For supposing they do admire you for the time, when the occasion has gone by they will have forgotten it all, and have taken away from you the crown God had given, and have been unable to secure to you that from themselves. And yet if this were abiding, it were a most miserable thing to exchange that for this. But when even this has gone, what defence shall we be able to make for betraying the abiding one for the sake of the unabiding one, for losing such blessings for the sake of credit with a few?
And indeed even if they who praise were numerous, even for this they were to be pitied, and the more so the more numerous those who do it. But if you are surprised at what I have said, hear Christ giving His sentence in this way, “Woe unto you, when all men speak well of you.” And so indeed it should seem. For if in every art you look to the workmen (δημιουργους) in it to be judges of it, how come you to trust the proving of virtue to the many, and not most of all to Him Who knows it more surely then any, and is best able to applaud and to crown it?
This saying then, let us inscribe both on our walls and our doors and our mind, and let us keep constantly saying to ourselves, “Woe unto us, when all men speak well of us.” For even they that so speak slander one afterward as a vain person, and fond of honor, and covetous of their good word. But God does not so. But when He sees you coveting the glory that comes of Him, then He will praise you most, and respect (θαυμάσεται om. in most manuscripts) you, and proclaim you conqueror.
Not so man; but, when he finds you slavish instead of free, by gratifying you often by bare words with false praise, he snatches from you your true meed, and makes you more of a menial than a purchased slave. For those last men get to obey them after their orders, but thou even without orders makest yourself a slave. For thou dost not even wait to hear something from them, but if you merely know wherein you may gratify them, even without their command you do all. What hell then should we not deserve, for giving the wicked pleasure, and courting their service before they give orders, while we will not hearken to God, even when He every day commands and exhorts us?
And yet if you are covetous of glory and praise, avoid the praise that comes of men, and then you will attain to glory. Turn aside from fair speeches, and then you will obtain praises without number both from God and from men. For there is no one we are used to give so much glory to, as the man who looks down upon glory, or to praise and respect so much as the man who thinks scorn of getting respected and praised. And if we do so, much more will the God of the universe. And when He glorifies you and praises you, what man can be more justly pronounced blessed?
For there is not a greater difference between glory and disgrace, than between the glory from above and that of men. Or rather, there is a much greater, aye an infinite difference. For if this, even when it does not get put beside any other, is but a base and uncomely one, when we come to scrutinize it by the other's side, just consider how great its baseness will be found to be! For as a prostitute stands at her place and lets herself out to any one, so are they that be slaves of vanity.
Or rather, these be more base than she. For that sort of women do in many instances treat those enamoured of them with scorn. But you prostitute yourself to everybody, whether runaway slaves, or thieves, or cut-purses (for it is of these and such as these that the play-houses that applaud you consist), and those whom as individuals you hold to be nothing worth, when in a body, you honor more than your own salvation and show yourself less worthy of honor than any of them. For how can you be else than less worthy, when you stand in need of the good word of others, and fancy that you have not enough by yourself, unless you receive the glory that comes of others?
Do you not perceive, pray, beside what I have said, that as you are an object of notice, and known to every body, if you should commit a fault, you will have accusers unnumbered; but if unknown, you will remain in security? Yes, a man may say, but then if I do well I shall have admirers unnumbered. Now the fearful thing is, that it is not only when you sin, but even when you do aright, that the disorder of vanity does you mischief, in the former case subverting thousands, in the present bereaving you entirely of your reward.
It is then a sad thing, and replete with disgrace of every kind, to be in love with glory even in civil matters. But when even in spiritual you are in the same plight what excuse is there left remaining for you, when you are not minded to yield God even as much honor as you have yourself from your servants? For even the slave “looks to the eyes of his master”, and the hireling to his employer, who is to pay him wages, and the disciple to his master. But you do just the contrary.
Having left the God that hired you, even your Master, you look to your fellow-servants; and this knowing that God remembers your well-doings even after this life, but man only for the present. And when you have spectators assembled in Heaven, you are gathering together spectators upon earth. And where the wrestler struggles, there he would be honored; but thou, while your wrestling is above, art anxious to gain you a crown below. And what can be worse than madness like this? But let us look, if it seem proper, at the crowns also.
For one is formed by haughtiness, and a second by grudging against another, and a third by dissimulation and flattery, another again by wealth, and another by servile obsequiousness. And like as children at their childish play put crowns of grass upon one another, and many a time laugh at him that is crowned behind his back; thus now also they that pass their praises upon you, many a time joke by themselves at their putting the grass upon us. And would it were grass only! But now the crown is laden with much mischief, and ruins all our well-doings.
Taking then the vileness of it into consideration, flee from the damage entailed. For how many would you have to praise you? A hundred? Or twice, or thrice, or four times as many? Or rather, if you please, put them at ten times or twenty times as many, and let there be two or four thousand, or if you will, even ten thousand to applaud you. Still these be no better than so many daws cawing from above. Or rather taking the assemblage of the angels into consideration, these will seem more vile than even worms, and their good word of not so much solidity as a cobweb, or a smoke, or a dream.
Source: Homilies on Romans (New Advent)