is no discourse at all concerning true wisdom, nor does anyone sit teaching what the soul is, and what the world may be, and what we shall be hereafter, and unto what things we shall depart from this life, and how we shall attain virtue; but concerning contracts and covenants and money the discourse is much, while of these matters there is no care;

but in the Church one may see all the discourses being made concerning these things;

wherefore also one might justly call it all things—both a tribunal, and a place of healing, and a school of true wisdom, and a training-place for the soul, and a wrestling-school for the races that lead to the heavens.

And that this rule is also the gentlest of all, although it demands greater exactness, is clear from this.

For the ruler from without, if he catches an adulterer, straightway chastises him.

And yet what is the gain? For this is not to destroy the passion, but to send away the soul still bearing its wound.

But the ruler here, when he has found such a one, hastens not to punish him, but to extract the passion.

For you do the very same thing as if, when a disease had arisen about the head, you should not cure the disease, but cut off the head itself;

but I do not act so; rather, it is the disease that I cut away.

I bar him indeed from the mysteries and the sacred precincts, but having raised him up again, and when he has been rid of his wickedness and has been made better through repentance, I take him back once more.

'And how is it possible to root out adultery?' someone says.

It is possible, indeed it is very much possible, once one has come to be under these laws.

For the Church is a spiritual bath-house, wiping away, not the filth of the body, but the stain of the soul, by the many modes of repentance.

For you—whether you let the offender go unpunished, you have made him worse;

or whether you punish him, you have left him incurable.

But I neither let him go unpunished, nor punish him as you do; rather, I both exact the penalty befitting me and set right what has been done.

Do you wish to learn in yet another way how you, by baring swords and displaying flame to sinners, effect no great healing, while I, apart from these things, have led men by the hand to pure health? And I have no need of words or phrases, but I bring land and sea into the midst, and the very nature of mankind.

And consider, before this tribunal was established, how human affairs stood: how not one of the things now set right could ever, even in name, be heard of.

For who dared to face death? who despised riches? who looked down on glory? who, fleeing the tumults in the midst of the world, embraced the mountains and the desert, the mother of true wisdom? where was ever the name of virginity? For all these things, and more than these, have become the achievement of this tribunal, the works of this rule.

Knowing these things then, and having thoroughly learned that from hence comes every benefit of life and the setting right of the whole world, come frequently to the hearing of the divine words, and to the assemblies here, and to the prayers.

For if you thus order yourselves, you will be able, having displayed a manner of life worthy of the heavens, to attain the good things that have been promised, by the grace and lovingkindness, and so forth.