哥林多前書講道集 第 35 章

'And desire earnestly the spiritual gifts, but rather that you may prophesy.'

For since he had with exactness recounted to them all the excellence of love, he now exhorts them to lay hold of it with eagerness;

for he who pursues looks only to the thing pursued, and is stretched out toward it, and does not desist until he lay hold of it.

The pursuer, when he cannot by himself, lays hold of the fugitive through those who are before him, calling upon those who are near, with much diligence, to seize and to keep the one caught for him, until he himself arrives.

This very thing let us also do;

and whenever we ourselves do not reach love, let us bid those who are near it to hold it fast, until we ourselves arrive at it;

then, when we have laid hold of it, let us no longer let it go, lest it escape us again.

For continually it springs away from us, because we do not use it as we ought, but prefer all things before it.

Therefore we must do all things, so as to hold it fast with exactness.

For if this come to pass, we shall no longer have need even of much labor—rather, not even of any at all,

but delighting and keeping festival, we shall tread the narrow way of virtue.

Then, that they might not suppose that he brought in the discourse concerning love in order to quench the gifts, he adds, saying:

'And desire earnestly the spiritual gifts, but rather that you may prophesy.'

'For he who speaks in a tongue speaks not to men, but to God;'

'and in the Spirit he speaks mysteries;'

'but he who prophesies speaks to men edification and exhortation and comfort.'

Here, then, he makes a comparison of the gifts, and lowers that of tongues, showing it to be neither altogether useless nor, in itself, exceedingly profitable.

For they were greatly puffed up over this, since the gift was also reckoned to be a great thing.

And it was reckoned to be great because the apostles received it first, and with so great a display.

Yet it was not on this account more to be preferred than the others.

For what reason, then, did the apostles receive it before the others? Because they were about to travel everywhere.

And just as at the time of the building of the tower the one tongue was divided into many;

so then the many tongues would often come together into one man, and the same person would converse in the tongue of the Persians, and of the Romans, and of the Indians, and in many others, the Spirit sounding within him;

and the gift was called the gift of tongues, because he was able to speak all at once in many languages.

See, then, how he both lowers it and exalts it.

For by saying, 'He who speaks in tongues speaks not to men, but to God;'

'for no one understands him'—he lowered it, showing that its usefulness was not great;

but by adding that 'in the Spirit he speaks mysteries,' he again exalted it, so that it might not seem superfluous and useless and given in vain.

'But he who prophesies speaks to men edification and exhortation and comfort.'

Do you see whence he shows the superiority of this gift? From the common benefit; and how everywhere he prefers that which is done for the profit of the many? For do those others not speak to men, tell me? Yes, but not with such edification and exhortation and comfort.

So that to be possessed by the Spirit is common to both—both to him who prophesies and to him who speaks in tongues;

but in this respect he—I mean the one who prophesies—has the advantage, in that he is also useful to those who hear.

For those who did not have the gift did not understand those who spoke in tongues.

What then? Did those men edify no one? Yes, he says, themselves only;

wherefore he also added, 'He who speaks in a tongue edifies himself.'

And how, if he does not know what he says? But for the present he is discoursing about those who do know what they say—they themselves knowing it, but not being able to bring it forth to others.

But he that prophesieth buildeth up the Church.

And as great as is the distance between one man and the Church, so great is the difference between the one gift and the other.

You see his wisdom, how he does not thrust the gift out into nothingness, but shows that it does indeed have a benefit—yet a small one, and just enough to profit him who possesses it alone. Then, lest they should suppose that out of envy toward them he was disparaging tongues (for the greater number possessed this gift), correcting their suspicion he says:

'Now I would that ye all spake with tongues, but rather that ye prophesied.'

'For greater is he that prophesieth than he that speaketh with tongues, except he interpret, that the Church may receive edifying.'

Now the words 'rather' and 'greater' do not belong to things opposed to one another, but to things that surpass one another.

