THEOSISJohn Chrysostom
When he took account of the people, he proclaimed: ‘Behold, I have sinned; I, the shepherd, have committed iniquity.’ He did not question, ‘What have I counted?’ but rather condemned himself, earning forgiveness through this acknowledgment. Indeed, nothing is more pleasing to God than the confession of our sins. This takes place when one distances oneself from groups that suppress the awareness of sin and promote indifference.
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For true judgment comes only from God, who assesses all matters righteously, perceiving the deepest aspects of our hearts. As He knows all, He will not judge based on confusion, malice, or other failings of the mind. In such a judgment, truth prevails, compelling even the guilty to admit that they are rightly condemned. What could be more accurate than this form of judgment? It is well-known that wrongdoers often avoid admitting their guilt and attempt to hide it. However, in that divine court, they themselves declare their own judgment. Similar instances have occurred in our world, as demonstrated by King David, who proclaimed, ‘Behold, I have sinned; I, the shepherd, have acted iniquitously; what have these sheep done?’ It should not be said that he was coerced into this admission through punishment, like those who are tormented and unaware of their guilt, but rather under duress of pain falsely claim to have sinned. Not so with that righteous man; he took upon himself the blame at a time when others were disciplined, even though he himself was unpunished, declaring, ‘I have sinned; I, the shepherd, have acted iniquitously.’
Listen to how David, despite being free from punishment, acknowledges his offense against God and calls for retribution upon himself, saying, ‘Let... Thy hand be upon me and upon my father’s house.’ It is more challenging to offend God than to endure punishment. Our state of despair is such that if the fear of condemnation were absent, we might hesitate to perform good deeds. Thus, we are deserving of condemnation, if for nothing else, because we fear it more than we fear Christ. This was not true of the blessed Paul, who had an entirely different nature. Because we differ from him, we face condemnation. If we truly loved Christ as we ought, we would understand that offending the one we cherish is weightier than the fear of damnation. However, our lack of love blinds us to the gravity of this punishment, and this deeply saddens me.
But how can one love their neighbor as themselves, you might ask? If others had not accomplished this, it would be reasonable to view it as unattainable. However, since some have achieved it, it shows that our failure stems from negligence. Furthermore, Christ does not command what is impossible, and many have even exceeded His teachings. Who exemplified this? Paul, Peter, and the full company of saints. Yet, when I state that they loved their neighbors, I admit it is nothing remarkable; they displayed a love for their enemies that surpasses even that for their loved ones. Who among us would dare to face condemnation for our neighbors with the hope of entering the kingdom? None. Yet Paul did so for his adversaries, who stoned and scourged him. What justification can we present if we do not extend even a fraction of the love Paul exhibited towards his enemies to our friends? Consider blessed Moses, who for the sake of those who sought to harm him, wished to be erased from God’s book. And David, lamenting the downfall of his enemies, proclaims, ‘I, the shepherd, have sinned; what have these sheep done?’ Even when given the chance to kill Saul, he chose to spare him, putting his own safety at risk. If conditions were such in the Old Testament, what shall be our pardon in the New Testament if we fall short of the standards they achieved? For if we do not enter the Kingdom of Heaven, if our righteousness does not surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees, how can we hope to enter if we are less righteous than they?