John Chrysostom
"So," he says, "in our affection for you," that is, being zealous for you. He says: we are so devoted to you that not only do we take nothing from you, but, if necessary, we would not refuse to give you even our own souls.
Tell me, then, is this human calculation? Who would be so senseless as to say this? "We were pleased to impart to you," he says, "not only the Gospel of God, but also our own souls."
The latter, therefore, is harder than the former. But which brings greater benefit? From the Gospel there is real benefit for them. Yet to give one's soul is a greater struggle by reason of its difficulty.
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Indeed, it is not the same thing merely to preach and to give one's soul. The first is in itself more honorable. The second is far more difficult. We were ready, he says, if it had been necessary, even to pour out our souls for you.
Since the Apostle praised the Thessalonians before and praises them now, he therefore says: we do this not to beg for money, nor from flattery, nor to gain glory from you. Yet pay attention.
Since the Thessalonians had shown many struggles, they had to be praised and admired beyond measure, so that they might show themselves still more unbending. But such praise could appear suspect.
Therefore, removing every suspicion, he speaks of his afflictions. On the other hand, he feared that they might think he spoke of afflictions in order to show how he labored for them, and what honor he therefore deserved from them.
After speaking of afflictions, he added, "because you had become dear to us." In this way he shows that we would even gladly have given you our own souls, because we were wholly devoted to you.
Thus we proclaim the Gospel to you because God commanded us to do this. But on our own part, we love you so much that, if necessary, we would give you even our own souls.
This is how one who truly loves must love. He will not refuse even his own soul if it were required of him and if this were possible. But why do I say, if it were required? He will himself volunteer for such a sacrifice.
Nothing, truly nothing, can be sweeter than such love. To it, nothing appears grievous. A faithful friend is truly the delight of life. A faithful friend is truly a firm shelter.
What, indeed, would a sincere friend not do? What pleasure would he not provide? What benefit? What security? Point to countless treasures, and all this is nothing compared with a sincere friend.
But let us first say how much pleasure friendship contains in itself. One who looks upon a friend is brightened with joy, melts with pleasure, and is united to him in soul by a certain special bond that contains inexpressible delight.
He revives in spirit and is given wings even by the mere remembrance of him. I am speaking of sincere friends, of one mind, ready to die for one another, and warmly loving one another.
Do not think to refute my words by imagining ordinary companions, table associates, and friends in name only. Whoever has such a friend as I describe will understand my words.
Even if he saw him every day, he would not be sated. He desires for him the same things he desires for himself. I knew a man who, when invoking God's holy men in prayer for a friend, asked them to intercede first for his friend, and only afterward for himself.
A friend is so dear that even places and times become dear because of him. Just as luminous bodies pour light upon surrounding objects, so friends impart their own pleasantness to the very places where they happened to be.
Often, when we visit these places without friends, we weep, remembering the days when we were there together, and we lament. Yet it is impossible to express in words how much pleasure the presence of friends gives.
Only those who have experienced it understand this. From a friend one may ask a favor and receive a favor without shame. When they command us, we are grateful to them, and we grieve when they are hesitant.
We have nothing that does not belong to them. Often, although we despise everything here below, we nevertheless do not wish to part from this present life only because of them. They are more desirable to us than the light itself.
Indeed, a friend is more desirable than the light itself. I am speaking of a sincere friend. Do not be astonished at this. It is better for the sun to be darkened for us than for us to be deprived of friends.
It is better to spend life in darkness than to live without friends. I will say why. Many who look upon the sun are in darkness. But those rich in friends are never sorrowful.
I speak of spiritual friends, who prefer nothing to friendship. Such was Paul, who willingly gave his soul for his friends, though they did not ask this of him. He would gladly have cast himself into Gehenna for them.
This is how one must love, with burning love. I wish to present an example of friendship. Friends are dearer than fathers and sons, namely friends in Christ.
Do not speak to me of present-day friends, because, together with many other things, this blessing also has now been lost. But remember what happened in the days of the Apostles.
