John Chrysostom
Let us express our gratitude to the Lord, not in the spirit of delighting in the downfall of others, but in recognition of His unwavering resolve. But who can offer thanks ‘according to His righteousness’? Who can praise Him as He truly is? No one can. What does it signify to thank Him ‘according to His righteousness’? In other words, it is for His righteousness. I will sing, he declares, in exaltation to the Lord on high, for the triumphs and spoils belong to Him, not to me. Just as subjects sing in praise of a victorious king, I too will do the same. I do not say, ‘has glorified,’ but rather, ‘I glorify,’ indicating that even after receiving His blessings, one must remain mindful, vigilant, and appreciative—not out of necessity for God, but for our own benefit.
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Just as God accepts sacrifices without needing them—‘If I had been hungry,’ He says, ‘I would not tell you’ (Psalms 49:12)—He likewise accepts our songs of praise not because He needs our adoration, but because He desires our salvation. God yearns for our growth in virtue. Nothing fosters excellence in virtue better than continual communion with Him, alongside ongoing gratitude and adoration. The prophet extols God, marveling at His justice and patience. But one might ask: where is His patience if the oppressor has met his end? Here, too, His patience is evident and profound. God allowed him to live for a prolonged period to afford him the opportunity for repentance; He granted him access to royal treasures so that seeing the home in which he was raised, amidst reminders of his father, he might return to a repentant heart. Truly, if he were not a brute or devoid of feeling, these tokens of his past—the table where he shared meals with his father, the building, the chairs where he received counsel prior to his grievous acts—should have softened his heart. He was aware that his father lived as an exile and faced tremendous hardship. If this knowledge did not pierce his heart, then surely the fate of Ahithophel—his demise—should have prompted him to reflect. He could not rationally condemn his father; could it be for having distanced himself from him (2 Kings 14:32)? In truth, he should have admired and been thankful for how his father embraced the wrongdoings of his own kin. Lacking any grounds for grievance, he was consumed by an unbridled desire, all the more so when his father was advanced in years and was on the brink of fulfilling hope. How could he fail to consider that even in gaining victory, he would endure a life filled with wretchedness, rendered impure and deserving of condemnation for such a hollow triumph? Where now are those who lament their lack? What hardship, illness, or sorrow is greater than such despair? Yet David did not dwell on these matters; he did not grieve, nor did he weep, nor did he claim that his just rewards were inadequate, despite diligently studying the law of God day and night, and humbly enduring the betrayal by a shameless son. He professed none of this but bore his trials with serenity, finding solace in the belief that none of this transpired outside God’s sovereign will. Just as the three young men said, ‘Let it be known to thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor will we worship the golden statue which thou hast set up’ (Daniel 3:18), if anyone had asked them, ‘What hope do you have in death, what do you await, what do you anticipate after your doom?’ they would have declared, “It is a great honor for us to perish for God.” In the same way, he found profound comfort in knowing that God, aware of the reality unfolding, did not intervene. Like a lover ready to face countless deaths for the beloved, yet expecting nothing in return, we must persevere through all things, not in anticipation of a kingdom or future rewards, but solely for God Himself. Meanwhile, many remain indifferent and lethargic, unwilling to pursue virtue even when promised its rewards; they disregard God’s promises of a kingdom and are drawn by the tempter into death. What greater madness exists than this? But why speak of hell? Before even that eternal judgement, they subject themselves to grievances, disgrace, mockery, and numerous afflictions, all to their own detriment. Consider the plight of an adulterer: how miserable their existence—suspicious even prior to facing judgment, haunted by fear, unable to look anyone in the eyes, constantly perceiving threats to their existence and foreseeing their doom. Is there not a stark contrast with the life of chastity, even if fraught with difficulties? Is not the chaste person invigorated by joy, while the adulterer wallows in despondency? This dichotomy extends to others as well, such as those who succumb to anger versus those who exercise restraint, or those who seek to possess by theft as opposed to those who generously give for God’s sake. The virtuous find tranquility, while those embroiled in wickedness spiral into turmoil daily. Moreover, when the greedy reach old age and realize that their insatiable desires yield no fulfillment, they are gripped by fear at the approach of death—imagine the anguish they experience. Conversely, the virtuous find joy and contentment in their later years, for their pleasures do not wane but rather blossom with time. For those who engage in immoral acts, old age signifies the end of gratification; for the virtuous, it amplifies joy. Thus, even before facing hell and its penalties, these truths have the power to stir our souls. Let this understanding motivate us to shun vice and steadfastly pursue virtue, to love God not for His gifts but for His very being. In this manner, we will navigate through this life toward the path of virtue—though it may appear narrow, it can be widened through the goodwill of pilgrims. May we all ascend its heights by the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.