Gregorius Moralia EN 468
469 (Jb 3,18)
Who else is this collector if not the unabashed pitchman who once gave the human race the coin of deception and now daily demands from us the repayment of death? He loaned the money of sin to man in paradise; but as wickedness increases he demands it back daily with interest. Of this collector Truth says in the gospel, "And the judge will hand you over to the collector." The voice of this collector is the temptation that offers us wretched advice. We hear the voice of the collector when we are battered by his temptation, but we do not listen to it if we resist his blows. Whoever feels temptation hears the voice, but only the one who gives in listens to it. So let it be said of the just, "They have not listened to the voice of the collector," since even if they hear his advice, in that they are tempted, they refuse to give in to it, and do not listen to it. But because the mind often repeats in its words the things it loves greatly, blessed Job, fascinated by his vision of inner peace, describes it again, saying:
470
(Jb 3,19)
Because there are different duties for us in this life, there will doubtlessly be different ranks for us in that life, so that the one who is more deserving here will be more greatly rewarded there. So Truth says in the gospel, "In the house of my father there are many mansions." But there will be in those many mansions some diverse harmony of rewards, because we will be bound together with such a bond of peace that what we see another to have received will cause us joy though we have not received it ourselves. So those who did not do equal work in the vineyard received the denarius together at the end; indeed with the father there are many mansions and still the men who had worked unequally all receive the same denarius. For there will be one blessed joy for all, though not the same exaltation of life to each. The one who said with the voice of our Head, "Your eyes have seen my imperfection and all will be written in your book," had seen great and small in this light, just like the one who said, "The Lord blessed all those that feared him, the little with the greater."
471 So it is fittingly added: "And the slave free of its master."
For it is written, "Everyone who sins is a slave of sin." Whoever subjects himself to wicked desire is bowing his neck--his mind's freedom--to the dominion of iniquity. But we speak against this master when we struggle with the iniquity which has seized us, when we resist the habit of violence and trample on our perverse desires, when we are claiming the rights of inborn liberty against this master, and when we flay our sins with penance and wash away the stains of sins with tears. Often the mind weeps for the things it remembers having done in wickedness: it has not only already abandoned those evil deeds but even punished them with bitter tears, but still it dreads the judgment with great terror while it remembers what it has done. It has already turned fully to God, but has still not fully achieved the security to come because it trembles between hope and fear at the thought of the severity of the last judgment, and because it cannot tell what the just judge to come will count against us, what he will forgive.
The mind remembers its sins, but does not know whether it has adequately wept for those crimes, and fears lest the immensity of the guilt will outstrip the limits of our penance. Frequently truth has forgiven the sin but the mind is troubled and still worries about forgiveness, much concerned for itself.
This slave therefore already flees his master, but is not free, because man abandons his sin with repentance and amendment, but still fears the punishment of the strict judge in retribution. The slave will be free from his master there, where there will be no doubt of the forgiveness for sin, where the memory of guilt does not bind the tranquil mind, where the spirit fears not for its offenses but rejoices freely in the judge's mercy.
472 But if man is touched by no memory of sin there,
how will he rejoice at having been freed? Or how does he give thanks to his benefactor for the forgiveness he has received if oblivion wipes away all thought of the past sin and he no longer knows himself to be a debtor for sin? We should not pass casually over what the psalmist says, "I will sing of your mercy, Lord, forever." How does he sing of the mercy of God forever if he does not remember that he was wretched? And if he does not remember past wretchedness, how will he give praise to generosity and mercy?
But we must ask again how the mind of the chosen can be perfect in happiness if in them midst of joy it is touched by some memory of its crimes? Or how does the glory of the perfect light shine if a hint of remembered guilt darkens the soul? But we must recognize that just as now we can happily recall sadness, so then we remember our past sinfulness without harm to our happiness. Very often in time of safety we can bring to mind our past sufferings without suffering; and by remembering ourselves when we were ill, we love our present health the more. There will be therefore, in that eternal happiness, recollection of sin, not tainting the mind but tying us to our rejoicing the more tightly.
