John Chrysostom
They are under God's discipline. Consequently, the prophet adds, “as sheep, in hell they are laid up; death shall shepherd them.” Here, the term sheep does not imply meekness (for what could be more brutal than individuals who turn a blind eye to the plight of the destitute, while they lavish their homes, letting them decay and succumb to decay and the attention of nuisances?)—rather, it signifies the ease of their downfall, the swiftness of approaching peril, and the vulnerability to their adversaries. Indeed, nothing is feebler than a person who indulges in vice. The fate of these individuals will be similar: they will be smitten, swiftly perish, and descend into hell with great ease, much like sheep led to slaughter. This represents death, or something far worse.
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They will encounter eternal death; they will not find themselves in Abraham's bosom or any other realm, but rather in hell—the place of judgment, suffering, and ultimate ruin. Their conclusion here is one of disgrace and desolation, with their existence there wrought with anguish. We often remark about those on the brink of ruin: “Such a one perished like a sheep.” Just as they lived like voiceless creatures, so they meet their end, devoid of any hope for redemption; and not merely that, but facing an even greater doom. “Death shall shepherd them.” In this phrase, the prophet refers to death as perdition, as torment, echoing the sentiment found in the saying, “the soul that sinneth, it shall die” (Ezekiel 18:20), which underscores not the obliteration of existence but rather the consequence of punishment. He continues his figurative illustration. Following his mention of the sheep, he introduces their shepherd. Who is this shepherd? It is the poisonous worm, the endless darkness, the unbreakable chains, the gnashing of teeth. Observe how they suffer through every aspect: in life, for they faced obstacles to righteousness, became ensnared by vice, and toiled in vain pursuits— in death, for they met an inglorious and premature end— and after death, for they are consigned to eternal destruction. “And the righteous shall soon have dominion over them.” As many individuals grow calloused and reach such insensitivity that resembles stone, lacking any clear and hopeful vision for the future, instead fixated on the immediate and observable, the prophet employs this vivid language to terrify them. After briefly mentioning the future, he reiterates their humiliation and punishment in this life, illustrating how feeble, lowly, and contemptible they are. Despite their vast wealth and outward power, they are but servants and subordinates to those who walk in righteousness. Hence, he asserts, “and the righteous shall soon have dominion over them,” indicating immediacy, continuous dominion, requiring no time, effort, or delay. Such is the nature of virtue and vice, that vice serves virtue, regards it with fear and dread, despite being adorned with numerous accolades and accolades, while virtue, though unadorned, stands in its own strength. You may ask, do we not see those who are wicked triumph over the virtuous? However, let us set aside the misguided opinions of many—such judgments stem from faulty reasoning—let us look at matters with clarity, and it will become evident that the prophet's words hold true. Consider a wicked master and a good servant, or if you prefer, an even higher example—a malevolent king and a virtuous servant. Let us observe who holds authority over whom; who commands and who obeys. How shall we determine this? If the king commands the servant to engage in a vile act, what will the virtuous servant do? Not only will he refuse to comply, but he will actively strive to persuade the king against his wicked intentions, even at the cost of his life. Who, then, embodies freedom? Is it the one who acts according to his own will, unafraid of the king, or the one scorned by those he rules? Let us not linger on hypotheticals. Recall the Egyptian woman, the wife of Pentephrius—was she not a queen? Did she not govern all of Egypt? Did she not possess immense power? And Joseph—was he not a slave, a captive, a purchased servant? Did she not use all her means to entrap the young man, battling him herself instead of delegating to another? Who, then, truly was the slave, and who was free? Was it she, who cajoled, pleaded, and enslaved herself not to a man but to the harshest of passions? Or was it he, who looked past her crown, scepter, and luxurious garments to thwart her schemes? Did she not exit unheeded, only to become ensnared by another passion, one of furious anger and retribution? And did he not emerge adorned with countless crowns, showcasing his freedom even amid slavery? There is no freedom like that of virtue, and no bondage as degrading as vice. That is why it is said, “The wise servant lords over the wanton son” (Proverbs 17:2). Just as a captive, despite possessing immense wealth, is rendered vulnerable to attack, so too is one dominated by passions weaker than a spider’s web. For instance, in battle, do we not witness the virtuous securing victory? In actions and counsel, are not their judgments resolute, even when unsupported? And what about the afterlife? Did not the rich man, akin to a beggar, plead for but a drop of water and receive none? Did not the virtuous, temperate man find bliss, receiving the same reward as Abraham? When the apostles faced imprisonment, beatings, and countless trials, did they not overcome those who inflicted these pains? Recall how their persecutors were extolled by perplexity, saying, “What shall we do with these men?” (Acts 4:16). Though bound and led to judgment, while their accusers assumed the roles of judges and rulers, the apostles stood as defendants who triumphed over their adversaries. Indeed, if we examine carefully, we find that the virtuous invariably prevail over the wicked, a genuine victory, not the hollow, superficial triumphs that are often witnessed, but rather one that is steadfast and unyielding. “And their help shall be exhausted in hell,” meaning they shall be rendered powerless. The implication here is that they will not only be easily caught without a protector or ally, exposed to all assaults, but far worse, they will lack an intercessor, defender, or comforter amid their suffering. The wise maidens could not assist the foolish, nor could Abraham console the rich man, nor could Noah, Job, or Daniel aid their progeny. The phrase “shall be exhausted” signifies weakening or destruction. “That which is decrepit and growing old is near destruction” (Hebrews 8:13). “Out of their glory they are brought low.” What they aspired to, to pursue great glory even in death through wealth, grand edifices, or tombs—inscriptions bearing their names—that very glory, the prophet proclaims, will be denied them, which would have caused them profound sorrow were they aware of it. Such monuments stand as accusers of the departed. Their bodies lie interred in the earth, while stones speak out, daily condemning their cruelty and shamelessness, branding them as common enemies to all, consistently igniting curses and accusations from those who pass. What glory exists in leaving behind a permanent scorn that cannot remain silent, compelling all who see to voice the strongest reproaches against their legacy? What madness rivals the act of constructing a monument that becomes an instrument of their punishment, a source of shame, and a cause for condemnation, which continues to trouble them even after death, stirring up curses, grievances, and innumerable accusations from both offended and neutral observers?