Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 60

"Woe to the world because of offenses!"

"For it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man through whom the offenses come!"

And if it is necessary that the offenses come, perhaps one of the adversaries might say: Why does He call the world wretched, when He ought rather to help it and stretch out a hand? For that is the part of a physician and a protector, but this other belongs even to any chance person.

What then should we say to a tongue so shameless? And what equal to this healing do you go on seeking? For being God, He became man for your sake, and took the form of a servant, and underwent all the utmost extremities, and left out nothing of what pertained to you.

But since nothing more came of it for the thankless, on this account He calls them wretched, because after so great a healing they remained in their sickness.

It is just as if someone, lamenting a sick man who had enjoyed much care yet was unwilling to be persuaded by the physician's rules, were to say: "Woe to such and such a man because of the sickness which he has aggravated through his own carelessness!"

But in that case there is no benefit from the lamentation;

here, however, this too is a kind of healing—to foretell what is to come, and to pronounce the woe.

For many men, though often counselled, have gained no benefit, yet when they were lamented over they recovered.

For this reason especially He set down the 'Woe,' rousing them, filling them with earnestness, and preparing them to keep watch.

And along with these things He also displays His good will toward those very men, and His own gentleness, in that He laments even over those who contradict Him, not merely being displeased, but also setting them right both by the lamentation and by the prediction, so as to win them back.

For if it is necessary that offences come, how is it possible to escape them? Because that offences should come is indeed necessary;

but to perish is by no means necessary.

Just as a physician too might say (for nothing hinders us from using the same illustration again), it is necessary that such-and-such a disease set in, but it is not necessary that the man who takes heed be utterly destroyed by the disease.

And this He said, as I have observed, among other things also to awaken His disciples from sleep.

For lest they should slumber, as though being sent forth to a peaceful and untroubled life, He shows them many wars standing over against them, from without and from within.

Which Paul also made plain when he said:

'Without were fightings, within were fears;'

and, 'In perils among false brethren;'

and discoursing with the Milesians he said:

'And from among your own selves shall men arise, speaking perverse things.'

'A man's foes shall be they of his own household.'

But when He says 'necessity,' He does not thereby abolish the self-determination of our power, nor the freedom of the will, nor does He subject our life to any necessity of circumstances in saying these things;

rather He foretells that which will certainly come to pass;

which Luke set forth in another expression, speaking thus:

'It is impossible that offences should not come.'

But what are 'the offences'? The hindrances to the right way.

So also those on the stage call the men skilled in such matters, those who contort their bodies, by this name.

It is not, then, His prediction that brings on the offences;

nor is it because He foretold it that it comes to pass;

but because it was altogether going to happen, for this reason He foretold it;

since if those who bring them had not been willing to do wickedly, neither would they have come;

and if they were not going to come, neither would it have been foretold.

But since those men wrought wickedness and were sick with an incurable disease, they came;

and He foretells that which is going to be.

And if those men had been set right, He says, and there had been no one to bring in the offences, would not this saying have been convicted of falsehood? By no means;

for if all were going to be set right, He would not have said that 'it is necessary they come;'

but since He foreknew that they would be uncorrected of their own accord, for this reason He said that they will certainly come.

'And why then did He not destroy them?' one says.

For what reason ought they to have been destroyed? For the sake of those who are harmed? But it is not from that source that those who are harmed perish, but from their own slothfulness.

And the virtuous make this plain, in that they not only suffer no wrong from this, but even gain the greatest profit;

such as Job was, such as Joseph, such as all the righteous and the apostles.

But if many perish, it is because of their own slumber.

But if it were not so, but the destruction came by reason of the offences, all would have had to perish. But if there are those who escape, let him who does not escape reckon the fault to himself.

For the offences, as I have said, both rouse a man and make him keener and sharpen him, not only the one who guards himself, but even the one who has fallen and quickly risen again;

for it makes him more secure and renders him harder to be taken captive.

So that if we are sober, we reap from this no small gain, namely, to be continually watchful.

For if, when enemies are present and so many temptations are pressing upon us, we sleep, what should we become were we living in security? And if you will, consider the first man.

