The Feast of St. Thomas: Belief, Doubt, Knowledge, Love and Power

As we do the Sunday after celebrating Christ’s Resurrection at Easter, so a few days prior to our celebration of his nativity at Christmas the Church remembers St. Thomas the Apostle on December 21. This is significant in more than one way…and far more than coincidental. It is a recurring message about what it means to be a Christian disciple.

St. Thomas is presented to us in the Gospel according to John as both an impetuous man of zeal (“Let us go with him, that we may die with him!”), and a man of limited faith and understanding when in the Upper Room he doubts the reports of Jesus’ resurrection. In this, he very much reflects the character of our own hot-and-cold belief.

However, Thomas is uniquely give na direct and physical encounter with the Risen Christ. There, his doubts are confronted with knowledge based on experience. At that moment, he could have continued to doubt—laying the experience up to some kind of delusion or ghost or hysteria. But instead, he confesses Christ as Savior, in the famous words “My Lord and my God!” From that moment on, Thomas becomes an Apostle in the fullest sense. He is sent by God’s power—and in that power—to proclaim a message and reality greater than himself or his limitations. This is the story of Christian mission and witness, all in one person.

The obvious question for many today is: Why do we find it so hard to do this? Some will say it is because we no longer live in an age of belief or faith; rather, we live in a scientific era, a time of facts and data. But, do world events truly support this? Does the experience of day-to-day life and interaction actually demonstrate we live in some sort of logical, rational world of more highly-evolved beings? I would say this is essentially ridiculous and self-deluding.

I find we are no different from Thomas. We are people on the one hand of tremendous credulity—who hasn’t thrown him or herself in the service of an idea, a movement, a cause, a personality, or an identity at one time or another?—and yet also of doubt, skepticism, and careful avoidance of commitment to anything outside of our own limited experience and opinions. We, too, run hot-and-cold. Times may have changed, and the tools and fashions and the manner of access to knowledge may have changed, but the essence of the human person has remained completely the same.

What separates us from Thomas—far more than years—is the problem of what T.S. Eliot referred to as the “dissociation of sensibility.” This means a break on the deepest level of our being between our intellect and experience. In our day, it simply is much harder to have a unified experience of reality than it was in ages past. We are fragmented, shattered beings, in ways unimaginable to that Apostle. An artificial wall between ourselves and others, between ourselves and our senses, between our selves and the Creation exists—leading to a wall between our improvised “self” and the self-in-communion where we meet God. This wall has served to isolate us from everyone and everything. Consumerism is an outward manifestation of this wall, but its foundations go much deeper into our souls and higher into or intellect, restricting our already limited view of life and reality even further.

This condition convinces us that we are each uniquely able to abstract ourselves from our body and era and see things “as they really are,” while at the same time isolating us utterly in our own narrowness. When we do seek others, we typically do so today in order to have mere confirmation of our own views, surrounding ourselves with like-minded practitioners rather than immersing ourselves in a world of difference united by a common humanity and an experience of God’s presence. This is one of the ways, St. Paul might observe, that the principle of Death operates in us, fueling our increasing need to seek false communion in drugs, money, sex, and all the myriad paths of our passions. Like Thomas, we are absent precisely when we should be present…and miss the blessing of God present to us in community and trial.

This isolation, so well portrayed in Thomas’s absence from the other disciples when Christ manifested himself to them in the Upper Room on the day of Resurrection, impoverishes us deeply, robbing us of the fellowship of faith that allows us to experience the power of God when we ourselves have no power in us.

This is one of the main reasons certain church communities languish in our day: they have absented themselves (for whatever reason) from the fellowship of faith, and rely on their own energy to get them through a dark time. It cannot work, and is being judged by a loving and always truthful God even now.

What Thomas shows is more than human failing, however. He shows that when we decide to “come in from the cold” and rejoin the fellowship of faith, our God is able to reach through the barriers we have erected and open the prison-doors of our hearts. God, who is Love, has placed the desire for love within us, and when we finally open our hearts to this love, we find that we were bathing in a sea of Divine Love all along. We had simply learned to ignore it.

