Homilies on Romans

“According as God has dealt to every man the measure of faith.” For since having gifts given them had made many unreasonably elated, both with these and with the Corinthians, see how he lays open the cause of the disease, and gradually removes it. For after saying that we should think soberly, he proceeds, “according as God has dealt to every man the measure of faith,” meaning here the gift by faith: and by using the word “dealt,” he solaces him who had the less, and humbles him who had the greater share. For if God dealt it, and it is no achievement of yours, why think highly of yourself? But if any one says that faith here does not mean the gift, this would only the more show that he was humbling the vain boasters. For if that which is the cause of the gift (so Field with most manuscripts: Vulg. “If the faith by which miracles are wrought is the cause of the gift”), that faith by which miracles are wrought, be itself from God, on what ground do you think highly of yourself? If He had not come, or been incarnate, then the things of faith would not have fared well either. And it is from hence that all the good things take their rise. But if it is He that gives it, He knows how He deals it. For He made all, and takes like care of all. And as His giving came of His love towards man, so does the quantity which He gives. For was He Who had shown His goodness in regard to the main point, which is the giving of the gift, likely to neglect you in regard to the measure? For had He wished to do you dishonor, then He had not given them at all. But if to save you and to honor you was what He had in view (and for this He came and distributed such great blessings), why are you confounded and disturbed, and abusest your wisdom to foolishness, making yourself more disgraceful than one who is by nature so? For being foolish by nature is no ground of complaint. But being foolish through wisdom, is at once bereaving one's self of excuse, and running into greater punishment.

Such then are those, who pride themselves upon their wisdom, and fall into the excess of recklessness. For recklessness of all things makes a person a fool. Wherefore the Prophet calls the barbarian by this name. But “the fool,” he says, “shall speak folly.” But that you may see the folly of him from his own words, hear what he says. “Above the stars of heaven will I place my throne, and I will be like the Most High.” “I will take hold of the world as a nest, and as eggs that are left will I take them away.” Now what can be more foolish than these words? And every instance of haughty language immediately draws on itself this reproach. And if I were to set before you every expression of them that are reckless, you would not be able to distinguish whether the words are those of a reckless man or a fool. So entirely the same is this failing and that. And another of a strange nation says again, “I am God and not man”; and another again, Can God save you, or deliver you out of my hand? And the Egyptian too, “I know not the Lord, neither will I let Israel go.” And the foolish body in the Psalmist is of this character, who has “said in his heart, There is no God.” And Cain, “Am I my brother's keeper?” Can you now distinguish whether the words are those of the reckless or those of the fool? For recklessness going out of due bounds, and being a departure from reason (whence its name recklessness, ἀ πόνοια), makes men both fools and vainglorious. For likewise, “the beginning of wisdom is the fear of the Lord”, so then the beginning of folly is surely not knowing the Lord. If then knowing be wisdom, and not knowing Him folly, and this ignorance come of haughtiness (ὑ περηφανία), (for the beginning of haughtiness is the not knowing of the Lord), then is haughtiness the extreme of folly. Such was Nabal, if not to Godward, at least toward man, having become senseless from his recklessness. But he afterwards died of fear. For when any falls from the measure of wisdom, he becomes at once a coward and bold (θρασυδειλοὶ Ar. Eth. iii.), his soul having been made feeble. For as the body when it loses its proper tone having become out of condition, is a prey to any disease, thus too the soul when it has lost its greatness of nature and lowly-mindedness, having gotten any feeble habit (ἕ ξιν), becomes fearful, as well as bold and unreasonable, and loses its powers of self-consciousness. And he that has lost these, how is he to know things above himself? For as he that is seized with a frenzy, when he has so lost them, knows not even what is right before him; and the eye, when it is dimmed, darkens all the other members; so does it happen with this recklessness. Wherefore these are more miserable than the mad, or than those silly by nature. For like them they stir laughter, and like them they are ill-tempered. And they are out of their wits as the others are, but they are not pitied as they are. And they are beside themselves, as are these, but they are not excused, as are these, but are hated only. And while they have the failings of either, they are bereaved of the excuse of either, being ridiculous not owing to their words only, but to their whole appearance also. For why, pray, do you stiffen up your neck? Or why walk on tiptoe? Why knit up your brows? Why stick your breast out? You can not make one hair white or black, and you go with as lofty gait as if you could command everything. No doubt you would like to have wings, and not go upon the earth at all! No doubt you would wish to be a prodigy! For have you not made yourself prodigious now, when you are a man and triest to fly? Or rather flying from within, and bloated in every limb? What shall I call you to quit you of your recklessness? Shall I call you ashes, and dust, and smoke, and pother? I have described your worthlessness to be sure, but still I have not laid hold of the exact image I wanted. For I want to put their bloatedness before me, and all its emptiness. What image am I to find then which will suit with all this? To me it seems to be like tow in a blaze. For it seems to swell when lighted, and to lift itself up; but when it is submitted to a slight touch of the hand, it all tumbles down, and turns out to be more worthless than the veriest ashes. Of this sort are the souls of these men; that empty inflatedness of theirs even the commonest attack may humble and bring down. For he that behaves recklessly must of necessity be a thoroughly feeble person, since the height he has is not a sound one, but even as bubbles are easily burst, so are these men easily undone. But if you dost not believe, give me a bold reckless fellow, and you will find him more cowardly than a hare even at the most trivial circumstance. For as the flame that rises from dry sticks is no sooner lighted than it becomes dust, but stiff logs do not by their nature easily kindle up, and then keep up their flame a long time burning; so souls that be stern and firm are not easily kindled or extinguished; but these men undergo both of these in a single moment. Since then we know this, let us practise humble-mindedness. For there is nothing so powerful as it, since it is stronger even than a rock and harder than adamant, and places us in a safety greater than that of towers and cities and walls, being too high for any of the artillery of the devil. As then recklessness makes men an easy prey even to ordinary occurrences, being, as I was saying, easier broken than a bubble, and rent more speedily than a spider's web, and more quickly dissolved than a smoke; that we then may be walking upon the strong rock, let us leave that and take to this. For thus in this life present we shall find rest, and shall in the world to come have every blessing, by the grace and love toward man, etc.