So that from this too it is clear that he does not slander the gift, but leads them on to what is better, displaying both his solicitude for them and a soul freed from all envy.

For neither did he say, 'Two or three,' but 'I would have you all speak with tongues';

and not this only, but also 'prophesy';

and this rather than that.

For since he had established and demonstrated the point, only then does he go on to make his declaration—yet not simply, but with a qualification;

for he added, 'except he interpret';

that is, if he is able to do this—I mean, to interpret—he has become equal to the prophet, he says, since many are they who reap the benefit.

This one ought especially to observe, how through all things he seeks this above the rest.

'If I come unto you speaking with tongues, what shall I profit you, except I shall speak to you either by revelation, or by knowledge, or by prophesying, or by teaching?' And why do I speak of others? he says. For let it be that Paul is the one uttering tongues;

for not even so will there be any advantage to the hearers.

And these things he says, showing that he seeks what is profitable for them;

he is not ill-disposed toward those who possess the gift, seeing that not even in his own person does he decline to show its unprofitableness.

And he always exercises the burdensome points upon his own person, as also at the beginning of the Epistle he said:

'Who is Paul? and who is Apollos? and who is Cephas?' Which very thing he does here also, saying, 'Neither shall I profit you, except I shall speak to you either by revelation, or by prophesying, or by knowledge, or by teaching.'

If I say nothing that can become easy for you to grasp, and can be clear, but merely make a display that I have the gift of tongues—tongues which, though you hear them, you gain nothing thereby. Even so, lifeless things that give sound, whether flute or harp, if they give no distinction to the notes, how shall it be known what is being fluted or what is being harped?

For how shall it be known from a sound which you do not understand? And why do I speak, he says, of the fact that in our case this is unprofitable, but that what is clear and easy to grasp is beneficial to the hearers? For even in the lifeless instruments of music one may see this.

For whether it be flute or harp, if it be struck and blown confusedly and at random, with neither the fitting rhythm nor harmony, it will win over none of the hearers.

For even in those inarticulate sounds there is need of some clearness;

and unless you strike and blow the flute according to art, you have accomplished nothing.

But if from lifeless things we require such clearness and harmony and distinction, and even in those meaningless notes we strive and contend to impose much significance, how much more, in living and rational men, and in the spiritual gifts, ought we to pursue what is well-marked and intelligible.

'For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself for battle?' For he leads his argument from the superfluous to the more necessary and more useful things, and says that not only in the case of the harp, but also in that of the trumpet, one may see this same thing occurring.

For there too are rhythms, and they signify at one time a martial sound, and at another not such;

and at one time it leads forth to the battle-line, at another it sounds the retreat;

and if one does not know this, the danger touches upon the uttermost things.

Making this plain, and setting forth the harm, he says, 'Who shall prepare himself for battle?' So that if it have not this, it has lost the whole.

'And what have these things to do with us?' one says.

Nay, with you most of all; wherefore also he adds:

'So likewise ye, except ye utter by the tongue words easy to be understood, how shall it be known what is spoken? for ye shall be speaking into the air.'

That is, uttering to no one, speaking to no one.

And everywhere he shows its unprofitableness.

'And if it is unprofitable, why was it given?' one says.

That it may be useful to him who received it;

but if it is to be of benefit to others also, interpretation must be added.

And these things he says, drawing them together to one another, so that even if a man does not himself possess the gift of interpreting, by taking to himself another who has this gift, he may through that other make his own gift profitable.

Wherefore everywhere he shows it to be incomplete, that even thus he may bind them together.

For he who thinks it sufficient in itself for himself does not so much praise it as pull it down, not suffering it to shine forth well through interpretation.

For the gift is indeed good and necessary, but when it has one to make plain the things spoken.

Since the finger too is necessary, but when you separate it from the rest, it will not be so useful;

and the trumpet is necessary, but when it sounds at random, it is even burdensome.

