Homily 20 — First Corinthians 8, verses 1 to 13

“Now concerning things sacrificed to idols: we know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” [a]

First we must say what this passage means, for then we will easily understand the apostle’s argument. Anyone who sees a charge brought against someone will not understand what is being said unless he first grasps the nature of the offense. So what was the charge he was then bringing against the Corinthians? A serious one, and the cause of many evils. What was it? Many among them had learned that “it is not the things that go in that defile a man, but the things that come out” (Matthew 15, verse 11), and that idols of wood and stone, and demons, have no power to hurt or to help. And they had used their complete knowledge of this without any restraint, to the harm both of others and of themselves. They had gone into the places where the idols were and had shared in the meals there, and by doing so they were producing great and ruinous harm.

On the one hand, those who still kept their fear of idols and did not know how to despise them took part in those meals because they saw the more mature doing it, and they suffered the greatest harm from it. For they did not touch what was set before them with the same mind as the others, but as things offered in sacrifice to idols, and the practice was becoming a road into idolatry. On the other hand, the very people who made out that they were more mature were harmed in no ordinary way, by sharing in the tables of demons.

This, then, was the complaint. Now when this blessed man set about correcting it, he did not begin at once to speak forcefully. What was being done came more from foolishness than from wickedness, and so at first it called for encouragement more than for harsh rebuke and anger. See his good sense here: how he begins at once to counsel them.

“Now concerning things sacrificed to idols, we know that we all have knowledge.” He leaves the weak aside, as he always does, and speaks first with the strong. He did the same in the letter to the Romans, where he says, “But you, why do you judge your brother?” (Romans 14, verse 10). For this is the kind of person who is able to take a rebuke readily as well. He does exactly the same here.

And first he punctures their conceit by declaring that the very thing they thought belonged to them alone, having complete knowledge, was common to everyone. So he says, “We know that we all have knowledge.” If he had let them keep their lofty opinion of themselves and first pointed out how harmful the thing was to others, he would have done them more harm than good. For an ambitious soul that prides itself on anything clings to it fiercely, even when it harms others, because empty glory rules over it like a tyrant.

That is why Paul first examines the matter by itself, just as he had done earlier with the wisdom from outside, which he demolished with a strong hand. In that case he did it as we might have expected, because the whole thing was entirely to blame and his task was very easy. So he shows it to be not only useless but actually opposed to the good news. But here that was not possible. What was being done came from knowledge, and complete knowledge. It was not safe to overthrow it; and yet there was no other way to drive out the conceit that had come from it.

What does he do, then? First, by showing that it was common to all, he curbs that swollen pride of theirs. For people who possess something great and excellent are more puffed up when they alone have it; but if it is shown that they have it in common with others, they no longer feel that way so strongly. So first he makes it common property, since they thought it belonged to them alone. Next, having made it common, he does not make himself the only one who shares it with them, for that too would rather have puffed them up. Just as being the only one to have something makes people proud, so does sharing it with one or two others, perhaps among the leading men. That is why he does not mention himself, but everyone. He did not say, “I too have knowledge,” but, “We know that we all have knowledge.”

This, then, is one way, and the first, by which he brought down their pride. The next has greater force. What is it? He shows that even this thing itself was not complete in every respect, but imperfect, and extremely so; and not only imperfect, but also harmful, unless something else was joined to it. For after saying, “We have knowledge,” he added, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” So when knowledge is without love, it lifts people up into sheer arrogance. [c]

“But love without knowledge,” you will say, “is of no advantage either.” Very well: he did not say that. He left it out as something everyone grants, and shows instead that knowledge stands in extreme need of love. For the one who loves is fulfilling the commandment that is the most complete of all; and so, even if he has some shortcomings, he will quickly be blessed with knowledge because of his love, as Cornelius was, and many others. But the one who has knowledge and does not have love not only will gain nothing more, but will also be thrown out of what he has, often falling into arrogance.

So it seems that knowledge does not produce love. On the contrary, it shuts a person out of love if he is not on his guard, puffing him up and making him proud. For arrogance usually causes divisions, while love draws people together and leads to knowledge. To make this plain he says, “But if anyone loves God, that person is known by him.” So he is saying: “I do not forbid this, your having complete knowledge. But I do command you to have it with love; otherwise it is no gain, but rather a loss.”