Thus while the mind remembers its sorrows without sorrow, it will realize that it is truly indebted to its healer, and will love the salvation it has received the more for remembering the troubles it has escaped. In that rejoicing then we will regard our sins without weariness the way we now in the midst of light look upon darkness without any darkness touching our heart. For even if what we see in the mind is obscure, this has to do with the absence of light, not any blindness on our part. And we can give back praise to our benefactor for his mercy forever and never be troubled by consciousness of misery. While we look back on our sins without any of it touching the mind there will never be anything of those past sins which can taint the hearts of those who praise God and there will always be something to stir these hearts to the praise of their liberator. Because therefore the peace of that light lifts up the great, but does not neglect the small, it can rightly be said, "Great and small are there." But because the mind of the transformed sinner is touched by memory of his sin in such a way that he is troubled by no failing of memory, it is fittingly added, "And the slave free of his master."
Three footnotes left over:
A. Psalm Ps 113,21 (13). 1
B John 1
C Psalm 82
501
when things go badly for good people in this life and when they go well for bad people, they are even more darkly hidden when things go well for the good and badly for the bad. For when it is well with the bad and ill with the good, perhaps we may see it as a way of punishing the good here for their sins (if any) so they will be completely freed from eternal damnation, and of letting bad people have the good things they want in this life, to leave only torment and suffering for them in eternity. So it was said to the rich man burning in hell, "Remember, my son, that you have received good things in your life, and Lazarus at the same time received bad things." But when it goes well with the good and ill with the bad, it becomes altogether uncertain whether the good receive good things to inspire them to rise to better things still; or whether they receive from the just but invisible judge a reward for their good works here to leave them without rewards in the life to come; or whether the wicked are stricken with adversity in order to mend their ways and to protect them from eternal punishment; or whether their punishment begins here, leading them on eventually to the ultimate tortures of hell.
Because the human mind is bothered by this thick cloud of uncertainty upon the face of God's judgments, holy men are troubled with a fearful suspicion when they see the prosperity of this world coming their way. They fear they are perhaps receiving the fruits of their labors here and now; they fear divine justice may be seeing some hidden wound in them and be piling them up with outward rewards while pushing them away from the inner ones. But when they think to themselves that they do their good deeds only to please the Lord alone and that they do not rejoice in the abundance of their prosperity, they are less inclined to fear secret judgments directed against them just because they are prosperous, but still they find it difficult to bear success, because it keeps them from concentrating fully on what lies within. They can barely tolerate the enticements of this life because they know that through these things they can be impeded in achieving what they desire within. The world's applause is more troubling than its contempt and the height of prosperity poses a greater challenge than the depths of need. Often when the outer man is deprived in this way, the inner man is set free to seek what is within; but prosperity can keep the soul from achieving its desires by forcing it to attend to many things and people.
So it happens that holy men are more afraid of the world's prosperity than its adversity. They know that while the mind is taken up with pleasant business, it is gladly diverted sometimes by attention to externals. They know that our secret thoughts often deceive us when this happens so that we do not realize how we have changed. They consider the eternal goods that they long for and they know that all the world's passing gifts are as nothing, however pleasing. Their mind endures all the prosperity of this world grudgingly because it is wounded by the love of heavenly happiness. The more they see how the sweetness of the present life treacherously entices them to turn away from eternal glory, the more they choose to spurn the present instead. So when blessed Job had given thought to heavenly peace, he said, "Great and small are there, and the slave free of the master." Then he adds,
502 (Jb 3,20)
Sometimes in scripture prosperity is spoken of as light, and worldly misfortune as night. So it is said through the psalmist, "Like its darkness, so also its light." holy men despise and trample on the prosperity of this world, so also they trample down and endure its misfortune with a great loftiness of mind. They compel both the prosperity and the misfortune of the world to serve them, saying, "Like its darkness, so also its light," as if to say clearly, 'Just as the sadness of the world does not disturb the strength of our purpose, so also its pleasantness does not corrupt our strength.' But because this prosperity, as we said before, troubles the mind of the holy man even when it does not corrupt it, for he sees himself as a wretch suffering in exile, so he refuses to be distinguished by its prosperity. So now it is fittingly said, "Why is light given to a wretch?"