St. Thomas exemplifies both the risks and the possibilities of Christian discipleship. That discipleship cannot exist without the active presence of God in it, and that presence is sustained by Love—God’s love for us, and our love for God, neighbor, and Creation. The goal is not doctrinal smugness or intellectual mastery, but a love so total that it opens the doors of our hearts to the Mystery around us, resulting in works of mercy and compassion that are the sign of a living faith. The measure of this will then be found by the stories of humans who meet the Risen Lord and find ourselves joining Thomas by saying “My Lord and my God!”

Here is a passage from a sermon by St. Gregory the Great on the subject of St. Thomas. I pray that you may find it as helpful and meaningful as I have.

      Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. He was the only disciple absent; on his return he heard what had happened but refused to believe it. The Lord came a second time; he offered his side for the disbelieving disciple to touch, held out his hands, and showing the scars of his wounds, healed the wound of his disbelief. 

     Dearly beloved, what do you see in these events? Do you really believe that it was by chance that this chosen disciple was absent, then came and heard, heard and doubted, doubted and touched, touched and believed? It was not by chance but in God’s providence. In a marvelous way God’s mercy arranged that the disbelieving disciple, in touching the wounds of his master’s body, should heal our wounds of disbelief. The disbelief of Thomas has done more for our faith than the faith of the other disciples. As he touches Christ and is won over to belief, every doubt is cast aside and our faith is strengthened. So the disciple who doubted, then felt Christ’s wounds, becomes a witness to the reality of the resurrection.  

     Touching Christ, he cried out: My Lord and my God. Jesus said to him: Because you have seen me, Thomas, you have believed. Paul said: Faith is the guarantee of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen. It is clear, then, that faith is the proof of what can not be seen. What is seen gives knowledge, not faith. When Thomas saw and touched, why was he told: You have believed because you have seen me? Because what he saw and what he believed were different things. God cannot be seen by mortal man. Thomas saw a human being, whom he acknowledged to be God, and said: My Lord and my God. Seeing, he believed; looking at one who was true man, he cried out that this was God, the God he could not see. 

            What follows is reason for great joy: Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed. There is here a particular reference to ourselves; we hold in our hearts one we have not seen in the flesh. We are included in these words, but only if we follow up our faith with good works. The true believer practices what he believes. But of those who pay only lip service to faith, Paul has this to say: They profess to know God, but they deny him in their works. Therefore James says: Faith without works is dead.

Collect for the Feast of St. Thomas

Everliving God, who strengthened your apostle Thomas with firm and certain faith in your Son's resurrection: Grant us so perfectly and without doubt to believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God, that our faith may never be found wanting in your sight; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Taking Time to Remember one's Vows

The Right Reverend
George Ridding, First Bishop
of Southwell

At roughly the turn of each season, the Church sets aside a series of days (called Ember Days) to pray for its ministry. These prayers are not limited to the ordained, but prayer for those who have taken the vows of ordination is a longstanding part of this season, and for very good reason.

The ordained have a power and influence in the Church that can be used for good, or for much ill; they can be icons of Christ for many to see, or can obscure Christ for that same multitude. It is a daunting and humbling calling, and all of us who are ordained must take those vows very seriously, reflecting on the state of our vocation on a regular basis. But how?

One way is to review the vows made at the time of ordination. This sets the context and recalls the expectations placed upon us. Ordination vows, in turn, are based on our vows in Confirmation and Holy Baptism. All of these should be borne in mind as we prayerfully come before God to see the truth of our journey thus far.

But more is needed for this examination to be substantial. It is easy to run through the Ordination liturgy  and perform a kind of checklist, rather than to consider the complex spiritual terrain of being under orders in the Church. This is where some other tool comes in.

For Anglicans, one of the most effective such tools ever produced was the "Litany of Remembrance" by George Ridding, first Bishop of Southwell in nineteenth-century England. This litany (sometimes referred to as the "Southwell Litany") allows for a subtle, considered, compassionate-without-delusion analysis of one's life in Holy Orders. While some parts are rather dated (and the language is, at times, deliciously Victorian), the litany as a whole is still remarkably perceptive, insightful, and bracing.

