THEOSISJohn Chrysostom
“Otherwise,” he says, “He would have had to suffer many times from the foundation of the world.” Here he reveals a certain doctrine. If, he says, He had to offer sacrifices many times, then He would also have had to be crucified many times.
“But now once, at the end of the ages.” Why “at the end of the ages”? After the multitude of sins. If all this had happened at the beginning and no one had believed, the work of the divine economy would have remained fruitless.
Christ was not to die a second time in order to correct this defect also. But when, with the passing of time, the multitude of sins appeared, then He appeared at the proper moment. The apostle says the same elsewhere: “Where sin abounded, grace abounded much more” (Rom 5:20).
Indeed, tell me, why were many sacrifices needed, if one was sufficient? The multitude of sacrifices and their continual offering show that they never cleansed those who offered them.
When a medicine is powerful, beneficial for health, and able to destroy every disease, it accomplishes everything when applied once. The very fact that it accomplishes everything when applied once, and is not applied again, shows its power.
Its not being applied again is the result of its action. But if it is applied continually, this is a clear sign that it has no power. For the dignity of medicine consists precisely in being applied once, not often.
So it is here also. Why were they continually healed by the same sacrifices? If they had been freed from all sins, sacrifices would not have been offered daily. Yet it was appointed to offer them continually for the whole people, evening and morning.
Thus what they did was an accusation of sins, not a release from sins. It was a proof of weakness, not a sign of power. Since the first sacrifice had no effect, a second was offered. Since that also did not help, a third was offered.
In this way the practice itself served as a reproof of sins. Therefore the offering of sacrifices was a reproof of sins, and their continual offering was a reproof of weakness. In the work of Christ it is the opposite. He offered once, and this is sufficient forever.
The apostle rightly called the sacrifices antitypes. They were indeed only a prefiguration and had no power. So in paintings an image has the form of a man, but not his power. The original and the image have something in common. In the image there is likeness, but not power.
So it is with heaven and the tabernacle. The tabernacle was an image resembling it, since it was holy. Yet its power and all the rest were not the same. What does it mean, “He appeared to put away sin by His sacrifice”? What does “to put away” mean?
It means disgrace. Sin no longer has boldness, because it has been put to shame. How? It ought to have reached the punishment of men by death, but it did not. Instead, it itself suffered violence. When it wished to destroy all, it was itself destroyed.
“By His sacrifice,” he says, “He appeared,” that is, He appeared to God and stood before Him. Therefore do not think that, because the priest offered sacrifices many times each year, he did this simply and not because of weakness. If not because of weakness, why was it done?
If there were no wounds, there would be no need for medicines. This is why, the apostle says, it was commanded to offer sacrifices continually: because of weakness and for a remembrance of sins. What then? Do we not offer every day?
We do offer, but we make memorial of His death. This sacrifice is one, not many. How is it one, and not many? Because it was offered once, like that which was offered in the Holy of Holies. That sacrifice was its prefiguration, and this is the image of that same sacrifice.
We always offer the same Lamb, not one today and another tomorrow, but always the same One. Therefore this sacrifice is one. Though it is offered in many places, are there many Christs? No. There is one Christ everywhere, complete here and complete there, one Body of His.
As He who is offered in many places is one Body and not many bodies, so the sacrifice is one. He is our High Priest, having offered the sacrifice that cleanses us. We too now offer that sacrifice, which was then offered and does not fail.
This is done in remembrance of what took place then: “Do this,” He said, “in remembrance of Me” (Lk 22:19). We do not offer another sacrifice, as the high priest of old did, but always the same one. Or rather, we perform the memorial of the sacrifice.
Since I have mentioned this sacrifice, I wish to say a little to you who are initiated into the mysteries. It is little in extent, but it contains great power and profit. My words are not from us, but from the Spirit of God.
What is it? Many partake of this sacrifice once in the whole year. Others partake twice, and others several times. Our words concern all, not only those present here, but also those dwelling in the desert. For they partake once a year, and sometimes once every two years.
What then? Whom shall we approve? Those who partake once, those who partake often, or those who partake rarely? Neither the first, nor the second, nor the third. We approve those who partake with a pure conscience, a pure heart, and a blameless life.
Let such people always approach. But those who are not such should not approach even once. Why? Because they bring upon themselves judgment, condemnation, punishment, and torment. Do not be amazed at this. Food that is nourishing in itself causes harm when it enters a disordered stomach.
It brings disorder to the whole body and becomes the cause of sickness. So it is with the dread mysteries. You are counted worthy of a spiritual table, a royal table, and then again defile your mouth with uncleanness? You are anointed with myrrh, and then again fill yourself with stench?
Tell me, I exhort you. When you approach communion after a year, do you really think that forty days are enough to cleanse your sins for all that time? Then, after a week has passed, do you give yourself again to the same things as before?
