Genesis 23:19Meaning & Commentary from the Church Fathers

The apostle further instructs us on his pilgrimage of faith, stating, ‘For he looked forward to the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God’ (Hebrews 11:10). Holding onto the hope of what's to come, he disregarded earthly matters, concerned little for temporal blessings, and this was true even before the Law was given and prior to Grace unfolding.

So I ask you, what justification can we claim after being recipients of such profound evangelism and promises of inexpressible blessings, while we remain attached to transient possessions, routinely acquiring land and striving for acclaim, fulfilling the lament of the blessed prophet who said, ‘Woe to you who add house to house, who add field to field, until there is no room for others, as if you alone dwell upon the earth’ (Is. 5:8)? Is this not what we witness continually—widows losing their property, orphans left destitute, and the powerless being subjugated by the strong? Yet this was not the way of that righteous man. When he sought to purchase a burial site, he noticed that the owners were willing to gift it to him; however, he did not treat this transaction lightly as if he had paid the proper fee.

Dear friends, let us follow his example as we live under Grace. We must steer clear of igniting a desire for ever-increasing possessions, as such greed only leads us to a more intense and relentless fire—a fire that cannot be quenched, and a flame that is unbearable. If we persist in this predatory mindset and seek wealth for ourselves, we may very well hear the rich man proclaim, ‘Fool, this night your soul is required of you; and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ (Luke 12:20). And for what purpose, dear ones, do you labor to amass such wealth? Soon enough, when you depart from this world, you will leave everything behind, having reaped no benefit from it, while also carrying a heavy burden of remorse for sins made futile. The riches you eagerly gathered may be seized by those who oppose you, and you may find yourself facing judgment for them. How foolish it is to toil for others and endure punishment for your efforts!

From this, we learn two important truths: our existence is a pilgrimage, and the grave is the homeland and inheritance for our bodies. In this life, everything we possess is alien to us; the grave alone belongs to us, as it is where we will return. Our time on earth is a transient journey; not only do we move from location to location—some are born in the east and live in the west, and vice versa—but life itself is a constant state of flux, never settling in one place during its course. It flows from infancy into youth, from youth into maturity, and ultimately into the decline of old age. Life does not pause even for an instant. While it may seem like the sun stands still in the firmament, our perception is deceiving; in truth, it travels with a relentless pace, completing vast circles in just twenty-four hours. Likewise, human existence appears to remain constant, yet it is in perpetual flow, and unlike the sun in Joshua's time when “the sun stood in the midst of heaven, and would not go westward soon at the fulfilment of one day” (Hab. 10:13), human life never stops, even if we fail to notice its swift passage. Life rushes by in the blink of an eye, similar to a traveler glimpsed momentarily before vanishing from view.

Our existence is akin to wandering, marked by the unpredictability of fortune and happiness; one day a person may be wealthy, the next a pauper; today joyful, tomorrow sorrowful; today honored, tomorrow scorned. Just as a traveler passes through cities, over hills, through forests, and past other beautiful sights, enjoying them briefly before moving on, so does our life swiftly glide over the splendid and prosperous experiences of this world, despite our desire to linger over them and savor every moment. The book of Wisdom captures this fleeting nature of life with lamentation: “What use is pride to us, or riches with greatness, what reward shall we receive? All these things pass away like a shadow, and like a tidings flowing, and like a ship passing through the waves of the waters, whose passage no foot can find, and like a bird flying through the air, whose paths no sign is found, and like an arrow shot to the intended place: such is our wandering life” (Prem. 5:8-13). This is why David, in his prayer to God, declares, “I am a stranger and a sojourner with you, as all my fathers were” (Psalm 38:13). The apostle Peter wisely warns, “Beloved, I pray you, as strangers and pilgrims, to abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul” (1 Pet. 2:11). What then is the homeland and inheritance for mortal human beings? The earthly home (in terms of the flesh, not the spirit) is the grave, earth, and dust, since we originated from dust and will return there as decreed by God: “Earth you are, and to earth you shall return” (Gen. 3:19). Just as the soul bestowed by God departs from the body and returns to Him as Father, ascending to Heaven as its rightful homeland (if it is righteous), so too does the body, created from the earth, ultimately return to the earth.