Do you see how he is already sounding the first note of his teaching on love? All these evils were springing from one root: not from their complete knowledge, but from their not loving their neighbors much or sparing them. From this came both their quarrels and their self-satisfaction and all the rest he had charged them with. So both before this and afterward he keeps making provision for love, and in this way sets right the spring of all good things.

“Why, then,” he says, “are you puffed up about knowledge? If you do not have love, you will even be harmed by it. For what is worse than boasting? But if the other is added, the first will be safe as well. For even if you know something more than your neighbor, if you love him you will not exalt yourself, but will lead him to the same as well.” That is why, after saying, “Knowledge puffs up,” he added, “but love builds up.” He did not say, “behaves modestly,” but something much greater and more profitable. For their knowledge was not only puffing them up but also pulling them apart. That is why he sets the one against the other.

Then he adds a third point, one with power to bring them down. What is it? That even with love joined to it, this knowledge of ours is still not perfect. That is why he adds: [d]

Verse 2: “But if anyone thinks that he knows anything, he knows nothing yet as he ought to know.”

This is the deadly blow. “I do not dwell,” he says, “on the knowledge being common to all. I do not say that by hating your neighbor and by your arrogance you harm yourself most of all. But even if you have it by yourself alone, even if you are modest, even if you love your brother, even then you are imperfect when it comes to knowledge. ‘For you do not yet know anything as you ought to know.’”

Now if we do not yet have exact knowledge of anything, how is it that some have rushed into such a pitch of madness as to say that they know God with all exactness? Even if we had exact knowledge of everything else, it would not be possible even then to have this knowledge to such a degree. How far he stands apart from all things, it is impossible even to say.

And notice how he pulls down their swollen pride. He did not say, “You do not have the proper knowledge of the matters before us,” but, “about anything.” And he did not say “you,” but “anyone at all,” be it Peter, be it Paul, be it anyone else. By this he both soothed them and carefully kept them in check.

Verse 3: “But if anyone loves God, that person…” He does not say “knows him,” but “is known by him.” For we have not known him; he has known us. That is why Christ said, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.” And Paul says elsewhere, “Then I will know fully, just as I also have been known.”

Notice now, please, the means by which he brings down their high-mindedness. First, he points out that they were not the only ones who knew what they knew, for “we all,” he says, “have knowledge.” Next, that the thing itself was harmful as long as it was without love, for “knowledge,” he says, “puffs up.” Third, that even joined with love it is not complete or perfect: “For if anyone thinks that he knows anything, he knows nothing yet as he ought to know.” That is how he puts it. Besides this, that they do not have even this from themselves, but as a gift from God, for he did not say “has known God,” but “is known by him.” And again, that this very thing comes from love, which they do not have as they should: “If anyone,” he says, “loves God, that person is known by him.” Having calmed their irritation at such length, then, he begins to set out the teaching itself, as follows.

Verse 4: “So then, concerning the eating of things sacrificed to idols, we know that no idol is anything in the world, and that there is no God but one.” [f]

See what a tight spot he has got into! For he means to prove both things: that one ought to keep away from this kind of banquet, and that it has no power to harm those who take part in it. The two did not agree very well with each other. When they were told that there was no harm in these meals, they would naturally rush to them as things that did not matter. But when they were forbidden to touch them, they would suspect, on the contrary, that the ban came from the meals’ having power to harm.

So, you see, he puts down their opinion about idols, and then gives as the first reason for keeping away the stumbling blocks they were putting in the way of their brothers and sisters. These are his words: “Now concerning the eating of things sacrificed to idols, we know that no idol is anything in the world.” Again he makes it common property and does not allow it to be theirs alone, but spreads the knowledge over the whole world. “Not only among you,” he says, “but everywhere on earth this teaching holds.” What teaching, then?

“That no idol is anything in the world, and that there is no God but one.” What then? Are there no idols? No statues? Indeed there are; but they have no power. Nor are they gods: they are stones and demons. For he is now taking his stand against both parties: the cruder sort among them, and those who were counted philosophers. The first knew of nothing beyond the bare stones; the others claimed that certain powers lived in them, which they also call gods. So to the first he says that “no idol is anything in the world,” and to the others that “there is no God but one.”

Do you see how he writes these things, not simply laying down teaching, but in opposition to those outside? This is something we must always watch closely: whether he is saying something in general terms, or whether he is answering particular people. It contributes in no ordinary way to the accuracy of our teaching and to an exact understanding of his words.