Light is given to wretches when those who look upon lofty things see that they are wretched as long as they are here on pilgrimage and begin to accept the light of the good fortune that passes away. And though they weep bitterly for having to stay so long away from home, still they are compelled to bear the burdens of honor here. Love of eternal things wears them down and worldly glory smiles upon them. When they see what they are surrounded with here below and what sort of things on high they cannot see; and when they consider the strength that is offered them here and what they have lost of their heavenly gifts, they are bitterly grieved at their prosperity here. For even if they see that this prosperity cannot overcome them entirely, they must still think carefully how to apportion their thoughts between their love of the Lord and their responsibilities here. So when he says, "Why is light given to a wretch," he then wisely adds,
503
(Jb 3,20)
All the elect are filled with bitterness of soul, because they either continually punish themselves with weeping for their sons or they torment themselves with grief at the thought that they are cast down here far from the presence of their creator and still do not have the joys of the eternal home. Of their hearts it is well said through Solomon, "The heart that knows bitterness of soul: no stranger shall share in its joy." The hearts of the wicked are filled with bitterness as well because they are afflicted by their own evil desires, but they do not share the same bitterness because they have been blinded by their own free choice and cannot accurately judge their own endurance. On the other hand the heart of the just man knows its own bitterness because it understands how troublesome is its exile here, where it lies wounded and cast out. It knows the tranquility it has lost and the confusion into which it has fallen. But sometimes this embittered heart is restored to its proper joy and then the stranger cannot share in that joy, for the one who is always trying to lead the heart away from its suffering into the pleasures of the world's desires is shut out then from the inner festival of the heart.
504 Those who are filled with bitterness of soul
desire to die to the world completely. Just as they seek nothing in this world, so they want to be held to this world by no obligation. It often happens that a man in his heart no longer clings to the world, but still he is himself tied to the world's business. Now he then has died to the world but the world is not yet dead to him. The world, still very much alive, looks upon him and tries to snatch him up in its own affairs while he is intent elsewhere.
So Paul, when he had learned to despise this world completely and saw that he had become the kind of man whom this world can no longer covet for its own, breaking free of the chains that had bound him to this life, says,"The world is crucified to me and I to the world."
The world had been crucified to him because it was dead for him and he loved it no longer in his heart. He had crucified himself to the world because he took care to show himself to the world as one already dead to it and thus incapable of being coveted by it. For if a living man and a dead one are in the same place, even if the dead man does not see the living one, the living one sees the dead one; but if both are dead, neither sees the other. So if a man does not love the world, but is still, even unwillingly, loved by the world, even if he is like a dead man who does not see the world, he can nevertheless be seen himself by a world not yet dead. But if he does not cleave to the world with love, and he is not held by the world's own love, then both are dead to each other. When neither desires the other, they are unaware of each other like two dead men. Because Paul was sought not the glory of the world, nor was he sought by the world with its glory, he could rejoice that he was crucified to the world, and the world to him.
Because many seek this exalted form of extinction but do not yet rise to it, rightly do they groan and say, "Why is light given to a wretch and life to those filled with bitterness of soul?" Life is given to the embittered when the glory of this world is handed on to those who are sad and groaning over it. In this life they torment themselves with powerful fear, because even if they no longer hold to the world, they still fear that they may be the sort to whom the world itself clings. If they did not live for the world at least in some small way, the world would undoubtedly have no use or love for them. The sea keeps living bodies for itself; when they are dead, it casts them out immediately.
505
(Jb 3,21)
They desire to mortify themselves and cut themselves off from the whole life of temporal glory; but by the hidden judgments of God they are often compelled to take the lead in governance or be covered with honors imposed on them from without. In the midst of this they hope unceasingly for the fulness of mortification. But the death they look for does not come because their usefulness to the world of temporal glory continues, though they do not will it, and they bear with it out of fear of the Lord. Inside they keep alive the longings of piety, but outwardly they perform the duties of their station, so they may not be found wanting in interior perfection nor proudly resist the governance of the creator. For it is brought about by a wondrous divine pity that he who longs with perfect heart for contemplation can be kept busied in service of his fellow man. In this way his mind in its perfection can be of use to many weaker brethren; and at the same time as he sees his own imperfection revealed in this way he may strive for perfect humility all the more.