I commend this tool to all who are ordained. It addresses many of the problems that dog clergy in every era. It may prompt one to seek the benefit of confession or spiritual counsel. It may also give the reader hope in God's renewing grace, for it acknowledges from the start that we are weak, sinful, and by ourselves unable to fulfill the ministry we have been given…but that the God who called us most assuredly can (and will) make up the lack if we but turn to him in humility and faithfulness.

This is the message that all clergy, in all ages, need to hear and live by at Embertide and always!

A blessed Advent Embertide to you all!

Litany of Remembrance

Commonly called “The Southwell Litany”

[Dr. George Ridding, first Bishop of Southwell, who composed this Litany for use at meetings of his clergy, was accustomed to introduce it with the following words:

Seeing, brethren, that we are weak men but entrusted with a great office, and that we cannot but be liable to hinder the work entrusted to us by our infirmities of body, soul, and spirit, both those common to all men and those specially attaching to our office, let us pray God to save us and help us from the several weaknesses which beset us severally, that he will make us know what faults we have not known, that he will shew us the harm of what we have not cared to control, that he will give us strength and wisdom to do more perfectly the work to which our lives have been consecrated--for no less service than the honor of God and the edifying of his Church. I will ask you to let me first say the suffrage to each petition, and then all join in repeating it together; after which a short pause shall be made.

Let us pray.]

O Lord, open our minds to see ourselves as Thou seest us, or even as others see us and we see others, and from all unwillingness to know our infirmities,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From moral weakness of spirit; from timidity; from hesitation; from fear of men and dread of responsibility, strengthen us with courage to speak the truth in love and self-control; and alike from the weakness of hasty violence and weakness of moral cowardice,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From weakness of judgment; from the indecision that can make no choice; from the irresolution that carries no choice into act; and from losing opportunities to serve Thee,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From infirmity of purpose; from want of earnest care and interest; from the sluggishness of indolence, and the slackness of indifference; and from all spiritual deadness of heart,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From dullness of conscience; from feeble sense of duty; from thoughtless disregard of consequences to others; from a low idea of the obligations of our Christian calling; and from all half-heartedness in our service for Thee,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From weariness in continuing struggles; from despondency in failure and disappointment; from overburdened sense of unworthiness; from morbid fancies of imaginary backslidings, raise us to a lively hope and trust in Thy presence and mercy, in the power of faith and prayer; and from all exaggerated fears and vexations,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From self-conceit, vanity and boasting; from delight in supposed success and superiority, raise us to the modesty and humility of true sense and taste and reality; and from all harms and hindrances of offensive manners and self-assertion,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From affectation and untruth, conscious or unconscious; from pretence and acting a part, which is hypocrisy; from impulsive self-adaptation to the moment in unreality to please persons or make circumstances easy, strengthen us to manly simplicity; and from all false appearances,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From love of flattery; from over-ready belief in praise; from dislike of criticism; from the comfort of self-deception in persuading ourselves that others think better than the truth of us,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From all love of display and sacrifice to popularity; from thought of ourselves in forgetfulness of Thee in our worship; hold our minds in spiritual reverence; and in all our words and works from all self-glorification,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From pride and self-will; from desire to have our own way in all things; from overweening love of our own ideas and blindness to the value of others; from resentment against opposition and contempt for the claims of others; enlarge the generosity of our hearts and enlighten the fairness of our judgments; and from all selfish arbitrariness of temper,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From all jealousy, whether of equals or superiors; from grudging others success; from impatience of submission and eagerness for authority; give us the spirit of brotherhood to share loyally with fellow-workers in all true proportions; and from all insubordination to law, order and authority,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From all hasty utterances of impatience; from the retort of irritation and the taunt of sarcasm; from all infirmity of temper in provoking or being provoked; from love of unkind gossip, and from all idle words that may do hurt,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

In all times of temptation to follow pleasure, to leave duty for amusement, to indulge in distraction and dissipation, in dishonesty and debt, to degrade our high calling and forget our Christian vows, and in all times of frailty in our flesh,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