For if, having lived but a short time in paradise — perhaps not even a whole day — and having enjoyed its delights, he was driven to such a depth of wickedness that he imagined he could become equal to God, and reckoned the deceiver to be his benefactor, and could not keep even a single commandment;

if he had gone on living the life that followed free from hardship, what would he not have done? (Part 2)

But when we say these things, they raise other objections in turn, asking:

And why did God make him such as he is? It was not God who made him such;

for if we, in matters for which we ourselves are responsible, do not lay blame upon our servants, how much more will the God of all not do so.

But where, then, did this come from? he says.

From himself and from his own slothfulness.

What does 'from himself' mean? Ask yourself.

For if the wicked are not wicked of their own doing, then do not punish your servant, nor rebuke your wife in whatever she may do wrong, nor strike your son, nor lay any charge against your friend, nor hate the enemy who wrongs you;

for all these deserve pity rather than punishment, unless they transgress of their own accord.

But I am not able to be so magnanimous, he says.

And yet, when you perceive that the cause lies not in those persons but in some other necessity, you are able to be magnanimous.

At any rate, when a servant, being held down by sickness, fails to do what he was commanded, you not only refrain from blaming him, but you even forgive him.

Thus you yourself are a witness that one part belongs to him, and another part does not belong to him.

So that here too, if you knew that he was wicked apart from his own making of himself so, not only would you not have accused him, but you would even have granted him pardon.

For surely you would not, on account of sickness, forgive, yet on account of God's creating refuse to forgive, if indeed he had become such from the beginning.

And from another angle too it is easy to stop the mouths of such men;

for great is the abundance of the truth.

For why have you never accused a servant of not being handsome in appearance, of not being tall in body, of not being able to fly? Because these things belong to nature.

Therefore he is acquitted of any charges that pertain to nature, and no one will contradict this.

When, therefore, you do accuse, you show that the fault is not of nature, but of the will.

For if in those things for which we do not accuse we testify that the whole matter belongs to nature, it is plain that in those things for which we do rebuke, we make clear that the transgression belongs to the will.

Do not, then, bring me into the midst crooked reasonings, nor sophistries and webs flimsier than spiders', but answer me once again this:

Did God make all human beings? To everyone, surely, this is evident.

How is it, then, that not all are equal in respect of virtue and of vice? Whence come the good and the kindly and the fair-minded? Whence the base and the wicked? For if these things do not depend on choice but are of nature, how is it that some are this and others that? For if all are wicked by nature, it would have been impossible for anyone to be good;

and if by nature they were good, then no one would be wicked.

For if there is one nature of all human beings, then according to this all ought to be one and the same, whether they were to be this or that.

But if we were to say that by nature some are good and others wicked — which cannot stand to reason, as we have demonstrated — then these things would have to be unalterable;

for the things of nature are unalterable.

All are mortal and subject to suffering, and no one is free from suffering, however much he may contend otherwise.

But as it is, we see many becoming base from good, and good from base — the former through slothfulness, the latter through diligence;

which most of all shows that these things do not belong to nature.

For the things that are natural neither change, nor do they need diligence in order to be acquired.

For just as for seeing and hearing we have no need of toil, so likewise in virtue we would have no need of sweat, if it had been allotted to us together with nature itself.

But for what reason did He make some base as well, when He was able to make all good? Whence, then, come the evils? he says.

For it is my task to show that they are not of nature, nor from God.

But are they, then, unbegotten? Hush, O man, and leap away from this madness, since you would be honoring evil with one and the same honor as God, and with the very highest honor.

For if they are unbegotten, then they will also be powerful, and could neither be uprooted, nor pass into non-existence.

For that the unbegotten is imperishable is surely evident to everyone.

And whence come so many good men, when evil possesses such great power? How are the begotten stronger than the unbegotten? But God destroys these evils, he says.

When? And how, as one might ask, shall he destroy things equal in honour, equal in strength, and equal in age? O the malice of the devil!

With what blasphemy did he persuade men to clothe God!

Under what pretext of piety did he devise yet another impious doctrine!