For neither will art appear when there is no underlying material, nor is material given shape when the form has not been imposed upon it.

Set down, then, the voice as the underlying material, and clearness as the form, which being absent, there is no profit in the underlying material.

'There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them is without signification.'

That is, So many tongues, so many voices: of Scythians, Thracians, Romans, Persians, Moors, Indians, Egyptians.

'Therefore if I know not the meaning of the voice, I shall be a barbarian to him that speaketh.'

For do not suppose, he says, that this happens in our case only, but one may see it occurring in the case of all.

So that I say these things not to slander the voice, but to show that it is unprofitable to me so long as it is unclear.

Then, lest he should make the accusation burdensome, he equalizes the charge, saying:

'He is a barbarian to me, and I to him';

not by reason of the nature of the voice, but by reason of our ignorance.

Do you see how little by little he led them on to what is akin to his subject? which was his custom to do—to draw his illustrations from afar, and to end at what is more proper to the matter in hand.

For since he had spoken of flute and harp, wherein there was much that was deficient and unprofitable, he comes to the trumpet, which is more useful; then from thence he passes at last to the voice itself.

So also before, when he was discoursing on the point of showing that it was not forbidden for the apostles to receive maintenance, having begun first from husbandmen and shepherds and soldiers, he then led his argument on to what was nearer to the matter proposed, namely, the priests under the Old Covenant.

But do you consider for me how everywhere he was zealous to free the gift from accusation, and to shift the charge onto those who received it.

For he did not say, 'I shall be a barbarian,' but 'a barbarian to him that speaketh.'

And again he did not say, 'He that speaketh is a barbarian,' but 'He that speaketh to me is a barbarian.'

'What then must be done?' he says.

For one must not only refrain from slandering, but must also exhort and teach.

For since he had accused and rebuked and shown its unprofitableness, he now goes on to give counsel also, saying:

'Even so ye, forasmuch as ye are zealous of spirits, seek that ye may abound unto the edifying of the Church.'

You see his aim everywhere, how he looks continually and through all things to one thing—what is useful to the many, what profits the Church—setting this up as a kind of rule? And he did not say, 'That ye may acquire the gifts,' but 'That ye may also abound'; that is, that ye may have them with much abundance.

For so far am I from not wishing you to have them, that I even wish you to abound in them—only provided you employ them unto the common profit.

'And how might this very thing come to pass?' he says. And he adds, saying:

'Wherefore let him that speaketh in a tongue pray that he may interpret.'

'For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prayeth, but my understanding is unfruitful.'

What then does it mean? 'I will pray with the spirit, but I will pray also with the understanding.'

'And I will sing with the spirit, but I will sing also with the understanding.'

Here he shows that it lay in their own power to receive the gift.

For 'let him pray,' he says—that is, let him contribute what comes from his own part.

For indeed, if you ask earnestly, you will receive.

Ask, therefore, not to have the gift of tongues only, but also that of interpretation, so that you may become profitable to all, and may not shut up the gift within yourself alone.

'For if I pray in a tongue,' he says, 'my spirit prays, but my understanding is unfruitful.'

Do you see how, carrying the argument forward little by little, he shows that such a man is useless not only to others but also to himself, seeing that his understanding is unfruitful to him? For if a man speaks only in the tongue of the Persians, or in some other foreign language, and does not know what he says, he will accordingly be a barbarian even to himself, and not to another only, because he does not know the meaning of the sound.

For indeed, of old there were many who possessed the gift of prayer together with a tongue, and they prayed, and the tongue uttered, praying either in the Persian or in the Roman language, but the understanding did not know what was said.

Therefore he also said, 'If I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays'—that is, the gift given to me and moving my tongue—'but my understanding is unfruitful.'

What then is the best and the profitable thing? And how ought one to act, or what to ask from God? To pray both with the Spirit—that is, with the gift—and with the mind.

