One Hearer with Contrary Passions

It is indeed hard work for the preacher, in his public preaching, to keep an eye on the hidden feelings and motives of individuals and, like a wrestler in the palaestra, to turn himself skillfully to either side. Yet he is worn out by far harder work when he is obliged to preach to one person who is subject to contrary vices. For it often happens that someone is of too cheerful a temperament, and yet a sudden sadness rises up and weighs him down beyond measure. So the preacher must take care to remove the passing sadness in such a way that the cheerfulness of his temperament is not increased, and to curb the cheerfulness of his temperament in such a way that the passing sadness is not made worse. One man is burdened by a habit of excessive haste, and yet at times the force of a fear suddenly born keeps him from doing what ought to be done quickly. Another is burdened by a habit of excessive fear, and yet at times is driven on in what he desires by the rashness of excessive haste. In the first, then, let the fear that suddenly arises be held down in such a way that his long-nourished haste does not grow further. In the second, let the haste that suddenly arises be held down in such a way that the fear stamped on him by his temperament does not gather strength. [a]

And indeed, what is strange about physicians of souls being on their guard in these things, when those who heal not hearts but bodies conduct themselves with such skill and discernment? For it often happens that extreme faintness weighs down a weak body. That faintness ought to be met with strong remedies, and yet the weak body cannot bear a strong remedy. So the one who treats the case takes care to draw off the illness that has come on in such a way that the weakness already in the body is in no way increased, for fear that the faintness should pass away along with the life. He therefore compounds his remedy with such discernment that it meets both the faintness and the weakness at one and the same time. If, then, medicine for the body, given undivided, can serve in a divided way, why should medicine for the soul, applied in one and the same preaching, not have power to meet moral diseases in different directions? And this medicine works the more subtly because the things it deals with are invisible.