Homily 28 — Hebrews 11, verse 37, to 12, verse 3

“They wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, afflicted, mistreated (people of whom this world was not worthy), wandering in deserts and on mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.” [a]

At all times, but especially when I think over the achievements of the saints, a feeling of dejection about my own condition comes over me. For we have not experienced even in dreams the things those men spent their whole lives among. And they suffered them not as the penalty for sins; they were always doing what was right, and yet they were always afflicted.

Consider Elijah, I beg you, since our discussion has come around to him today. The writer speaks of him in this passage, and with him his examples end, and that example suited their situation. He has spoken of what happened to the apostles, that “they were killed with the sword, they were stoned,” and then he goes back again to Elijah, who suffered the same things they did (see Second Kings 1, verse 8). Since it was likely that the Hebrews did not yet hold the apostles in such high regard, he draws his encouragement and comfort from one who had been taken up into heaven and who was held in special admiration.

For “they wandered about,” he says, “in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, afflicted, mistreated, people of whom this world was not worthy.” They did not even have clothing, he says, so extreme was their affliction. They had no city, no house, no place to lodge. It is the same thing Christ said: “But the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Matthew 8, verse 20). Why do I say “no place to lodge”? They had no place even to stand. For not even when they had reached the wilderness were they at rest. He did not say, “They settled down in the wilderness.” No, even when they were there they fled, and were driven out of it. They were driven not only out of the inhabited world, but even out of the land where no one can live. And he reminds them of the places where they found themselves, and of the things that happened to them there.

Then next, he says, they bring accusations against you for Christ’s sake. But what accusation did they have against Elijah, when they drove him out and persecuted him and forced him to struggle with famine? And famine was what these Hebrews were suffering at that time. At any rate, it is said that the brothers decided to send relief to those of the disciples who were afflicted: “Every man according to his ability determined to send relief to the brothers who lived in Judea” (Acts 11, verse 29). That was the case of these people too.

“Mistreated,” he says; that is, suffering hardship, on journeys, in dangers.

But what does “they wandered about” mean? “Wandering,” he says, “in deserts and on mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.” They were like exiles and outcasts, like people caught in the vilest crimes, like people not fit to see the sun. They found no refuge even in the wilderness. They always had to be running, always looking for hiding places, burying themselves alive in the earth, always in terror.

What, then, is the reward for so great a change? What is the recompense? They have not received it yet; they are still waiting. After dying in such great distress, they have still not received it. They won their victory so many ages ago, and they have not yet received their reward. And you, who are still in the contest, are you upset? [e]

Just think what a thing it is, and how great, that Abraham and the apostle Paul should be sitting and waiting until you have been made perfect, so that only then can they receive their reward. For the Savior has told them in advance that unless we are there too, he will not give it to them. It is as if a loving father were to tell sons who had proved themselves well and finished their work that he would not give them anything to eat until their brothers came. And you are upset that you have not yet received the reward? What, then, will Abel do, who won his victory before everyone else and is sitting there without his crown? And Noah? And the people who lived in those early times, since they are waiting for you and for those who come after you? Do you see that we have the advantage over them? For “God,” he says, “has provided something better for us.”

So that they would not seem to have the advantage over us by being crowned before us, he appointed one time of crowning for everyone. The one who won the victory so many years earlier receives his crown together with you. Do you see his tender care? And he did not say, “so that they would not be crowned without us,” but “so that they would not be made perfect without us,” so that at that time they too appear perfect. They were ahead of us in the contests, but they are not ahead of us in the crowns. He did them no wrong; he honored us. For they too are waiting for their brothers and sisters. If we are “all one body,” the joy is greater for this body when it is crowned all together and not part by part. The righteous deserve admiration for this too: they rejoice in the well-being of their brothers and sisters as in their own. So for them too this is what they want, to be crowned along with their own members. To be glorified all together is a great delight.

(Chapter 12, verse 1) “Therefore,” he says, “since we too are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” In many places Scripture draws its comfort in troubles from things that answer to them. So the prophet says, “From burning heat, and from storm, and rain” (Isaiah 4, verse 6). That at least is what he says here as well: the memory of those holy men restores and revives a soul weighed down by troubles, the way a cloud revives someone scorched by the sun’s rays when they are too hot. [g]

And he did not say “lifted high above us,” but “surrounding us,” which is more than the other, so that we are all the safer. What kind of cloud? A great mass of witnesses. With good reason he calls not only those of the New Testament “witnesses,” but those of the Old as well. For they too bore witness to the greatness of God: the three young men, for example, those who were with Elijah, all the prophets.

