Concerning the true author of this homily, since it is found inscribed by some to Ambrose and by others to Augustine, there would have been room for doubt, had not the testimony of Gennadius shone forth like a torch in the darkness. He himself records, in no ambiguous but in clear words, that St. Maximus, among the things he wrote, also composed a treatise On the Eclipse of the Moon. Wherefore, following either Gennadius or some other ancient author, the scribes of the most excellent codices—the Sangallensis, homily 28, the Ambrosianus C 98, and Holy Cross in Jerusalem 90 and 99, which bearing a uniform title, On the Eclipse of the Moon, agree in attributing it to Maximus. Nothing therefore stands against this consensus, neither the Vatican codex 4951, page 213, which
attributes the homily to St. Augustine, adding this inscription: To those who strive by their outcries to help the eclipsing moon; nor does the Laurentian codex, Plut. 14, page 337, which on the back of this discourse gives the praise to Ambrose. Nor can the Paris edition of Ambrose (A.D. 1569) prevail, where Gillotius placed this homily among his sermons as no. 83. Against them stand Gymnicus (p. 293), Galesinius (p. 179), Raynaudus (p. 245), and Margarinus (p. 47) in the Bibliotheca Maxima, vol. VI, with whom the title of the homily is On the Eclipse of the Moon. And you yourselves see, brethren, that my humility does not cease to labour with all solicitude for you, and with all haste to turn you to good fruit:
but the more I labour with you, the more I am confounded on your account. For when I see that from all my exhortations you make no progress, my labour is no longer a matter of congratulation but of shame. For the Apostle says: Who plants a vineyard and does not eat of its fruit? Who tends a flock and does not partake of the milk of the flock (1 Corinthians 9:7)? Behold, I tend the flock of Christ, and I am unable to wrest fruit from the flock; I tend the flock of the Lord, and I receive no nourishment of religion from it. For no sweetness of its honey gladdens me; but whatever flows from it is harsh and bitter; for then is the shepherd of the Christian flock refreshed with milk, when he rejoices in the brightness of its good works.
For who among you, brethren, would not take it grievously—though I do not speak of all, for there are among you some whom you ought to hold up as an example for the practice of religion—who, I say, would not take it ill that you should be so forgetful of your own salvation as to sin even with heaven as witness? For when some days ago I had rebuked you for the greed of your avarice, on that very day toward evening there arose so great a clamour of the people that its irreligion reached to heaven. And when I asked what this shouting meant, they told me that your outcry was coming to the aid of the labouring moon, and helping its eclipse with your shouts. I laughed indeed, and marvelled at the folly, that you, as though devout Christians, were bringing aid to God.
For you were shouting lest, if you kept silent, the element should perish: as though it were feeble and weak, and, unless aided by your voices, could not defend the luminaries it had created; well then do you act, who furnish consolation to the Godhead, that with your help it may be able to rule heaven. But if you wish to do this more fully, you ought to keep vigil through whole and entire nights: for how often, do you suppose, while you are sleeping, has the moon suffered violence, and yet has not fallen from heaven? Or does it always suffer eclipse around evening, and never sometimes labour around dawn? But among you it has been wont to labour only in the evening hours, when the belly is distended with a plentiful supper, when the head is set reeling by larger cups.
Then, therefore, does the moon labour among you, when the wine also labours; then, I say, is the orb of the moon disturbed among you by incantations, when your eyes too are disturbed by cups. How then, being drunk, can you see what is happening in heaven around the moon, you who around yourself do not see what is happening on earth? This is plainly what Solomon says: A fool is changed like the moon (Ecclesiasticus 27). For you are changed like the moon, when, being foolish and senseless at its motion, you who had been a Christian begin to be sacrilegious. For sacrilege is committed against the Creator when weakness is ascribed to the creature. You are changed, therefore, like the moon, so that you who a little before shone with devotion to God, afterward fail through the infirmity of faithlessness;
you are changed like the moon, when your brain is so emptied of wisdom, like the darkness of the moon; and the most hideous darkness of mind invades you. And would that, O fool, you were changed like the moon! For it quickly returns to its fullness; you are not converted to wisdom even late; it swiftly gathers again the light it had lost, you do not even tardily recover the faith you have denied: your change, therefore, is graver than the moon's; the moon suffers loss of light, you loss of salvation. How well is it written of the wise man: And he shall endure with the sun (Psalm 72); for the wise man endures with the sun, since by the constancy of faith he endures with the Saviour. But someone will say: Does the moon then not labour? It labours indeed, we cannot deny it;
but it labours together with the rest of creatures, as the Apostle says: For every creature groans and is in travail even until now (Romans 8); and further below: Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption, and the rest. It shall be delivered, he says, from bondage; you see, then, that the moon does not labour under incantations, but labours in obediences; it labours not amid perils, but in services; it labours not that it may perish, but that it may serve. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly (ibid.), and the rest. Therefore the moon is changed from its state not willingly, you are changed from your mind willingly; it is led to its diminution by its condition, you are dragged to your own detriment by your will. I would not, therefore, brother, have you be like the moon when it wanes;