For wishing to show that evil is not from Him, they brought in another wicked doctrine, declaring that these evils are unbegotten.

From willing and from not willing.

But this very willing and not willing—whence is it? From our own selves.

But you do the very same thing in your questioning, as though, when you had asked, 'Whence comes seeing and not seeing?' and I then answered, 'From opening and closing the eyes,'

you were again to ask, 'But this very closing and not closing—whence is it?' and then, having heard that it is from ourselves and from our will, you were to seek yet another cause.

For evil is nothing else but the disobeying of God.

Whence then, he says, did man find this out? For was it any great task to find this out? Tell me.

For neither do I say this, that it is a hard thing;

but whence came his will to disobey? From slothfulness.

For being master of both, he inclined rather to this one.

But if you are still at a loss and grow dizzy at hearing these things, I will put to you nothing hard or intricate, but a certain simple and plain question.

Have you ever been bad, and have you ever also been good? What I mean is this:

Have you at one time mastered a passion, and again been overcome by a passion? Did you fall into drunkenness, and then master drunkenness? Were you at one time angry, and at another not angry? Did you overlook a poor man, and then not overlook him? Did you at one time commit fornication, and again live in chastity? Whence then come all these things? Tell me.

Whence? For even if you yourself do not say it,

[I will say] that the one you pursued with zeal, straining yourself;

but after this you slackened and grew slothful.

For with those who are given up to despair and are wholly in wickedness, and who are without feeling and are raving mad,

and are not willing so much as to hear the things that would set them right, neither

will I discourse to them about true philosophy;

but to those who at one time are in this state and at another in that, I will gladly speak:

Did you at one time seize what did not belong to you,

but afterwards, being broken by pity, did you share even your own goods with the one in need? Whence then this change? Is it not evident that it is from judgement and deliberate choice? It is evident;

and there is no one who would not say this.

Wherefore I exhort you to be earnest and to cleave to virtue, and you will have no need of these questionings.

For evils are but names only, if we so will.

Do not, then, inquire whence come the evils, nor be perplexed;

but having found that they come from slothfulness alone, flee from the evils.

And if anyone says that these things are not from us, then when you see him angry with a servant, and exasperated with his wife, and rebuking a child, and condemning those who do wrong, say to him:

How then were you saying that the evils are not from us? For if they are not from us, on what account do you find fault? Say again:

Is it of your own self that you revile and do violence? For if it is not of your own self, then let no one be angry with you;

but if it is of your own self, then the evils are from you and from your own slothfulness.

What then? Do you think there are some who are good? For if no one is good, whence comes this name to you? whence the praises? But if there are good men, it is plain that they will also rebuke the wicked.

But if no one is wicked willingly, nor of his own self, then the good will be found to rebuke the bad unjustly, and in this way they too will again become bad.

For what could be worse than to subject the guiltless to accusations? But if they remain good in our eyes even while rebuking, and this is above all a proof of their goodness, then from this it is clear, even to the exceedingly foolish, that no one is ever bad by necessity.

But if even after all these things you should still inquire whence come the evils, I would say: from slothfulness, from idleness, from consorting with the wicked, from despising virtue;

from this source come both the evils, and the fact that some inquire whence come the evils.

For of those who live rightly, no one inquires into these things—none of those who choose to live decently and soberly.

But those who dare wicked things, and wish through such words to devise some senseless consolation for themselves, are weaving spiders' webs.

But let us tear these webs asunder, not by words alone, but also by our deeds.

For these things are not the result of necessity.

For if they were of necessity, He would not have said:

'Woe to that man through whom the offence comes!'

For He calls wretched those alone who are wicked of their own deliberate choice.

But if He says 'through whom,' do not marvel.

For He does not say this as though another were bringing it in through him, but as though he himself were contriving the whole thing.

For Scripture is wont to use 'through whom' to mean 'by whom.'

'I have gotten a man through God,'

setting down not the secondary cause, but the primary one.

'Is not the interpretation of them through God?' And, 'God is faithful, through whom you were called into the fellowship of His Son.'

