Let them not, therefore, follow the natural filthiness of these beasts, nor acquiesce in seductively pleasant falls, nor, tarrying in the pit of lusts, bury themselves in their very ruins; but straightway, where they have fallen, let them rise, and let them at once meditate a lifting-up in their fall; and, if by any means it can be done through the swiftness of repentance, let the remedy of the one rising again be so speedy that scarcely can a trace of the fallen appear. Therefore in cases of this kind this is the first work of the cure: that the ailing should shudder at their own diseases, that the wounded should hasten to treat their wounds, and that the wounded should at once pluck the arrows from their bodies. For a poultice or a clasp is best applied to wounds while still warm, and the flesh of the wounds knits itself together the sooner, which is not suffered to gape open long.
For an ulcer in the body, if it festers, spreads wide; and if a cancerous growth follows the wounds, ruin must needs follow the cancer. Therefore these evils must first be shunned by sinners, nor must place be given to the devil, that he who thrust down those standing into a fall may hurl the fallen headlong into death. But if either so great a force of disease, or so great a neglect of the sick, should be, that it draws out the ruin of one's health even to the last days, I know not what to say, I am utterly ignorant what to promise. To call back from the pursuit of the last remedy those in peril is harsh and impious; but to pledge anything in so late a cure is rash.
But nevertheless it is without doubt better that hands withered by however long a paralysis should yet by some effort be raised to heaven, than be utterly dissolved in deadly despair; it is better to leave nothing untried than to give no care to the dying—especially since I know not whether in the last extremity to attempt anything may be medicine, but assuredly to attempt nothing is perdition. And this one thing I know: that whoever has protracted his life to these extremities of a long sickness, it is unspeakable how much of lamentation he owes for his errors, who never acknowledged his faults. X. And what shall be done amid these things? When shall he weep who has lost the days for weeping? When shall he make satisfaction who has forfeited the time of satisfaction? He will flee, forsooth, to long fasts.
This is indeed something, if it be mingled with alms, according to that saying: 'Fasting is good with alms.' But how shall long confession help him, set as he is in his last extremity? Yet he will chafe his flesh with sackcloth and befoul himself with dust and ashes, that the harshness of present severities may compensate for the softness of past pleasure, and that the service of a patronizing injury may loose the guilt of long delights. But when shall he do these things, so great, being now, with his death at hand, shut out even from the doing of moderate things? At last, the severity of faith's judge will subject to the crosses of divers afflictions a man guilty in his own body, that he may, forsooth, by the ambition of a present punishment earn the pardon of an eternal absolution.
But when the body is now failing, where shall the censorious mind exercise its office of strictness? For the judge cannot use the arbitrament of severity, when the accused can no longer endure to be judged. There is, then, one thing only which, with all aids and supports withdrawn, can bring help to one wavering and destitute: namely, that he flee to that sacred and salutary counsel of the most blessed Daniel, who, wishing to heal the Babylonian king, composed for the ulcers contracted from his offense a poultice of mercy, saying: 'Wherefore, O king, let my counsel be acceptable to thee, and redeem thy sins by mercies, and thine iniquities by compassion on the poor: perhaps the Lord will be patient with thy transgressions.' So, then, let this man also do as that one said.
Let him use the medicine offered to another for his own wounds; let him fear the example of disobedient obstinacy; let him consider what he himself shall suffer in death, when he sees what the Assyrian king endured in life. It is a clear proof concerning pride and rebellion. Let him consider whether he himself, if he does not hearken, shall escape death, when he sees that that king, who did not hearken, lost his very self while yet alive. Let him therefore offer, even dying, to deliver his soul from everlasting punishments—since he can now do nothing else—at least his substance; yet let him offer it with contrition, with tears; let him offer with grief, with mourning. For otherwise things offered profit nothing, since they please not by their price but by the affection.
For the gifts are not commended by the mind of the giver to the gifts, but the gifts are commended by the mind; nor does money bespeak faith, but faith bespeaks the money. And through this, he who wishes what he offers to God to profit him, let him offer it in this manner. For man does not confer a benefit upon God in those things he has given, but God upon man in those things He has received—since even what man has is the gift of God and of his own Lord. And through this, in those things which are offered by man, man does not render his own, but the Lord receives His own. Therefore, when anyone offers his resources to God, let him not offer as with the presumption of one giving, but as with the humility of one paying; nor let him believe that he absolves his sins, but that he lightens them; nor let him offer with the confidence of redemption, but with the office of supplication;
nor as one rendering the whole debt, but as one desiring to render even a little out of a great sum; for even if he hands over what he has according to the measure of his goods, he does not render what he owes according to the greatness of his sins. And therefore, though he offers, let him pray God that his offering may please, lamenting this very thing, that he offers late, lamenting and repenting that he did not offer sooner: thus it shall come to pass that, according to the prophet, perhaps God may be propitious to thy transgressions. XI. But someone says: Is he then to offer to God the whole of what he has? Let him not offer the whole of what he has, if he thinks he does not owe the whole of what he has. I do not ask whose is that which is offered, from whom that was received which is now rendered; this alone I say: let him not offer the whole for his debt, if he does not think he owes the whole for his guilt.
