Homilies on Hebrews 28

They went about in sheepskins, in goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, ill-treated;

of whom this world was not worthy;

wandering in deserts, and in mountains, and in caves, and in the holes of the earth.

Always, but most of all when I reflect upon the good deeds of the saints, there then comes upon me a despairing of my own case, that we have not received even in a dream the experience of those things in which those men spent all their time—men who were not paying the penalty for sins, but ever doing right, and ever afflicted.

For consider for me Elijah, unto whom the discourse has now come round for us today;

for concerning him he says here, 'They went about in sheepskins,' and with him the examples come to their end, not leaving out even him.

And having spoken of the things concerning the apostles—that they died by the slaughter of the sword, that they were stoned—he goes back again to Elijah, who suffered the same things as these.

For since it was likely that they did not yet hold so great an opinion concerning the apostles, from the one who was taken up, and especially admired, he brings his exhortation and consolation.

For 'they went about,' he says, 'in sheepskins, in goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, ill-treated;

of whom this world was not worthy.'

They had not even a garment, he says, to put on, because of the excess of their afflictions—no city, no house, no lodging;

this is that very thing which Christ said:

'But the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.'

Why do I say, no lodging? Not even a standing-place;

for not even when they had taken to the wilderness did they enjoy quiet;

for he did not say, 'They sat in the wilderness,' but even while there they were fleeing and being driven thence—not only from the inhabited world, but even from the uninhabited.

And he reminds them of the places where they used to sit, and of the things that happened there;

then, he says, they laid accusations against you for Christ's sake, and these same things they did to Elijah;

having what to lay to his charge, they drove him and pursued him, and compelled him to wrestle with famine? Which these also then suffered;

for this reason he said elsewhere:

'So the brethren determined to send relief to those of the disciples who were in affliction;

for according as any one prospered, each of them determined to send for ministration to the brethren dwelling in Judea.'

[Which was also their case.] 'Ill-treated,' he says;

that is, suffering evil, in their journeyings, in their perils;

And the phrase, [What is 'they went about'?] 'Wandering in deserts, and mountains, and caves, and the holes of the earth.'

It signifies nothing else but this, that they went about as fugitives and exiles, as though they had been convicted of the most shameful crimes, as those not even worthy to behold the sun; and they found no refuge even from the wilderness, but had ever to flee, ever to seek hiding-places, ever to bury themselves alive in the earth, ever to be in fear.

And these all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise, God having provided some better thing concerning us, that they without us should not be made perfect.

What then, he says, is the reward of so great a hope? What is the recompense? Great, and so great that it cannot even be set forth in words;

for 'the things,' he says, 'which eye has not seen, and ear has not heard,

nor have entered into the heart of man, these are the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.'

But they have not yet received them, but still are waiting; and thus they died in so great affliction.

And they indeed have so many years since their victory, and have not yet received their reward;

but you, while still in the contest, are impatient? Consider, you also, what it is, and how great a thing it is, that Abraham should be seated,

and the apostle Paul, waiting until you are made perfect, that they may then be able to receive their reward.

For unless we too be present, the Saviour foretold them that He would not give;

just as if a tender-hearted father should say to well-approved children who had finished their work, that he would not give them to eat unless their brethren came.

But you are impatient because you have not yet received the reward? What then shall Abel do, who conquered before all, and sits uncrowned? And what of Noah? And what of those who lived in those times, seeing that they are awaiting you and those after you? Do you see that we have the advantage over them? And well for this reason did he say, 'God having provided some better thing concerning us.'

For, that they might not seem to have the advantage over us by being crowned first, He appointed one time of the crowns for all; and he who conquered so many years before receives the crown together with you.

Do you see His tender care? And he did not say, 'That they should not be crowned without us,' but, 'That they should not be made perfect without us';

so that they too appear perfect only then.

They went before in respect of the contests, but they do not go before in respect of the crowns.

He did no wrong to those, but he honoured us;

for they themselves also are awaiting their brethren.

For if we all are one body, greater becomes the joy to this body when it is crowned in common, and not part by part.

For the righteous are admirable in this also, that they rejoice over the good things of their brethren as over their own.

So that this is according to their mind also, to be crowned together with their own members;

for to be glorified together is a great joy.

