1 Chronicles 29:15Meaning & Commentary from the Church Fathers

Envision a long life, perhaps a hundred years; if you desire, even multiply that by three—yet still, you will discover no true permanence in anything pertaining to this worldly life, regardless of wealth or luxury, or even if it shines with royal prestige or is adorned with other earthly glories. All is as ephemeral as blossoms that wither; everything is succeeded by sorrow, perishable, and blooms only for a brief moment, constantly grappling with peril. Wealth faces the threat of robbery; luxury is at risk from illness; power is vulnerable to coups. The one who wrestles with various dangers, wearied by countless concerns, awaits death, an unyielding adversary that is not confined to a single place, immune to bribes, and relentless in its approach—a sudden predator: one who once reveled in abundance now rests in a coffin; one who yesterday dined lavishly is today numbered among the dead; one who ruled from a throne finds themselves in burial shrouds by the next day; one who was surrounded by flattery soon finds themselves among worms.

Where is the joy in the accumulation of wealth? What is the value in the boasts of their earnings? What difference does it make between the rich and the poor in death? What distinguishes a king from a beggar? Both are ultimately met by death; the conclusion for each is the same—death arrives, and neither is attended by anything beyond their burial garments. "Great gain," it is said, "to be pious and contented. For we brought nothing into the world; evidently, we can take nothing out of it either" (1 Tim. 6:6-7). The reasoning of the contented individual is clear: nothing acquired can accompany its owner. “Nothing,” they say, “for we cannot carry away.” What will you take with you that you did not bring? Why cling to what lies beyond your grasp? What lies beyond contentment serves no purpose to those who have achieved it. What a person accumulates will suffice for their clothing and sustenance; the remainder will go to those who remain. We may pass on our belongings through wills, denying our inability to take them; what we cannot retain, we aim to bequeath, though we hold onto it for ourselves as long as possible. This logic behind creating a will reveals its essence: If it is said, "I shall live; I shall possess what is mine." A will is written—where a prayer is offered for its contents not to come to pass, as if to say, "While I am living, let what is mine remain with me." Upon exhaling our final breath, we sever all ties to material possessions. If it is said, "Let the common fate of humanity befall me, then I desire that there be heirs." There will indeed be heirs, irrespective of your wishes; nature mandates this, even against your will. Even if no heirs are designated, your possessions will find successors; what you have acquired cannot be carried away. It is not wrong to draft a will—indeed, the prophet exhorts, "Make a will for your house, for you shall die; you shall not recover" (Isaiah 38:1)—but I criticize our preoccupation with earthly possessions, for we often regard what is given to others as more precious than what remains untethered.

Truly, "great acquisition comes from godliness," as it knows no death's succession, nor is it distributed by wills, nor does it abandon its possessor, nor can it be bequeathed to others. The God-fearing individual becomes their own refuge and bears the title of their own fortune; they depart this life with the treasure of devotion and carry within them the riches of their faith. They journey forth, graced with acquired virtues, finding heaven their dwelling, joining the assembly of the righteous, basking in the eternal glory of the kingdom, and coming before the King with confidence, proclaiming, "You have restored to me my inheritance." This is the aspiration of Christians; thus, to be born is a profound blessing, allowing one to witness a divine spectacle beyond comprehension: the sudden awakening of the dead, the remarkable transformation of the earth, the trumpet call awakening the departed, the righteous being lifted through the skies, the truly angelic rejoicing, and the Lord's descent upon the earth before all. Oh, how extraordinary will be the exclamations of those who love Him passionately as they rise to meet Him, saying, "Remember, O Lord, how we walked before You in truth and did what pleased You," and when, calling out, they immediately hear His voice, "I know My own, and My own know Me" (John 10:14). Therefore, let us cast aside the burdens of worldly matters, free our souls from earthly weights, focus our minds on the eternal, and safeguard, under the embrace of virtue, the dignity of the divine image within us. Let us not turn the royal dignity into subjugation; let us seek the Giver of all wealth above all riches, for "the rich have become poor and hungry, but those who seek the Lord will not be deprived of every good thing" (Psalm 33:11). To Him be glory forever and ever. Amen.

To a blind person, a richly woven robe and a patched garment appear identical, just as a costly cloak and a simple monk's robe look alike; both the attractive youth and the aged face, along with everything visible to our eyes that offers comfort or distraction, hold equal worth and do not receive greater esteem from one another.

Thus, as Christians, when we divert our gaze from vanity and set our sights on everlasting joy, we do not regard gold, silver, precious gems, or other worldly embellishments as superior to less appealing things. Truly, I assure you, all will be considered alike—gold and silver will hold the same value as iron and tin, precious stones stashed away will be equal to those found in the dirt; luxurious garments will be seen the same as simple coverings of modesty; ornate chambers will compare to plain huts; and youthful beauty will be weighed equally with aged wrinkles. In this light, we join St. Chrysostom in declaring, “gold as dirt and silver as chaff.” Therefore, let us cherish the acts of charity given in Christ’s name, the gracious bearance of offenses offered to our neighbors from the heart, above all worldly wealth. We shall grieve more deeply over a single minor sin we commit than over the loss of all our temporal treasures. Gold and silver, akin to iron and copper, are merely earthly substances, formed from the ground. The allure of physical beauty is a fleeting flush of blood to the surface. The vibrant colors of garments are soon rendered dull by age. You will understand the nature of gold and silver when it tarnishes, and the quality of a red garment when it succumbs to moths; behold the face’s beauty once it lies in the grave. Then you will unequivocally see that all these things are nothing but dust, created from earth, returning to earth. Hence, we discover that our true and precious good is Christian virtue, which is imperishable, inseparable from us, dwells with us in peace, and ultimately leads us to God, our highest good.

So, do I speak against gold and silver or other earthly possessions? Certainly not! I do not denounce gold and silver; these too are God’s creations and gifts to humankind. Rather, I condemn a love for gold and silver, for it diverts the heart from the love and reverence of the living God. I do not blaspheme these metals but instead critique those who, abandoning God, hold fast to silver and gold in their hearts, laboring for wealth instead of the Lord. Possessing gold and silver is not sinful; what is sinful is to let one’s heart be entwined with them. They are to be our servants, not vice versa. Just as other creations serve us, so do gold and silver, aiding us in serving God. However, when we grow attached to something and our heart is dedicated to it, we cease to be its masters and become its servants, and by serving wealth, we no longer serve God. “No one can serve two masters.” Additionally, all these treasures, regardless of their nature, remain locked within this world, for “we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.” Christians are not meant to anchor themselves to the earth but are instructed to “lay up treasures in heaven.” For “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” For that is their true homeland, while in this world, they are merely “aliens and pilgrims.”