And that you may learn that it is not of necessity, hear also what follows.

For after pronouncing the woe, He says:

'If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut them off, and cast them from you.'

'For it is better for you to enter into life lame or maimed, than having two hands and feet to be cast into the fire.'

'And if your right eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out.'

'It is better for you to enter into life with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into the furnace of fire;'

not saying these things concerning bodily members;

but concerning friends, concerning those near to us, whom we hold in the rank of necessary members.

This He said also above, and He says it now.

For nothing is so injurious as evil companionship.

For whatever things necessity cannot do, friendship can often accomplish, both to our hurt and to our profit.

Wherefore with much vehemence He bids us cut off those who harm us, hinting at these—namely, those who bring the offences.

Do you see how He warded off the harm that would come from the offences? By foretelling that they would certainly come, so that He might find no one in slothful ease, but rather watchful in expectation of them;

by showing that they are great evils (for He would not simply have said, 'Woe to the world because of the offences!',

but pointing out the great ruin that comes from them);

by again pronouncing a greater woe upon the one who brings them in.

For to say, 'Nevertheless woe to that man,' was the mark of one showing how great the punishment is;

and not only this, but by the addition of the example He heightened the fear.

Then He is not content with these things, but also shows the way by which one might escape the offences.

And what is this? The wicked, He says, even if they be exceedingly dear to you, cut off from your friendship.

And He gives an irrefutable reason.

For if they remain your friends, you will neither gain them, and you will destroy yourself along with them;

but if you cut them off, you will at least reap your own salvation.

So that if anyone's friendship harms you, cut it off from yourself.

For if we often cut off many of our own members, when they are incurably diseased and are corrupting the rest, much more ought we to do this in the case of friends.

But if evils were by nature, all this exhortation and counsel would be superfluous, and the guarding by the aforesaid means would be superfluous.

But if it is not superfluous—as indeed it is not superfluous—it is plain that wickedness is a matter of the will.

'See that you do not despise one of these little ones.'

For I say unto you, that their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.

By 'little ones' He does not mean those who are truly little, but those who are so reckoned by the multitude, the poor, the despised, the obscure;

(for how could he be little who is worth the whole world? how could he be little who is a friend of God?) but rather those who are reckoned such in the imagination of the many.

And He speaks not concerning many only, but also concerning one, thereby again walling off the harm that comes from the many occasions of stumbling.

For just as fleeing the wicked, so also honouring the good brings the greatest gain, and there would be a twofold safety for him who gives heed;

the one, from cutting off friendships with those who cause stumbling;

the other, from holding these holy ones in service and honour.

Then from yet another quarter also He makes them venerable, saying that 'Their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.'

From this it is plain that the saints, or indeed all men, have angels.

For indeed the Apostle also says concerning the woman, that 'She ought to have authority upon her head because of the angels';

'He set the bounds of the nations according to the number of the angels of God.'

But here He discourses not concerning angels only, but also concerning angels that are pre-eminent.

And when He says, 'The face of my Father,' He means nothing else than the greater boldness of access and the abundant honour.

'For the Son of man is come to save that which was lost.'

Again He sets down another argument greater than the former, and joins to it a parable, through which He also brings in the Father as willing these things.

'For what think ye?' He says;

'if a man have a hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and go into the mountains, and seek that which is gone astray? And if so be that he find it, he rejoiceth more over it than over the ninety and nine which went not astray.'

'Even so it is not the will before your Father, that one of these little ones should perish.'

Seest thou by how many things He leads us on to the care of our lowly brethren? Do not then say, 'So-and-so is a coppersmith, a cobbler, he is a farmer, he is a fool,' and so despise him.

For that thou mayest not suffer this, see through how many things He persuades thee to be moderate, and casts thee into the care of these.

He set a little child, and says;

and, 'Whoso shall receive one such little child, receiveth me';

and, 'Whoso shall cause to stumble, shall suffer the uttermost things.'

And He was not even content with the example of the millstone, but added also the 'woe,' and commanded to cut off such persons, even though they be in the rank of hands and eyes to us.