Therefore we also, having so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us—

In many places the Scripture takes its consolation in evils from the things that happen, as when the prophet says:

'He shall deliver you from the burning heat, and the harshness, and the rain;

by day the sun shall not scorch you, nor the moon by night.'

This, then, is what he says here also, that the remembrance of those saints, just as a cloud overshadows one who is scorched by a hotter ray, so it raises up and restores the soul that is worn down by evils.

And he did not say, 'Suspended above us,' but, 'Surrounding us,' which was more than that; so as thereby to show that, being encompassed round about, one will with good reason be in greater security.

And by 'witnesses' he means not only those in the New Testament, but also those in the Old;

for they also bore witness to the greatness of God;

such as the three children, those about Elijah, all the prophets.

'All'—what things? That is, sleep, negligence, mean reasonings, all human things.

'And the sin which so easily besets us.'

By 'easily besetting' he means either that which easily surrounds us, or that which can easily suffer a reverse;

for it is easy, if we will, to get the better of sin.

'With patience,' he says, 'let us run the race that is set before us.'

He did not say, 'Let us box,' nor, 'Let us wrestle,' nor, 'Let us make war,' but that which was lightest of all, the running—this he set forth before them.

Nor did he say, 'Let us add to the running,' but, 'In this very thing let us persevere, let us not grow slack.'

'Let us run,' he says, 'the race that is set before us.'

Then he sets forth the sum of his exhortation, which he places both first and last: namely, Christ.

'Looking,' he says, 'unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.'

This is the very thing that Christ Himself continually said to His disciples:

'If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more them of his household?' And again:

'The disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord.'

That is to say, in order that we may learn to run, let us look unto Christ.

For just as in all the arts and in athletic contests we accomplish things by looking to our teachers, so too

we imprint the art upon our mind, receiving certain rules through the sense of sight;

so also here, if we wish to run, and to learn to run well, let us look to Christ, Jesus the author and finisher of our faith.

What does this mean? It means that He Himself has implanted the faith in us, He Himself has given the beginning.

This is also what Christ said to His disciples:

'Ye have not chosen Me, but I have chosen you.'

'Then shall I know, even as also I was known.'

And if He Himself implanted in us the beginning, He Himself will also add the end.

'Who,' he says, 'for the joy that was set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame.'

That is to say, it was possible for Him to suffer nothing at all, had He so willed.

'For He did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth;'

even as He Himself says in the Gospels:

'The prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in Me.'

It lay before Him, therefore, had He so willed, not to come to the cross;

'For I have power,' He says, 'to lay down My life, and I have power to take it again.'

If then He who had no necessity of being crucified was crucified for our sake,

how much more is it right that we should nobly endure all things? 'Who for the joy that was set before Him,' he says, 'endured the cross, despising the shame.'

But what is the meaning of 'despising the shame'? He chose, he says, the death that is full of reproach.

And why the reproachful death? For no other reason than to teach us to count as nothing the glory that comes from men.

For this reason, though He was not subject to sin, He chose it, training us to defy shame and to reckon it as nothing.

Why did he not say 'grief,' but 'shame'? Because He did not bear these things with grief.

What then is the end? Hear, for he adds:

'He is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.'

Do you see the prize? This is also what Paul says in writing:

'Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name which is above every name; that at the name of Jesus Christ every knee should bow.'

Indeed, even if there were no prize, the example alone would be sufficient to persuade us to choose all things;

but now there are prizes set before us as well, not any ordinary ones, but great and unspeakable.

So that we too, whenever we suffer any such thing, should think of Christ before the apostles.

Why? Because His whole life was full of insults;

for He was continually called a madman, and a deceiver, and a sorcerer;

and at one time the Jews said:

'This man is not of God;'

'Nay,' said another, 'but He deceiveth the people;'

'That deceiver said, while He was yet alive,'

'After three days I will rise again.'

And they slandered Him as practising sorcery, saying:

'He casteth out demons by Beelzebul;'

and that He was mad, and had a demon;

'Say we not well,' they said, 'that He hath a demon, and is mad?' And these things He heard from them, while doing good, working miracles, displaying the works of God.