“Laying aside all things.” “All” what? That is, drowsiness, indifference, petty thinking, everything merely human.

“And the sin that so easily surrounds us.” That means either “the sin that easily gets around us,” or “the sin that can easily be gotten around,” but rather the second. For it is easy, if we are willing, to overcome sin.

“Let us run with endurance,” he says, “the race that is set before us.” He did not say, “Let us fight as boxers,” or “Let us wrestle,” or “Let us do battle.” He brought forward the lightest contest of all, the footrace. Nor did he say, “Let us add to the length of the course.” He said, “Let us keep patiently at this; let us not lose heart.” “Let us run,” he says, “the race that is set before us.”

Next comes the sum and substance of his encouragement, which he puts both first and last: Christ himself. (Verse 2) “Looking,” he says, “to Jesus, the originator and perfecter of our faith.” This is the very thing Christ himself kept saying to his disciples: “If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more those of his household?” (Matthew 10, verse 25). And again: “The disciple is not above his teacher, nor the servant above his master” (Matthew 10, verse 24). [k]

“Looking,” he says; that is, so that we may learn to run. In every craft and in the games we fix the skill in our minds by watching our teachers, taking in certain rules through our eyes. So here too, if we want to run, and to learn to run well, let us look to Christ, to Jesus, “the originator and perfecter of our faith.” What does that mean? He has put the faith within us. For he said to his disciples, “You did not choose me, but I chose you” (John 15, verse 16). And Paul too says, “But then I will know, just as I also have been known” (First Corinthians 13, verse 12). He laid the beginning in us, and he will also add the end.

“Who,” he says, “for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame.” That is, it was in his power not to suffer at all, if he so wished. For “he committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth” (First Peter 2, verse 22), as he also says in the Gospels: “The ruler of the world is coming, and he has nothing in me” (John 14, verse 30). So it lay in his power, if he so wished, not to go to the cross. For he says, “I have power to lay down my life, and I have power to take it up again” (John 10, verse 18). If, then, he who was under no necessity of being crucified was crucified for our sake, how much more is it right for us to endure everything nobly!

“Who for the joy that was set before him,” he says, “endured the cross, despising the shame.” But what does “despising the shame” mean? He chose, he means, that disgraceful death. Suppose he had to die: why also die disgracefully? For no other reason than to teach us to think nothing of the glory that comes from people. That is why, though he was under no obligation, he chose it, teaching us to face it boldly and treat it as nothing. Why did he say not “pain” but “shame”? Because it was not with pain that he bore these things.

What, then, is the end of it? “He has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” Do you see the prize? Paul also speaks of it in a letter: “Therefore God also has highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus Christ every knee should bow” (Philippians 2, verses 9 and 10). He is speaking of him with respect to the flesh. Well then, even if there were no prize, the example would be enough to persuade us to accept all such things. But as it is, prizes are set before us too, and no ordinary ones, but great ones, beyond words.

So let us too, whenever we suffer anything of this kind, think of Christ before the apostles. Why? His whole life was full of insults. He was constantly hearing himself called mad, and a deceiver, and a sorcerer. At one time the Jews said, “No,” it says, “he is deceiving the people” (John 7, verse 12). And again: “That deceiver said while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise again’” (Matthew 27, verse 63). They slandered him with sorcery too, saying, “He casts out the demons by Beelzebub” (Matthew 12, verse 24), and that “He is mad and has a demon” (John 10, verse 20). “Were we not right,” it says, “to say that he has a demon and is mad?” (John 8, verse 48). [n]

And he heard these things from them while he was doing them good, working miracles, showing the works of God. If he had been spoken of like this while doing nothing, it would not have been so remarkable. But it is remarkable that when he was teaching the truth he was called “a deceiver,” and when he was casting out demons he was said to “have a demon,” and when he was overthrowing everything opposed to God he was called a sorcerer. For these were the things they were constantly charging him with.