Verse 5: “For even if there are so-called gods, whether in heaven or on earth, as there are many gods and many lords, yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things, and we for him; and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things, and we through him.” [g]

He had said that “an idol is nothing” and that “there is no other God.” And yet there were idols, and there were those who were called gods. So that he would not seem to be contradicting plain facts, he goes on to say, “For even if there are so-called gods, as indeed there are.” Not simply “there are,” but “so-called”: having this not in reality, but in name only.

“Whether in heaven or on earth.” By “in heaven” he means the sun and the moon and the rest of the choir of the stars, for the Greeks worshiped these too; and on earth, demons, and all those who had been turned from men into gods. “Yet for us there is one God, the Father.” The first time he put it without the word “Father,” and said, “There is no God but one.” Now that he has driven out the others entirely, he adds this too.

Next he brings forward what is in fact the greatest mark of divinity: “from whom are all things.” This also implies that those others are not gods, for it is said, “Let the gods who did not make the heavens and the earth perish” (Jeremiah 10, verse 11). Then he adds something no less than this: “and we for him.” When he says, “from whom are all things,” he means the creation, the bringing of things out of nothing into being. But when he says, “and we for him,” he is speaking of the word of faith and of our being made his own, as he also said before: “But from him you also are in Christ Jesus” (First Corinthians 1, verse 30). We are from him in two ways: by being made when we did not exist, and by being made believers. For this too is a creation, as he declares elsewhere: “so that he might create in himself one new man out of the two” (Ephesians 2, verse 15).

“And one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things, and we through him.” About Christ, again, we must think of this in the same way. For through him the human race was both brought out of nothing into being, and brought back from error to truth. So the phrase “from whom” is not to be understood apart from Christ. For it is from him, through Christ, that we were created.

Nor, if you look closely, has he divided the names as though each belonged to one alone, giving the Son the name Lord and the Father the name God. For Scripture often interchanges them, as when it says, “The Lord said to my Lord” (Psalm 110, verse 1); and again, “That is why God, your God, has anointed you” (Psalm 45, verse 8); and, “From whom is Christ according to the flesh, who is God over all” (Romans 9, verse 5). And in many places you may see these names changing places. [h]

Besides, suppose the names were allotted to each nature separately, and the Son were not God, and God just as the Father is, while remaining a Son. Then, after saying, “But for us there is one God,” it would have been unnecessary for him to add the word “Father” in order to point to the one who is unbegotten. The word “God” would have been enough to show this, if it were the kind of word that denoted him alone.

And this is not all; there is another point to make. If you say, “Because it is said ‘one God,’ the word ‘God’ does not apply to the Son,” notice that the same holds of the Son too. For the Son also is called “one Lord,” yet we do not argue that the title “Lord” therefore belongs to him alone. So the word “one” has the same force when applied to the Son as it has when applied to the Father. And just as the Father is not shut out from being Lord, in the same sense as the Son is Lord, because the Son is spoken of as one Lord, so neither is the Son shut out from being God, in the same sense as the Father is God, because the Father is called one God.

Now suppose someone were to ask: “Why did he make no mention of the Spirit?” Our answer might be this. His argument was with idol worshipers, and the dispute was about “many gods and many lords.” That is also why, having called the Father God, he calls the Son Lord. Now if he did not venture to call the Father Lord along with the Son, for fear they would suspect him of speaking of two Lords, nor to call the Son God along with the Father, for fear he would be thought to speak of two Gods, why be surprised that he did not mention the Spirit? His contest, so far, was with the pagans, and his point was to show that among us there is no plurality of gods. That is why he keeps holding on to this word “one,” saying, “There is no God but one,” and, “For us there is one God, and one Lord.” [i]

From this it is plain that he used this way of explaining things to spare the weakness of his hearers, and for this reason made no mention of the Spirit at all. If that is not the reason, then he ought not to mention the Spirit anywhere else either, or to join him with the Father and the Son. For if the Spirit is to be set apart from the Father and the Son, much less ought he to be put in the same rank with them in baptism, where above all the dignity of the divine nature appears, and gifts are given that God alone can give.

