Chrysostom
Beloved of All
A fearful thing is sin, and the ruin of the soul, and the mischief oftentimes through its excess overflows and attacks the body also. For since when the soul is diseased we feel no pain, God often punishes the body for the transgressions of the soul, so that by the scourging of the inferior part, the better part may receive some healing. You cry out against the inflammation in your joints, and rightly so, for it is a grievous thing. But do not be like the man with dropsy who demands only that no one forbids him the harmful drinks he craves.
That burning fever in the flesh, that pain which robs you of ease, consider it a kind of cautery applied by the physician of our souls. Just as a surgeon uses external remedies for a swollen and rebellious spleen, so He permits this bodily distress that a worse distemper of the soul might be cured. There is an inflammation far more perilous than any which attacks the bones, that pride and self-reliance which puffs up the soul like a blown bladder, making it full of wind and swelling, a ridiculous thing. This present pain is a medicine, and though we give it to you not willingly but of necessity, for we would have you be in health, receive it.
Let the body’s anguish pierce your heart with a holy fear. Brace up your soul. Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you. The disease that ends in the grave is slight compared to the rack reserved for an unhealed soul.
So while you seek deliverance, seek first the bright ornament of a meek and thankful spirit, a life that seeks nothing beyond sufficiency. For they who live in perpetual giving of thanks, whose philosophy is of this sort, are in all brightness, even while their outward frame is weak and maimed. Let this tribulation not make you dull of hearing, but fervent and watchful.
That burning fever in the flesh, that pain which robs you of ease, consider it a kind of cautery applied by the physician of our souls. Just as a surgeon uses external remedies for a swollen and rebellious spleen, so He permits this bodily distress that a worse distemper of the soul might be cured. There is an inflammation far more perilous than any which attacks the bones, that pride and self-reliance which puffs up the soul like a blown bladder, making it full of wind and swelling, a ridiculous thing. This present pain is a medicine, and though we give it to you not willingly but of necessity, for we would have you be in health, receive it.
Let the body’s anguish pierce your heart with a holy fear. Brace up your soul. Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you. The disease that ends in the grave is slight compared to the rack reserved for an unhealed soul.
So while you seek deliverance, seek first the bright ornament of a meek and thankful spirit, a life that seeks nothing beyond sufficiency. For they who live in perpetual giving of thanks, whose philosophy is of this sort, are in all brightness, even while their outward frame is weak and maimed. Let this tribulation not make you dull of hearing, but fervent and watchful.