In all times of ignorance and perplexity as to what is right and best to do, do Thou, O Lord, direct us with wisdom to judge aright, order our ways and overrule our circumstances as Thou canst in Thy good Providence; and in our mistakes and misunderstandings,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

In times of doubts and questionings, when our belief is perplexed by new learning, new thought, when our faith is strained by creeds, by doctrines, by mysteries beyond our understanding, give us the faithfulness of learners and the courage of believers in Thee; alike from stubborn rejection of new revelations, and from hasty assurance that we are wiser than our fathers,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

From strife and partisanship and division among the brethren, from magnifying our certainties to condemn all differences from all arrogance in our dealings with all men,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

Give us knowledge of ourselves, our powers and weaknesses, our spirit, our sympathy, our imagination, our knowledge, our truth; teach us by the standard of Thy Word, by the judgments of others, by examinations of ourselves; give us earnest desire to strengthen ourselves continually by study, by diligence, by prayer and meditation; and from all fancies, delusions, and prejudices of habit, or temper, or society,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

Give us true knowledge of our brethren in their differences from us and in their likenesses to us, that we may deal with their real selves, not measuring their feelings by our own, but patiently considering their varied lives and thoughts and circumstances; and in all our relations to them, from false judgments of our own, from misplaced trust and distrust, from misplaced giving and refusing, from misplaced praise and rebuke,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

Chiefly, O Lord, we pray Thee, give us knowledge of Thee, to see Thee in all Thy works, always to feel Thy presence near, to hear and know Thy call. May Thy Spirit be our will, and in all our shortcomings and infirmities may we have sure faith in Thee,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

Finally, O Lord, we humbly beseech Thee, blot out our past transgressions, heal the evils of our past negligences and ignorances, make us amend our past mistakes and misunderstandings; uplift our hearts to new love, new energy and devotion, that we may be unburdened from the grief and shame of past faithlessness to go forth in Thy strength to persevere through success and failure, through good report and evil report, even to the end; and in all time of our tribulation, in all time of our prosperity,

Save us and help us, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord.

O Christ, hear us.

Lord, have mercy upon us.

Christ, have mercy upon us.

Lord, have mercy upon us.

Our Father…

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all forever. Amen.

Detail of the monument to Dr. Ridding
in prayer at
Southwell Minster

Bearing Light on the Light-Bearer's Night

St. Lucy before her earthly judge, showing the power
and eloquence of one who cares only for the
judgment of God.

Today is the commemoration of St. Lucy, whose name in Latin (Lucia) is from the word for light.

Lucy's story, from Sicily during the early fourth century Great Persecution under the Emperor Diocletian, is both inspiring and very painful reading. It is painful because of the way humans can treat each other in their lust for control and supremacy, and inspiring because through it all Christ is exalted as the highest good, the deepest love. Make no mistake: loyalty to Christ will put us at enmity with the world.

Lucy wanted to follow Christ rather than play out the often sordid, mechanistic charade of marriage in the Roman Empire's nobility. She was deeply moved by the witness of St. Agatha (also a virgin martyr, also from Sicily) some decades earlier, and she wanted to consecrate her life to prayer and works of mercy. Her family would not consent to this; Lucy's opposition to their plans led, ultimately, to her martyrdom.

At the core of her witness is her name: "Light." Lucy was gripped by the knowledge, the experience that following Christ means walking in the light of truth, of mercy, of conviction. She knew that there could be no compromises about this in the end. Her conflict was, in part, one of loyalties. As with many of the early Virgin Martyrs of Christianity, she raised her voice in opposition to the bonds of familial piety--which was ultimately connected by the Roman legal mind in a direct chain of loyalties back to the Emperor himself--and asserted a final loyalty to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords: Christ Jesus.

As a parish priest, I often see peoples' eyes glaze over a bit when we talk about some of the ancient martyrs. This is partly because they are spoken of as museum pieces rather than real human beings. But, they were real enough. They were complicated, sometimes uncertain, and always prone to the same temptations as we are. But they are remembered because they chose Light, rather than darkness. They called upon God and were witnesses to the power of a kind of Life that is bigger even than biological life: the Life of God. That same choice is ours, today, now.