And if you want to know the sneers and mocking jibes they aimed at him (the thing that especially wounds our souls), listen first to those from his own people. “Is this not the carpenter’s son,” it says, “whose father and mother we know? Are not his brothers all with us?” (Matthew 13, verse 55; Mark 6, verse 3; John 6, verse 42). Sneering at his hometown as well, they called him “the man from Nazareth.” And again: “Search and see, for no prophet has arisen out of Galilee” (John 7, verse 52). And he endured being slandered so badly. And again they said, “Does not the Scripture say that the Christ comes from the town of Bethlehem?” (John 7, verse 42).

Would you like to see the mocking jibes they made as well? Coming, it says, to the very cross, they bowed down to him in worship. And they struck him and beat him with their fists and said, “Tell us who it is that hit you” (Matthew 26, verse 68). And they brought him vinegar and said, “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross” (Matthew 27, verse 40). And again, the high priest’s servant struck him with the palm of his hand, and he says, “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong; but if rightly, why do you strike me?” (John 18, verse 23). And to mock him they put a robe on him, and they spat in his face, and they were constantly putting him to the test, trying to trap him. Would you like to see the accusations too, some secret, some open, some from disciples? “Do you also want to go away?” (John 6, verse 67), he says. And that saying, “You have a demon” (John 8, verse 48, and 7, verse 20), was spoken by people who already believed.

Was he not constantly a fugitive, sometimes in Galilee, sometimes in Judea? Was his trial not great, even from his swaddling clothes? When he was still a little child, did his mother not take him and go down into Egypt? For all these reasons he says, “Looking to Jesus, the originator and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

So let us look to him, and also to the sufferings of his disciples. Let us read Paul’s writings and hear him say, “In much endurance, in afflictions, in hardships, in persecutions, in distresses, in beatings, in imprisonments” (Second Corinthians 6, verses 4 and 5). And again: “To this very hour we both hunger and thirst, and are naked, and are beaten, and have no settled home, and labor, working with our own hands. When we are reviled, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we plead” (First Corinthians 4, verses 11 to 13). Has any one of us suffered the smallest part of these things? For he says that we are “as deceivers, as dishonored, as having nothing” (Second Corinthians 6, verses 8 and 10). And again: “Five times I received from the Jews forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods; once I was stoned; a night and a day I have been in the open sea; on journeys often, in afflictions, in distress, in hunger” (Second Corinthians 11, verses 24 to 26). And to see that these things seem good to God, hear him say, “For this I begged the Lord three times, and he said to me, ‘My grace is enough for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’” (Second Corinthians 12, verses 8 to 10).

“Therefore,” he says, “I take pleasure in weaknesses, in afflictions, in hardships, in distresses, in beatings, in imprisonments, so that the power of Christ may rest on me.” And besides, hear Christ himself saying, “In the world you will have distress” (John 16, verse 33).

Verse 3: “For consider,” he says, “him who endured such contradiction from sinners against himself, so that you do not grow weary and lose heart in your minds.” For if the sufferings of those close to us stir us up, what eagerness will the sufferings of our Teacher not give us! What will they not do in us! [o]

And passing over everything else, he expressed the whole with the word “contradiction,” and by adding “such.” The blows on the cheek, the laughter, the insults, the abuse, the mockery: he pointed to all of these with “contradiction.” And not these alone, but also what happened to him throughout his whole life of teaching.

For the sufferings of Christ and those of the apostles are a great comfort, truly a great one. He knew so well that this is the better way of virtue that he went that way himself, though he had no need of it. He knew so well that distress is to our advantage, and that it becomes, rather, a foundation for rest. Hear him saying, “If anyone does not take his cross and follow after me, he is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10, verse 38). If you are a disciple, he means, imitate the Teacher, for that is what it is to be a disciple. But if he went by the path of affliction and you go by the path of ease, you are no longer walking the same path he walked, but another one. How, then, are you following, when you do not follow? How will you be a disciple, if you do not go after the Teacher? Paul says this too: “We are weak, but you are strong; we are despised, but you are honored” (First Corinthians 4, verse 10). How is it reasonable, he means, that we should be pursuing opposite things, and yet you be disciples and we teachers?