Therefore he also said, 'I will pray with the spirit, but I will pray also with the understanding;'

'I will sing with the spirit, but I will sing also with the understanding.'

Here again he indicates the same thing: that both the tongue may utter and the mind may not be ignorant of what is said.

For unless this be so, there will be yet another confusion.

'For if you bless,' he says, 'with the

spirit, how shall he that fills the place of the unlearned say the Amen at your giving of thanks, since he does not know what you are saying?'

For you indeed give thanks well, but the other is not edified.

Consider how here again he brings the stone to the line, everywhere seeking the edification of the Church.

By 'unlearned' he means the layman, and he shows that he too undergoes no small loss when he is unable to say the Amen.

If you bless in a barbarian tongue, not knowing what you say, nor able to interpret it, the layman cannot respond with the Amen.

For not hearing the words 'unto the ages of the ages,' which is the conclusion, he does not say the 'Amen.'

Then again, consoling this—so that he might not seem exceedingly to disparage the gift which above he had said 'speaks mysteries,' and 'speaks to God,' and 'edifies himself,' and 'prays with the spirit,' devising thereby no small comfort—he does the same thing here too, saying:

'For you indeed give thanks well;'

for you speak, being moved by the Spirit;

but that other man, hearing nothing and not knowing what is said, stands there receiving no great benefit.

Then, since he had run down those who possessed this gift, as having nothing great, lest he should seem to disparage them as one deprived of it, see what he says:

'I thank God, I speak with tongues more than you all.'

And this he does elsewhere too.

For being about to overthrow the advantages of Judaism, and to show that they were henceforth nothing, he first shows that he himself had possessed these things, and that too in greater abundance, and then calls them loss, speaking thus: 'If anyone thinks he has ground for confidence in the flesh, I more:'

'circumcised the eighth day, of the race of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee; as touching zeal, persecuting the Church; as touching the righteousness which is in the law, found blameless.'

And then, when he had shown himself to abound above all men, he says, 'But whatever gains I had, these I have counted loss for Christ's sake.'

So he does here also, saying:

'I speak with tongues more than you all.'

Do not therefore be high-minded, as though you alone possessed the gift;

for indeed I too possess it, and more than you.

'But I would rather speak five words in the Church with my understanding, that I might instruct others also.'

What does it mean, 'to speak with my understanding, that I might instruct others also'? Understanding what I say, and what I am able both to interpret to others and to speak with intelligence and to teach those who hear.

'Than ten thousand words in a tongue.'

Why? 'That I might instruct others also,' he says.

For the one has display only, but the other much profit.

For this is what he everywhere seeks: the common advantage.

And yet the gift of tongues was a strange one, whereas that of prophecy was both customary and ancient and already given to many, but this one then for the first time;

nevertheless it was not exceedingly prized by him.

Wherefore neither did he use it, not from not having it, but from seeking the more useful things.

For indeed he was freed from all vainglory, and looked to one thing only: how he might make his hearers better.

Wherefore he was able to see what was useful both for himself and for others, since he had been freed from empty glory.

For he who is enslaved to that will be able to discern the advantage not only of others but not even of himself.

Such was Simon, who, since he looked to empty glory, did not see even his own advantage;

such too were the Jews, who for this cause pledged away to the devil their own salvation as in a toast.

Hence also idols were begotten, and the philosophers of the heathen, being goaded by this to wicked doctrines, ran aground in this madness.

And behold the perversity of the passion.

For because of it, some of them became poor, and others were zealous about wealth.

So great is its tyranny, that it prevails even in contrary things.

For one is vainglorious over chastity, and another again over adultery; this one over righteousness, and that one over unrighteousness; over luxury, and over fasting; over gentleness, and over insolence; over wealth, and over poverty.

For indeed some of the heathen, though it was in their power to receive, would not receive, for the sake of being admired.

But the apostles were not so.

