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| Ephesians 4.31
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Homily XV.
Ephesians iv. 31
“Let all bitterness, and
wrath, and anger, and clamor, and railing, be put away from you, with
all malice.”
As bees353
| 353 [Chrysostom seems to have observed everything, and he had the
“homiletical habit,” as Dr. Shedd calls it (Hom. p. 108),
in gathering material for illustration. What has been said of a great
modern preacher, may be said of Chrysostom: “He watched ships and
sailors; he acquainted himself with the customs, good and bad, of
commercial life; he curiously inspected a great variety of mechanical
processes; he closely observed agricultural operations, and the various
phases of rural life; he constantly saw and heard what occurred in his
own home and other homes; and always and everywhere he asked himself,
What is this like? what will this illustrate?” Dr. Broadus, in
Preparation and Delivery of Sermons.—G.A.] | will never settle down in an
unclean vessel,—and this is the reason why those who are skilled
in these matters sprinkle the spot with perfumes, and scented
ointments, and sweet odors; and the wicker baskets also, in which they
will have to settle as soon as they come out of the hives they sprinkle
with fragrant wines, and all other sweets, that there may be no noisome
smell to annoy them, and drive them away again,—so in truth is it
also with the Holy Spirit. Our soul is a sort of vessel or basket,
capable of receiving the swarms of spiritual gifts; but if there shall
be within it gall, and “bitterness, and wrath,” the swarms
will fly away. Hence this blessed and wise husbandman well and
thoroughly cleanses our vessels, withholding neither knife nor any
other instrument of iron, and invites us to this spiritual swarm; and
as he gathers it, he cleanses us with prayers, and labors, and all the
rest. Mark then how he cleanses out our heart. He has banished lying,
he has banished anger. Now, again, he is pointing out how that evil may
be yet more entirely eradicated; if we be not, saith he,
“bitter” in spirit. For it is as is wont to happen with our
bile, if there chance to be but little of it, there will be but little
disturbance if the receptacle should burst: but if ever the strength
and acridness of this quality becomes excessive, the vessel which
before held it, containing it no longer, is as if it were eaten through
by a scorching fire, and it is no longer able to hold it and contain it
within its appointed bounds, but, rent asunder by its intense
sharpness, it lets it escape and injure the whole body. And it is like
some very fierce and frightful wild beast, that has been brought into a
city; as long as it is confined in the cages made for it, however it
may rage, however it may roar, it will be unable to do harm to any one;
but if it is overcome by rage, and breaks through the intervening bars,
and is able to leap out, it fills the city with all sorts of confusion
and disturbance, and puts everybody to flight. Such indeed is the
nature also of bile. As long as it is kept within its proper limits, it
will do us no great mischief; but as soon as ever the membrane that
incloses it bursts, and there is nothing to hinder its being at once
dispersed over the whole system, then, I say, at that moment, though it
be so very trifling in quantity,354
| 354 [This seems to be in direct contradiction to what is said a few
lines above, to wit, “If there chance to be but little of it,
there will be but little disturbance if the receptacle should
burst.” The text in the former passage is in great uncertainty,
however, and confusion. Field calls it a locus conclamatus.
