THEOSISJohn Chrysostom
In order not to cast the disciples into despondency by too strong a description of his afflictions, he shows the great abundance of consolation. In this way he encourages their spirit. He encourages them not only by this, but also by reminding them of Christ. Speaking of his sufferings, he says that they are the sufferings of Christ. Thus, before every other consolation, he draws consolation from the tribulations themselves.
Indeed, what could be sweeter than to be a partaker with Christ and to endure sufferings for His sake? What consolation could equal this? Not only by this, but also in another way, he raises up the souls of those in affliction. How? By saying that they abound, that they "are multiplied." He did not say, "as the sufferings of Christ come upon us," but, "as they are multiplied." By this he shows that the apostles endure not only Christ's sufferings, but even greater ones.
We have endured, he says, not only the sufferings which He endured, but sufferings that exceed them. Christ was persecuted, pursued, beaten, and died. But we, he says, have endured more than this. This alone is sufficient for consolation. Let no one suspect exaggeration here. Elsewhere he says, "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up what is lacking in my flesh" (Col 1:24). In neither place is there boldness or self-praise. Just as the apostles performed greater signs than Christ Himself, for the Lord says, "He who believes in Me will do greater works than these" (Jn 14:12), though He Himself accomplished all this by acting in them, so they also suffered more than He did. Yet this again belongs to the Lord alone, who comforted them and gave them strength to endure the evils that befell them.
Therefore Paul himself, sensing how much he has said, see how he again softens his statement: "Our consolation also abounds through Christ." He attributes everything to the Lord, glorifying His love for mankind in this as well. He says: not only are we consoled as much as we are afflicted, but far more. He did not say that the consolation equals the sufferings, but that "the consolation abounds." Thus the time of contests is also the time of new crowns.
Tell me, what can equal being scourged for Christ, and being counted worthy to converse with God because of it? What equals being stronger than all, triumphing over one's persecutors, being above the whole world, and awaiting such blessings as "eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man" (1 Cor 2:9)? What can equal enduring tribulations for the sake of piety, and being counted worthy in return of countless consolations from God? What equals receiving forgiveness of so many sins, being counted worthy of the Spirit, sanctification, and justification, fearing and trembling before no one, and being more glorious than all even amid attacks?
Therefore let us not grow despondent during temptations. No one who loves pleasure, rests carelessly, and indulges himself can be a partaker with Christ. No one who leads a soft and distracted life can be His partaker. But the one who lives amid afflictions and temptations, and walks the narrow way, is near to Him. He Himself walked the same way. Therefore He said, "The Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head" (Mt 8:20).
Do not grieve, then, if you endure afflictions. Consider whom you share in through them, how you are cleansed through temptations, and what great benefit you receive from them. Truly, nothing is burdensome or sorrowful except offending God. If that is not present, neither tribulations, nor plots, nor anything else can grieve a soul made wise in God. On the contrary, as a little spark cast into the great deep of the sea is immediately quenched, so every sorrow, even the greatest, easily disperses when it strikes a good conscience, and at once disappears.
For this reason Paul always rejoiced, because he always struggled in works pleasing to God, and he did not even notice the great evils that befell him. Though he felt sorrow as a man, he did not lose heart. So also the great patriarch did not cease rejoicing, though many painful things befell him. Consider: he was deprived of his fatherland and was compelled to undertake a long and toilsome journey. When he came to a foreign land, he did not possess even a foot of it. There again famine met him and forced him to move from place to place. After the famine came the taking of his wife, fear of death, childlessness, war, dangers, the plotting of neighbors, and finally the strongest of all sorrows, the grievous and unbearable slaughter of his only-begotten and beloved son. He obeyed God without contradiction. Yet do not think from this that he bore all these things insensibly. Though he was supremely righteous, as indeed he was, nevertheless he was a man and subject to the weaknesses of human nature. Yet nothing could strike him down. He stood firm like a courageous combatant, crowned with a victor's wreath after every temptation.
So also blessed Paul, seeing clouds of temptations coming upon him daily, was consoled, rejoiced, and was glad among them as if in paradise. Just as one who rejoices with this joy cannot be captured by despondency, so one who has not acquired it is easily caught by every sorrow. He suffers what a poorly armed man suffers, whom even a light blow wounds. On the contrary, one who is well armed on every side easily repels every blow aimed against him. Joy in God is stronger than every weapon. Whoever has it cannot be brought into despondency or faintheartedness by anything. On the contrary, he bears everything courageously.