Is he then, someone says, to offer the whole, sinner though he be? Nay, nothing, if not with faith; nay, nothing, if not with earnest striving; nay, nothing, if not with prayer; nay, nothing, if not with this mind: that he should reckon this very thing among the chief benefits of God—that He gave the will to offer—and should esteem that more is bestowed on him in those things which he leaves to God than in those which he had before: because this, which is held by man, is temporary, but that which is left to God is everlasting. Is he to offer the whole? someone says. But I say that this whole is little. For what? Does anyone already know whether the things offered compensate for the measure of his sins? Does anyone already know whether there is as much in the office of appeasement as there is in the offense of the peril?
If any man knows for how much he can redeem the offenses of his sins, let him use that knowledge for his redemption. But if he does not know, why should he not offer as much as he can? So that, if he cannot compensate his sins by the greatness of the price, he may at least compensate by the devotion of his mind. For he exhibits the perfect fruit of conscience who leaves nothing within his conscience. Some, without doubt, plead that these things are harsh and immoderate—especially because that prophet of whom we spoke seems to have admonished the Babylonian king only to give much, not to sell off everything. I do not for the moment bring forward the testimonies of the Gospel, nor take refuge in the voice of the speaking God; I do not say that one thing was commanded by the old law, another by the new.
Whence the Apostle too says: 'Behold, old things are passed away; all things are become new; and all things are of God'—by which he assuredly teaches that things are to be done not according to the letter of the old, but new according to God. For the moment I am content with this alone, which the prophet said. For his discourse was with a king, and indeed with a king not of one city, but, as it then seemed, of the whole world—who assuredly could not hand over through a testament to the needy the peoples he ruled, nor give the barbarous nations to the indigent as it were coins, nor turn realms spread far and wide into doles for the poor. And therefore the prophet says, 'redeem thy sins by mercies'—that is: give gold to the needy, since thou canst not give a kingdom;
distribute thy resources, since thou art not able to prolong thy power. And through this he seems to have commanded that he give the whole—the one whom he only did not bid distribute that which he could not disburse. XII. Perhaps we exaggerate the matter with words and exalt it too loftily; let us see, therefore, what this very thing is. 'Redeem,' he says, 'thy sins by mercies.' What is it to redeem anything? I suppose, to give the price of the things that are redeemed. I do not ask what were the sins of that king: let him himself know for how much he ought to redeem the things he did. Thee I address, whose is the cause; thee I appeal to, whose peril is at issue. Do thou this which the prophet said:
'Redeem thy sins by mercies.' Do not leave to God only as much as thou hast, if for thy sins thou dost not think as much as thou hast is needful. Estimate most diligently the faults thou hast committed; estimate the diversities of thy sins; see what thou owest for lies, what for revilings and perjuries, what for the negligences of thy thoughts, what for the impurity of thy speech, what, in fine, for every affection of an evil will. Add, at last, even—if any of these be within thy conscience—those things whereof the Apostle speaks: adulteries, fornications, uncleannesses, drunkenness, filthiness hateful to God, avarice the handmaid of idolatry; and after these perhaps some crimes even contracted from the shedding of human blood.
And when thou hast reckoned up the number of them all, weigh out the prices of each. And after these things I do not require that for thy sins thou hand over to God the whole of what thou hast; render only this which thou owest. But I add, after all these things, that when thou hast handled thy offenses and appraised them, thou wilt owe the more for thy evils, the more cheaply thou hast estimated thy sins; since, as the Apostle says, 'he who thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, deceiveth himself.' Not to say to thee that it was commanded to that king—who was to live yet a while and perhaps was young—that he should nevertheless hasten to redeem his sins: but thou owest so much the more on thine own behalf, in that thou doest these things either dying or on the very point of death.