St. John the Theologian, upon entering his prepared tomb, instructed his disciples, “Having drawn the earth, my mother, cover me.” If a saint of such greatness recognized that the earth is the homeland for his body, referring to it as his mother, what should we, sinners, conclude? Should we not turn to that mother? Should we not return to the earth and the grave as our true homeland? What awaits us there? Nothing but complete decay and worms, as Sirach teaches: “When man dies, he shall inherit creeping things, and beasts, and worms” (Sirach 10:13). Since our life is a pilgrimage and the grave serves as the homeland for our body, everything else in this world is foreign to us; only the grave is truly ours. Just as Abraham lived in Canaan as a wanderer, everything was alien to him: the cities, the fields, the oaks—everything was not his, except for the one cave he acquired for burying his dead. A traveler heading to a distant land does not claim any location as his own, regardless of where he spends the night. He does not consider any found wealth as his because it is all transient.

Such a traveler carries little with him—just the basics for sustenance and a few belongings. His sole desire is to reach his destination swiftly. In the same manner, in our journey through life, we possess nothing permanently; our houses are temporary, our possessions fleeting. They are not ours permanently, as they are merely loans that will eventually pass to others. If we live according to God’s will, daily bread and essential clothing suffice for reaching eternal life with Christ. People often seek to accumulate possessions in this world, desiring homes, properties, and connections, calling them their own. However, dear ones, in the grand scheme, what we possess is only falsely ours; everything we have is destined to change hands, and we cannot foresee who will inherit our legacies. You might own a house now, but will you dwell in it forever? Will you not either be expelled in life or carried out lifeless to be laid in the earth? You may have possessions, lands, and wealth, but for how long will you be their master? Will not a stronger force take them from you? Or will you not part with them yourself when you face the grave? You may possess gold, silver, and other valuables, but are you assured you will not lose them to thieves, disasters, or fire? Even if by chance you retain your possessions intact, the day will come when death claims everything, and you will leave this world devoid of treasures, scarcely clothed for burial. For when a person dies, they abandon all and their glory diminishes with them (Psalm 48:18). “They shall fall asleep in their sleep, and shall find nothing in their hands for all men of riches. They shall leave their riches to strangers,” the Psalmist warns (Psalm 75:6 and 48:11). Hence, all that is claimed here is not truly ours, but belongs to another.

You might argue that you own these things as long as you live, but I tell you that even in the moment of possessing them, they are not truly yours, as they do not stem from your being. You were not born with them, nor did you exit the womb bearing them; you borrowed them, and ultimately, they will not remain with you for long. Your garments, if made of wool, are from sheep; if silk, they originate from the silkworm; your tunic comes from flax or similar plants; your shoes are fashioned from animal hides; gold and silver are extracted from the earth’s depths, often acquired through unjust means. What you gained through theft, robbery, or the toil of others does not rightfully belong to you. You enter this world naked from your mother’s womb and will return to the earth the same way. What, then, is genuinely yours? The grave alone marks your place; there lies your home, as the Psalmist states, “Their tombs shall be their dwelling places forever” (Psalm 48:12). In that abode, you will remain without escape, even amid the last trumpet call of the archangel. There, you will not be driven away; no one will envy your possessions, which will merely be your decay; no thief will steal your worm, which consumes your remains. Thus, the grave is indeed our true home, while all else is not ours. We came into this world with nothing and will take nothing with us.

Recognizing this truth, we must continually contemplate our final destination, our homeland, and the grave; we must remember death. Just as Abraham the righteous purchased a burial site at a cost, we should strive through virtuous acts to ensure we receive, by God’s grace, a peaceful and honorable departure from this life. If anyone desires such a worthy ending, they ought to die to sin spiritually before the physical death arrives, burying their thoughts in the cave of Christ, which was pierced on the cross, and ever keeping the selfless suffering and death of Christ at the forefront of their mind. Such remembrance of Christ's sacrifice will graciously lead to an honorable death in the eyes of God, resulting in a blessed conclusion.