THEOSISJohn Chrysostom
Thus the name does nothing when it is pronounced without faith. Indicating this in a hidden way, Christ wisely said, "He who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also, and greater works than these he will do" (Jn 14:12).
See how they used this weapon against themselves. "And the man," the writer says, "leaped on them."
Perhaps he tore their garments and broke their heads. This is expressed by the word "leaped," meaning that he rushed upon them violently, so that he could do this.
From the demoniac's leaping on them, one sees how great the power of demons is against unbelievers.
Then he attacks them and tears their garments. By these actions he seems to say, "Do not think that I do this out of contempt for those apostles."
Great is the demons' fear. Why did he not tear their garments without any words?
By this he expressed his rage and stopped their deception. He feared, as I said, the inaccessible power of Christ, and he would not have prevailed in this way if he had not said this.
See how everywhere the demons prove more prudent than the Jews. They do not dare contradict, nor do they dare revile the apostles or Christ.
There they say, "We know who You are," and, "Have You come here before the time to torment us?" Again, "I know You," Son "of God" (Mt 8:29; Mk 1:24).
And here: "These men are servants of the Most High God" (Acts 16:17). Again: "Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize."
They greatly feared and trembled before those holy men. Perhaps someone among you, hearing this, desires to have the same authority, so that demons could not look upon him.
He calls those saints blessed because they had such power. Let such a person hear what Christ said: "Do not rejoice that the spirits are subject to you" (Lk 10:20).
He knew that all men would especially rejoice in this because of vainglory. If you seek what is pleasing to God and profitable for society, there is another, better way to this.
It is not so great a thing to cast out a demon as to be freed from sin. A demon does not prevent one from attaining the Kingdom of Heaven.
Rather, it even helps, though unwillingly. It helps by making the one possessed by it more philosophical. But sin removes one from the Kingdom.
Perhaps someone will say, "I would not wish to attain such philosophy." I do not wish that either, but I wish the other: to do everything out of love for Christ.
If the former should happen, may it not be, then one must pray about this also.
Therefore, if a demon does not remove one from the Kingdom of Heaven, while sin does, deliverance from sin is the greater good.
For this reason let us strive to free our neighbors from it, and before our neighbors, ourselves. Let us take care not to become possessed by a demon. Let us carefully watch over ourselves.
But sin is fiercer than a demon, since the demon even makes people humble.
Do you not see how demoniacs, when they receive relief from this illness, become sorrowful and meek? What modesty is expressed on their face.
How they fear even to look around. See, then, what inconsistency results.
They are ashamed of their sufferings, while we are not ashamed of our deeds. They are ashamed while enduring evil, while we are not ashamed while doing evil.
Their condition deserves not shame, but compassion, love for mankind, condescension, great admiration, and a thousand praises, if only they resist the demon and endure everything with thankfulness.
Our condition deserves mockery, shame, condemnation, punishment, torment, the utmost calamities, and Gehenna itself. It deserves no condescension.
Do you see how sin is fiercer than a demon? Those people receive a twofold benefit from their sufferings.
First, they are corrected and become more philosophical. Second, after suffering punishment here for their sins, they depart to the Lord clean.
We have often spoken of this and taught that those punished here, if they endure nobly, can be freed from a multitude of sins.
But from sins comes a twofold evil. The first is that we stumble. The second is that we become worse.
Pay attention to my words. We suffer not only the evil from sin that we sin, but also this: the soul acquires a bad habit, just as happens with the body.
What has been said will be clearer by an example. A man suffering from fever does not suffer only this evil, that he is ill.
He also becomes weaker after the illness, even if he has recovered from a prolonged disease.
So also after committing sin, even if we are healed, we still need greater strength.
Imagine a man who has wronged someone and received no punishment. He is worthy of tears not only because he did not suffer punishment for the wrong, but also for another reason.
What reason? His soul has become more shameless.
From every sin, as soon as it is done and completed, a certain poison remains in our soul.
Do you not hear how some, after being healed from a certain illness, say, "I still do not dare drink water"?
Although he has recovered, the illness has caused this harm as well.
Those people, while suffering severely, give thanks. But we, even in prosperity, blaspheme God and murmur against Him.
Indeed, you will find more who do this in health and wealth than in poverty and weakness.
The demon stands before them like a true executioner with strong threats, or like a teacher with whip raised, allowing no comfort.
If some do not become philosophical even under this, at least they undergo punishment. This is no small thing.
As no account is demanded from the senseless, the mad, or children for their actions, so neither from them.
There is no man so cruel as to punish for what was done in ignorance. Thus we who sin prove much worse than those possessed by demons.
But do we not foam, nor distort our eyes and hands? Oh, if only we did this with the body and not with the soul.
Do you want me to show you how the soul casts up unclean foam and distorts its spiritual eyes?
Look at those who grow angry and rage with fury. Do they not cast out words more unclean than any foam?
