Homilies on Second Corinthians

“I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls.”

'For the law of nature indeed has commanded the parents to lay up for the children; but I do not do this only, but I give myself also besides.' And this lavishness of his, the not only not receiving, but giving also besides, is not in common sort but accompanied with great liberality, and out of his own want; for the words, “I will be spent,” are of one who would imply this. 'For should it be necessary to spend my very flesh, I will not spare it for your salvation.' And that which follows contains at once accusation and love, “though the more abundantly I love you, the less I be loved.” 'And I do this,' he says, 'for the sake of those who are beloved by me, yet love me not equally.' Observe then, now, how many steps there are in this matter. He had a right to receive, but he did not receive; here is good work the first: and this, though in want; [good work] the second; and though preaching to them, the third; he gives besides, the fourth; and not merely gives, but lavishly too, the fifth; not money only, but himself, the sixth; for those who loved him not greatly, the seventh; and for those whom he greatly loved, the eighth.

3. Let us then also emulate this man! For it is a serious charge, the not loving even; but becomes more serious, when although one is loved he loves not. For if he that loves one that loves him be no better than the publicans; he that does not so much as this ranks with the beasts; yea rather, is even below them. What do you say, O man? Lovest thou not him that loves you? What then do you live for? Wherein will you be of use hereafter? In what sort of matters? In public? In private? By no means; for nothing is more useless than a man that knows not to love. This law even robbers have oftentimes respected, and murderers, and housebreakers; and having only taken salt with one, have been made his friends, letting the board change their disposition, and thou that sharest not salt only, but words and deeds, and comings in and goings out, with him, do you not love? Nay: those that live impurely lavish even whole estates on their strumpets; and thou who hast a worthy love, are you so cold, and weak, and unmanly, as not to be willing to love, even when it costs you nothing? 'And who,' one asks, 'would be so vile, who such a wild beast, as to turn away from and to hate him that loves him?' Thou dost well indeed to disbelieve it, because of the unnaturalness of the thing; but if I shall show that there are many such persons, how shall we then bear the shame? For when you speak ill of him whom you love, when you hear another speak ill of him and you defend him not, when you grudge that he should be well accounted of, what sort of affection is this? And yet it is not sufficient proof of love, not grudging, nor yet again not being at enmity or war with, but only supporting and advancing him that loves you: but when a man does and says everything to pull down his neighbor even, what can be more wretched than such a spirit? Yesterday and the day before his friend, you both conversed and ate with him: then because all at once you saw your own member highly thought of, casting off the mask of friendship, you put on that of enmity, or rather of madness. For glaring madness it is, to be annoyed at the goodness of neighbors; for this is the act of mad and rabid dogs. For like them, these also fly at all men's faces, exasperated with envy. Better to have a serpent twining about one's entrails than envy crawling in us. For that it is often possible to vomit up by means of medicines, or by food to quiet: but envy twines not in entrails but harbors in the bosom of the soul, and is a passion hard to be effaced. And indeed if such a serpent were within one, it would not touch men's bodies so long as it had a supply of food; but envy, even though thou spread for it ever so endless a banquet, devours the soul itself, gnawing on every side, tearing, tugging, and it is not possible to find any palliative whereby to make it quit its madness, save one only, the adversity of the prosperous; so is it appeased, nay rather, not so even. For even should this man suffer adversity, yet still he sees some other prosperous, and is possessed by the same pangs, and everywhere are wounds, everywhere blows. For it is not possible to live in the world and not see persons well reputed of. And such is the extravagance of this distemper, that even if one should shut its victim up at home, he envies the men of old who are dead.

Now, that men of the world should feel in this way, is indeed a grievous thing, yet it is not so very dreadful; but that those who are freed from the turmoils of busy life should be possessed by this distemper,— this is most grievous of all. And I could have wished indeed to be silent: and if silence took away too the disgrace of those doings, it were a gain to say nothing: if however, though I should hold my peace the doings will cry out more loudly than my tongue, no harm will accrue from my words, because of their parading these evils before us, but possibly some gain and advantage. For this distemper has infected even the Church, it has turned everything topsy-turvy, and dissevered the connection of the body, and we stand opposed to each other, and envy supplies us arms. Therefore great is the disruption. For if when all build up, it is a great thing if our disciples stand; when all at once are pulling down, what will the end be?

4. What doest thou, O man? You think to pull down your neighbor's; but before his you pull down your own. Do you see not them that are gardeners, that are husbandmen, how they all concur in one object? One has dug the soil, another planted, a third carefully covered the roots, another waters what is planted, another hedges it round and fortifies it, another drives off the cattle; and all look to one end, the safety of the plant. Here, however, it is not so: but I plant indeed myself, and another shakes and disturbs [the plant.] At least, allow it to get nicely fixed, that it may be strong enough to resist the assault. Thou destroyest not my work, but abandonest your own. I planted, you ought to have watered. If then thou shake it, you have torn it up by the roots, and hast not wherein to display your watering. But you see the planter highly esteemed. Fear not: neither am I anything, nor thou. “For neither is he that plants nor he that waters any thing;” one's is the work, God's. So it is with Him you fight and warrest, in plucking up what is planted.