For that they were pure from vainglory, they made manifest by the things they did.

For indeed, when men called them gods, and were prepared to sacrifice to them garlanded bulls, they not simply forbade the thing that was being done, but even rent their garments.

And when they had set the lame man straight, while all were gazing at them open-mouthed, they said, 'Why do you look intently at us, as though by our own power we had made this man to walk?' And whereas those men admire poverty in men and choose the things of poverty for themselves,

but these, though among men they despise poverty and praise wealth,

and these, if they received anything, supplied it to those in need;

thus they did all things not for vainglory, but for love of mankind;

but those others did quite the contrary, doing these things as though they were enemies and destroyers of the common nature.

For one of them sank all his goods into the sea, rashly and in vain, imitating those who are deranged and mad;

and another turned all his country into sheep-pasture.

Thus they did all things for the sake of ambition.

But not so these; rather they both received the things given, and distributed them to those in need with such freedom that they lived even in perpetual hunger.

But if they were in love with glory, they would not have done this, namely, to receive and to distribute, fearing lest some suspicion should arise against them.

For he who has cast away his own possessions for glory's sake will much more not receive the goods of others, so as not to seem to be in need of others, nor to be suspected.

And you see these very men both being served and begging on behalf of the needy; so much more tenderly affectionate were they than any fathers.

In this way they were more tenderly affectionate than any fathers.

Consider too how their rules of life were well-measured and free from vainglory.

'For having,' he says, 'clothing and food, with these we shall be content.'

Not like that man of Sinope, who wrapped himself in rags and dwelt in a tub to no useful purpose, and though he astonished many, he benefited no one.

But Paul did none of these things;

for he had no eye to self-display, but was clothed with garments in all seemliness, and dwelt continually in a house, and displayed the utmost exactness in all the rest of virtue; that very virtue which the Cynic despised, living licentiously, behaving indecently in public, and dragged along by his madness for reputation.

For if anyone should ask the reason for his dwelling in a tub, he will find no other cause but vainglory alone.

But Paul even paid rent for the house in which he lodged at Rome.

And yet he who was able to do things far more strenuous could much more easily have accomplished this.

But he had no regard for glory, that fierce wild beast, that terrible demon, the ruin of the world, the venom-spitting viper.

For just as that beast tears apart with its teeth the womb of the mother that bore it, so also this passion mangles the one who gives it birth.

Whence then might one find a remedy for this manifold disease? If he should bring into our midst those who have trampled it underfoot, and looking to their example, so direct his own life.

For the patriarch Abraham also—

but let no one charge us with repetition if we make mention of him often and in every case.

For this is precisely what renders him admirable, and deprives those who do not emulate him of all excuse.

For if we were pointing out that he had achieved some part of virtue, and another man some other part, one might say that virtue is difficult to attain;

for it is not easy for one man to accomplish all things together, of which each of the saints achieved but a part;

but when one and the same man is found possessing all things, what defense will they have who, living under the Law and grace, cannot attain to the same measure as those who lived before the Law and grace? How then did this patriarch prevail over and master this beast, when he had a dispute with his nephew? For even when he was slighted and failed to obtain the first place, he was not grieved.

You know that in such matters the shame of the loss is worse than the loss itself to the faint-hearted, and especially when one who is lord of all—as he then was—and who had first taken the lead in honoring, is not honored in return.

Yet none of these things stung him; but even while holding the second place he was content, and though the elder was wronged by the younger, and the uncle by the nephew, he was not indignant, nor displeased, but

he loved him just the same and cared for him.

Again, when he had won that great and fearful war and driven back the barbarians by force, he does not make a parade of the victory, nor set up a trophy;

for he wished only to save, not to make a display.

Again, he received strangers, and even here he did not seek vainglory, but he himself ran to meet them and bowed down, not as one conferring a favor, but as one receiving a favor; and he calls them lords, not even knowing who these visitors were, and he sets his wife in the rank of a serving-maid.