For if He had heard such things while doing nothing, it would not have been so astonishing;

but if, while teaching the things that lead to truth, He was called a deceiver, and while casting out demons, He was said to have a demon, and while overturning all that was contrary, He was called a sorcerer,

what surpassing measure of wonder does this not contain? For these were the things of which they continually accused Him.

But if you wish to learn also the taunts and the mockeries which they made against Him—which above all things sting our souls—hear first those drawn from His lineage:

'Is not this,' they said, 'the son of the carpenter, whose father and mother we know? Are not all His brethren with us?' And mocking Him because of His native place, they said that He was from Nazareth.

'Search,' one says, 'and look, for out of Galilee ariseth no prophet;'

and He bore being so grievously slandered.

'Doth not the Scripture say, that Christ cometh from Bethlehem, the village?' Do you wish to see also the mockeries they made against Him at the very cross? They knelt before Him in mockery, and struck Him and buffeted Him, and said:

'Tell us who it is that smote Thee.' And they brought Him vinegar, and said:

'If Thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross.'

And besides, the servant of the high priest gave Him a blow, and He said:

'If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil;'

'but if well, why smitest thou Me?' And mocking Him, they put a robe about Him, and spat in His face, and continually brought their temptations, tempting Him.

Do you wish to see also the accusations—those made in secret, those made openly, those made by the disciples? For the saying, 'Will ye also go away?' and the saying, 'Thou hast a demon,' were spoken even by those who had already believed. And tell me, did He not also continually flee, at one time into Galilee, at another into Judea? Was not the trial great for Him even from His swaddling-clothes? Did not His mother, taking Him while He was yet a child, go down into Egypt? For all these reasons, therefore, he says:

'Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.'

Unto Him, therefore, let us look, and unto the things of His disciples, reading the words of Paul, and hearing him say:

'In much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in fastings, in labours, in purity, in knowledge;'

'Even unto this present hour we both hunger and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwellingplace, and toil, working with our own hands;'

'being reviled, we bless;'

Is there then any of us who can say that he has suffered even the smallest part of these things? 'As deceivers,' he says, 'and yet true; as dishonoured, as having nothing;'

'Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one;'

'thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, a night and a day I have been in the deep; in journeyings often, in afflictions, in distress, in famine.'

And that these things seemed good to God, hear him saying:

'For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, and He said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee;'

'for My strength is made perfect in weakness.'

Therefore also, he says, I take pleasure in weaknesses, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

And hear Christ himself also speaking:

For consider, he says, him who endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest you grow weary and faint in your souls.

For if the sufferings of our neighbours rouse us, how much eagerness will the sufferings of the Master not supply us? What will they not accomplish in us? And observe how, passing over the recounting of all else, he made everything plain through the single word 'contradiction,' and by adding the word 'such.'

For the blows upon the cheek, the mockery, the insults, the reproaches, the derision—all these he intimated through the word 'contradiction.'

And not those things only, but also all that he suffered throughout the life of his teaching.

These things therefore, beloved, let us ever ponder, and turn them over in our minds by night and by day, knowing that from this we shall reap great good, and shall have much profit.

For a great, truly a great consolation are both the sufferings of Christ and those of the apostles.

For thus did he know this to be the better way of virtue, so that even he himself, who had no need of it, came by this way.

Thus he knows affliction to be profitable to us, and rather to become an occasion of relief.

For hear Christ himself speaking:

Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.

For through such teaching he says virtually this:

If you are a disciple, imitate the Master.

But if he came by way of affliction, while you come by way of ease, you no longer tread the same road which he trod, but another.

How then do you follow, not following? How are you a disciple, not attending upon the Master? This too Paul says:

We are weak, but you are strong;

we are without honour, but you are held in honour.

Or how does it stand to reason, he says, that we should be zealous for the opposite things, and that you should be the disciples, but we the teachers? A great thing, then, is affliction, beloved;

for it accomplishes two very great things: it both blots out sins and makes men steadfast.

What then, he says, if it should overthrow and destroy a man? It is not affliction that does this, but our own sluggishness.

How so, he says? For if we are sober, if we entreat God

beseeching him not to permit us to be tempted beyond what we are able, if we ever hold fast to him, we shall stand nobly and hold our ground.