And from the angels again, those entrusted with these very lowly brethren, He makes them venerable;

and from His own will and passion (for when He says, 'The Son of man is come to save that which was lost,' He signifies also the cross, even as Paul too says, speaking concerning a brother);

and from the Father, that not even to Him does it seem good that one should perish;

and from the common custom, that the shepherd, leaving the ones that are saved, seeks that which is lost;

and when he finds that which went astray, he greatly delights in the finding of it and in its salvation.

If then God so rejoices over the little one that is found, how

dost thou despise those who are so earnestly cared for by God, when thou oughtest even to lay down thy very soul for one of these little ones? But is he weak and of no account? Nay, for this very reason most of all one ought to do everything, so as to preserve him.

For indeed He Himself, leaving the ninety and nine sheep, went after that one, and the salvation of so many was not able to cast into shadow the loss of the one.

And Luke says that He even carried it upon His shoulders;

and, 'There was greater joy over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine righteous persons.'

And both from His leaving the ones that are saved for its sake, and from His rejoicing more over this one, He showed the great earnestness of His concern for it.

Let us not then be careless of the souls of such as these.

For indeed all these things were spoken on their account.

For by threatening that he who is not become as a little child shall not so much as set foot in the heavens, and by making mention of the millstone, He brought down the arrogance of the boastful;

for nothing is so hostile to love as pride;

and by saying, 'It must needs be that offences come,' He made them watchful.

And by adding, 'Woe to him through whom the offense comes,' He prepared each man to be earnest that it should not come through himself.

And in commanding to cut off those who cause offense, He made salvation easy;

and in charging men not to despise them, and not charging it simply but vehemently ('For see,' He says, 'that ye despise not one of these little ones'),

and in saying that 'Their angels behold the face of my Father,'

and, 'For this I came,'

and, 'My Father wills this,'—

He made those who ought to care for them more diligent.

Do you see how great a wall He has cast about them, and how much concern He takes for those who are lightly esteemed and who are perishing, threatening irremediable evils to those who trip them up, and promising great blessings to those who tend and care for them, and again bringing forward the example from Himself and from the Father? Let us also imitate Him, declining nothing of the things that seem lowly and toilsome for the sake of the brethren;

but even if we must render service, even if the one for whom this is done be small, even if he be of no account, even if the matter be laborious, even if we must cross over mountains and precipices, let all things be bearable for the sake of the brother's salvation.

For so precious is a soul to God that He did not even spare His own Son.

Wherefore I exhort you, when the dawn appears,

as soon as we go forth from the house, let us have this one aim, and this as our chief earnestness, namely to snatch away the one who is in danger;

I do not mean only this perceptible danger;

but the danger of the soul, which is brought upon men by the devil.

For indeed the merchant, in order to increase his substance, crosses the sea;

and the craftsman, in order to add to what he possesses, does everything.

Let us then not be content with our own salvation alone, since even this we ruin by so doing.

For indeed in war and in battle-array the soldier who looks only to this, how he may save himself by fleeing, destroys the others also along with himself;

just as, on the contrary, the noble man who takes up arms also on behalf of the others, saves himself along with the others.

Since therefore our affairs too are a war, and the bitterest of all wars, both a battle-array and a combat, as our King has commanded, let us so take our station in the line of battle, prepared for slaughters and blood and deaths, looking to the salvation of all, anointing those who stand firm and raising up those who have fallen.

For indeed many of our brethren lie in this battle-array, having wounds, flowing round about with blood, and there is no one to heal them—no one of the people, no priest, no other man, no comrade, no friend, no brother;

but each of us regards only his own affairs.

For this very reason we cut short our own interests as well.

For the greatest boldness of speech and good repute is precisely this—not to look to one's own interests.

It is for this very reason that we are weak and easily overcome both by men and by the devil, because we seek the contrary of this, and do not shield one another, nor are we fenced round by the love that is according to God, but seek out for ourselves other kinds of friendships

on various pretexts—some from kinship, some from familiarity, some from partnership, some from being neighbors;

and we are friends on every ground rather than on that of godliness, though it is from this alone that friendships ought to be knit together.