For great must be the munificence and devotion which could compensate for this: that thou renderest these things to thy Lord only then, when thou canst thyself no longer possess them—especially since to all this is added, that the prophet himself, who calls that king to the redemption of his crimes, through these very things which he says ought to be done, shows him not so much the security of pardon as the way of seeking salvation. For by saying, 'redeem thy sins by mercies, and perhaps God will be propitious to thy transgressions,' this very word which he says—'perhaps'—indicates hope, does not promise assurance.
From which it can be understood how difficult it is for sinners, now set in their last extremity, to attain by any munificence whatever to perfect pardon, when the prophet himself, who urges that the propitiation of God be sought, yet dared not promise that it would be obtained. He gives counsel concerning the act, and yet doubts concerning the effect: he makes himself the exhorter of the doing, not the author of the obtaining. Why so? Because, forsooth, all sinners ought, on their own behalf, even in their last extremity, to attempt everything, even though they can presume upon nothing.
For if that prophet does not promise to a king absolute pardon through the mere largess of good works, a sinner who has done no penance for his errors can understand how great and how ample a munificence is needful for him in his last extremity, who wishes to obtain from the Lord through a late devotion that which he cannot claim by right. I. We have spoken of the remedies of sins—nay rather, of the hopes and consolations of remedies—namely, that this is the first help in seeking salvation, that the sinner should repent of his error; then that, according to the sacred word, he should straightway redeem his sins by mercies; lastly, if he has not done this, that at least, dying, he should leave nothing untried, so that he may succor himself even by the final offering of his goods.
But perhaps this may be answered: If sinful men are held bound by this necessity of redeeming their crimes, then the saints without doubt, being free from crimes, are not so bound, and through this have no cause to bestow their substance, since they have nothing which it is needful for them to redeem by largess. I hear it—but of what sort this is, we shall presently see. Meanwhile, even if there be no past evils which the holy man ought to redeem with all his goods, yet there are everlasting goods which he ought to procure at a great price. But of this more fully hereafter. Now, however, I say freely and constantly affirm this: that there is absolutely no one of the saints who is not in many things a debtor to God, and through this, whatever he gives to his Lord, he does not so much give as pay.
And first, to speak of the general benefits—that is, that whoever thou art, whether of the saints or of the rich, first of all by the benevolence and gift of God thou wast both born and nourished and educated; that thou wast furnished with the things necessary for life, that thou wast enriched even with things not necessary, that thy Lord bestowed on thee more for thy use than the measure of use required, that in the end He extended His gifts beyond thy hopes and—what is greatest and rarest—His gifts surpassed even thy prayers.
And I add, after all these things, that the same Lord who first begot thee by His gift, afterward also saved thee by His passion; that for thy sake, O man—earth and clay, nay rather a tiny portion of earth and clay—the Lord of all things came to the earth, proceeded from flesh and likewise in flesh, humbled even to the shame of human beginning and the filth of swaddling-clothes and the meanness of a manger, enduring the passions of this life unworthy of Himself: the wretched alternations of eating, drinking, sleep, and wakefulness, and the contumelious necessities of this frail intercourse; enduring, in fine, the very fetid dwelling among the men who conversed with Him—peoples of sinners besmeared with the mire of filth, ever guilty by the deeds of an evil conscience committed, exhaling the stench of their base acts from themselves, and therefore incapable of the heavenly precepts and unable to bear the radiance of the sacred splendor, because the brightness of the divine light overwhelmed their eyes darkened by sins.
And not this only, but after all these things add the insolent contradictions of the proud people, add the reproaches, add the revilings, the impious persecution, the false witness, the bloody judgment, the mockings of the people, the spittings, the scourgings—harshest punishments indeed, but indignities harsher than the punishments—the crown of thorns, the cup of vinegar, the food of gall: the Lord of all condemned by men, the salvation of the human race hanging on a gibbet, God dying by the law of an earthly condition. II. Since these things are so, whoever thou art—whether thou art a saint, or believest thyself to be a saint—tell me, I pray, can these things alone be paid off, even if nothing else were owed? For whatever a man endures for God, that can in no wise be paid off which God endured for man;
for even if the passion itself does not differ in the kind of punishments, yet it must needs greatly differ in the diversity of those who suffer. But perhaps thou sayest that in the things we have spoken of there is a debt common to all men, and that in this the whole race of men is indiscriminately liable. It is true. But does anyone therefore owe less, if another also owes the same? Or if the bonds of a hundred men were written for a hundred sesterces each, is the debt of one thereby lightened, if all be debtors of the same number? For 'each one,' says the Apostle, 'shall bear his own burden,' and each one shall render an account for himself. By no means, therefore, is the weight of one lightened by the weight of another, nor is a guilty man absolved by the fellowship of many.