As long as we have him for our helper, even though the temptations blow more violently than all the winds, they will be to us but a chaff and a leaf lightly carried away.

In all these things, he says, we more than conquer;

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

For our momentary light affliction works for us, beyond all measure, an eternal weight of glory.

Consider how great the dangers—shipwrecks, afflictions coming one after another, and all such things—he calls light;

and emulate this adamant, who bore this body about him lightly and as a thing of no account.

Are you in poverty? But not in such poverty as Paul, who was tried also with hunger and thirst and nakedness;

for he did not suffer this for a single day, but endured it continually.

Whence is this plain? Hear him speaking:

Even to the present hour we both hunger and thirst and are naked.

Ah, how much glory he already had in his preaching, and yet endured so much—being now in his twentieth year when he wrote these things!

For I know a man, he says, fourteen years ago—whether in the body or out of the body, I do not know;

After three years, he says, I went up to Jerusalem.

And again hear him speaking:

It were better for me to die, than that anyone should make my boasting void.

And not this only, but writing again he said:

We have become as the refuse of the world.

What is harsher than famine? What than frost? What than the plots that come from brethren?—whom he goes on to call false brethren.

Was he not called a pest of the world? A deceiver? A subverter? Was he not cut to pieces by scourging? Let us lay these things to heart, beloved; let us ponder these things, let us remember these things, and we shall never faint, though we be wronged, though we be plundered, though we suffer countless evils.

May it be ours to be well approved in the heavens, and all things are bearable;

may it be ours to fare well there, and of the things here below let there be no account.

These things are a shadow and a dream;

whatever they may be, when those things are hoped for and awaited, none of these terrors is anything, either in its nature or in its duration.

For with what do you wish us to compare those terrors? With what shall we compare the unquenchable fire, the worm that never ends? What can you name here below equal to the gnashing of teeth, to the bonds, to the outer darkness, to the wrath, to the affliction, to the anguish? But in respect of time? And what are countless years compared with infinite and endless ages? Are they not as a little drop compared with a boundless deep? But in respect of the good things? Nay, there the surpassing greatness is greater still;

Eye has not seen, he says, ear has not heard, neither has it entered into the heart of man.

And these things shall be again throughout infinite ages.

For these things, then, is it not a noble thing to be cut in pieces ten thousand times, to be slain, to be burned, to undergo ten thousand deaths, to endure every terror in word and deed? For if it were to live burning in fire, ought we not to endure all things in order to attain those promised good things? But why do I say this, trifling with men who do not even choose to despise money, but who cling to it as though it were immortal, and who—if they give a little out of much—think they have accomplished the whole? This is not almsgiving;

for almsgiving is that of the widow, who poured out her whole living.

But if you cannot bear to cast in as much as the widow, yet at least cast in the whole of your superfluity;

keep what suffices, not what is superfluous.

But there is no one who casts in even the superfluity;

for as long as you have many servants and silken garments, all these are superfluities.

Nothing is necessary or needful without which we are able to live;

these things are superfluous and simply added on from without.

Let us see then, if you please, without what things we are not able to live.

Even if we have only two servants, we are able to live;

for where there are some living without servants at all, what excuse have we, who are not content with two? We are able also to have a house of three rooms made of brick;

For tell me, are there not some who, together with

children and wife, have but one house? And let there be, if you will, even two servants.

And how is it not a disgrace, someone says, for a freewoman to walk about with only two servants? Away with it! It is no disgrace for a freewoman to walk with two servants, but it is a disgrace to go forth with many.

Perhaps you laugh on hearing these things.

Believe me, this is the disgrace—to go forth with a multitude.

Like sheep-dealers, or like traffickers in slaves, so do you count it some great thing to go forth with a greater number of servants.

This is arrogance and vainglory;

that other course is wisdom and dignity.

For the freewoman ought not to be known by the multitude of her attendants;

for what virtue is there in having many slaves? This belongs not to the soul;

But whatever does not belong to the soul does not prove it free.

When the soul is content with little, then it is truly free;

but when it stands in need of many things, it is a slave, and worse than bondmen.

