Moralia in Job 1449

Delivered to the people in the basilica of the blessed Apostle Andrew, on the day of his birthday feast. At that time, as Jesus was walking by the sea of Galilee, He saw two brethren, Simon who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea (for they were fishermen), and He said to them: 'Come after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.' And they immediately, leaving their nets, followed Him. And going on from thence, He saw two other brethren, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in a ship with Zebedee their father, mending their nets, and He called them. And they forthwith, leaving their nets and their father, followed Him.

You have heard, dearest brethren, that at the voice of a single command Peter and Andrew, leaving their nets, followed the Redeemer. Yet they had as yet seen Him work no miracles, they had heard nothing from Him concerning the reward of eternal recompense; and nevertheless, at the single command of the Lord, they forgot that which they seemed to possess. How many of His miracles do we behold, with how many scourges are we afflicted, with how great harshness of threats are we terrified, and yet we scorn to follow Him who calls! He already sits in heaven who admonishes us to conversion; He has already subjected the necks of the nations to the yoke of faith; He has already laid low the glory of the world; He already, as its ruins multiply, announces the drawing near of the day of His strict judgment;

and yet our proud mind is unwilling to forsake of its own accord that which daily it loses against its will. What then, dearest ones, what shall we say at His judgment, we who are turned from love of this present world neither by precepts nor amended by scourgings? But perhaps someone may say to himself in silent thoughts: 'At the Lord's voice each of these two fishermen—what or how much did he leave, who had almost nothing?' But in this matter, dearest brethren, we ought to weigh the affection rather than the estate. He left much who retained nothing for himself; he left much who, however little, forsook it all. Certainly we both possess with love the things we have, and out of desire seek those which we have not at all.

Much therefore did Peter and Andrew leave, when each of them abandoned even the very desires of possessing. He left much who, together with the thing possessed, also renounced his cravings. By those who follow, then, as much has been abandoned as could have been coveted by those who do not follow. Let no one therefore, even when he beholds certain men to have left much, say within himself: 'I wish to imitate these despisers of this world, but I have nothing to leave.' You leave much, brethren, if you renounce earthly desires. For our exterior possessions, however small, suffice for the Lord. For He weighs the heart, and not the substance; nor does He consider how much is offered in sacrifice to Him, but from how great a love it is offered.

For if we weigh the exterior substance, behold, our holy merchants have purchased the everlasting life of the angels by giving up their nets and their ship. The kingdom of God has no fixed estimate of price, and yet it is worth just as much as you have. For to Zacchaeus it was worth half his substance, because he reserved the other half toward restoring fourfold what he had unjustly taken away (Luke 19:8). To Peter and Andrew it was worth their forsaken nets and ship (Matt. 4:20); to the widow, worth two mites (Luke 21:2); to another, worth a cup of cold water (Matt. 10:42). And so the kingdom of God, as we have said, is worth just as much as you have. Weigh, therefore, brethren, how cheap it is when it is bought, how precious when it is possessed.

But perhaps not even a cup of cold water is at hand to be offered to the needy; even then the divine word promises us security. For when the Redeemer was born, citizens of heaven were shown, crying out: 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will' (Luke 2:14). For before the eyes of God the hand is never empty of a gift, if the ark of the heart be filled with good will. Hence the Psalmist says: 'In me, O God, are Thy vows, which I will render, praises to Thee' (Ps. 55:12). As if he plainly said: 'Even though outwardly I have no gifts to offer, yet within myself I find that which I place upon the altar of Thy praise; for Thou, who art not fed by our giving, art better appeased by the offering of the heart.'

For nothing is offered to God richer than good will. And good will is this: to dread another's adversity as one's own, to rejoice at a neighbor's prosperity as at our own advancement, to reckon another's losses our own, to count another's gains our own; to love a friend not for the world's sake but for God's; to bear with even an enemy by loving him; to do to no one what you would not wish to suffer, to deny to no one what you rightly desire to be rendered to yourself; to run to a neighbor's need not only according to your powers, but even to wish to help beyond your powers. What, then, is richer than this holocaust, when, by that which the soul immolates to God upon the altar of the heart, it slays its very self?

But this sacrifice of good will is never fully rendered unless the covetousness of this world is perfectly forsaken. For whatever we covet in it, we without doubt envy to our neighbors. For it seems that we lack that which another attains. And since envy always is at variance with good will, as soon as the former seizes the mind, the latter departs. Hence the holy preachers, that they might be able perfectly to love their neighbors, strove to love nothing in this world, never to desire anything, to possess nothing even without desire for it. Isaiah, beholding these men well, says: 'Who are these, that fly as clouds, and as doves to their windows?' (Isa. 60:8).

For he saw them despise things earthly, in mind draw near to things heavenly, rain forth with words, flash with miracles. And those whom holy preaching and a sublime life had lifted up from earthly defilements, these he calls at once fliers and clouds. But our windows are the eyes, because through them the soul beholds what it covets outwardly. Now the dove is a simple creature, and a stranger to the malice of gall. They therefore are as doves to their windows who covet nothing in this world, who behold all things simply, and are not drawn by any zeal of rapacity in the things they see. But on the contrary, he is a kite and not a dove to his windows who pants with desire of plunder after those things he considers with his eyes.

Therefore, dearest brethren, since we are celebrating the birthday feast of the blessed Apostle Andrew, we ought to imitate what we venerate. Let the solemnity of a mind transformed show the homage of our devotion; let us despise the things that are earthly, and, leaving temporal things, let us purchase things eternal. But if we cannot yet relinquish our own goods, let us at least not covet what belongs to others. If our mind is not yet kindled with the fire of charity, let it hold in its ambition the bridle of fear, so that, invigorated by the steps of its own progress, while it is restrained from craving what belongs to others, it may in time be led on to despise even its own, with the help of our Lord Jesus Christ, and so forth.