Affliction, then, is a great thing, beloved, for it accomplishes two great things: it wipes out sins, and it makes people strong. [p]

What then if it overthrows and destroys us? Affliction does not do that; our own laziness does. How so? If we are sober and watchful, if we beg God not to “let us be tested beyond what we are able” (First Corinthians 10, verse 13), if we always hold fast to him, we will stand nobly and hold our ground against our enemy. As long as we have him as our helper, even if trials blow more violently than all the winds, they will be to us like chaff and a leaf carried lightly along. Hear Paul saying, “In all these things,” are his words, “we are more than conquerors” (Romans 8, verse 37). And again: “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us” (Romans 8, verse 18). And again: “For our light affliction, which lasts only for a moment, produces for us a far more surpassing and eternal weight of glory” (Second Corinthians 4, verse 17).

Think what great dangers, shipwrecks, afflictions one after another, and other such things he calls “light.” And be eager to match this unbending man, who wore this body simply, without a care for it. Are you in poverty? But not in poverty like Paul’s, who was tried by hunger and thirst and nakedness. He did not suffer this for one day; he endured it continually. How do we know? Hear him say himself, “To this very hour we both hunger and thirst and are naked” (First Corinthians 4, verse 11). Oh, what great glory he already had in preaching, while he was going through such great afflictions! He had by then reached the twentieth year of it, at the time he wrote this. For he says, “I knew a man fourteen years ago, whether in the body or out of the body I do not know” (Second Corinthians 12, verse 2). And again: “After three years,” he says, “I went up to Jerusalem” (Galatians 1, verse 18). And again hear him say, “It would be better for me to die than for anyone to make my boasting empty” (First Corinthians 9, verse 15). And not only this; in writing he also said, “We have become like the filth of the world” (First Corinthians 4, verse 13). What is harder to bear than hunger? Than freezing cold? Than plots laid by brothers, whom he later calls “false brothers” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 26)? Was he not called the pest of the world? An impostor? One who turned everything upside down? Was he not cut by the whip?

Let us take these things into our minds, beloved. Let us think them over, let us keep them in memory, and then we will never lose heart, even if we are wronged, even if we are robbed, even if we suffer countless evils. Only let it be granted us to be approved in heaven, and everything is bearable. Only let it be granted us to fare well there, and the things here count for nothing. These things are a shadow and a dream. Whatever they may be, they are nothing, either in their nature or in how long they last, while those other things are what we hope for and wait for. [r]

For what would you have us compare with those fearful things? What with the unquenchable fire? With the worm that never dies? Which of the things here can you name to compare with the “gnashing of teeth,” with the “chains,” and the “outer darkness,” with the “wrath,” the “distress,” the “anguish”? And as for how long they last? Why, what are ten thousand years against ages boundless and without end? Not so much as a little drop against the boundless ocean.

But what about the good things? There the difference is greater still. “Eye has not seen,” it says, “ear has not heard, nor has it entered into the human heart” (First Corinthians 2, verse 9). And these things too will last through boundless ages. For their sake, then, would it not be right to be cut by whips countless times, to be killed, to be burned, to undergo ten thousand deaths, to endure absolutely everything that is dreadful in word and in deed? For even if it were possible for someone to stay alive while burning in the fire, should he not endure it all to attain those good things that were promised?

But why am I wasting words saying these things to people who will not even choose to look down on riches, but hold fast to them as though they were immortal? And if they give a little out of much, do they think they have done everything? This is not almsgiving. Almsgiving is what the widow did, who emptied out “all she had to live on” (Mark 12, verse 44). But if you do not go so far as to give as much as the widow, at least give the whole of your surplus. Keep what is enough, not what is more than enough.

But there is no one who gives even his surplus. As long as you have many servants and garments of silk, these things are all surplus. Nothing we can live without is indispensable or necessary; such things are surplus, simply added on top. Let us see, then, if you like, what we cannot live without. If we have only two servants, we can live. Since some people live with no servants at all, what excuse do we have if we are not content with two? We can also have a brick house of three rooms, and that would be enough for us. For are there not some people with a wife and children who have only one room? Let there also be, if you like, two serving boys.

“But surely it is a disgrace for a lady to go out with only two servants!” It is no disgrace for a lady to go out with two servants; the disgrace is to go out with many. Perhaps you laugh when you hear this. Believe me, it is a disgrace. Do you think it a great thing to go out with many servants, like sheep dealers or slave dealers? That is pride and empty glory; the other is philosophy and respectability. A lady ought not to be recognized by the crowd of her attendants. What virtue is there in having many slaves? This does not belong to the soul, and whatever is not of the soul does not show true nobility. When she is content with a few things, then she is a lady indeed; but when she needs many, she is a servant, and lower than slaves. [s]

Tell me, do not the angels go back and forth about the world alone, with no one to follow them? Are they inferior to us on that account, they who need no attendants, compared with us who need them? If, then, to need no attendant at all is angelic, who comes nearer to the life of the angels: the woman who needs many attendants, or the woman who needs few? Is not this the disgrace? For it is a disgrace to do anything that is out of place.