Tell me, do not the angels traverse the whole world alone, and yet need none to follow after them? Are they then, on this account, worse than us who are in need—they who need nothing? If, therefore, to need nothing of what attends us is angelic, who is nearer to the angelic life: she who needs many things, or she who needs few? Is not this then no shame at all? For shame is to do something unseemly.

Tell me, who turns the heads of those in the marketplace: she who brings many attendants, or she who brings few? And of her who brings few, is not she who appears alone the more unobserved? Do you see that that is the shame? Who turns the heads of those in the marketplace: she who wears fine garments, or she who is simply and unadorned clad? Again, who turns the heads of those in the marketplace: she who is borne upon mules and beneath gold-embroidered curtains, or she who walks plainly and just as she happens, with modesty? Or rather, this latter we do not even notice though we see her, but the former the crowds not only strive to look upon but even ask who she may be and whence she comes. And I pass over how much envy is bred from this.

What then, tell me, is shameful—to be seen, or not to be seen? When is the shame greater: when all gaze upon her, or when none? When they inquire about her, or when they take no thought of her at all? Do you see that it is not for fear of shame, but for vainglory that we do all things? Nevertheless, since it is impossible to lead you away from this, it suffices me for the present that you learn that this is no shame.

Sin alone is shame—which no one reckons to be shame, but counts anything rather than this.

Let garments be such as meet our need, not superfluous;

yet, that we may not shut you up in too great straitness, this I enjoin: that we have no need of gold-embroidered stuffs, nor of fine linens.

For that these words are not mine, hear the blessed Paul saying and enjoining upon the women to adorn themselves, not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array.

But with what would you have them adorned, O Paul? tell us;

for perhaps they will say that only golden things are costly, but silken things are not costly.

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

Let the garment be such, he says, as merely to cover.

For it was for this that God gave them to us, that we might cover our nakedness;

and this any garment whatsoever, of cheap price though it be, is able to do.

Perhaps you laugh, you who wear silken garments;

What indeed did Paul enjoin? and what do we do? And my word is not to the women only, but also to the men.

For all the rest that we possess is superfluous;

the poor alone possess nothing superfluous;

and perhaps they too abstain from necessity, seeing that, if it were possible, not even they would have held back.

Nevertheless, whether from pretext or in truth, at least those men do not have superfluous things.

Let us then wear such garments as satisfy our need.

For what does all this gold intend? These things befit those upon the stage; these are the trappings of such women, they belong to harlots, who do all things to be gazed upon.

Let her deck herself who is on the stage, who is in the dancing-place;

for she desires to draw all men to herself;

but she who professes godliness, let her not deck herself thus, but she has adornment of another kind, far greater than that.

Adorn the theater, put on that adornment there.

What is your theater? Heaven, the assembly of the angels;

I speak not of the virgins only, but also of those living in the world;

all, as many as believe in Christ, have that theater.

Let us utter such things as may delight those spectators;

put on such things as may gladden them.

For tell me: if the harlot woman, having laid aside her gold and her garments and her laughter and her jesting and shameful words, should put on a plain garment, and having composed herself unaffectedly should come in, and should utter godly words and discourse of chastity and say nothing shameful, would not all rise up? Would not this theater be broken up? Would they not cast her out, as one who knows not how to fit herself to the assembly and who speaks things foreign to that satanic theater? Even so with you: if, arrayed in that woman's ornaments, you enter into the theater of the heavens, the spectators will cast you out.

For there is no need of these golden garments there, but of others.

Of what kind? Such as the prophet speaks of:

'Clothed in golden fringes, wrought about with divers colors';

not so as to make the body white and glistening, but so as to adorn the soul;

for it is she that there contends and wrestles.

'All the glory of the king's daughter is within,' it says.

for you deliver yourself from countless other evils besides, and your husband from anxiety, and yourself from care.

For thus you will be held in reverence by your husband, when you need not many things.

For every man is wont to give himself airs toward those who have need of him;

but when he sees them having no need, he lowers his pride, so that he converses on equal terms.

When the husband sees that you have no need of him in anything, that you despise the gifts that come from him, then, though he be exceedingly high-minded, he will reverence you the more than if you were decked with golden ornaments;

and you will no longer be his slave.

