John Chrysostom
The works of God will undoubtedly be revealed in all their grandeur, showcasing a multitude of wondrous things. They are inherently magnificent; however, their brilliance is obscured in the absence of a just judge. Similarly, while the sun shines brilliantly and illuminates the cosmos, its light is not perceived by those with impaired vision, and the issue lies not with the sun but with their affliction. Therefore, when you observe someone criticizing the works of God, do not let their wickedness sway your judgment of God's creations. Instead, see it as a manifestation of their folly when they reflect upon Divine Providence.
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Just as one who perceives the sun as dim reveals their own blindness, and as one who declares honey bitter does not diminish its sweetness but instead highlights their own illness, so too does the critic of God's works merely expose their own lack of understanding. Those who are blind to God's handiwork fail to witness genuine miracles; conversely, those with clear and unblemished hearts marvel at events that may seem distressing.
In truth, what event does not warrant awe? If we examine experiences that many view as harsh and unbearable—such as death, illness, or poverty—those who harbor righteous hearts accept these circumstances with wonder. Although death enters through sin, God's love for humanity and His providence are so profound that He has turned it into a blessing for us. What formidable burden does death truly present? Is it not a release from toil and an escape from worries? Job extols this notion when he says, "Death to a man is rest, his way is hidden" (Job 3:23). Does death not eliminate vices? When a wicked person dies, their sins come to an end: "he that died is freed from sin" (Rom. 6:7), no longer compounding sin upon sin. A virtuous individual, however, retains all their good works, preserved in a safe refuge.
Moreover, does death not humble and refine the living? Consider how often the affluent, the proud, and the arrogant, upon witnessing a deceased individual—seeing their lifeless body, children bereft of a father, a widow gripped by sorrow, friends in mourning, servants dressed in black—are moved to humility and introspection. Despite having received numerous admonitions beforehand without benefit, they find wisdom in such moments, discerning the futility and transience of human existence, the fragility of their power, and recognizing their own vulnerability through the misfortunes of others. If there is such profound greed and ruthless competition even in the face of death with its inevitable conclusion, what chaos would unfold if there were no death? If, even now, with the knowledge of eventual separation from their possessions, individuals fall into madness and frenzy, how would their malicious desires cease if they believed they could take their treasures with them safely?
Is it not through death that the crowns of martyrdom are fashioned? Did not Paul attain countless victories through it? "I die every day," he proclaimed, "I die: I bear witness of this by your praise" (1 Cor. 15:31). Death itself is not evil; rather, it is a sinful death that carries malevolence. Therefore, the psalmist states, "Honourable before the Lord is the death of his reverend ones" (Ps. 115:6). In another instance, he declares, "the death of sinners is fierce" (Ps. 33:22), labeling it fierce when one departs with a guilty conscience, weighed down by the burden of sin. Yet, one with a clear conscience hastens towards the rewards and moves toward the crown.
To illustrate that it is not death per se but rather conscience that throws individuals into turmoil, consider Paul's assertion: "being in this hut, we sigh under the burden; and we groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body" (2 Cor. 5:4; Rom. 8:23). He further elaborates, "but if I am made a sacrifice for the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and be glad with you all" (Phlp. 2:17). If death is not burdensome, but rather desirable for the righteous, then surely poverty and similar trials are even less daunting. "His desires are sought in all things."
The Prophet signals here to God's creatures, proclaiming His wisdom; he speaks of the "works" that may reveal different aspects to the discerning eye, particularly the signs and wonders that God has performed in shaping human destiny. What does "searched out in all things His desires" mean? It signifies that His creations are perfect, expertly crafted, and ready to fulfill His will, as seen in another statement: "fire, hail, snow, ice, stormy wind, which do His will" (Ps. 148:8). Not only do they obey His commands, but even when directed to act contrary to their nature, they display extraordinary compliance. When God commanded the sea, it did not drown the Israelites, but instead parted the waters, allowing them safe passage (Ex. 14:22). The fiery furnace did not consume the young men but provided them with refreshing dew (Dan. 3:25). The wild beasts did not devour Daniel but served as protectors (Dan. 4:22). The great fish did not consume Jonah but safeguarded him (Jon. 2). The earth, rather than swallowing its inhabitants, showed a fiercer destruction than the sea when it opened to engulf Dathan and swallowed the assembly of Abiron (Num. 16:32).
These miracles manifest the truth that nature does not operate solely through its own power but submits to God's will. Created with divine intention, nature governs all things, maintaining established order while also being shaped when God wills it, allowing it to enact opposing forces. "His desires are sought in all things," indicating they fulfill His commands, allowing humanity to recognize God, which is the primary intention behind their creation. Thus, the prophet's words convey that God's creatures are so perfectly designed that those who are observant can gain accurate, clear, and transformative knowledge of Him.
Indeed, God's original design intended for creation to reflect majesty, beauty, order, and service, invoking awe in the beholder, prompting them to seek and worship the Creator. Creation serves mankind not only in understanding God but also in revealing profound truths about life. The wise, observing how day yields to night and the sun to the moon, should feel humility and refrain from preying on the vulnerable. The immoral, reflecting on the stability of the sea against chaotic waters, can find the strength to master their base desires through the fear of Christ, reconciling their urges and choosing purity.
Contemplating the earth should prompt one to reflect on resurrection and accept the teachings surrounding it. By witnessing how the earth transforms a hard grain of wheat through decay into a flourishing plant, and how the vine seemingly dies in winter only to regain its beauty in spring, one can draw parallels for their own mortal body. From nature, one learns industriousness from the ant and the importance of community from the bee, as the proverb states: "Go to the ant, slothful man, look at his actions, and be wise" (Prov. 6:6). The bee, though small among winged creatures, offers the sweetest produce, teaching us that true worth lies beyond mere physical beauty.
By observing the birds, we are reminded of the wisdom of the soul. Thus, Christ advises: "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly Father feeds them" (Matt. 6:26). If even the creatures of the air hold no concern for food, what excuse do we have for not dismissing worldly attachments like they do? To learn disregard for superficial adornments, the flowers of the field serve as our lesson. Christ declared, "Look at the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither labor nor spin; but I tell you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these" (Matt. 6:28-29).
Thus, when you ponder your attire, remember that no matter the effort, the grass will triumph over you, teaching us to abandon unreasonable desires. Numerous lessons on virtue can be derived from mute beings, flowers, and seeds.