So I have given the reason why he is passed over in silence in this place. Now you, if this is not the true reason, tell me: why is he ranked with them in baptism? You cannot give any other reason than that he is of equal honor. At any rate, when Paul is under no such constraint, he puts him in the same rank, saying, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the Father, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all” (Second Corinthians 13, verse 14); and again, “There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are different kinds of service, but the same Lord; and there are different kinds of working, but the same God” (First Corinthians 12, verses 4 to 6). But because at this point he was speaking with Greeks, and with the weaker among the converts from the Greeks, he deals the matter out sparingly. The prophets do the same with regard to the Son: they nowhere mention him plainly, because of the weakness of their hearers.

Verse 7: “But knowledge is not in everyone,” he says.

What knowledge does he mean: about God, or about things offered in sacrifice to idols? Either he is hinting here at the Greeks, who say there are many gods and lords and do not know him who is truly God; or at the converts from the Greeks who were still rather weak, who did not yet clearly know that they ought not to fear idols, and that “an idol is nothing in the world.” But in saying this he gently soothes and encourages these last. There was no need to mention everything he had to reprove, especially since he intended to deal with them again more severely.

“But some, being used to the idol, eat it as a thing sacrificed to an idol, and their conscience, being weak, is defiled.” They still tremble at idols, he says. [k]

Do not tell me about the way things are settled now, and that you received the true religion from your ancestors. Carry your thoughts back to those times. Think of when the good news was just being set on foot, when ungodliness was still at its height, when altars were burning, sacrifices and drink offerings were being offered up, and most people were pagans. Think, I say, of those who had received ungodliness from their ancestors, who were descended from fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers like themselves, and who had suffered great miseries at the hands of the demons. How must they have felt after so sudden a change! How they would dread and tremble at the attacks of the demons!

For their sake too he speaks with some restraint, saying, “But some, conscious of what is sacrificed to an idol.” So he neither exposes them openly, so as not to strike them hard, nor passes them over altogether, but mentions them in a vague way, saying, “Now some, conscious of the idol even until now, eat it as a thing sacrificed to an idol” (that is, with the same thoughts they had in former times), “and their conscience, being weak, is defiled.” They were not yet able to despise the idols and laugh them to scorn once and for all, but were still in some doubt.

It is as if someone thought that by touching a dead body he would defile himself, according to the Jewish custom, and then, seeing others touch it with a clear conscience while he himself touched it without the same mind, were defiled. That was the state of their feelings at that time. “For some,” he says, “conscious of the idol, do it even until now.” He did not add “even until now” without reason, but to show that nothing had been gained by refusing to stoop down to them. For this was not the way to bring them in; they had to be won some other way, by persuading them with words and teaching.

“And their conscience, being weak, is defiled.” Nowhere yet does he state his argument about the nature of the thing itself; he turns this way and that, speaking about the conscience of the person who eats. For he was afraid that in wanting to correct the weak person he might deal a heavy blow to the strong one and make him weak as well. That is why he spares the one no less than the other. Nor does he allow the thing itself to be thought of any importance, but builds up his argument very fully to prevent any such suspicion.

Verse 8: “But food does not commend us to God. For if we eat, we are no better, and if we do not eat, we are no worse.” [m]

Do you see how he takes down their high spirits once again? First he said that “not only they but all of us have knowledge,” that “no one knows anything as he ought to know,” and that “knowledge puffs up.” Then, having soothed them, he said that “this knowledge is not in everyone,” and that “weakness is the reason these people are defiled.” Now they might answer, “And what is that to us, if knowledge is not in everyone? Why does such a person not have knowledge? Why is he weak?” So that they could not come back at him in these terms, he did not go straight on to show plainly that one ought to abstain for fear of harming the other. Instead, after first skirmishing a little, so to speak, by mentioning the weak man, he points out something that goes further. What is it? That even if no one were harmed, and no one else were led astray, it would still not be right to do this.

For the first argument, taken by itself, labors in vain. A man who hears that someone else is being hurt while he himself has the gain is not very quick to abstain; he does so more readily when he finds out that he himself gains nothing by the thing. That is why he sets this down first, saying, “But food does not commend us to God.” See how cheaply he holds what people thought came from complete knowledge! “For if we eat, we are no better” — that is, we stand no higher in God’s esteem, as though we had done something good or great — “and if we do not eat, we are no worse” — that is, we fall in no way short of others. So far, then, he has shown that the thing itself is superfluous and counts for nothing. For what does no good when it is done, and no harm when it is left undone, must be superfluous.

But as he goes on, he lays bare all the harm that was likely to come of the matter. For the present, though, his subject is what was happening to the brothers. [n]

Verse 9: “But take care,” he says, “that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak among the brothers.”