For those whose things we have need of, we are compelled to bow beneath them;

but if we withdraw ourselves, we shall no longer be liable to judgment, but he knows that it is for the fear of God that we render him a certain obedience, not for what comes from him.

For now, as though granting us great favors, however much honor he may enjoy, he does not think that he has enjoyed the whole;

but then, even if he obtain but a little, he will count it a favor;

he will not reproach you, nor will he himself be compelled to be covetous for your sake.

For what is more irrational than to fashion gold for this purpose—that it may be worn about in baths and marketplaces? Yet in baths and marketplaces perhaps there is nothing marvelous;

but to go forth even into the church thus tricked out—that is great matter for laughter.

For why, pray, does she come in here wearing gold, she who ought to enter in order to hear that women should adorn themselves, not with gold nor pearls, nor costly array? For what reason then do you come in, O woman? Is it as one contending against Paul, and showing that, though he say these things ten thousand times, you will not be turned? or as wishing to convict us teachers of discoursing on these things in vain? For tell me: if some Greek and unbeliever, having heard this passage read where the blessed Paul says these things, enjoining upon the women to adorn themselves neither with gold, nor pearls, nor costly array—and having a believing wife—should see that she makes much account of adornment and puts on gold ornaments in order to go forth to church, will he not say to himself, when he sees her in her little chamber putting these things on and arranging them carefully: Why does the woman remain within in the little chamber? why does she tarry? why does she put on the golden ornaments? whither has she to go? to the church? why? that she may hear, 'Not with costly array'? Will he not laugh? will he not burst out laughing? will he not deem our matters to be mockery and deceit? Wherefore I entreat, let us leave the gold ornaments to the processions, to the stages, to the display-stalls upon the workshops;

and let not the image of God be decked with these things;

let the free woman be adorned with freedom;

and freedom is to be without arrogance, without boasting.

But if you also desire to attain to the glory that comes from men, thus will you attain it. For the wife of a wealthy man we shall not so admire when she wears gold and silk (for this is common to all women) as when she wears a cheap and simple garment, wrought of wool alone.

This all will admire, this they will applaud.

For in that adornment of gold and costly garments, she has many who share it with her;

and though she surpass this one, she is outdone by another;

and though she outstrip all, she is vanquished by the empress herself;

but here she conquers all, and even the wife of the emperor himself;

for she alone, amid great wealth, has chosen the ways of the poor.

So that even if we long for glory, here the glory is greater.

I speak not to the widows only, and to the rich;

for here the necessity of widowhood seems to bring this about;

but also to those who are married.

'But I do not please my husband,' she says.

It is not your husband whom you desire to please, but the multitude of the poorer women;

Or rather, not to please them at all, but to waste them away and torment them, and to make their poverty greater.

How many blasphemies do people utter on your account? 'Let there be no poverty,' one says.

'God hates the poor; God does not love those in poverty.'

For that it is not your husband whom you wish to please, and that it is not for this reason that you adorn yourself, you make plain to all by the very things you do.

For when you have crossed the threshold of the bedchamber, at once you lay everything aside—the garments, the gold, the pearls;

and in the house especially you do not wear them.

But if you truly wish to please your husband, there are means by which you may please him—by gentleness, by meekness, by decorum.

For believe me, woman, even if the husband be a thousand times licentious and intemperate, these things will draw him more—gentleness, decorum, freedom from vanity, freedom from extravagance, frugality.

For the profligate man you will not hold fast, however many such devices you contrive;

and those women who have had such husbands know it well.

For however much you adorn yourself, that man, being profligate, will go off to another;

but the chaste and orderly husband you will win, not by these things, but by their opposites;

yet by these very things you also grieve him, casting upon yourself the reputation of one who loves finery.

For even if the husband, out of shame and because he is chaste, does not say so, yet inwardly he will condemn you;

and the envyings and the spiteful glances he will not shield you from.

Will you not then cast out all pleasure, rousing envy against yourself? 7.

Perhaps you hear these words with displeasure, and are vexed, saying that he is rather provoking the husbands against the wives.

It is not to provoke the husbands that I say these things, but because I wish these things to be done willingly on your part, for your sakes, not for theirs;

not that I may free them from envy, but that I may free you from the fantasy of worldly things.