There are so many martyrs being made around the world at this moment that one could rightly call this the "New Age of the Martyrs." But, we need to remember that martyrdom means being a witness (in this case, to death); and such witnessing comes in all sorts of types and forms.

For example: I know of people who have been witnesses to the power of God by taking serious the light they are being offered in Christ--seriously enough to confront the tremendous damage they observed and absorbed at an earlier stage in life and to seek deep healing of this damage. Such work is costly and laborious. But, when such people begin to show Christ's light--rather than the darkness and pain of our broken and sinful world--they become powerful witnesses to the ongoing presence and transforming character of the Christian life. By glorifying God and telling about the source of their healing, they join St. Lucy in a life of good works and light-bearing.

There are many light-bearers in the Church this evening; people who would not consider themselves for one moment "martyrs" or "confessors" of the Faith, but who are doing just that. I suppose it is best to let them continue on in the sense that they are "only trying to follow Jesus," because that is the best message they can give: but, God bless them. They are the Lucys we all need in the dark night of this world's trials and competing loyalties.

Collect for St. Lucy

Loving God, for the salvation of all you gave Jesus Christ as light to a world in darkness: Illumine us, with your daughter Lucy, with the light of Christ, that by the merits of his passion we may be led to eternal life; through the same Jesus Christ, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

St. Andrew: Apostle, Evangelist, Model for Discipleship

Today is the feast of St. Andrew, Apostle—and brother of St. Peter. Andrew’s feast usually falls in Advent, but this year it precedes it by one day. 

As we end the Church Year, it is a good time to think about the foundations of that year, especially the mystery of our salvation. Since St. Andrew is my ordination patron, his witness is particularly significant to me.

By tradition, Andrew was martyred through crucifixion on an X-shaped cross. What follows is a meditation on that scene, as written by the great preacher, teacher, and biblical scholar Bernard of Clairvaux. Bernard recalls it in detail, especially the aspect of the story about St. Andrew going joyfully—and without fear—to his cross. This portion of his sermon is focused on the reason for St. Andrew's attitude toward suffering and death.

Bernard reminds us we are in essence no different from St. Andrew. We must each take up our own cross, not in our own strength, but in the strength of God. When we do this, we find that the cross is not the source of shame and foolishness the world sees, but the unique and holy access point to the unlimited Power of God. In this way, St. Andrew’s story is a constant source of encouragement to us in our own struggles.

From a Sermon by St. Bernard of Clairvaux, Abbot

Today we celebrate the feast of St. Andrew. If we attentively meditate upon it, we shall find in it much food for our spirit.

You must have noticed that St. Andrew, when he came to the place where the cross was prepared, was strengthened in the Lord and started uttering fiery words, being inspired by the Spirit whom he had received together with the other apostles, in the form of tongues of fire. His mouth spoke from the abundance of the heart, and the charity that burned in him gave ardor to his voice.

And what did St. Andrew say when he saw the cross that been put up for him? “O cross,” he said, “long desired and now offered to my soul’s desires! I come to you full of joy and assurance. Receive me then with gladness, for I am the disciple of him who hung from your arms.”

Whence then came to that man such astonishing joy and exultation? Where did he, so frail a creature, get so much constancy? Where did he get so spiritual a soul, so fervent a charity, and so strong a will? Let us not imagine he got that great courage from himself. It was the perfect gift issued from the Father of lights, from him who alone produces marvels. It was the Holy Spirit who came to help his weakness and filled his soul with the charity strong as death, and even stronger than death.

May it please God to make us share in that Spirit! For if now the effort of conversion is painful to us, and if we are vexed by watchings, the only reason is our spiritual indigence. If the Spirit were present to us, he surely would come to help our weakness. What he has done for St. Andrew when he faced the cross and death, he would do also for us: removing from the labor of our conversion its painful character, he would render it desirable and even delicious. “My Spirit, says the Lord, “is sweeter than honey,” so much so that the most bitter death could not lessen its sweetness.

We must take up our cross with St. Andrew, or rather with him whom he himself has followed, the Lord, our Savior. The cause of his joy and his exultation was that he died not only with him, but like him, and that he was so intimately united to his death and to his sufferings that he would also reign with him.