And before this, in Egypt, when he had appeared so admirable, and had received back this very wife, and had enjoyed such great honor, he makes no display before anyone;

but while the inhabitants of the land even called him a king, he himself paid a price even for the burial-place.

And when he sent to seek a bride for his son, he gave no command to say anything great and splendid concerning himself, but simply to bring the bride.

Do you wish to examine also those who lived under grace, when much glory of their teaching flowed round about them from every side, and to see this passion cast out even then? Consider for me this very man who speaks these things, how he ever ascribes the whole to God, how he continually remembers his own sins, but his good deeds no longer.

Only, if ever it was necessary to correct his disciples, and though he was compelled to do this, he calls the thing folly, and yields the first place to Peter, and is not ashamed to work with Priscilla and Aquila, and everywhere he was eager to show himself humble, not swaggering in the marketplace, nor dragging crowds about with him, but ranking himself among the obscure.

Wherefore also he said, 'His bodily presence is weak'—that is, contemptible and having nothing elegant;

and again, 'I pray that you do no evil, that we may not appear approved.'

And what wonder is it if he despises this glory? For he who despises the glory above and the kingdom and hell itself for the sake of what seems good to Christ (for he even prays to be accursed from Christ for the sake of the glory of Christ;

for even if he says he wishes to suffer this on behalf of the Jews, he says it for this reason, that none of the foolish might suppose that the promises made to them had failed)—

if therefore he is ready to pass by those things, why do you wonder if he overlooks the things of men? But as for men of the present day, everything overwhelms them—not only the desire for glory, but also its opposite, insult and the fear of dishonor.

For if anyone praises you, you are puffed up; if anyone blames you, you are cast down.

And just as weak bodies are injured even by chance occurrences, so also are groveling souls.

For such men not only poverty destroys, but wealth also; not only grief, but also joy; and prosperity more than adversity.

For poverty at least compels a man to be sober-minded, but wealth often leads him out into some great evil.

And just as those in a fever are hard to please with everything, so also those corrupted in soul are stricken from every quarter.

Knowing these things, then, let us not flee poverty, nor marvel at wealth, but let us prepare the soul to be sufficient for all things.

For indeed, one who builds a house does not aim at this, that neither rain should fall upon it nor a sunbeam reach it;

but that the house itself may be sufficient to bear all things.

And he who constructs a ship does something and contrives, not that waves should not break against it, nor that a storm should not rise from the sea;

for this too is impossible;

but that the walls of the ship may be fit to withstand all things.

And again, he who takes thought for the body does not aim at this, that there should be no irregularity in the air, but that the body may easily bear all these things.

So then let us do also in the case of the soul, and let us not be earnest about how we may flee poverty, nor how we may become rich, but how we may handle each of these things for our own security.

Wherefore, letting these things go, let us prepare the soul to be fit for both wealth and poverty.

For even if nothing human should befall—which for the most part is impossible—even so the one who does not seek wealth, but knows how to bear all things easily, is better than the one who is perpetually rich.

Why so at all? First, because such a man

has his security from within, while the other has it from without.

And just as that soldier is better who trusts in his own body and in the art of warfare than the one who has his strength in his weapons alone;

so too the one fortified by virtue is better than the one who trusts in money.

Secondly, because even if he does not fall into poverty, it is not possible for him to be untroubled;

for wealth has many surging waves and turmoils.

But not so virtue; rather, it gives only pleasure and security;

for it makes a man unconquerable by those who plot against him;

but wealth, on the contrary, is altogether easy to attack and easy to capture.

And just as among animals deer and hares are of all the most easily caught because of their natural timidity, but the wild boar and the bull and the lion would not easily fall into the hands of those who lie in wait;

so indeed it may be seen also in the case of those who are rich, and those who live in poverty of their own will.

For the one resembles the lion and the bull, but the other the deer and the hare.