Perhaps, if the true text of that passage could be recovered, it would
not be in conflict with the passage here.—G.A.] | yet by reason
of the inordinate strength of its quality it taints all the other
elements of our nature with its own peculiar virulence. For finding the
blood, for instance, near to it, alike in place and in quality, and
rendering the heat which is in that blood more acrid, and everything
else in fact which is near it; passing from its just temperature it
overflows its bounds, turns all into gall, and therewith at once
attacks likewise the other parts of the body; and thus infusing into
all its own poisonous quality, it renders the man speechless, and
causes him to expire, expelling life. Now, why have I stated all these
things with such minuteness? It is in order that, understanding from
this bitterness which is of the body the intolerable evil of that
bitterness which is of the soul, and how entirely it destroys first of
all the very soul that engenders it, making everything bitter, we may
escape experience of it. For as the one inflames the whole
constitution, so does the other the thoughts, and carries away its
captive to the abyss of hell. In order then that by carefully examining
these matters we may escape this evil, and bridle the monster, or
rather utterly root it out, let us hearken to what Paul saith,
“Let all bitterness be” (not destroyed, but) “put
away” from you. For what need have I of trouble to restrain it,
what necessity is there to keep watch on a monster, when it is in my
power to expel him from my soul, to remove him and drive him out, as it
were, into banishment? Let us hearken then to Paul when he saith,
“Let all bitterness be put away from you.” But, ah, the
perversity that possesses us! Though we ought to do everything to
effect this, yet are there some so truly senseless as to congratulate
themselves upon this evil, and to pride themselves upon it, and to
glory in it, and who are envied by others. “Such a one,”
say they, “is a bitter man, he is a scorpion, a serpent, a
viper.” They look upon him as one to be feared. But wherefore,
good man, dost thou fear the bitter person? “I fear,” you
say, “lest he injure me, lest he destroy me; I am not proof
against his malice, I am afraid lest he should take me who am a simple
man, and unable to foresee any of his schemes, and throw me into his
snares, and entangle us in the toils which he has set to deceive
us.” Now I cannot but smile. And why forsooth? Because these are
the arguments of children, who fear things which are not to be feared.
Surely there is nothing we ought so to despise, nothing we ought so to
laugh to scorn, as a bitter and malicious man. For there is nothing so
powerless355
as bitterness. It makes men fools and
senseless.
Do ye not see that malice is
blind? Have ye never heard, that he that diggeth a pit for his
neighbors, diggeth it for himself? How, it may be said, ought we not to
fear a soul full of tumult? If indeed we are to fear the bitter in the
same way as we fear evil spirits, and fools and madmen, (for they
indeed do everything at random,) I grant it myself; but if we are to
fear them as men skillful in the conduct of affairs, that never. For
nothing is so necessary for the proper conduct of affairs as prudence;
and there is no greater hindrance to prudence than wickedness, and
malice, and hollowness. Look at bilious persons, how unsightly they
are, with all their bloom withered away. How weak they are, and puny,
and unfit for anything. So also are souls of this nature. What else is
wickedness, but a jaundice of the soul? Wickedness then has no strength
in it, indeed it has not. Have ye a mind that I again make what I am
saying plain to you by an instance, by setting before you the portraits
of a treacherous and a guileless man? Absalom was a treacherous man,
and “stole all men’s hearts.” (2 Sam. xv. 6.) And observe how
great was his treachery. “He went about,” it saith,
“and said, ‘Hast thou no judgment?’”356
| 356 [μὴ ἔστι
σοι κρίσις; but Sept. (2 Sam. xv. 3.) has
ὁἀκούων οὐκ
ἔστι σοι παρὰ
τοῦ
βασιλέως, which is well rendered by the Rev. Ver., “But there is no
man deputed of the king to hear thee.”—G.A.] | wishing to conciliate every one to
himself. But David was guileless. What then? Look at the end of them
both, look, how full of utter madness was the former! For inasmuch as
he looked solely to the hurt of his father, in all other things he was
blinded. But not so David. For “he that walketh uprightly,
walketh surely” (Prov. x. 9.); and
reasonably; he is one that manages nothing over-subtilely, the man who
devises no evil. Let us listen then to the blessed Paul, and let us
pity, yea, let us weep for the bitter-minded, and let us practice every
method, let us do everything to extirpate this vice from their souls.
For how is it not absurd, that when there is bile within us (though
that indeed is a useful element, for without bile a man cannot possibly
exist, that bile, I mean, which is an element of his nature,) how then,
I say, is it not absurd that we should do all we can to get rid of
this, though we are so highly benefited by it; and yet that we should
do nothing, nor take any pains, to get rid of that which is in the
soul, though it is in no case beneficial, but even in the highest
degree injurious. He that thinketh that he is “wise among
you,” saith he, “let him become a fool, that he may become
wise.” (1 Cor. iii. 18.) Hearken too again to
what Luke saith, “They did take their food with gladness and
singleness of heart, praising God, and having favor with all the
people.” (Acts ii. 46, 47.) Why, do we not see
even now that the simple and guileless enjoy the common esteem of all?