Let us too listen, with the ears of our heart, to the voice of the Lord who invites us to share his cross: “If any wish to be my followers, they must deny themselves and take up their cross, and follow in my steps.” For our salvation is found on the cross, provided we courageously are attached to it. “The message of the cross,” the Apostle [Paul] tells us, “is complete absurdity to those who are headed for ruin, but to us, who are experiencing salvation, it is the power of God.”

St. Bernard of Clairvaux, [1153]

from the Second Sermon for the Feast of St. Andrew

Collect for the Feast of St. Andrew

Almighty God, who gave such grace to your apostle Andrew that he readily obeyed the call of your Son Jesus Christ, and brought his brother with him: Give us, who are called by your Holy Word, grace to follow him without delay, and to bring those near to us into his gracious presence; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Celebrating a Holy, not merely a happy, Thanksgiving

The Collect for Thanksgiving Day from the Book of Common Prayer

Almighty and gracious Father, we give you thanks for the fruits of the earth in their season and for the labors of those who harvest them. Make us, we pray, faithful stewards of your great bounty, for the provision of our necessities and the relief of all who are in need, to the glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Below are words from St. Basil the Great: bishop, theologian, spiritual guide. He lived during the fourth century. He was a highly insightful pastor of souls. One of his chief concerns was to motivate Christians to be generous and live truly thankful lives…lives filled with “eucharist” to God.

Thanksgiving Day is often spoken of and experienced as largely a celebration of family and the happy, cozy family atmosphere. But for the Christian, this is not its deepest or most significant meaning. For us, Thanksgiving must be a crystallization of lives lived with gratitude and concrete acts of generosity and service to those in need—the “Christ in our midst” who is so easily forgotten when we focus on mere physical or sentimental “happiness.” This is why this reading from St. Basil has special significance today. As the Thanksgiving Day collect notes, this is not a personal but a communal feast, one that may only really be celebrated by Christians if the rest of the year expresses the generosity of God to and through us.

For this day truly to be a Holy Day in the Calendar of the Church, it must be a celebration of Christ’s call—and our response—to live holy lives of thankfulness expressed in mercy, giving, and compassion. If we have not cared to do so before, let today mark the beginning of a new life of thanksgiving-in-action. Then—and only then—may we feast in the justice and purity of Christ’s Kingdom, of which today’s Eucharist and earthly banquets are a foretaste.

Take care that the destiny of the “wicked rich” is not yours. Their history has been written to help us avoid being like them. Therefore, imitate the earth: like it, you should bring forth fruit; do not show yourselves worse than something which has no soul. It is not for her own pleasure that the earth brings forth her fruits; it is for your service.

But you have this advantage, that the benefits of your benevolence will ultimately return to you; for benefactors always reap the reward of the good they have done. You have given to the poor; what you have given is returned to you with interest. The wheat, when it falls to the ground, produces for the sower. Similarly, the bread that you hive to the poor is a source of future profits. Therefore, may the end of labors be for you the beginning of celestial sowing: “Sow for yourselves righteousness,” says Scripture.

Why then torment yourself so much and make so many efforts to preserve your riches behind mortar and bricks? “A good name is more desirable than great riches.” You love money because of the consideration it procures for you. Think how much greater will be your renown if one can call you a parent, protector of thousands of children, rather than if you keep thousands of gold pieces hidden away. Whether you like it or not, you will surely have to leave your money behind one day; on the contrary, the glory of all the good you have done will go with you before the sovereign Master, when an entire people will hasten to defend you before the Judge of all things, and will confer titles showing that you nourished and assisted them, and that you have been good.

One sees people throw their fortune to wrestlers, to comedians, to repugnant gladiators—and all this in theatres, for a moment’s glory, for the noisy acclamation of the people. And would you count the cost when you can elevate yourself to so great a glory? God will approve of you, the angels will acclaim you, and all who have lived since the creation of the world will celebrate your happiness: an imperishable glory, a crown of justice, the kingdom of heaven—such will be the prizes that you will receive.

St. Basil the Great,

from a Sermon on Love

as translated by J. Robert Wright.