Indeed, they seem to pour forth foul-smelling spittle. As the demoniacs recognize none of those present, so also do these angry people.
With their darkened mind and distorted eyes, they distinguish neither friend nor enemy, neither honorable man nor contemptible one. They look at everyone in the same way.
You can see that they also tremble, just like the others. But do they not fall to the ground?
Their soul falls low and lies trembling. If it stood upright, what happens then would not happen to it.
Indeed, is it not the mark of a soul brought low and deprived of self-awareness to do and say what those raging with fury do and say?
But there is another kind of madness still worse. What is it? It is when people do not wish to give up anger, but nourish remembrance of wrongs within themselves like a household executioner.
Remembrance of wrongs tortures them first, even here, to say nothing of the future.
Consider what torment a man suffers when his soul is disturbed, each day thinking how he might avenge himself on his enemy.
First of all, he tortures himself and languishes. He irritates himself, vexes himself, and inflames himself.
It is exactly as if a fire were constantly burning within you. When the fever grows to such a degree, you do not lessen it.
You think how to cause some evil to another. Meanwhile you tear yourself apart, constantly carrying a strong flame within you.
You give no rest to your soul. You are constantly raging and keep your mind in disturbance and turmoil.
What is worse than this madness, to be always tormented, irritated, and inflamed? Such are the souls of those who remember wrongs.
As soon as they see the one on whom they wish to avenge themselves, they immediately go out of their minds. If they hear his voice, they fall and tremble.
If they lie on their bed, they devise a thousand torments, how they might strike and tear their enemy. If they see him prospering, oh, what punishment this is for them.
Forgive another his offense, and deliver yourself from torment. Why do you continually torture yourself, in order to strike and punish him once?
Why do you cause yourself a wasting illness? Why do you prolong your anger when it is ready to cease?
"Do not let it continue even until evening," says Paul (Eph 4:26). Like some blight or moth, it eats away the root of our soul.
Why keep this wild beast inside yourself? It would be better to place a serpent or viper on your heart than anger and remembrance of wrongs.
From those we might soon be freed. But this remains constantly, driving in its teeth, injecting its poison, and stirring up evil thoughts.
"I do this," you say, "so that he will not laugh at me or despise me." Wretched and senseless man.
You do not wish to be a laughingstock to a fellow slave like yourself, but you incur the displeasure of your Master?
You do not wish to be despised by an equal slave, yet you yourself despise the Master?
You cannot endure contempt from a man, but you do not consider that you anger God, mock Him, and disregard Him by not obeying Him?
That he will not laugh at you is clear. If you take revenge, there will be great laughter and great contempt, because this is the work of a small soul.
If you forgive, there will be great admiration, because this is the work of a great soul. "But he," you say, "will not know it."
Let God know it, so that you may have a greater reward for it. "Lend," He says, "expecting nothing in return" (Lk 6:35).
Let us do good to those who do not perceive that good is being done to them. Otherwise, by giving us praise or something else, they may diminish our reward.
If we receive nothing from men, then we shall receive all the more from God.
What is more ridiculous, what is coarser than a soul that is constantly angry and desires revenge? This is a womanish and childish desire.
As an angry woman rages even at lifeless things, and until she at least stamps on the floor does not give up her anger, so also these rememberers of wrongs desire to avenge themselves on those who insult them.
They make themselves worthy of ridicule, because being carried away by anger belongs to a childish mind, while overcoming it belongs to a mature one.
Therefore we shall not be laughed at when we show philosophy, and neither will those who insult us.
Not to submit to passion is the work of people who are not contemptible. It belongs to the contemptible to fear the laughter of others so much that they decide to submit to their own passion.
For this reason they insult God and take revenge for themselves. This is truly worthy of laughter.
Let us flee this. Let him say that he caused us a thousand evils and suffered nothing from us.
Let him say that if he mocks us again, he will likewise suffer nothing. If he wished to praise us, he would not proclaim our virtue otherwise.
He would use no other words than these very words by which he thinks he is humiliating us.
Oh, if only everyone would say of me, "This is a cold and miserable man. Everyone insults him, and he endures. Everyone attacks him, and he does not avenge himself."
Oh, if they would add even this, that "he cannot do it even if he wanted to." My praise would be from God and not from men.
Let them say that we do not take revenge out of cowardice. This does not harm us at all. God sees and prepares for us a greater treasure.
If we looked to those people, we would be deprived of everything. Let us look not at what is said about us, but at what we must do.
Some say, "Let him not laugh at me. Let him not mock me." Oh, madness.
"No one who insulted me," you say, "laughed at me," that is, "I took revenge." But for this very reason you are worthy of laughter, because you took revenge.
Whence came these shameful and destructive words that overturn our life and society? Are they not the echo of resistance to God?
What makes one equal to God, namely not taking revenge, you consider laughable. Are not we ourselves and the Greeks right to laugh at us, when we speak so contrary to God?
I wish to tell something that happened in ancient times, concerning not anger, but property.