Sometimes, however, holy men bring back greater rewards than before when they endure the thwarting of their desires and thus succeed in converting others. For when they are not allowed to attend exclusively to their desires, they may still be able to bring with them others with whom they have mingled. So it happens by a wondrous arrangement of divine pity that just when they think themselves ruined, they are all the more abundantly successful in building the heavenly home.
506 But sometimes they do not succeed in attaining their desires
just so that after a delay they are left to open their minds to those desires all the more, and the desire that might have been narrowed if it had been satisfied too soon is put off providentially to grow the more. They seek mortification to see more perfectly, if they can, the face of their creator, but their desire is put off to their advantage, and in that delay the desire is nurtured and fostered to grow. So the bride cries out, sighing with desire for the bridegroom, "On my bed by night I have longed for the one my soul loves; I have looked for him and not found him." The bridegroom hides himself when he is sought and, not found, he is sought the more ardently; and the bride is put off in her search so she may be rendered more receptive by the delay and may in the end find more abundantly what she was looking for. So blessed Job says, "Who look for death (and it does not come)," and then, to describe this desire of those who have this longing more carefully, he says,
507
(Jb 3,21)
All those who go digging for treasure grow more enthusiastic for their work when they have to dig more deeply. The closer they think they come to the hidden treasure, the more they exert themselves in the digging. Those who seek their own complete mortification are like those who go digging for treasure: the closer they come to their goal, the more eager they become for the work. They do not grow weary in the work, but get more into the habit of it. The closer they think they get to the reward, the more they enjoy the exertion. So Paul said to some who sought the hidden treasure of the eternal home, "Not abandoning our gathering, as is the custom with some, but consoling each other the more, insofar as you see the coming day." To console the laborer is to go on working, because to see someone else working is a consolation for the one already working. So also when a companion is given on a journey, the road is not taken away, but still the burden of the journey is eased by the companionship. So when Paul wanted them to console one another in their labors, he added, "The more, insofar as you see the coming day"--as if to say, 'The task increases as we draw near to the rewards of the task,' or as if to say, 'Do you look for a treasure? You should dig more enthusiastically, the closer you come to the gold you seek.'
508 But this passage, "They look for death
(and it does not come), as if digging for treasure," can be taken another way. Because we can die to the world perfectly only if we hide from the visible world among the invisible things of the mind, those who seek out mortification are rightly compared to those who dig for treasure. For we die to the world through invisible wisdom, of which it is said through Solomon, "If you should seek it like money and unearth it like a treasure. Wisdom does not lie on the surface of things but hides in invisible things. We achieve wisdom in our mortification if we abandon the visible and hide among the invisible. If we go digging for unseen things in the heart, we eject every earthly thought that comes upon the mind, casting it aside with the hand of a holy discernment, recognizing the treasure of virtue that hides within. For it is easy to find a treasure in ourselves if we banish the mountain of earthly thoughts that press down upon us to no good end. But because he speaks of longed-for death like a treasure, he rightly adds:
509
(Jb 3,22)
Just as the grave is the place where a corpse is hidden away, so divine contemplation is a kind of grave for the mind, where the soul is hidden. We are still alive to this world when we go abroad in it in our thoughts, but we die and hide ourselves in the grave when we mortify ourselves outwardly and take refuge in the hiding place of interior contemplation. Holy men constantly mortify themselves with the sword of the sacred word, cutting themselves off from insistent worldly desires, from clamorous useless cares, from noisy roaring confusions. They thus conceal themselves inwardly, in the recesses of the mind, before the face of God. So it is rightly said through the psalmist, "You shall conceal them in the hidden place of your countenance, away from the harassments of men." Though this achieves fulness only later on, even now it is accomplished for the most part, when delight carries them away from the confusion of earthly desires to inner ones. Then when their mind is totally intent on the love of God they will be wounded by no pointless interruption. This is why Paul saw his disciples as dead through contemplation and virtually hidden in the grave, when he said to them, "For you are dead and your life is hidden away with Christ in God." And so the man who longs to die rejoices when he finds the grave, because if he seeks to mortify himself, he rejoices at finding the peace of contemplation. Now dead to the world he can lie hidden and conceal himself in the folds of love within from all the disturbances of things outside.