For whom does the rich man not fear? Is it not robbers? Is it not men of power? Is it not the envious? Is it not slanderers? And why do I speak of robbers and slanderers, when he even suspects his very own domestics? And why do I speak of him while living? Not even when he has died is he freed from the villainy of those who plunder, nor is death able to place him in security, but even when he is a corpse the evildoers despoil him;

so precarious a thing is wealth.

For not only are houses broken into, but tombs also are burst open and coffins.

What then could be more wretched than this, when not even death affords him this immunity, but that miserable body, though deprived of life, is not freed from the evils of life, from those who work such villainy and hasten to make war even on dust and ashes—and that far more grievously than when he was alive? For then, entering into the treasure-chamber, they moved the coffers indeed, but kept their hands off the body, and would not take so much as to strip the body itself bare;

but now not even from these do the polluted hands of the tomb-robbers keep off, but they move it and turn it about, and with great savagery outrage it.

For after it has been committed to the earth, having stripped it bare both of its covering from thence and of that from the garments, they thus leave it flung aside.

Who then is so hostile as wealth, which while men live destroys even the soul, and when they are dead outrages even the body, and does not even permit it to be hidden in the earth—a thing that is common even to condemned criminals and to those caught in the most shameful crimes?

For the lawgivers, having exacted from those men the penalty of death, meddle no further;

But upon these men their wealth exacts a most bitter penalty even after death, laying them out naked and unburied, a dreadful and pitiable spectacle.

For these men suffer things more grievous than those who endure this by a court's verdict and the wrath of a judge.

For those men, remaining unburied only for the first day and the second, are then delivered to the earth;

but these men, when they have been delivered to the earth, are then stripped naked and outraged.

And if the robbers do not also depart carrying off the very coffin, no longer is the thanks due to wealth, but here too to poverty;

for if we had entrusted even this to wealth, and, forsaking the making of it from stone, had wrought it out of gold, we should have lost this too.

So faithless a thing is wealth, and it belongs not so much to those who possess it as to those who attempt to snatch it away.

So that superfluous is that argument which is at pains to show that wealth is hard to master, seeing that not even on the day of death do those who possess it enjoy any security.

And yet, who is not reconciled toward one who has departed, be he a wild beast, be he a demon, be he whoever he may? For indeed they lie in wait for it;

but wealth is quite the contrary—easy to attack and easy to capture.

And just as among animals deer and hares are of all creatures the most easily taken, because of the timidity in their nature, whereas the wild boar and the bull and the lion would not readily fall into the hands of those who plot against them,

so also is it to be seen in the case of the wealthy and of those who live willingly in poverty.

For the one resembles the lion and the bull, but the other the deer and the hare.

For whom does the rich man not fear? Is it not robbers? Is it not men of power? Is it not the envious? Is it not slanderers?

And why do I speak of robbers and slanderers, when he suspects even his own household servants? And why do I speak of the living? Not even in death is he freed from the malice of those who plunder, nor is death able to establish him in security, but they who work evil despoil him even when he is a corpse;

so perilous a thing is wealth.

For not only are houses broken into, but tombs too are torn open and coffins.

What then could be more wretched than this, when not even death affords him this immunity, but that miserable body, though it has been deprived of life, is not freed from the evils of life—from those who commit such crimes and hasten to wage war even against dust and ashes, and that far more grievously than while he was alive? For then, entering the storeroom, they would move the chests but keep their hands off the body, and would not take so much as to strip the body itself bare;

but now the polluted hands of the tomb-robbers do not even keep off from these, but move it and turn it about, and with much brutality do outrage to it.

For after it has been delivered to the earth, having made it bare both of the covering from there and of that from the garments, thus they leave it cast aside.

Who then is so hostile as wealth, which while men live destroys even the soul, and when they are dead outrages even the body, and does not permit it to be hidden in the earth?—a thing which is common even to condemned criminals and to those convicted of the most shameful deeds.