No one envies such an one when he is in prosperity, no one tramples
upon him when he is in adversity, but all rejoice with him when he does
well, and grieve with him in misfortune. Whereas whenever a bitter man
fares prosperously, one and all lament it, as though some evil thing
happened; but if he is unfortunate, one and all rejoice. Let us then
pity them, for they have common enemies all over the world. Jacob was a
guileless man, yet he overcame the treacherous Esau. “For into a
malicious soul wisdom shall not enter.” (Wisd. i. 4.) “Let all
bitterness be put away from you.” Let not even a remnant remain,
for it will be sure, if stirred, as if from a smouldering brand, to
turn all within to an entire blaze. Let us then distinctly understand
what this bitterness is. Take, for example, the hollow-hearted man, the
crafty, the man who is on the watch to do mischief, the man of evil
suspicion. From him then “wrath” and “anger”
are ever produced; for it is not possible for a soul like this to be in
tranquillity, but the very root of “anger” and
“wrath” is “bitterness.” The man of this
character is both sullen, and never unbends his soul; he is always
moody, always gloomy. For as I was saying, they themselves are the
first to reap the fruit of their own evil ways.
“And clamor,” he
adds.
What now, and dost thou take
away clamor also? Yes, for the mild man must needs be of such a
character, because clamor carries anger, as a horse his rider; trip the
horse, and you will throw the rider.
Moral. This let women above all attend to, them who on every occasion cry
aloud and bawl. There is but one thing in which it is useful to cry
aloud, in preaching and in teaching. But in no other case whatever, no,
not even in prayer. And if thou wouldest learn a practical lesson,
never cry aloud at all, and then wilt thou never be angry at all.
Behold a way to keep your temper; for as it is not possible that the
man that does not cry out should be enraged, so is it not that the man
who does cry out should be otherwise than enraged. For tell me not of a
man being implacable, and revengeful, and of pure natural bitterness,
and natural choler. We are now speaking of the sudden paroxysm of this
passion.
It contributes then no little to
this end, to discipline the soul never to raise the voice and cry aloud
at all. Cut off clamor, and thou wilt clip the wings of anger, thou
dost repress the first rising of the heart. For as it is impossible for
a man to wrestle without lifting up his hands, so is it not possible
that he should be entangled in a quarrel without lifting up his voice.
Bind the hands of the boxer, and then bid him strike. He will be unable
to do so. So likewise will wrath be disarmed. But clamor raises it,
even where it does not exist. And hence it is especially that the
female sex are so easily overtaken in it. Women, whenever they are
angry with their maid-servants, fill the whole house with their own
clamor. And oftentimes too, if the house happens to be built along a
narrow street, then all the passers-by hear the mistress scolding, and
the maid weeping and wailing. What can possibly be more disgraceful
than the sound of those wailings?357
| 357 [We
have here followed the text of three codices as against the emendations
of Field, Savile, and the Benedictine ed.—G.A.] | What in the
world has happened there? All the women round immediately peep in and
one of them says, “Such a one is beating her own maid.”
Whatever can be more shameless than this? “What then, ought one
not to strike at all?” No, I say not so, (for it must be done,)
but then it must be neither frequently, nor immoderately, nor for any
wrongs of thine own, as I am constantly saying, nor for any little
failure in her service, but only if she is doing harm to her own soul.
If thou chastise her for a fault of this kind, all will applaud, and
there will be none to upbraid thee; but if thou do it for any reasons
of thine own, all will condemn thy cruelty and harshness. And what is
more base than all, there are some so fierce and so savage as to lash
them to such a degree, that the bruises will not disappear
with the day. For they will strip the damsels, and call their husbands
for the purpose, and oftentimes tie them to the pallets. Alas! at that
moment, tell me, does no recollection of hell come over thee? What?
dost thou strip thy handmaid, and expose her to thy husband? And art
thou not ashamed, lest he should condemn thee for it? And then dost
thou exasperate him yet more, and threaten to put her in chains, having
first taunted the wretched and pitiable creature with ten thousand
reproachful names, and called her “Thessalian witch,358
| 358 Vid. Aristoph. Nub. 749, γυναῖκα
φαρμακίδ᾽ εἰ
πριάμενος
Θετταλήν. Schol., μέχρι
καὶ νῦν
φαρμακίδες
αἱ Θετταλαὶ
καλοῦνται. [What a fearful picture of the cruelties of the mistresses
of Chrysostom’s day!—G.A.] | runaway, and
prostitute”?