Tell me, who draws the eyes of the people in the public squares: the woman who brings many in her train, or the one who brings only a few? And is not the woman who goes out alone noticed even less than the one with a few attendants? Do you see that the first is the disgrace? Who draws the eyes of the people in the public squares: the woman who wears beautiful clothes, or the one dressed simply and plainly? Again, who draws them: the woman carried along by mules, with harness decorated with gold, or the one who walks out simply and, it may be, modestly? The second we do not even look at, if we notice her at all. But for the first, the crowds not only push their way forward to see her, but also ask, “Who is she? Where is she from?” And I say nothing of how much envy this stirs up. So tell me, which is the disgrace: to be stared at, or not to be stared at? When is the shame greater: when everyone gazes at her, or when no one does? When they make inquiries about her, or when they do not even care? Do you see that we do everything not for modesty’s sake but for empty glory?

However, since it is impossible to draw you away from that, I am content for the present if you learn that this way of going out is no disgrace. Sin alone is a disgrace, and no one thinks it a disgrace; people think everything else is, rather than this.

Let your clothing be what you need, not more than you need. But so as not to hem you in too narrowly, this I assure you: we have no need of gold ornaments, or of lace. And it is not I who say this. To show you that the words are not mine, listen to the blessed Paul solemnly charging women “to adorn themselves not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly clothing” (First Timothy 2, verse 9). But with what kind, Paul? Tell us. For perhaps they will say that only golden things are costly, and that silks are not. Tell us what kind you mean. “But having food and clothing,” he says, “let us be content with these” (First Timothy 6, verse 8). Let our garment be such as merely covers us. God gave us clothing for this reason, to cover our nakedness, and any sort of garment can do that, even one that costs very little. Perhaps you laugh, you who wear dresses of silk. And truly one may well laugh, considering what Paul commanded and what we practice!

But what I am saying is not addressed to women only; it is for men as well. For all the rest of what we have is more than we need. Only the poor possess nothing beyond their need, and perhaps even they only from necessity, since if it had been in their power, they too would not have kept away from such things. Still, “whether in pretense or in truth” (Philippians 1, verse 18), so far they have nothing beyond their need.

Let us, then, wear such clothes as meet our need. For what is the point of all that gold? These things suit the people on the stage; this dress belongs to them, to prostitutes, to those who do everything in order to be looked at. Let the woman on the stage or the dancing floor make herself beautiful, for she wants to draw everyone to herself. But a woman who professes godliness must not beautify herself like that, but in a different way. You have a way of making yourself beautiful that is far better than that. You too have a theater. For that theater make yourself beautiful; clothe yourself with those ornaments. What is your theater? Heaven, the company of the angels. I am not speaking of the virgins only, but also of those who live in the world. All who believe in Christ have that theater. Let us say the kind of things that will please those spectators. Put on the kind of clothes that will delight them.

For tell me: suppose a prostitute put aside her gold ornaments and her robes, her laughter and her witty, unchaste talk, put on a cheap garment, dressed herself simply, and came on stage, and spoke religious words, and talked about chastity, and said nothing indecent. Would not everyone get up and leave? Would not the theater empty? Would they not throw her out as a woman who does not know how to suit herself to the crowd, and who speaks things foreign to that satanic theater? So it is with you. If you come into the theater of heaven dressed in her clothes, the spectators will throw you out. For there is no need there of these golden clothes, but of different ones. Of what kind? Of the kind the prophet names: “clothed in fringed work of gold, and in many colors” (Psalm 45, verse 13), not so as to make the body white and glistening, but so as to beautify the soul. For it is the soul that is contending and wrestling in that theater. “All the glory of the King’s daughter is from within” (Psalm 45, verse 13), it says.