510 But if we connect finding the grave to what has just been said about digging for treasure,
we must realize that the ancients covered their dead with riches in burial. Whoever sought a treasure then was glad to find a grave, because as we seek wisdom when we turn over the pages of sacred scripture, when we study the examples of those who have gone before, we rejoice as if in finding a grave, because the riches of the mind are found among the dead. Because they were perfectly dead to this world, they found rest in hiding with their riches. Whoever is lifted up by the power of contemplation to see the example of just men is made a rich man in the grave. Now he shows why he had the presumption to ask, "Why is light given to a wretch?" as he says:
511 (Jb 3,23)
A man's path is hidden from him because even if he looks now to see how well life is going, he still does not know the goal that he will reach. Even if he longs for heaven, even if he seeks it with all his desires, he still does not know whether he will persevere in those desires. Abandoning sin, we reach for justice; we know whence we have come; but we do not where we are going. We know what we were yesterday, but what will befall us tomorrow, we know not. A man's path is hidden from him, therefore, because as he sets foot on his path he still cannot foresee where he will wind up.
512 There is another way in which our path is hidden.
Sometimes we do not know whether the things we believe we are doing well will find favor in the judgment of the strict judge. For often, as we said some time ago, our works are a cause of damnation even as we think them advances on the path of virtue. Often what we believe will placate the judge only stirs him from peace to rage, as Solomon attests: "There is a path that seems right to men; but the end of that path leads to death. So holy men, when they vanquish evil, are fearful even for their own good deeds, lest while they seek to do good they might be led astray by their own image of what they have done, lest some foul plague of decay might lurk beneath the appearance of a fair color. For they know that they are weighed down yet with corruption and cannot make fine distinctions of goodness. When they bring to mind the standards of the last judgment, they fear sometimes for those things in themselves which they had thought well of. They long for inner things with the whole mind, but still fear for the uncertain value of their deeds and do not know where they are heading. So it is well said first, "Why is light given to a wretch?" and added "To a man whose path is hidden from him." This is as if to say, 'Why does the man who does not know how the judge will evaluate the path of his life receive the successes of this life?" And it then adds fittingly, "And God has surrounded him with darkness." For man is surrounded by darkness because, though he burn with desire for heaven, he is ignorant of his own inner disposition. He fears greatly that something may count against him at the judgment, something that now lies hidden in the fervor of his desire for the good. Man is surrounded with darkness because he is pressed down by the fog of his own ignorance. Or is he not surrounded by darkness if he often forgets the past, barely knows the present, and has not yet found the future? A wise man saw himself surrounded by darkness when he said, "What we can see, we discover with difficulty; and who shall find out what is in heaven?" The prophet also saw himself surrounded by darkness when he was unable to penetrate the inmost reaches of inward governance, saying, "He has made darkness his hiding place." For our creator, because he has taken the light of seeing him away from us, cast down in this exile, has hidden himself from our eyes as if in a hiding place of darkness.
513 When we examine the darkness of our blindness carefully,
we inspire our mind to lament. It weeps for the blindness it endures outwardly if it remembers that it is deprived of light within. When it sees the darkness with which it is surrounded, it pains itself with an ardent desire for the splendor within and flails itself with all its strength and concentration. Though cast down, it seeks the heavenly light it had deserted at the time of its creation. So it often happens that in pious weeping the clarity of inner joy bursts upon us. The mind that had long lain in blind listlessness draws strength from its sighs and rises to see the brilliant light within.