He did not say, “Your liberty has become a stumbling block,” nor did he state it outright, so as not to make them more shameless. How, then? “Take care” — frightening them, making them ashamed, and leading them to disown any such conduct. And he did not say, “this knowledge of yours,” which would have sounded more like praise, nor “this maturity of yours,” but “your liberty,” a word that seemed to smack more of rashness, stubbornness, and arrogance. Nor did he say, “to the brothers,” but “to the weak among the brothers,” making his charge heavier because they did not spare even the weak, and those their own brothers.

For suppose you do not correct them, or rouse them: why trip them up and make them stumble, when you ought to be holding out your hand? You have no mind for that? Well then, at least avoid throwing them down. If a man were wicked, he would need punishment; if weak, healing. But this man is not only weak; he is also a brother.

Verse 10: “For if someone sees you, who have knowledge, sitting at table in an idol’s temple, will not his conscience, if he is weak, be emboldened to eat things sacrificed to idols?”

After saying, “Take care that this liberty of yours does not become a stumbling block,” he explains how and in what way it becomes one. And he keeps using the word “weakness,” so that the harm would not be thought to come from the nature of the thing itself, and so that the demons would not seem something to be feared. Like this: “At present,” he says, “a man is on the point of pulling away from all idols entirely. But when he sees you so fond of lingering around them, he takes it as a recommendation and stays there himself as well. So it is not only his weakness but your ill-timed conduct too that helps along the plot against him; for it is you who make him weaker.”

Verse 11: “And through your food the weak man perishes, the brother for whose sake Christ died.”

Two things strip you of any excuse for this harm: first, that he is weak; second, that he is your brother. Or rather, I should say there is a third as well, and one more terrible than all. What is it? That while Christ did not refuse even to die for him, you cannot bear even to make allowances for him. In this way, you see, he reminds the mature man too of what he himself once was, and that Christ died for him as well. And he did not say, “for whom it was your duty even to die,” but, what is much stronger, that Christ himself died for his sake. “Your Lord did not refuse to die for him, and do you count him of so little account that you will not even keep away from a polluted table for his sake? Do you let him perish, after salvation was won for him in such a way, and — what is still more grievous — ‘for a bit of food’?”

For he did not say, “for your maturity,” or “for your knowledge,” but “for your food.” So the charges are four, and extremely heavy ones: that it was a brother; that he was weak; that he was one Christ valued so highly as even to die for him; and that after all this he is destroyed for a bit of food.

Verse 12: “And so, sinning against the brothers and wounding their weak conscience, you sin against Christ.”

Do you notice how quietly and gradually he has brought their offense up to the very height of wickedness? And again he mentions the weakness of the others; and so the very thing these people thought told in their favor, he turns back everywhere on their own heads. And he did not say, “putting stumbling blocks in their way,” but “wounding,” to show their cruelty by the force of the word. For what could be more savage than a man who wounds the sick? And yet no wound is as grievous as making someone stumble. Indeed, this too is often the cause of death.

But how do they “sin against Christ”? In one way, because he treats the concerns of his servants as his own. In another, because those who are wounded go to make up his body, and are a part of him. In a third, because the work he built up with his own blood, these people are destroying for the sake of their love of show.

Verse 13: “Therefore, if food makes my brother stumble, I will never eat meat again.” [q]

This is what the best of teachers does: he teaches in his own person the things he speaks of. And he did not add whether the stumbling was with good reason or without; he means it in every case. This is the tone of it: “I am not speaking of food sacrificed to an idol, which is already forbidden on other grounds. I mean that if anything even among the things that are allowed and permitted causes stumbling, I will abstain from these too — and not for one day or two, but for all the time of my life.” For he says, “I will never eat meat again.” And he did not say, “so that I do not destroy my brother,” but simply, “so that I do not make my brother stumble.” For it truly comes from the height of folly that the things Christ cares for so greatly — so much that he even chose to die for them — we should think so far beneath our notice that we will not even abstain from foods on their account.

These things could fittingly be said not only to them but to us as well, since we are so ready to think lightly of our neighbors’ salvation and to utter those satanic words. I say satanic, for the saying, “What do I care if so-and-so stumbles and someone else perishes?” smacks of Satan’s cruelty and inhuman mind. And yet in their case the weakness of those who stumbled had some share in what happened; but with us it is not so, since we sin in such a way as to make even the strong stumble. For when we strike people, and plunder, and cheat, and treat the free as if they were slaves, whom would this not be enough to make stumble?