Nor for that reason is a damnation any less loathsome to whoever suffers it, even if the condemned man seem to have many partners in his punishment. Thus what I said above, though it be a general debt, yet is beyond doubt also a particular one; though it be common to all, yet it belongs peculiarly to each individual; thus it reaches all equally, and yet nothing of the whole sum is subtracted from any one. For Christ, just as He suffered for all, so He gave Himself up alike for individuals and for the whole, and expended Himself both for individuals and for all; He gave His whole self to the universal body and His whole self to each single one. And through this, whatever the Saviour bestowed by His Passion, just as the whole body owes Him the whole, so each single person owes Him the whole—except that in this respect individuals owe almost more than the whole body, since each single one received as much as the whole body did.
For where one man receives what the whole body receives, even though the measure be equal, the resentment is greater. Hence it comes about that, although he receive the very same, he seems to owe more, because that one man becomes the more accountable who is compared with all. So much, then, on this matter, since certain of the saints think they are not debtors to God, being unable to estimate the debt. III. But perhaps someone will say that the saints are indeed not free of debt, yet that the debts of worldly men are far greater, whose sins are more numerous. This is as if someone were to say: I am therefore innocent, because another is more guilty; therefore I am righteous, because another is unrighteous; therefore I am exceedingly good, because another is uniquely evil.
For, in the first place, it ill befits a holy mind to reckon that its own goods increase by the evils of others, and to esteem itself the better by comparison with the worse. For it is a most wretched kind of consolation to draw comfort from the miseries of sinful men, when the Apostle bids us rejoice with them that rejoice and weep with them that weep, and that each should consider not the things that are his own, but the things that are others'. But grant that a comparison of this sort seem just and honourable: can it even be reckoned trustworthy? For who is sure enough of that so great and so terrible judgment of God to come? Or who can say: I owe less, he owes more? Who, finally, can presume upon himself or despair of another?
For we shall all, says the Apostle, stand before the tribunal of Christ, and every one shall bear his own burden. 'Then is there nothing at all,' says someone, 'between the saints and sinners?' There is much indeed, and almost immeasurable. But since Scripture says, Blessed is the man who is always fearful, and the mind of the wise man is never secure about his own salvation—although there be much between the saints and sinners, yet I ask of all who profess religion: who, according to his own conscience, is holy enough for himself; who is not trembling at that dread severity of the coming examination; who is secure of his everlasting safety?
But if there be no such one—as indeed there ought not to be—then let any man whatsoever tell me, I beseech him, why he does not strive with all the strength of his substance so that, even by the devoted offering of his death, he may redeem whatever he has contracted by the offence of his life. Yet I would have all my readers know that I am speaking not of all the saints, but only of those who, although they have professed religion, nevertheless do not forsake their riches. For of those who, unencumbered of all burdens, follow the way of the Saviour and purchase Christ, the Lord of the law, not by holiness alone but also by poverty, there is nothing that can be said except only that which the prophet also said: But to me Thy friends, O God, are made exceedingly honourable.
For all these I honour no otherwise than as imitators of Christ; I venerate them no otherwise than as images of Christ; I look up to them no otherwise than as members of Christ; and I make mention of them only for this, that by their remembrance I may be made worthy. IIII. But perhaps those things which we said above may seem injurious to the profession of religion. 'For what,' says someone, 'if a widow be rich, yet not forsaking her widowhood amid a great abundance of wealth? What if a virgin who has professed integrity and is devoted to the sanctity of an undefiled body? What if a marriage without the marital act, denying one's own self to oneself and having oneself as though having not? What if a monk serving God from his cradle? What if a cleric fulfilling the service of the sacred ministry with faithful service?'
Are even these in peril as to the fruit of eternal salvation, if either while living they keep their wealth entire, or dying do not leave it to the needy? My discourse and authority are too slight to pronounce sentence on a question of this kind. Let us therefore see what the tongues of the sacred volumes and the voices of the heavenly precepts declare concerning all these matters, and then most rightly, according to the norm given by God, we shall direct the rule of our opinion. And first, let no one now think he must take refuge in the consolations of ancient examples, so as to say that perhaps certain saints were rich, whether under the law or before the law. For that time has passed away; the order of things is changed. For before the law there was free choice for all whether to possess—
or even to pursue the acquiring of wealth, since as yet the rod of the heavenly prohibitions did not chastise it. For where there is no law, says the Apostle, neither is there transgression. The law therefore made something to be unlawful; for I knew not concupiscence, says the Apostle, except the law had said: Thou shalt not covet. And therefore the riches which before the law God had not reproved, man freely possessed. Under the law also, nonetheless, nearly the same right was available to all, since the law by no means forbade a man to have what he willed, provided it were justly. And so then all the saints without exception used all their possessions according to the bounds prescribed by the law, walking, as we read, in all the commandments and ordinances of God without blame.
