THEOSISJohn Chrysostom
Praise be to God: in our time, martyrs have arisen, and we have been blessed to witness individuals martyred for Christ—men who have spilled the sacred blood that nourishes the Church, blood that terrifies demons, appeals to angels, and brings salvation to us. We have been fortunate to observe those who stood for righteousness, who triumphed and were rewarded with crowns; and we have not only seen them but have been honored to receive the very relics of these holy ascetics, who now dwell among us as venerable companions. However, we will now turn from the topic of martyrs, best left to their most passionate advocates, our shared educator, and instead, we will discuss Ozias, fulfilling a long-standing obligation to revisit him and satisfy our desire to know more. I recognize that each of you craves to hear of these events, and while we have delayed the discourse, it has not been out of a wish to prolong your discomfort, but rather to heighten your anticipation, ensuring that the feast we share appears more delightful. When the affluent host a banquet and receive guests of hearty appetite, they might whet their interest with the sumptuous offerings prepared; conversely, the humble fare of the less fortunate shines in brilliance only when the diners arrive famished. Who was Hosea, from whom did he descend, under whose reign did he serve, what virtue did he practice, what errors did he commit, and how did he ultimately meet his end? We will recount these matters now, or at least as much as time allows, to avoid overwhelming your minds, as a lamp's fire may be burdened with too much oil. Pour in oil gradually, and you sustain the flame; pour too quickly, and you extinguish it. This Hosea was a descendant of David and ruled over the Jews for fifty-two years. Initially, he walked righteously, but later succumbed to sin. With a heart inflated with pride, he sought to seize the priestly office. Such is the danger of arrogance—it deceives one into ignorance of oneself and eventually ruins the riches of virtue after much toil. Other transgressions often stem from our negligence and arise even while we seek to do good. A good conscience, if not tended to with care, can easily breed pride. This is why Christ, understanding that this temptation follows virtuous deeds, instructed His disciples, saying, “When you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what is our duty’” (Luke 17:10). When this beast approaches, respond with those words, and shut him out. He did not say that upon completion of all tasks, you become unworthy; rather, you must declare: “We are unworthy servants because we have done what was required of us.” Speak, do not hesitate; it is not according to your own judgment that I render an assessment. If you call yourselves unworthy, I shall crown you as worthy. Similarly, in another instance, God asserts, “You are to speak, so that you may be justified” (Isaiah 43:26). In human justice, condemnation follows the acknowledgment of one’s offenses; yet, in divine justice, acknowledgment brings forth a crown. Therefore, Solomon advises, “You shall not justify yourself before the Lord” (Sir. 7:5). Hosea paid no heed to such counsel; instead, he entered the temple, attempted to burn incense, ignoring the priest who barred his way. What did God do? He struck Ozias with leprosy on his forehead, a divine chastisement for his brazen defiance and a lesson that his rebellion was against God Himself, not merely against men. This is what we know of Ozias. Now, let us begin our exploration of this narrative. I have provided a brief introduction to facilitate your comprehension as we delve into the scriptural account. Pay careful attention, then: “And he did,” states Scripture, “what was right in the sight of the Lord” (2 Chronicles 26:4). How, then, did he falter and fall after such a righteous existence? This surely perplexes, but we must remember he was human, a created being susceptible to sin and prone to vice. It is troubling to see that we must traverse a path that is narrow and fraught with peril, flanked by dangers. If both the ease of will and the treacherousness of the road conjoin, do not be astonished at the falls. Just as those who attempt to traverse a tightrope—if they glance aside, they risk losing balance, falling to their demise—so too do those who pursue this path. Indeed, this path surpasses the tightrope; it is narrow, steep, treacherous, soaring to the very heavens. The ascent becomes particularly perilous when one nears the summit, for those who perch upon heights experience great trepidation. Only one way to safety remains: do not gaze down, nor look to the earth; otherwise, dizziness will overcome you. For this reason, the prophet frequently exhorts us, “You shall not perish” (Psalm 56:1), imploring our slackening souls to remain vigilant and restraining us from stumbling. A small admonition at the onset is vital. Why? Even those most averse to labor initially demonstrate zeal and promise, readily taking on responsibilities with vigor. Yet, as we traverse the bulk of our journey, our fervor wanes, our strength diminishes, and potential for collapse looms. At that opportune moment, the prophet arrives, offering his wisdom as if it were a staff, proclaiming, “You shall not perish.” Thus, the adversary intensifies his attacks. Like robbers who do not assault vessels until they return laden with riches, the wicked enemy strikes when he notes that we have amassed much in fasting, prayer, almsgiving, chastity, and other virtues. Observing our ship filled with treasures of piety, he endeavors to unearth them and sink us before reaching safe harbor, leaving us bereft of cargo. Hence, the prophet urges all, insisting, “You shall not perish.” Once a fall occurs, rising again proves difficult: “When the wicked comes, disgrace follows” (Proverbs 18:3). We might forgive an initial stumble attributed to naivety, but the one who falters after many strides garners less understanding or justification; such a downfall is deemed negligence. Equally dire is the reality that many are led astray by such falls, making their sin unforgivable. Aware of this, let us heed the prophet’s caution and not allow our lives to be compromised 'to the end.’ Therefore, Ezekiel warns: if the righteous man falls into sin, “his righteousness shall not be remembered, but he shall die in his sin” (cf. Ezekiel 3:20, Ezekiel 18:24). He was troubled by this end. Moreover, he underscores the opposite notion with strength. If one who has sinned converts, he “shall live, he shall not die” (Ezek. 18:21-22). Thus, we see he emphasizes the significance of finishing strong. Our concern is that the righteous, trusting in their piety and becoming careless, may perish, prompting the prophet to instill fear about the end. And similarly, lest the sinner, despondent from his missteps, remains forever in his fallen state, he restores hope by pointing to redemption. “You have sinned greatly,” he assures, “but do not despair; there is a path to restoration if you demonstrate a reversal of past behaviors.” To the righteous, he reminds, “You have accomplished much good, but do not become complacent; a fall can happen if you abandon your zeal to the finale.” Notice how he eradicates both negligence in one direction and hopelessness in another. Hosea failed to heed this wisdom; thus, over-reliant on himself, he fell into a grave and irreparable pit. Not all falls inflict the same wound; some sins merit mere reprimand, whilst others incur severe punishment. Paul, while reproaching those who neglected their brethren at communal meals, states, “I cannot commend you” (1 Cor. 11:17). This matter warrants only censure, where the rebuke serves as a corrective. Yet when addressing acts of fornication, he says, “If anyone destroys the temple of God, God will destroy him” (1 Cor. 3:17). Here, condemnation transcends mere rebuke and carries severe consequence. Solomon also acknowledges the disparity among sins, equating theft with adultery: “A thief caught may not be surprising, for he steals to satisfy a hungry stomach. However, the adulterer, due to a weak mind, brings ruin upon his own soul” (Proverbs 6:30, 32). Both acts are sinful; one is less grievous, the other more so; poverty may justify theft, while adultery provides no excuse. What of those compelled by nature? A spouse binds a man in a commitment, voiding any justification. Hence, marriage and law provide children, allowing a husband to refrain from saying anything untoward. This is why a wife serves as a companion—to temper his volatile desires and calm the storms of lust. Just as a helmsman cannot evade culpability for a shipwreck in harbor, neither can a man protected by marriage who violates the sanctity of others’ unions or looks lustfully upon another’s spouse escape accountability before men or before God, even if he appeals a thousand times to natural desire. What enjoyment can exist amidst dread, anxiety, peril, and the weight of numerous tribulations—the examinations, the wrath of the judge, the sword, the executioner, the abyss? Such a person trembles at the thought of everything; shadows, walls, and stones echo in his mind, while he suspects and fears all—friends, neighbors, foes—conscious of everything, yet knowing nothing. Should he desire privacy, wishing only that he and the woman he sins against remain aware of his deeds, how will he endure the constant accusations of his own conscience, ever present to denounce him? For no one can flee from oneself, and no one can evade verdict from this court. This judgment cannot be swayed by riches nor dulled by flattery, for it is a divine decree, inscribed by God in our hearts. Indeed, “The adulterer prepares destruction for his soul through a feeble mind” (Proverbs 6:32). Of course, the thief is not absolved from retribution and receives a lesser recompense. Comparisons reveal not only contrasts but delineate levels among sin; one receives lesser judgement than the other. Should you find these points unclear, I will strive to elucidate further. Marriage is honorable, yet virginity is superior; though marriage is not evil, it occupies a lower rank. Just so here: stealing is wrong, but adultery is graver, both inherently sinful. Consider what transgression Hosea committed. “His heart was proud,” proclaims Scripture—a grievous wound; pride is the fountain of every evil. To grasp how severe are the effects of this affliction, listen closely: other sins confine themselves to our nature; pride can escalate and has even deposed the incorporeal beings from their heavenly thrones, transforming the once faithful into the adversary (Isaiah 14:13-14). And those who are hesitant to absorb allegorical meanings will not heed our insights; yet, if we present Paul’s admonitions, no one could refute him. What states Paul in his letter to Timothy? He instructs that a new convert should not be appointed to episcopal authority: “He must not be a recent convert,” he warns, “or he may become puffed up with pride and fall under the same condemnation as the devil” (1 Tim. 3:6)—fearing lest he sins as the devil did and suffers a similar fate. This truth shines through, as do the wicked strategies of the devil, who deceived humankind at the outset. The virtuous encourage their neighbors with the means by which they achieved goodness; conversely, the wicked entice others through means leading to their own downfall. The devil advised Adam to entertain thoughts that transcended his nature—aspiring to equality with God. If this thought cast down the devil from heaven, how much more so would it expel Adam from paradise? Hence, Solomon asserts, “God opposes the proud” (Proverbs 3:34; 1 Pet. 5:5). He does not say God abandons the arrogant or leaves them adrift, depriving them of His assistance; rather, He actively resists them. What can be weaker than the proud? Just like a sightless person vulnerable to every danger, the proud, oblivious to God (“The beginning of pride is the removal of man from the Lord” (Sir. 10:14)), shrouded in darkness, easily succumbs to the frailty of mankind.