For her passion allows her not
to spare even her own mouth, but she looks to one single object, how
she may wreak her vengeance on the other, even though she disgrace
herself. And then after all these things forsooth, she will sit in
state like any tyrant, and call her children, and summon her foolish
husband, and treat him as a hangman. Ought these things to take place
in the houses of Christians? “Aye” say ye, “but
slaves are a troublesome, audacious, impudent, incorrigible
race.” True, I know it myself, but there are other ways to keep
them in order; by terrors, by threats, by words; which may both touch
her more powerfully, and save thee from disgrace. Thou who art a free
woman hast uttered foul words, and dost thou not disgrace thyself more
than her? Then if she shall have occasion to go out to the bath, there
are bruises on her back when she is naked, and she carries about with
her the marks of thy cruelty. “But,” say ye, “the
whole tribe of slaves is intolerable if it meet with indulgence.”
True, I know it myself. But then, as I was saying, correct them in some
other way, not by the scourge only, and by terror, but even by
flattering them, and by acts of kindness. If she is a believer, she is
thy sister. Consider that thou art her mistress, and that she ministers
unto thee. If she be intemperate, cut off the occasions of drunkenness;
call thy husband, and admonish her. Or dost thou not feel how
disgraceful a thing it is for a woman to be beaten? They at least who
have enacted ten thousand punishments for men,—the stake, and the
rack,—will scarcely ever hang a woman, but limit men’s
anger to smiting her on the cheek; and so great respect have they
observed towards the sex, that not even when there is absolute
necessity have they often hung a woman, if she happen to be pregnant.
For it is a disgrace for a man to strike a woman; and if for a man,
much more for one of her own sex. It is moreover by these things that
women become odious to their husbands. “What then,” ye may
say, “if she shall act the harlot?” Marry her to a husband;
cut off the occasions of fornication, suffer her not to be too high
fed. “What then, if she shall steal?” Take care of her, and
watch her.—“Extravagant!” thou wilt say; “What,
am I to be her keeper? How absurd!” And why, I pray, art thou not
to be her keeper? Has she not the same kind of soul as thou? Has she
not been vouchsafed the same privileges by God? Does she not partake of
the same table? Does she not share with thee the same high birth?
“But what then,” ye will say, “if she shall be a
railer, or a gossip, or a drunkard?” Yet, how many free women are
such? Now, with all the failings of women God hath charged men to bear:
only, He saith, let not a woman be an harlot, but every other failing
besides bear with. Yea, be she drunkard, or railer, or gossip, or
evil-eyed, or extravagant, and a squanderer of thy substance, thou hast
her for the partner of thy life. Train and restrain her. Necessity is
upon thee. It is for this thou art the head. Regulate her therefore, do
thy own part. Yea, and if she remain incorrigible, yea, though she
steal, take care of thy goods, and do not punish her so much. If she be
a gossip, silence her. This is the very highest philosophy.
Now, however, some are come to
such a height of indecency as to uncover the head, and to drag their
maid-servants by the hair.—Why do ye all blush?359
| 359 [This is direct preaching. Some would call it personal. But as
Daniel Webster said of preaching, so ought we “make it a personal
matter, a personal matter, a personal
matter.”—G.A.] | I am not addressing myself to all, but to
those who are carried away into such brutal conduct. Paul saith,
“Let not a woman be uncovered.” (1 Cor. xi.
5–15.) And dost thou then entirely strip off her headdress? Dost thou
see how thou art doing outrage to thyself? If indeed she makes her
appearance to thee with her head bare, thou callest it an insult. And
dost thou say that there is nothing shocking when thou barest it
thyself? Then ye will say, “What if she be not corrected?”