Do you wish to appear beautiful? I too wish this; but the beauty which God seeks, the beauty which the King desires.

Whom do you wish to have as your lover—God or men? If you are beautiful with that beauty, God will desire your beauty;

but if you have this beauty apart from that, He will loathe you, and your lovers will be defiled men;

for no one who loves a married woman is good.

Reckon this also concerning outward adornment.

For that adornment—I mean the adornment of the soul—draws God to itself;

but this outward one, again, draws defiled men.

Do you see that I care for you, that I am concerned for you, that you may be beautiful—truly beautiful, truly of good repute—that instead of defiled men you may have as your lover God, the Lord of all? And she who has Him as her lover, to whom shall she be like? She dances with the angels.

For if she who is loved by an earthly king is counted blessed above all,

she who is loved by God with much love—of what shall she be worthy? Even if you set the whole world in the balance, nothing is worthy of that beauty.

Let us, therefore, cultivate this beauty; let us adorn ourselves with this adornment, that we may pass into the heavens, into the spiritual bridal chambers, into the undefiled marriage-hall.

For this bodily beauty is captured by all, and even should it endure well, and neither sickness trouble it nor care—which is impossible—it does not last twenty years;

but that beauty ever blossoms, ever is in its prime;

there is no fear of change there; no old age coming on brings a wrinkle, no sickness falling upon it withers it, no anxious despondency mars it, but it is above all these things.

But this bodily beauty departs before it even appears, and when it has appeared it does not have many admirers.

For the orderly do not admire it, and those who do admire it, admire it with licentiousness.

Let us then not cultivate this, but that;

let us hold fast to that, so that with bright lamps we may depart into the marriage-hall.

For this promise was not made to the virgins only, but to the souls that are virgin;

since, if this belonged simply to virgins, the five would not have been shut out.

This, therefore, belongs to all who are virgins in soul, all who are freed from worldly thoughts;

for these thoughts corrupt the souls.

If, therefore, we remain undefiled, we shall depart thither and be received.

'For I have betrothed you,' he says, 'to one husband, to present you as a chaste virgin to Christ.'

These words he spoke not to the virgins, but to the whole fullness of the entire Church.

For the incorrupt soul is a virgin, even though she have a husband;

she is a virgin in the true virginity, the wondrous one;

for that bodily virginity is a consequence and shadow of the other, but the true virginity is that of the soul.

Let us cultivate this, and so shall we be able with a bright countenance to behold the Bridegroom, to enter in with bright lamps, if the oil does not fail us, if, having melted down our gold, we make of it such oil as makes the lamps bright;

and that oil is love for mankind.

If we share our goods with others, if we work them into oil, then it will stand up for us, and we shall not say in that hour, 'Give us oil, for our lamps are going out,' nor shall we have need of others, nor, having gone off to those who sell, shall we be shut out, nor shall we hear that fearful and dreadful voice as we knock upon the doors;

but He will recognize us, and we shall enter in together with the Bridegroom, and having entered into the spiritual marriage-hall, we shall enjoy countless good things.

For if here the bridal-hall is so bright, the chambers so splendid, that no one attending is ever satisfied;

how much more there? Heaven is the bridal-chamber, and better than heaven is the marriage-hall;

and if the marriage-hall is so beautiful, who then shall the Bridegroom be? And why do I speak of laying aside our gold and sharing it with the needy? For even if it were needful to sell our very selves, even to become slaves instead of free, in order to be able to be with that Bridegroom, to enjoy that beauty, only to look upon His face;

ought we not to accept all things gladly? And for a king who is upon the earth, merely to see him, we often, in order to see him, throw away even what is in our hands, though it be necessary;

but for Him who is both King and Bridegroom in the heavens, so that we may not only be counted worthy to see Him, but even to go before Him with lamps, and to be near Him, and to be with Him forever—what ought we not to do? What not to perform? What not to endure? Wherefore, I entreat you, let us take up some longing for those good things, let us yearn for that Bridegroom, let us be virgins in the true virginity;

for it is the virginity of the soul that the Master seeks.

With this let us enter into heaven, having no spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing, that we may also obtain the good things promised to us;

of which may it be granted to us all to partake, by the grace and love toward mankind.