514 (Jb 3,24)
When the soul eats, it feeds on its contemplation of the heavenly light. It sighs before it eats because it is first affected by the groans of tribulation, and then is filled with the nourishment of contemplation after. Unless it sighs, it does not eat. Whoever in this exile does not humble himself with his laments for celestial desire does not taste the joys of the home within. Those who rejoice in the poverty of this place of pilgrimage are fasting from the food of truth. But the one who eats is sighing, because whoever is touched by the love of truth is nourished by the food of contemplation. The prophet sighed and ate when he said, "My tears were bread to me." The soul feeds on its own sorrow, when it is lifted up weeping to heavenly joys, and bears with the groans of sorrow within. But it receives a nourishing food as the power of love sheds its tears. So blessed Job attends to the power of these tears, adding,
515
(Jb 3,24)
When water rushes in, it comes with a burst and swells with volume on all sides. But when the elect summon divine judgment in their imagination, when they fear the hidden sentence that can be passed on them, when they are sure they can go to God but still fear they may not reach him, when they remember past deeds for which they weep, when they fear for things that may yet come which they know not--in all these things they gather streams of water to themselves, streams that go pouring out in groans of sorrow as on the shore of the sea. So the holy man sees the vast heap of thoughts piled up in the tears of repentance, and he calls those waves of sorrow rushing waters, saying, "And like rushing waters, so are my cries."
But sometimes the just, as we said a little earlier, are fearful even in the midst of their good works, spending time at constant weeping at the thought that they might yet be displeasing in some hidden way. When the whips of divine correction strike them suddenly, they fear they have offended their creator's kindness, they fear they have failed to perform the works of compassion for their neighbor out of weakness and impediment or out of bitterness and distraction. The heart turns to lamentation because the body is slow in offering its devoted service. When they see their reward does not grow, they fear their past deeds have been displeasing. So blessed Job, when he compares his tears to rushing waters, then adds,
516 (Jb 3,25)
Just men weep and fear and torment themselves with great laments, because they fear abandonment. Though they rejoice at the punitive correction they receive, that correction still disturbs their worried mind, lest the evil they suffer turn out to be, not the compassionate blow of discipline, but the just punishment of revenge. Thinking of this, the psalmist says, "Who knows the power of your wrath?" The power of divine wrath cannot be grasped by our mind, for the obscure workings of its providence often enfold us just when we think we have been left behind. And just when we think we are receiving its goodness, then it abandons us. Thus very often what is thought to be wrath turns out to be grace, and what is thought to be grace turns out to be wrath. Some are corrected by God's punishment, but some are led to the madness of resistance. Some people are soothed and rescued from madness by having things go well, while others are so elated by prosperity that they are torn loose from all hope of conversion. Vice drags all men down to the bottom, but some are restored more readily for shame at having fallen so far. Virtue always lifts us to the heavens, but sometimes men find virtue a source of pride, and the ladder of ascent becomes the cause of their fall. Because the power of divine wrath is altogether mysterious, it is necessary in all things that we be fearful without ceasing.
517
Have I not kept still? And displeasure has overcome me. (Jb 3,26)
Though we sin in thought, word and deed wherever we are placed, the mind is carried along even more heedlessly when it is buoyed up by the prosperity of this world. When it sees it has outrun the rest of the world by its power, in pride it begins to think highly of itself.
When no man resists the authority of its voice, the tongue is set free without restraint on dangerous ground; and when it can do whatever it pleases, it reasonably begins to think that whatever it pleases is right. But when holy men are supported by this world's power, they subject the mind to still greater discipline, because they know they can be persuaded more easily to do what is illicit through the impatience that comes with power. They keep the heart from thoughts of its own glory, the tongue from immoderate speech, and their deeds from restless errancy.
Often, thus, those who hold power lose the credit for their good deeds by thinking of them proudly. When they think they are of use and benefit to all, they condemn all the merit they have earned by their usefulness. As each man's deeds grow more worthy, his deeds still seem unworthy in his own eyes, lest good deeds should so raise up the heart of the doer that then they cast him down the further in pride and do more damage than he has done good for those whom he aided. This is why the king of Babylon was turned into an irrational animal when he turned things over in the pride of his mind, saying, "Is this not Babylon, which I have built?" He lost what he had accomplished because he refused to dissemble what he had done with all humility. Because he lifted himself above other men in the pride of his thought, he lost even the human senses that he had had in common with other men.
