But now let us consider what follows. There indeed are flutes, and harps, and pipes; but here is no music of sounds unsuitable; but what? hymns, singing of psalms. There indeed the Demons are hymned; but here, the Lord of all, God. Do you see with what gratitude this one abounds, with what ingratitude and insensibility that? For, tell me, when God has nourished you with His good things, and when you ought to give Him thanks after being fed, do you even introduce the Demons? For these songs to the lyre, are none other than songs to Demons. When you ought to say, “Blessed are You, O Lord, that You have nourished me with Your good things,” do you like a worthless dog not even so much as remember Him, but, over and above, introducest the Demons? Nay rather, dogs, whether they receive anything or not, fawn upon those they know, but thou dost not even this. The dog, although he receives nothing, fawns upon his master; but thou, even when you have received, barkest at Him. Again, the dog, even though he be well treated by a stranger, not even so will be reconciled of his hatred of him, nor be enticed on to be friends with him: but thou, even though suffering mischief incalculable from the Demons, introducest them at your feasts. So that, in two ways, you are worse than the dog. And the mention I have now made of dogs is happy, in regard of those who give thanks then only when they receive a benefit. Take shame, I pray you, at the dogs, which when famishing still fawn upon their masters. But you, if you have haply heard that the Demon has cured anyone, straightway forsakest your Master; O more unreasoning than the dogs!
But, says one, the harlots are a pleasure to look upon. What sort of pleasure are they? Yea rather what infamy are they not? Your house has become a brothel, madness, and fury; and are you not ashamed to call this pleasure? If then it be allowed to use them, greater than all pleasure is the shame, and the discomfort which arises from the shame, to make one's house a brothel, like hogs in wallowing in the mire? But if so far only be allowed as to see them, lo! Again the pain is greater. For to see is no pleasure, where to use is not allowed, but the lust becomes only the greater, and the flame the fiercer.
But would you learn the end? Those, indeed, when they rise up from the table, are like the madmen and those that have lost their wits; foolhardy, quarrelsome, laughing-stocks for the very slaves; and the servants indeed retire sober, but these, drunk. O the shame! But with the other is nothing of this sort; but closing the table with thanksgiving, they so retire to their homes, with pleasure sleeping, with pleasure waking, free from all shame and accusation.
If you will consider also the guests themselves, you will see that the one are within just what the others are without; blind, maimed, lame; and as are the bodies of these, such are the souls of those, laboring under dropsy and inflammation. For of such sort is pride; for after the luxurious gratification a maiming takes place; of such sort is surfeiting and drunkenness, making men lame and maimed. And you will see too that these have souls like the bodies of the others, brilliant, ornamented. For they who live in giving of thanks, who seek nothing beyond a sufficiency, they whose philosophy is of this sort are in all brightness.
But let us see the end both here and there. There, indeed, is unchaste pleasure, loose laughter, drunkenness, buffoonery, filthy language; (for since they in their own persons are ashamed to talk filthily, this is brought about by means of the harlots;) but here is love of mankind, gentleness. Near to him who invites those stands vainglory arming him, but near the other, love of man, and gentleness. For the one table, love of man prepares, but the other, vainglory, and cruelty, out of injustice and grasping. And that one ends in what I have said, in loss of wits, in delirium, in madness; (for such are the offshoots of vainglory;) but this one in thanksgiving and the glory of God. And the praise too, which comes of men, attends more abundantly upon this; for that man is even regarded with an envious eye, but this all men regard as their common father, even they who have received no benefit at his hands. And as with the injured even they who have not been injured sympathize, and all become in common enemies (to the injurer): so too, when some receive kindness, they also who have not received any, not less than they who have, praise and admire him that conferred it. And there indeed is much envy, but here much tender solicitude, many prayers from all.
And so much indeed here; but There, when Christ has come, this one indeed shall stand with much boldness, and shall hear before the whole world, “Thou saw Me an hungered, and fed Me; naked, and clothed Me; a stranger, and took Me in”; and all the like words: but the other shall hear the contrary; “Wicked and slothful servant”; and again, “Woe unto them that luxuriate upon their couches, and sleep upon beds of ivory, and drink the refined wine, and anoint themselves with the chief ointments; they counted upon these things as staying, and not as fleeting.”
I have not said this without purpose, but with the view of changing your minds; and that you should do nothing that is fruitless. What then, says one, of the fact that I do both the one and the other? This argument is much resorted to by all. And what need, tell me, when everything might be done usefully, to make a division, and to expend part on what is not wanted, but even without any purpose at all, and part usefully? Tell me, had you, when sowing, cast some upon a rock, and some upon very good ground; is it likely that you would have been contented so, and have said, Where is the harm, if we cast some to no purpose, and some upon very good ground? For why not all into the very good ground? Why lessen the gain? And if you have occasion to be getting money together, you will not talk in that way, but wilt get it together from every quarter; but in the other case thou dost not so. And if to lend on usury; you will not say, “Wherefore shall we give some to the poor, and some to the rich,” but all is given to the former: yet in the case before us, where the gain is so great, thou dost not thus calculate, and will not at length desist from expending without purpose, and laying out without return?
“But,” says one, “this also has a gain.” Of what kind, tell me? “It increases friendships.” Nothing is colder than men who are made friends by these things, by the table, and surfeiting. The friendships of parasites are born only from that source.
Source: Homilies on Colossians (New Advent)