For as for those men, once the lawgivers have exacted the penalty of death, they meddle no further;

but upon these men their wealth exacts a most bitter penalty even after death, laying them out naked and unburied, a dreadful and pitiable spectacle.

For these men suffer things more grievous than those who endure this by a court's verdict and the wrath of a judge.

For those men, remaining unburied only for the first day and the second, are then delivered to the earth;

but these men, when they have been delivered to the earth, are then stripped naked and outraged.

And if the robbers do not also depart carrying off the very coffin, no longer is the thanks due to wealth, but here too to poverty;

for if we had entrusted even this to wealth, and, forsaking the making of it from stone, had wrought it out of gold, we should have lost this too.

So faithless a thing is wealth, and it belongs not so much to those who possess it as to those who attempt to snatch it away.

So that superfluous is that argument which is at pains to show that wealth is hard to master, seeing that not even on the day of death do those who possess it enjoy any security.

And yet, who is not reconciled toward one who has departed, be he a wild beast, be he a demon, be he whoever he may? For the very sight of him is enough to bend even the man who is exceedingly iron-hearted and unfeeling.

For this reason, whenever a man sees a corpse, even if he sees an enemy, even if he sees a foe, he weeps together with the dearest of friends;

and his anger is quenched together with the man's life, while pity is brought in.

And at a funeral and a burial one could not distinguish the enemy from him who is not such;

so do all men reverence the common nature, and the laws that have been introduced concerning it.

But wealth, not attaining even to this, does not lay aside its wrath toward those who have acquired it, but makes even those who have suffered no wrong enemies of the deceased—if indeed to strip a dead body naked belongs to the most bitter enemies and foes.

And nature reconciles even his enemies to him at that time, but wealth wages war even against those who have nothing to charge against him, and mangles the body in utter desolation.

And yet there are there many things able to draw one on to compassion: the very fact of being a corpse, the immobility, the journeying toward earth and corruption, the presence of no one to give aid.

But none of these things breaks down those polluted men, because of the tyranny that comes from wicked desire.

For the love of money, like some pitiless tyrant, stands over them, enjoining upon them those inhuman commands, and having made them wild beasts, thus leads them to the coffins.

For like wild beasts setting upon the dead, not even from the flesh would they have kept off, if indeed the limbs had been in any way of use to them.

Such things do we enjoy from wealth: being outraged even after death, and being deprived of burial—that which even those who have dared unspeakable crimes obtain.

Shall we then, tell me, still cherish it, this thing so hostile? No, I beseech you, no, brethren, but let us flee it without turning back;

and if it should come into our hands, let us not keep it within, but let us bind it with the hands of the poor.

For these bonds are the more able to hold it fast, and out of those storehouses it will never escape; and this faithless thing henceforth remains faithful, tractable, tame, having become so by the right hand of almsgiving.

If then it should at some time come to us, let us deliver it to this hand;

but if it should not come, let us not seek it, nor throttle ourselves, nor count happy those who possess it.

For what sort of blessedness is this? Unless indeed you would say that those who fight with wild beasts are also to be envied, because those who arrange such contests keep those highly-prized beasts shut up and guard them for themselves, yet do not dare to approach them or lay hold of them, but rather are in an agony over them and tremble.

For the wealthy also suffer something of this kind, having shut up wealth like a savage beast in their storehouses, and each day receiving from it countless wounds, contrary to the beasts.

For those beasts, when you lead them out, then do harm to those who meet them;

but this beast, when it is shut up and guarded, then destroys those who possess and guard it.

But let us make this beast tame.

And it will be tame, if we do not shut it up, but bring it to the hands of all who are in need.

Thus shall we reap from it the greatest goods, both living in the present life with security and good hope, and standing with boldness on the day to come;

which may it be granted us all to attain, by the grace and lovingkindness [of our Lord Jesus Christ], and so forth.