Do not tell me that one man is a shoemaker, another a dyer, another a coppersmith. Remember that he is a believer and a brother. Why, these are the people whose disciples we are: the fishermen, the tax collectors, the tentmakers. We are disciples of him who was brought up in a carpenter’s house; who was willing to have the carpenter’s betrothed for his mother; who, once wrapped in swaddling clothes, was laid in a manger; who had nowhere to lay his head; whose journeys were so long that the traveling itself was enough to wear him out; who was supported by others.

Think about these things, and count human pride as nothing. Count the tentmaker your brother just as much as the man who rides in a carriage, keeps countless servants, and struts about the marketplace — or rather, the first more than the second, since the name “brother” fits more naturally where the likeness is greater. Which of the two, then, is more like the fisherman? The man who lives by his daily labor, who has neither servant nor house but is hemmed in on every side by want? Or the other, who is surrounded with such enormous show and acts against the laws of God? So do not despise the one who is more truly your brother of the two, for he comes nearer to the pattern of the apostles. [s]

“But he does not do it of his own accord,” you say, “but because he has to. He does not do it by his own choice.” How do you know that? Have you not heard, “Do not judge, so that you will not be judged”? But to convince yourself that he does not do it against his will, go to him and offer him ten thousand talents of gold, and you will see him push it away. And so, even if he received no wealth by inheritance from his ancestors, when it is in his power to take it and he will not let it come near him or add to his possessions, he gives a mighty proof of his contempt for wealth. So too John was the son of Zebedee, that very poor man; yet I do not suppose we are to say for that reason that his poverty was forced on him.

So whenever you see someone driving nails, striking with a hammer, covered with soot, do not think less of him for it; rather, admire him for that very reason. For even Peter tied his garment around him, handled the dragnet, and went fishing after the resurrection of the Lord.

And why do I speak of Peter? This same Paul, after all his ceaseless running here and there and all those vast miracles, stood in a tentmaker’s shop and sewed hides together, while angels revered him and demons trembled. And he was not ashamed to say (Acts 20, verse 34), “These hands served my own needs and the needs of those who were with me.” Why do I say he was not ashamed? He even gloried in this very thing.

But you will say: “Who is there now to be compared with the virtue of Paul?” I know too that there is no one. Yet that is no reason to despise those who live now. For if you give honor for Christ’s sake, then even if a man is the last of all, if he is a believer he will rightly be honored. Suppose a general and a common soldier both come to you, both of them friends of the king, and you open your house to both. In which of the two would you seem to honor the king more? Plainly in the soldier. For in the general, besides his loyalty to the king, there were many other things likely to win such a mark of respect from you; but the soldier had nothing else but his loyalty to the king.

That is why God told us to invite to our suppers and our feasts the lame, the crippled, and those who cannot repay us; for the deeds most properly called good deeds are those done for God’s sake. But if you entertain some great and distinguished man, what you do is not such pure mercy; often some share of it goes to you as well — through empty glory, through the favor returned, and through the higher standing you gain in many people’s eyes on account of your guest. At any rate, I think I could point to many who court the more distinguished of the holy men with this aim: that through them they may enjoy greater closeness with those in power, and may find them useful from then on in their own affairs and for their families. And they ask many such favors of those holy men in return — which spoils the reward of their hospitality, since they seek it in that frame of mind.

And why need I say this about the holy men? Even a man who seeks from God himself the reward of his labors in this present life, and pursues virtue for the good things of this world, is sure to lessen his reward. But the one who asks to receive all his crowns there is found far more admirable. Such was Lazarus, who even now is “receiving” all “his good things” there (Luke 16, verse 25). Such were the three young men who, when they were on the point of being thrown into the furnace, said (Daniel 3, verses 17 and 18), “There is a God in heaven who is able to rescue us. But if not, let it be known to you, O king, that we do not serve your gods or worship the golden image you have set up.” Such was Abraham, who even offered his son and slew him — and he did it not for any reward, but counting this one thing the greatest recompense: to obey the Lord.

Let us imitate these as well. For in this way we will be repaid for all our good deeds, and abundantly, because we do everything in this frame of mind; and in this way we will win the brighter crowns too. May God grant that we all win them, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, power, and honor to the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.