Chrysostom
Good and Faithful Servant
You have heaped together many words, and among them many Scriptures, like a man who thinks that by much speaking he will be heard. But I ask you, while you confess the sins of your tongue with such an outpouring, have you first put your hand upon your mouth? For if the cistern is still running, what benefit is it to mop the floor? The same instrument that utters this lengthy prayer is the one you say has spoken in anger, in pride, in self-interest. Has it now been silent long enough to be cleansed?
You speak of a “bridal tongue,” yet I hear not the quiet meekness of a bride but the torrent of a man still anxious to prove his repentance by his many references. It is well that you remember James: the tongue is a fire. But do you not see that even in confession the old man may creep in, eager to display his knowledge of the letter while his spirit remains unbridled? True purity is not in the abundance of words, but in the deed. For sin is the defilement, and that defiled tongue pours out uncleanness whether in insult or in overly ornate confession before men.
You desire the power to do no wrong, yet power is not given to those who only grieve over their falls; it is given to those who, with a meek and quiet spirit, take the way of escape at once, without first indulging the passion and then lamenting it with a flood of verses. It is good that you despise your sins and repent in dust and ashes, but Job spoke that after he had been silent and heard God; before that, he too had many words. The boldness of speech that comes from the Cross is not the busyness of an unquiet heart, but the calm confidence of a man whose life bears witness. When anger rises, it ruins all, no matter how just the words may be. You say that in times of pain you have further your own interests: this is the very moment to choke the word before it is born. A bridal tongue is a chaste tongue: it keeps silence until it can speak with love.
You speak of boasting in weakness, but take care that this boasting does not become a secret pride, as if your very confession were a meritorious work. Humility is not gained by reciting one’s sins with cleverness; it is gained by regarding oneself as a debtor who has done nothing praiseworthy at all. The faithful soul is too busy serving to admire its own posture of humility.
Therefore, let your words be few, and let your deeds speak. For the demonstration of the Spirit is not in persuasive words of human wisdom, but in the quiet fruit of righteousness. A tongue once cleansed by confession must not go back to the mire; it must become an instrument of peace, speaking only that which is good for edification. Imitate Peter: before grace, he spoke rashly and even cursed; after the Spirit descended, his boldness was without wrath, and his words carried power because his life was in harmony with them. Do the same. Let your great remedy be not only the prayer of confession but the discipline of silence, that your tongue may at last be the bridal tongue you long for: pure, gentle, and subject to the Bridegroom.
You speak of a “bridal tongue,” yet I hear not the quiet meekness of a bride but the torrent of a man still anxious to prove his repentance by his many references. It is well that you remember James: the tongue is a fire. But do you not see that even in confession the old man may creep in, eager to display his knowledge of the letter while his spirit remains unbridled? True purity is not in the abundance of words, but in the deed. For sin is the defilement, and that defiled tongue pours out uncleanness whether in insult or in overly ornate confession before men.
You desire the power to do no wrong, yet power is not given to those who only grieve over their falls; it is given to those who, with a meek and quiet spirit, take the way of escape at once, without first indulging the passion and then lamenting it with a flood of verses. It is good that you despise your sins and repent in dust and ashes, but Job spoke that after he had been silent and heard God; before that, he too had many words. The boldness of speech that comes from the Cross is not the busyness of an unquiet heart, but the calm confidence of a man whose life bears witness. When anger rises, it ruins all, no matter how just the words may be. You say that in times of pain you have further your own interests: this is the very moment to choke the word before it is born. A bridal tongue is a chaste tongue: it keeps silence until it can speak with love.
You speak of boasting in weakness, but take care that this boasting does not become a secret pride, as if your very confession were a meritorious work. Humility is not gained by reciting one’s sins with cleverness; it is gained by regarding oneself as a debtor who has done nothing praiseworthy at all. The faithful soul is too busy serving to admire its own posture of humility.
Therefore, let your words be few, and let your deeds speak. For the demonstration of the Spirit is not in persuasive words of human wisdom, but in the quiet fruit of righteousness. A tongue once cleansed by confession must not go back to the mire; it must become an instrument of peace, speaking only that which is good for edification. Imitate Peter: before grace, he spoke rashly and even cursed; after the Spirit descended, his boldness was without wrath, and his words carried power because his life was in harmony with them. Do the same. Let your great remedy be not only the prayer of confession but the discipline of silence, that your tongue may at last be the bridal tongue you long for: pure, gentle, and subject to the Bridegroom.