But now the contrary comes to pass;

there are cases where we become friends with Jews and Greeks rather than with the children of the Church.

'For the one is base,' you say, 'while the other is upright and reasonable.'

What do you say? Do you call your brother base—you who are commanded not even to call him 'Raca'? And are you not ashamed, nor do you blush, to parade your brother, your own member, the one who shared the same birth-pangs with you, the one who partook of the same table? Yet if you have some brother according to the flesh, even though he work ten thousand evils, you are earnest to cover him, and you yourself think that you share in the shame when he is put to shame;

yet as for your spiritual brother, whom you ought to set free from slander, do you instead wrap him around with ten thousand accusations? 'For he is base,' one says, 'and hard to bear with.'

Well then, for this very reason become his friend, that you may make him cease from being such, that you may change him, that you may lead him back to virtue.

'But he is not persuaded,' one says, 'nor does he tolerate counsel.'

How do you know? For did you exhort him, and did you attempt to set him right? 'I exhorted him many times,' he says.

This 'many times'? For if you had been doing this throughout the whole time, ought you to have grown weary and given up? Do you not see how God exhorts us continually, through the prophets, through the apostles, through the evangelists? What then? Have we set everything right, and have we been persuaded in all things? By no means.

Did He then cease exhorting? Did He fall silent? Does He not say each day, 'Ye cannot serve God and mammon,' and yet in many the abundance of riches and its tyranny increases? Does He not cry out each day, 'Forgive, and it shall be forgiven you,' and yet we become the more savage? Does He not continually exhort us to master desire and to be superior to wicked pleasure, and yet many wallow in this sin more than swine? But nevertheless He does not cease to speak.

For what reason, then, do we not reason these things with ourselves, and say, 'God too converses with us, and does not desist from doing so, even though we disobey Him in many things'? For this cause He said, 'Few are they who are saved.'

For if our own virtue by itself does not suffice for our salvation, but we must also depart having others with us;

when we save neither ourselves nor others, what shall we suffer? Whence shall we then have any hope of salvation? But why do I bring these charges, when we take no account even of those who dwell with us—wife and children and servants—but are anxious about one thing instead of another, like men who are drunken, namely that our servants may become more numerous and may serve us with much diligence, and that our children may receive a large inheritance from us, and that our wife may have gold and costly garments and possessions;

And why do we nowhere take thought for our own selves, but only for what belongs to us? For we take no thought or forethought for the wife herself, but only for the things that are the wife's;

nor for the child, but only for the things that are the child's.

And we do the very same thing as if someone, seeing a house in bad condition and its walls leaning over, should leave off raising these up again, and instead build great outer enclosures for it round about;

or as if, when the body had grown sick, he should take no care of it, but should weave golden garments for it;

or as if, when the mistress of the house was in a wretched state, he should busy himself with the maidservants and the looms and the household vessels and all the rest, while leaving her cast aside and wailing.

For this is exactly what happens even now.

When our soul is in a wretched and miserable condition, raging and reviling and lusting improperly, being vainglorious and factious, dragged down toward the earth and torn apart by so many wild beasts, we, instead of driving out its passions, take thought for house and servants.

And if a bear escapes unnoticed, we shut up our houses and run down the alleys so as not to fall in with the beast;

but as it is now, when not one beast, but many such reasonings are tearing our soul apart, we do not even take notice.

And in the city we take such great pains to confine the wild beasts in a desert place and in cages;

and we keep them bound far off and at a distance, neither near the council-chamber of the city, nor by the courts of justice, nor by the royal palace;

but in the case of the soul, where the council-chamber is, where the palace is, where the tribunal is, there the beasts are let loose, crying out and making an uproar around the mind itself and the royal throne.

For this reason all things are turned upside down, and all are full of confusion, both within and without, and each one of us differs in nothing from a city thrown into turmoil by an incursion of barbarians;

and the very same thing happens as if, when a serpent set upon a nest of sparrows, the sparrows should fly about everywhere chirping in terror and full of confusion, having nowhere to lay to rest their anguish.