I do not speak of the leaders, but even of the believers themselves. It is written that all "had one heart and one soul, and no one said that any of his possessions was his own, but they had all things in common. And distribution was made to each, as anyone had need" (Acts 4:32, 35).
Then there was no mine and yours. This is friendship: when a man does not regard his own as his own, but as belonging to his neighbor. He also regards his neighbor's property as foreign to himself.
One person guards another's life as his own, and the other repays him with the same disposition. But where, they will say, can such a friend now be found? Precisely nowhere, because we do not wish to be such.
If we wished, it would be very possible. If it were truly impossible, Christ would not have commanded it, and He would not have spoken so much about love.
Friendship is a great thing. To what degree it is great, no one can understand, and no word can express it, unless one learns by experience.
The failure to understand it produced heresies. It makes the Greeks remain Greeks even to this day. One who loves desires neither to command nor to rule. Rather, he rejoices to be under rule and to receive commands.
He desires more to benefit than to receive benefit, because he loves. Therefore he is always in the state of a man who has not yet satisfied his desire. He does not rejoice so much when receiving a benefit as when doing a benefit.
He desires more to put another under obligation than to be obligated to him. Or rather, he wishes both to be obligated to him and to have him as his debtor.
He both wishes to do good and does not wish to appear to do good. He presents himself as though he were the other's debtor. I think that many of you perhaps do not understand what has been said.
Therefore I consider it necessary to repeat the same thing again. He wants both to begin the good deed and not to seem to begin it, but only to seem to repay a favor.
This is how God acted toward men. He willed to give His Son for us. Yet, so that He might not appear to give Him solely by grace, but rather as though paying us a debt, He commanded Abraham to give Him his son.
In this way, when He did something great, He might seem to do nothing great. When there is no friendship, we reproach others with our benefits and magnify them even when they are insignificant.
But when there is friendship, we hide them. We want to present great benefits as small, so as not to show that our friend is in our debt. Rather, we show that we ourselves are obligated to him because he allowed us to oblige him.
I know that many do not understand what I am saying. The reason is that I speak of something that now has its place only in heaven.
If I began to speak of some plant growing in India, of which no one here has experience, then however much I spoke, speech could not fully portray it. So it is in the present case.
However much I speak, I shall speak in vain, because no one will be able to understand. This plant has been planted in heaven. Its branches are heavy not with pearls, but with a fruit much more pleasant, the life of virtue.
Imagine whatever pleasure you wish, whether base or noble. The sweetness of friendship will be higher than all of them. Point even to the sweetness of honey, yet honey becomes cloying.
A friend never becomes cloying as long as he remains a friend. On the contrary, love for him increases more and more, while the pleasure flowing from it never produces satiety. A friend is dearer than this temporary life.
For this reason, many after the death of friends no longer wished to live. With a friend, someone can live gladly even in exile. Without a friend, he would not wish to live even at home.
With a friend, even poverty is not burdensome. Without him, even health and wealth are burdensome. Whoever has a friend has another self. I regret that I cannot explain this by example.
I am aware that everything said will be far less than what should be said. This is what friendship means for this life. But with God, such a great reward is prepared for it that it cannot even be expressed.
He gives us a reward so that we may love one another. Love, He says, and receive a reward for it, although we ourselves ought to give a reward for this.
Pray, He says, and receive a reward for it, although we ought to offer repayment, because we ask blessings from Him. For asking, He says, receive a reward. Fast, and receive a reward.
Be virtuous, and receive a reward, although you yourself ought to recompense Him. Truly, as fathers, when they make their children well behaved, then give them rewards, because they consider themselves debtors for the pleasure the children gave them, so also does God.
Receive a reward, He says, if you are virtuous, because you gladden the Father, and I must reward you for this. But if you are evil, you receive nothing, because you grieve Him who begot you.
Let us not grieve God, then, but let us strive to gladden Him, so that we may be counted worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven in Christ Jesus our Lord. With Him, to the Father and the Holy Spirit be glory, dominion, and honor, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.