Tell me this. If, after recovering for forty days from a long illness, you again took up the same food that caused the illness, would you not lose even your former labor? Clearly you would. If the natural order is thus overturned, much more is the moral order.
For example, we are naturally endowed with sight and have healthy eyes by nature. Yet often our sight is damaged by illness. If natural qualities are overturned, how much more moral qualities? You spend forty days restoring the health of your soul, and perhaps not even forty.
And do you think you propitiate God? You are jesting, man. I say this not to forbid you to approach once a year, but rather because I desire you to approach the holy mysteries continually. For this reason the priest then proclaims, calling the holy.
By this proclamation he examines everyone, as it were, so that no one may approach unprepared. In a flock where there are many healthy sheep and many infected with scab, the latter must be separated from the healthy. So also in the Church, where there are healthy and sick sheep.
By this proclamation the priest separates the latter from the former. He addresses all with this dread saying, and calls and invites the holy. Since no man can know the soul of his neighbor, for “who among men knows the things of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him?” (1 Cor 2:11), he makes this proclamation after the whole sacrifice has been completed.
He does this so that no one may approach the spiritual fountain carelessly and at random. In a flock, nothing prevents us from using the same comparison again, we shut up the sick sheep and keep them in darkness. We feed them with different food, depriving them of pure air, fresh grass, and the outer spring.
So here also this proclamation serves as a kind of bond. You cannot say, “I did not know; I did not understand that such a matter threatened danger.” This is especially true since Paul has testified to it. Or will you say, “I have not read”? This does not serve for your defense, but for your condemnation.
You go to church every day, and have you not yet learned this? Nevertheless, so that you cannot present even this pretext, the priest, like a herald, raises his hand on high. Standing on an elevation and visible to all, amid dread silence, he utters the fearful summons in a loud voice.
By it he calls some and excludes others. He does this not with his hand, but with a word, which is far more effective than a hand. This summons reaches our hearing and, as with a hand, thrusts away and rejects some, while drawing and presenting others.
Tell me, I beg you. At the Olympic games, does not the herald come forward and cry out with a loud and strong voice: “Can anyone accuse this man of anything? Is he a slave, a thief, or immoral?” Yet those contests are not of the soul or of morals, but require bodily strength.
If moral character is carefully examined where bodily contests are performed, much more is it needed here, where the whole contest belongs to the soul. So now a herald stands before us also. He does not touch each person’s head and draw him forward, but touches at once the inward head of all.
He does not call forth outside accusers, but calls all against themselves. He does not say, “Can anyone accuse this man?” What then does he say? “Does anyone accuse himself?” When he says, “The holy things for the holy,” he says this: whoever is not holy, let him not approach.
He does not simply say, “one clean from sins,” but “holy.” It is not only remission of sins that makes one holy, but also the coming of the Spirit and the abundance of good works. He says, I do not want you only washed from uncleanness, but white and beautiful.
If the Babylonian king chose from among the captive youths those who were handsome and beautiful (Dan 1:4), much more must we, who stand before the royal table, be beautiful in soul. We must have golden adornment, a pure garment, royal sandals, and a comely face of the soul.
We must clothe the soul in this golden adornment and gird it with truth. Let such a person approach and touch the royal vessels. But if someone clothed in rags, filthy and dusty, wishes to approach the royal table, what he will suffer is well known.
Forty days will not be enough for him to wash away the sins committed during all the past time. If Gehenna is not sufficient for this, although it is eternal, and for this reason it is eternal, then such a short time is much less sufficient. For we show not strong repentance, but weak repentance.
Those who stand before the king should chiefly be eunuchs. By eunuchs I mean people with a radiant soul, having no uncleanness and no vice. They are elevated in mind and have the eye of the soul gentle and keen, strict and watchful.
It is not sleepy or drowsy, but filled with perfect freedom, alien to shamelessness and insolence, vigilant, sound, not excessively sorrowful and gloomy, yet not distracted and careless. It is in our power to perfect our eye in this way and make it keen and beautiful.
When we do not direct it toward smoke and dust, for such are all human goods, but toward fine streams, a light breathing of wind, and things exalted, great, and filled with perfect peace, purity, and joy, then we shall soon acquire such an eye.
We shall strengthen it by such pleasant contemplation. Do you see a covetous man who has great wealth? Do not direct your eye there. It is mud, smoke, foul vapor, darkness, great confinement, and restless exhaustion. Do you see a man practicing the virtues?
Do you see one content with his own things, standing on the broad path of peace, not broken down and not anxious about anything here? Rest your eye on him. Direct it there, and you will make it much better and brighter.
You will delight it not with earthly flowers, but with the flowers of virtue, chastity, meekness, and all the others. Nothing troubles our eye so much as an unclean conscience: “My eye is troubled,” says the psalmist, “because of wrath” (Ps 6:7). Nothing darkens it so much.