What is worse than fire? What is fiercer than continual tortures? If someone lost countless riches, or children, or anything similar, yet fire and tortures are more unbearable than all sorrows. It is written, "Skin for skin; all that a man has he will give for his life" (Job 2:4). Thus nothing is more painful than tortures. Yet joy in God makes even tortures unbearable to hear about endurable, and even pleasant. If you took a martyr barely breathing down from a tree or a frying pan, you would find in him a joy impossible to describe.
But they will say, "How can I suffer now, when the time of martyrdom has passed?" What are you saying? Has the time of martyrdom now passed? It never passes. On the contrary, it is always before our eyes, if only we keep watch. Hanging upon a tree is not the only thing that makes a martyr. If it were, Job would have remained without a martyr's crown. He did not stand before a tribunal. He did not hear the judge's voice. He did not see a tormentor. He was not scraped along the ribs while hanging and raised upon a tree. Yet he suffered more than many martyrs. The reports of messengers, coming one after another, struck him more unbearably than any blow and pierced him on every side. The mouths of worms tore him from every side more fiercely than a multitude of executioners.
With what martyr, then, can he not be compared? Truly he is equal to countless martyrs. He endured struggle from every side and gathered crowns. He received them from the loss of possessions, the death of children, the rotting of his body, the reproaches of his wife, from friends and enemies, and even from his own servants, for they too spat in his face. He received them from hunger, dreams, agonizing pain, and stench. That is why I said that he can be compared not with one, or two, or three, but with a countless multitude of martyrs.
Besides what has been said, the very time gives great advantage to his crowns. He endured these sorrows before the law and grace. He endured them for many months, and all in the highest degree. Moreover, all these misfortunes fell upon him suddenly, though each by itself was unbearable. This includes even the loss of possessions, which appears more bearable than the other evils. Indeed, many endured blows, but did not endure the loss of property. On the contrary, they preferred to suffer scourging and many other tortures rather than yield anything from their possessions. Thus they considered such loss the heaviest blow. Therefore the loss of property too is a kind of martyrdom for one who bears it courageously.
But how, you will say, can one bear such losses courageously? You will learn this when you know that by one word of thanksgiving you will gain more than you have lost. Indeed, if, after hearing of the destruction of our goods, we are not troubled, but say, "Blessed be God," then by this we acquire much greater riches. Truly, you will not receive so much benefit by spending your wealth on the needy, going everywhere and seeking the poor, and distributing all that you have to the hungry, as you will gain by this one word. Therefore I do not marvel so much at Job for opening his house to the poor. Rather, I am amazed and cry out in wonder when I see how he bore the loss of his possessions with thanksgiving.
The same may be applied to the loss of children. Here too you can receive no smaller reward than the man who placed his son on the altar and was ready to slay him, if, seeing your child dying, you thank the God who loves mankind. Indeed, in doing this, how will you be lower than Abraham? Abraham had not yet seen his son lying dead, but was only preparing for it. If he has an advantage in that he wished to sacrifice his son, stretched out his hand, and took the knife, he yields in another respect, because here the son is already lying dead. Moreover, Abraham was encouraged by the certainty that he was performing a noble deed, and that this glorious contest was the work of his own courage. The voice he heard from heaven also strengthened him for this contest. Here, on the contrary, there is nothing of the kind.
Therefore the one who sees his only-begotten son stretched out and lying in the tomb needs an adamantine soul, especially if the son was raised in wealth and gave good hopes. If such a man can tame the natural turmoil and say without tears with Job, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away" (Job 1:21), then for this one word alone he will stand in the ranks with Abraham and be glorified together with Job. If he stops the cries of women, forbids the wailing of those who lament, and turns everyone to the glorification of God, he will receive countless honors from God and men. People will admire him, angels will applaud, and God will crown him with glory.
But how can I not weep, you say, when I am a man? You can, if you consider that both the patriarch and Job, being men, experienced nothing of the sort. They lived before the law and grace, and did not yet know those laws made wise in God which we possess. Consider that the deceased has moved to a better land and passed to a better inheritance. You have not lost your son, but only escorted him to a safer dwelling. Therefore do not say, "I can no longer be called a father." Why should you not be called a father, when your son is alive? Have you lost your child? Have you destroyed your son? On the contrary, you have acquired him, and possess him with greater security. Through this you will be called father not only here, but also in heaven. You have not lost the name of father, but have acquired the right to an even greater name. You will be called the father not of a mortal son, but of an immortal one, the father of a courageous soldier who abides forever in the house of God.
Do not think that he has perished because he does not stand before you. If he were now on a journey, his bodily absence would not break the bond of kinship between you. Do not fix your eyes on the face of the one lying there, for by this you will stir up suffering in yourself. Lift your thought from the one lying there to heaven. This corpse lying there is not your son, but the one who has flown away and ascended to immeasurable height.