Chasten her then with the rod and with stripes. And yet how many
failings hast thou also thyself, and yet thou art not corrected! These
things I am saying not for their sakes, but for the sake of you
free-women, that ye do nothing so unworthy, nothing to disgrace you,
that ye do yourselves no wrong.360
| 360 [And
what a graceful and conciliatory turn he gives his discourse
here!—G.A.] | If thou wilt learn
this lesson in thy household in dealing with thy maid-servant, and not
be harsh but gentle and forbearing, much more wilt thou be so in thy
behavior to thy husband. For she who, though having authority, does
nothing of the sort, will do it much less where there is a check. So
that the
discipline employed about your maid-servants, will be of the greatest
service to you in gaining the goodwill of your husbands. “For
with what measure ye mete,” He saith, “it shall be measured
unto you.” (Matt. vii. 2.) Set a bridle upon thy
mouth. If thou art disciplined to bear bravely with a servant when she
answers back, thou wilt not be annoyed with the insolence of an equal,
and in being above annoyance, wilt have attained to the highest
philosophy. But some there are who add even oaths, but there is nothing
more shocking than a woman so enraged. But what again, ye will say, if
she dress gaily? Why then, forbid this; thou hast my consent; but check
it by first beginning with thyself, not so much by fear as by example.
Be in everything thyself a perfect pattern.
“And let railing,”
saith he, “be put away from you.” Observe the progress of
mischief. Bitterness produces wrath, wrath anger, anger clamor, clamor
railing, that is, revilings; next from evil-speaking it goes on to
blows, from blows to wounds, from wounds to death. Paul, however, did
not wish to mention any of these, but only this, “let
this,” saith he, “be put away from you, with all
malice.”361
| 361 [κακία:
“‘Malice,’ the genus to which all the above-mentioned
vices belong, or rather the active principle to which they are all
due,—animi pravitas, humanitati et equitati opposita
(Calvin).”—Ellicott.—G.A.] | What is “with all
malice”? It ends with this. For there are some, like those dogs
that bite secretly, which do not bark at all at those that come near
them, nor are angry, but which fawn, and display a gentle aspect; but
when they catch us off our guard, will fix their teeth in us. These are
more dangerous than those that take up open enmity. Now since there are
men too that are dogs, who neither cry out, nor fly in a passion, nor
threaten us when they are offended, yet in secret are weaving plots,
and contriving ten thousand mischiefs, and revenging themselves not in
words but in deeds; he hints at these. Let those things be put away
from you, saith he, “with all malice.” Do not spare thy
words, and then revenge thyself in acts. My purpose in chastising my
tongue and curtailing its clamor, is to prevent its kindling up a more
violent blaze. But if thou without any clamor art doing the same thing,
and art cherishing the fire and the live coals within, where is the
good of thy silence? Dost thou not know that those conflagrations are
the most destructive of all which are fed within, and appear not to
those that are without? And that those wounds are the deadliest which
never break out to the surface; and those fevers the worst which burn
up the vitals? So also is this anger the most dangerous that preys upon
the soul. But let this too be put away from you, saith he, “with
all malice,” of every kind and degree, great and little. Let us
then hearken to him, let us cast out all “bitterness and all
malice,” that we “grieve not the Holy Spirit.” Let us
destroy all bitterness; let us cut it up by the very roots. Nothing
good, nothing healthful, can ever come from a bitter soul; nothing but
misfortunes, nothing but tears, nothing but weeping and wailing. Do ye
not see those beasts that roar or cry out, how we turn away from them;
the lion, for instance, and the bear? But not so from the sheep; for
there is no roaring, but a mild and gentle voice. And so again with
musical instruments, those which are loud and harsh are the most
unpleasant to the ear, such as the drum and trumpet; whereas those
which are not so, but are soothing, these are pleasant, as the flute
and lyre and pipe. Let us then prepare our soul so as never to cry
aloud, and thus shall we be enabled also to gain the mastery over our
anger. And when we have cut out this, we ourselves shall be the first
to enjoy the calm, and we shall sail into that peaceful haven, which
God grant we may all attain, in Jesus Christ our Lord, with whom,
together with the Holy Ghost, be unto the Father, glory, might, and
honor, now, and ever, and throughout all ages. Amen.E.C.F. INDEX & SEARCH
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