Wherefore I exhort you, let us slay the serpent, let us shut up the beasts, let us strangle them, let us slaughter them;

and let us give over these wicked reasonings to the sword of the Spirit, lest the prophet should threaten us also with such things as he did Judaea, that 'satyrs shall dance there, and hedgehogs, and serpents.'

For there are, indeed there are, men worse than satyrs, living as it were in a wilderness and kicking out;

and among us the greater part of our youth is of this sort.

For having savage desires, they leap about in this way, they kick in this way, going around unbridled, and using their eagerness for none of the things they ought.

The fathers are to blame, who compel the horse-breakers to school their own horses with much care, and do not allow the colt's youth to advance far untamed, but from the very outset put upon it both the bridle and all the rest;

but their own young men they overlook for a long time as unbridled, going about destitute of self-control, disgracing themselves with fornications and dice and dissipations in lawless theatres, when they ought before any fornication to give them over to a wife, a chaste and most wise wife;

for she will both draw the man away from that most unseemly manner of life, and will become as it were a bridle to the colt.

For fornications and adulteries come from no other source than from the young men being left uncurbed.

For if a man has a prudent wife, he will take care both of his household and of his reputation and good name.

For if Isaac, being forty years old, took his bride, having passed all that time of his life in virginity, much more ought the young men who live in grace to practise this self-restraint.

But what am I to suffer? You will not bear to take care of their chastity, but overlook them as they disgrace themselves, defile themselves, and become polluted, not knowing that the gain of marriage is to keep the body pure;

and if this be not so, there is no benefit in marriage.

But you do the very opposite;

for when they have been filled with countless stains, then you lead them to marriage, in vain and to no purpose.

'For one must wait,' says he, 'that he may become of good repute, that he may shine in public affairs;'

but of the soul you take no account, but overlook it as it lies cast aside.

For this reason all things are full of confusion and disorder and turmoil, because this is treated as a secondary matter, because the necessary things are neglected, while the worthless things obtain much forethought.

Do you not know that you can grant your child no such favour as to keep him pure from the uncleanness of fornication? For nothing is equal to the soul.

For 'what is a man profited,' He says, 'if he shall gain the whole world, but lose his own soul?' But the love of money has overturned and cast down all things, and has thrust aside the exact fear of God, taking possession of men's souls as some tyrant seizes a citadel.

Wherefore we neglect both our children's salvation and our own, aiming at this one thing only, that having become more well-off, we may leave wealth to others, and they again to others, and those who come after them to those who come after them, becoming as it were mere forwarders of our possessions and our money, but not its masters.

Hence the free are held in less honour than the slaves.

For the slaves we chastise, if not for their own sake, yet at least for our own;

but the free do not even enjoy this forethought, but are of even less account with us than these.

And why do I speak of the slaves? For our children are held in less honour even than cattle, and we care more for asses and

horses than for our children.

If a man owns a mule, great is his anxiety to find the very best muleteer, one who is neither dishonest, nor a thief, nor a drunkard, nor unskilled in the craft;

but when we must set a tutor over the soul of a child, we choose, carelessly and at random, the first man who comes along.

And yet than this craft there is no other greater.

For what is equal to the training of a soul and the moulding of a young man's mind? Indeed, he who possesses this science must be more exact than any painter and any sculptor whatsoever.

But we take no account of this; we look only to one thing, that the tongue be trained.

And even this, again, we have busied ourselves about for the sake of money.

For it is not that he may be able to speak, but that he may make money, that he learns to speak;

since, if it were possible to grow rich even without this, we would take no account even of this.

Do you see how great is the tyranny of riches? how it has laid hold of everything, and, binding us as though we were slaves and cattle, drags us wherever it will? But what profit have we from all these accusations? For we, indeed, assail it with words;

but it prevails over us by our deeds.

Nevertheless, not even so will we cease assailing it with the words that come from the tongue.

For if some gain be made, both we and you have profited;

but if you continue in the same courses, at least our part has been wholly discharged.

And may God both deliver you from this disease, and enable us to glory over you;

for to Him is the glory and the might unto the ages of ages.