And often those who are in power burst out with insults for their subjects on all sides, and lose through the insolence of the tongue the fruits of their regime's vigilant service; they weigh their words with less fear for the judge, because whoever says to his brother without cause, "fool," is assigning himself to the fires of gehenna.
Often again, those who are in power do not know how to restrain themselves in what is right and so slip soon into wrongful restless deeds. For the only one who does not fall into the wrong kinds of deeds is the one who has been able sometimes to restrain himself carefully even from things that are permissible. Paul showed that he had restrained himself in this way, saying, "All things are permitted to me, but not all things are useful." And to show what freedom he won by this restraint, he added, "All things are permitted to me, but I am put under no man's power." For when the mind pursues the desires it has conceived, it is compelled to be a slave to the things whose love has conquered it. But Paul, to whom all was permitted, put himself under no
man's power because he restrained himself sometimes even from what was right, rising above the things that would have dragged him down if he had taken pleasure in them and not despised them.
518 So blessed Job lets us know what he was like when he had power,
in order to instruct us, when he says, "Have I not dissembled?" For when we have power, we must think of its usefulness and deprecate it nevertheless on account of the pride that can result. The one who uses power will know that he can do what will be of profit, but at the same time will not know that he can do those things so as to avoid excessive praise.
Job indicates what he was like in his speech when he says, "Have I not been silent?" As for what he was like when faced with illicit works, he adds: "Have I not kept still?" Keeping silent and keeping still can be examined a little further. Silence keeps the mind from giving voice to earthly desires, for the heart's tumult has the power of a great noise.
519 And those who do good with their power
keep still when they put aside the demands of earthly deeds now and again to find time for the love of God, lest they should be busy with lower things constantly and let the heart fall away from the highest things altogether. They know the mind will never rise to heavenly things if it is kept busy constantly in the press of cares here below. For what will a busy mind win of God when even one free of cares must struggle to grasp anything? But it is well said, through the psalmist, "Wait quietly, and see that I am God." For whoever fails to wait for God, by his own choice hides the light of vision from himself. So it is said through Moses that fish which have no fins should not be eaten; for fish which have fins are in the habit of leaping above water. Only those fish, then, pass into the bodies of the elect as food which, though they serve what is below, still know how to climb toward heaven with leaps of the mind sometimes, so as not to remain hidden in the depths of care always where no breath of the highest love, like a breath of fresh air, can touch them. Whoever is busy with temporal affairs arranges external things well when he takes time to flee to the things within, having no love for the noise of disturbances without but only finding peace in the embrace of tranquility within himself.
520 For wicked minds are constantly mulling
over the confusion of worldly things within themselves, even when they are at leisure. In their thoughts they keep alive images of the things they love and though they are outwardly inactive, within themselves they still labor under the burden of a repose without rest. If the governance of worldly affairs is given to them, they abandon themselves entirely and pursue these fugitive worldly goods with all their thoughts, with every step they take. But pious minds do not long for these things when they are absent, and endure them reluctantly when they are present, for they fear that in caring for what is outside them they will indeed go out from themselves.
This is well indicated by the life of the two brothers of whom it is written, "Esau was made a man skillful in hunting, and a farmer; but Jacob was a simple man, living in tents." Or as it says in another translation, "living at home." What is meant by Esau's hunting but the life of those who are given over to outward pleasure and the pursuits of the flesh? He is called a farmer because the lovers of this world cultivate externals the more they leave the things within uncultivated. But Jacob is said to be a simple man living in tents, or at home, because all those who refuse to be distracted by external cares remain simple in their thoughts and go on dwelling in their conscience.
To live at home or in tents is to keep yourself shut up in the secret places of the mind and not allow yourself to be diminished by desires for things outside yourself, so that you will not grow alien from your own thoughts within by panting after many things beyond yourself.
