Chrysostom
Beloved
The very tears you shed for your parents are a testimony to the law of God written on your heart, for what is more righteous than to honor father and mother? This is the first commandment with a promise, and your anxiety for their health is a living fulfillment of that command, a far cry from the wickedness of those who, under a show of piety, defrauded their own parents. You do not say to them, “What you ask of me is a gift to God”; instead, you bring them before the throne of God in prayer, and this is a true and holy offering.
Be not distressed, therefore, as if your concern were a sign of weak faith. Remember the blessed Apostle Paul’s tender care for his son in the faith, Timothy. He did not command him to ignore his bodily infirmities but with a parent’s anxious heart prescribed a remedy, saying, “Use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thine often infirmities.” If the great Apostle gave such a direction, how much more should you, with all diligence and love, seek out the proper remedies and comforts for your own parents’ frail bodies? This is not a lack of trust in God, but a work of mercy and love, which covers a multitude of suffering.
For your dear mother, laboring under a heavy affliction, let your own love be like a cloak to cover her distress. Love, as you know, does nothing unseemly; with golden wings it covers the offenses and sorrows of the beloved. Provide for her care with a cheerful and hopeful spirit, for teachers and the aged alike stand in great need of mercy. And for your father, whose body is beset by so many waves, see in his every pain an opportunity for your patient and quiet service. The love that endures, that is kind, that does not seek its own, this is the matchless beauty that turns your attendance upon him into a song of praise more pleasing to God than any other. In the quiet chamber of their sickness, you become a living homily on the love that “beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”
The doctors apply their medicines, and you apply your prayers and care, and let both be done without murmuring. The present time may seem perilous, full of bodily ills and the sorrow they bring, but let this affliction not breed unthankfulness in you. The unthankful man is unholy, but you, by your grateful service for all they have done for you, are performing a holy act. Do not be like those who are “without natural affection,” but let your affection be the balm for their pains. The very fact that you see their suffering and grieve is proof that you are not ignorant of the good you have received from them, even if the full purpose of this trial is not yet clear.
As you watch their struggle, do not demand to understand every hidden purpose, just as the Apostles grieved at the Lord’s coming death, knowing the fact but not yet grasping the glorious release that lay beyond it. They clung to their Master, and you cling rightly to your parents. You know that this life is fleeting; your father’s swelling feet and fading eyesight are but the creaking of an earthly tabernacle that is folding up. Yet, you pray for their healing, and rightly so. Entreat the Lord for their health with all your strength, while holding in your heart the knowledge that to depart and be with Christ is, in time, far better. Let this thought not make you cease praying, but fill your prayers with a serene hope, a consolation that refreshes the very bowels of the saints, knowing that you commend them to the One who loves them more perfectly than you ever can.
Stand firm, then, in these perilous days. The body’s sickness is a true hardship, but it cannot separate them from the love of God. Your love for them is the clear proof of His work in you. Therefore, tend to their sickbeds as if you were tending an altar. Love them, care for them, pray without ceasing, and entrust their health, both of soul and body, to the great Physician of all.
Be not distressed, therefore, as if your concern were a sign of weak faith. Remember the blessed Apostle Paul’s tender care for his son in the faith, Timothy. He did not command him to ignore his bodily infirmities but with a parent’s anxious heart prescribed a remedy, saying, “Use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thine often infirmities.” If the great Apostle gave such a direction, how much more should you, with all diligence and love, seek out the proper remedies and comforts for your own parents’ frail bodies? This is not a lack of trust in God, but a work of mercy and love, which covers a multitude of suffering.
For your dear mother, laboring under a heavy affliction, let your own love be like a cloak to cover her distress. Love, as you know, does nothing unseemly; with golden wings it covers the offenses and sorrows of the beloved. Provide for her care with a cheerful and hopeful spirit, for teachers and the aged alike stand in great need of mercy. And for your father, whose body is beset by so many waves, see in his every pain an opportunity for your patient and quiet service. The love that endures, that is kind, that does not seek its own, this is the matchless beauty that turns your attendance upon him into a song of praise more pleasing to God than any other. In the quiet chamber of their sickness, you become a living homily on the love that “beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”
The doctors apply their medicines, and you apply your prayers and care, and let both be done without murmuring. The present time may seem perilous, full of bodily ills and the sorrow they bring, but let this affliction not breed unthankfulness in you. The unthankful man is unholy, but you, by your grateful service for all they have done for you, are performing a holy act. Do not be like those who are “without natural affection,” but let your affection be the balm for their pains. The very fact that you see their suffering and grieve is proof that you are not ignorant of the good you have received from them, even if the full purpose of this trial is not yet clear.
As you watch their struggle, do not demand to understand every hidden purpose, just as the Apostles grieved at the Lord’s coming death, knowing the fact but not yet grasping the glorious release that lay beyond it. They clung to their Master, and you cling rightly to your parents. You know that this life is fleeting; your father’s swelling feet and fading eyesight are but the creaking of an earthly tabernacle that is folding up. Yet, you pray for their healing, and rightly so. Entreat the Lord for their health with all your strength, while holding in your heart the knowledge that to depart and be with Christ is, in time, far better. Let this thought not make you cease praying, but fill your prayers with a serene hope, a consolation that refreshes the very bowels of the saints, knowing that you commend them to the One who loves them more perfectly than you ever can.
Stand firm, then, in these perilous days. The body’s sickness is a true hardship, but it cannot separate them from the love of God. Your love for them is the clear proof of His work in you. Therefore, tend to their sickbeds as if you were tending an altar. Love them, care for them, pray without ceasing, and entrust their health, both of soul and body, to the great Physician of all.