Clothe yourself with these. For in this way you free yourself from countless other evils, and you free your husband from anxiety and yourself from care. In this way you will be respected by your husband, when you do not need many things. For every man tends to keep his distance from those who make requests of him; but when he sees that they have no need of him, then he lets his pride down and talks with them as equals. When your husband sees that you need nothing from him, that you think little of the presents that come from him, then, even if he is very arrogant, he will respect you more than if you were dressed in gold ornaments, and you will no longer be his slave. For we are forced to bow down to those we depend on. But if we hold our wants in check, we will no longer be looked on as culprits; he knows that we obey him out of the fear of God, not for what he gives us. As things are now, since he grants us great favors, whatever honor he receives, he thinks he has not received all that is due to him. But then, even if he receives only a little, he will count it a favor. He will not reproach you, and he will not himself be driven to grasp at what belongs to others on your account.

For what is more unreasonable than to provide gold ornaments to be worn in the baths and in the marketplaces? Yet in the baths and the marketplaces it is perhaps no wonder. But for a woman to come into church decked out like this is utterly ridiculous. For what possible reason does she come in here wearing gold ornaments, she who ought to come in so as to hear the command “that they adorn themselves not with gold, or pearls, or costly clothing” (First Timothy 2, verse 9)? Why, then, do you come, my friend? Is it to fight with Paul, and to show that even if he says these things ten thousand times, you pay them no attention? Or is it to put us, your teachers, to shame, as people who speak on these subjects in vain?

For tell me: suppose a pagan and unbeliever has a believing wife, and has heard the passage read where the blessed Paul says these things. He sees that she makes a great deal of beautifying herself and puts on gold ornaments in order to come into church and hear Paul charging the women to adorn themselves not with “gold” (First Timothy 2, verse 9), nor with “pearls,” nor with “costly clothing.” When he sees her in her little room putting these things on and arranging them beautifully, will he not say to himself: “Why is my wife staying in her little room? Why is she so slow? Why is she putting on her gold ornaments? Where does she have to go? To church? What for? To hear ‘not with costly clothing’?” Will he not smile? Will he not burst out laughing? Will he not think our religion a mockery and a fraud?

So I beg you, let us leave gold ornaments to processions, to theaters, to the signs on shops. But let not the image of God be decked out with these things. Let the lady be adorned with true nobility, and nobility is freedom from pride and from boastful display. In fact, even if you want to win glory from people, this is how you will win it. For we do not marvel so much that a rich man’s wife wears gold and silk, since that is what they all commonly do, as when she is dressed in a plain, simple garment made only of wool. This everyone will admire; this they will applaud. For in that other adornment of gold ornaments and costly clothes she has many to share it with her. If she outdoes one, she is outdone by another. Yes, even if she outdoes everyone, she must give way to the empress herself. But in the other case she outdoes everyone, even the emperor’s wife herself. For she alone, in her wealth, has chosen the dress of the poor. So even if we want glory, here too the glory is greater.

I say this not only to widows and to the rich (for in the case of widows the necessity of widowhood seems to bring this about), but also to those who have a husband. “But I do not please my husband if I dress plainly.” It is not your husband you want to please, but the crowd of poor women; or rather, not to please them, but to make them pine with envy, to hurt them, and to make their poverty heavier. How many blasphemies are uttered because of you! “Let there be no poverty!” “God hates the poor!” “God does not love those who are poor!” And that it is not your husband you want to please, that this is not why you deck yourself out, you make plain to everyone by what you yourself do. For as soon as you have crossed the threshold of your room, you immediately take everything off, the robes, the gold ornaments and the pearls, and at home, of all places, you do not wear them.

But if you really want to please your husband, there are ways to please him: by mildness, by gentleness, by modest behavior. For believe me, my friend, even if your husband is utterly depraved, these are the things that will win him more effectively: mildness, modest behavior, freedom from pride and from expense and extravagance. For even if you devise ten thousand such things, you will not hold back a debauched man. Women who have had such husbands know this. However you may beautify yourself, a debauched husband will go off to a courtesan; while a husband who is chaste and orderly you will win not by these means, but by the opposite. Indeed, by these things you even cause him pain, as you clothe yourself with the reputation of a woman in love with the world. For suppose your husband says nothing, out of respect and because he is a self-controlled man; inwardly he will still condemn you, and he will not hide his ill will and jealousy. Will you not drive away all pleasure for the future by stirring up ill will against yourself?