So indeed those very ones walked, of whom these things are recorded: as the prophetess Anna, living in fastings and prayers; as that Nathanael, whom we read of, exalted by the praise of being a true Israelite, and marvellous with the Lord and God Himself as witness; as Tobit, surpassing by the magnanimity of his devotion the precepts of the law, who served the burial of dead men even at the peril of his own death, and taking thought for the needy even unto his own need, came into so great an affection of bounty that he assigned to his hired servant a share of all his goods—and this, what makes it the more wonderful, being now rich, and, what is yet more marvellous, rich after poverty; for riches after want commonly kindle a greater greed of possessing. V.
Such, then, were the saints of that time, having all things according to the law, forsaking all things according to the law. And thus every one who obeyed the law was perfect, and he who did less under the law then was as devout as he who does more now under the Gospel; for then the law was, as it were, the Gospel. Hence it comes that he who showed himself obedient to the law then, as it were fulfilled the Gospel. There is no reason, therefore, why anyone should now think he must take refuge in the law; for the old things, as the Apostle says, are passed away, all things are made new. Then there was more of indulgence and more of liberty. Then the eating of flesh was proclaimed, now abstinence; then in a whole lifetime the days of fasting were very few, now the whole of life is as it were one long fast:
then vengeance was allowed to the injured, now patience; then the law was the minister to those who were angry, now it is their adversary; then it held out a sword to the accuser, now charity; then the law indulged even the enticement of the flesh, now the Gospel forbids it even to the sight; then bodily pleasures had a certain license, now even the eyes are commanded to keep their strictness; then the law extended the bed of one husband to the taking of many wives, now by the devotion of chaste affection it binds him even to the excluding of one.
For it remains, says the Apostle, that both they who have wives be as though they had none, and they that weep as though they wept not, and they that rejoice as though they rejoiced not, and they that buy as though they possessed not, and they that use this world as if they used it not; for the fashion of this world passeth away. See how briefly the teacher sent from God has regulated all things and enclosed the whole within one single perfection, not only by forbidding what is unlawful but also by restricting what is lawful, cutting away, that is, both the use of marriage, and the faithlessness of weeping, and the intemperance of rejoicing, and the lust of possessing, and the greed of buying, and finally the very brief and shadowy pleasure of this world. And all this—why?
Why indeed, except—as He Himself said—because the fashion of this world passeth away? How far, therefore, are they from the commandment of God, who, when God has bidden them living to renounce their wealth, desire even when dead to possess it in their kinsmen; or how far are they from that devotion, so as to disinherit their own selves for God's sake, who are unwilling to disinherit even strangers for their own sake? To whom I would gladly and freely say: What madness is this, O most wretched ones! that, in order to make any others whatsoever your heirs, you disinherit your own selves; that, in order to leave others rich even but for a short while, you condemn your own selves to eternal beggary. VI. But perhaps someone asks what this is, that God should now demand more from Christians through the Gospel than from the Jews before through the law.
The reason of this matter is certain: for we now pay more to our Lord, because we owe more. The Jews once had the shadow of things, we the truth; the Jews were slaves, we adopted sons; the Jews received the yoke, we liberty; the Jews the curse, we grace; the Jews the letter that killeth, we the spirit that giveth life; to the Jews a servant was sent as master, to us the Son; the Jews passed through the sea to the desert, we through baptism enter into the kingdom; the Jews ate manna, we Christ; the Jews the flesh of birds, we the body of God; the Jews the hoar-frost of heaven, we the God of heaven:
who, as the Apostle says, being in the form of God, humbled Himself even unto death, yea, the death of the cross—not content, that is, to undergo for us a simple death, unless He had heaped upon that very acceptance of a voluntary slaying the endurance of the utmost torments. For this alone, then, what can a man pay, for whom Christ expended Himself through the last bitterness of punishments? Or what worthy return will he render to the Lord for himself, who owes to God the very One by whom he was redeemed? This, therefore, is the reason why the Lord would have us more devoted to Him: because He purchased our devotion at so great a price. And therefore the most blessed Paul: Who then, says he, shall separate us from the love of Christ?