Perhaps you are annoyed at hearing what is said, and indignant, saying: “He is setting husbands even more against their wives.” I say this not to set your husbands against you. I want you to do these things willingly, for your own sakes, not for theirs; not to free them from envy, but to free you from the parade of this life.

Do you want to look beautiful? I want that too, but with the beauty God looks for, the beauty “the King desires” (Psalm 45, verse 11). Whom would you have as your lover, God or men? If you are beautiful with that beauty, God will “desire your beauty”; but if you have the other beauty apart from this, he will loathe you, and your lovers will be debauched men. For no man who loves a married woman is good. Consider this even with regard to outward adornment. For the one adornment, I mean that of the soul, draws God; but this other draws debauched men. Do you see that I care for you, that I am anxious for you, that you may be beautiful, truly beautiful, splendid, truly splendid, that instead of debauched men you may have God, the Lord of all, as your lover? And the woman who has him as her lover, whom will she be like? She has her place among the choirs of the angels. For if a woman loved by a king is thought happier than all others, what will be the dignity of the one whom God loves with great love? Even if you put the whole world in the balance against it, there is nothing equal to that beauty.

This beauty, then, let us cultivate; with these ornaments let us adorn ourselves, so that we may pass into the heavens, into the spiritual chambers, into the bridal chamber that is undefiled. For this other beauty can be destroyed by anything. And even when it lasts well, and neither sickness nor anxiety damages it (which is impossible), it does not last twenty years. But the other is always blooming, always in its prime. There, there is no change to fear: no old age comes to bring a wrinkle, no creeping sickness withers it, no dejected worry spoils it; it is far above all these things. But this earthly beauty flies away before it has appeared, and if it does appear, it does not have many admirers. For people of well-ordered minds do not admire it, and those who do admire it admire it with lust.

So let us not cultivate this beauty, but the other. Let us have that, so that we may pass into the bridal chamber with bright torches. For this has been promised not to virgins only, but to virgin souls. If it had belonged simply to virgins, those five would not have been shut out. It belongs, then, to all who are virgins in soul, who are set free from worldly imaginings, for these imaginings corrupt our souls. If, then, we remain unpolluted, we will go there and be welcomed. “For I have betrothed you,” he says, “to one husband, to present you as a chaste virgin to Christ” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 2). He said these things not with reference to the virgins, but to the whole body of the entire church. For the uncorrupted soul is a virgin, even if she has a husband. She is a virgin in what is virginity indeed, the virginity worthy of admiration. For the virginity of the body is only the companion and shadow of the other, while that is the true virginity. Let us cultivate this, and so we will be able to look on the Bridegroom with a cheerful face and to go in with bright torches, if the oil does not fail us, if by melting down our gold ornaments we get the kind of oil that makes our lamps bright. And this oil is kindness to others.

If we share what we have with others, if we make oil from it, then it will protect us. We will not say at that time, “Give us oil, for our lamps are going out” (Matthew 25, verse 8). We will not beg from others, nor be shut out when we have gone off to those who sell, nor will we hear, while we are knocking at the doors, that fearful and terrible voice, “I do not know you” (Matthew 25, verse 12). No, he will acknowledge us, and we will go in with the Bridegroom, and once we have entered the spiritual bridal chamber we will enjoy countless good things.

For if here a bridal chamber is so bright, and its rooms so splendid that no one tires of looking at them, how much more there! Heaven is the chamber, and the bridal chamber is better than heaven; and then we will go in. But if the bridal chamber is so beautiful, what will the Bridegroom be like?

And why do I say, “Let us put away our gold ornaments and give to the needy”? Even if you had to sell yourselves, even if you had to become slaves instead of free women, so as to be able to be with that Bridegroom, to enjoy that beauty, or simply to look on that face, ought you not to welcome everything with a ready mind? We gaze at a king on earth and admire him; but when we see one who is both king and bridegroom, how much more readily ought we to welcome him! Truly, these things are a shadow, while those are the reality. And a King and a Bridegroom in heaven! To be counted worthy to go before him with torches, to be near him, to be with him always: what ought we not to do? What should we not carry out? What should we not endure? I beg you, let us conceive some desire for those blessings. Let us long for that Bridegroom. Let us be virgins in the true virginity, for the Lord looks for the virginity of the soul. With this let us enter heaven, “not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing” (Ephesians 5, verse 27), so that we may also attain the good things promised. May we all share in them through the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ our Lord, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.