So let the man tested and disciplined by prosperity say, "Have I not dissembled? Have I not been silent? Have I not kept still?" As we said above, holy men, when passing prosperity smiles upon them, make light of the world's applause as if they know nothing of it and with bold step trample in their hearts on the things that might lift them too high in the world outside. They keep still because they give voice to none of the noises of wicked action. (For all iniquity has its voice in the secret judgments of God. So it is written, "The clamor of the Sodomites and Gomorrhans is multiplied.") They are at rest not only because they are undisturbed by any troubling desire and earthly lust, but because they even refuse to be troubled immoderately by the necessary cares of this life.
521 But when they do this, they still feel the father's whips,
meant to make them all the more perfect and worthy of their inheritance, insofar as his daily discipline purges them compassionately of even the least faults. They do what is just unceasingly but still suffer harsh things constantly, because often when our justice is led before the bench of divine justice it is in the eyes of the judge found to be unjust and stained, though the one who had accomplished it thought it bright and shining. So Paul, when he said, "I am conscious of no guilt," immediately added, "But not by this am I justified."24 Soon he indicated why he was justified: "But the one who judges me is the Lord. As if to say: 'I deny that I am justified for having a clean conscience precisely because I know that I will be scrutinized more carefully by the one who judges me.' So the things which others praise are to be dissembled, the things which clamor within are to be kept in check, and even the business of the world that seems necessary is to be resisted. And still in all these things we must fear the whips of the strict judge because even our perfection is not without fault, unless the stern judge should weigh it mercifully on the delicate balance of his scrutiny.
522 And it is well added, "And displeasure has overcome me."
With the skill of a great teacher, when he was about to mention his punishments, he first mentioned his good deeds, so that everyone might realize what kind of punishments wait for sinners if even the just are chastised here with such forceful blows. So it is that Peter says, "It is time for justice to begin with the house of God. . . . And if the just man shall scarcely be saved, where shall the impious and the sinner appear?" So Paul, when he had said much in praise of the Thessalonians, added then, "Just so we take pride in you in the churches of God for your long-suffering faith, for all your persecutions and tribulations, which you endure to give example of the just judgment of God." As if to say: 'While you do such good deeds and yet bear such harsh treatment, what else are you doing but giving examples of the just judgment of God? For we are to understand by your suffering how God smites those with whom he is angry if he allows you, in whom he rejoices, to suffer so. How indeed will he smite those to whom he owes just judgment, if he so torments those of you whom he cherishes with compassionate accusation?'
523 So with blessed Job's first speech ended, his friends (who had come out of pity to console him) apply themselves to chiding him. As they break out with contentious words, they forget the compassionate purpose for which they had come. They do this not out of bad intentions, but though they have sympathy for the victim, they believe that he could not have become a victim except as punishment for his own iniquity. So when their good intentions are followed by incautious speech, the pity they had intended is turned into sinful excess. They should have thought who it was they were addressing and what the circumstances were. For he was a just man, the Job to whom they had come, and at the same time he was covered by blows from God. They should have measured his words against the life he had lived, if they could not understand them directly. Seeing his sufferings they should not have criticized him but feared for themselves. They should not have tried to give heart to the just man in his trials with their rationalizations, but simply joined him with their tears. Instead of displaying their own knowledge with their words, they should have allowed sorrow to teach them how to speak rightly the language of consolation. Even if they had thought otherwise, they should have spoken humbly rather than add new wounds to the victim with their indiscreet words.
524 For often the misunderstood words and deeds of better men
are unpleasant to lesser men. But because they cannot truly be understood is all the more reason why they should not be rashly criticized. Often better men do something prudently which is thought a mistake by lesser men. Often the strong say things which the weak criticize because they do not understand. A good example of this is the occasion when the ark of the covenant tilted when the oxen drew back. The Levite who thought it would fall and wanted to straighten it up quickly suffered the punishment of death.
What now is the mind of a just man if not the ark of the covenant? This ark, pulled along by the resisting oxen, tilts over, because sometimes even a good ruler, when he sees his people struggling and confused, out of love for them changes his policy, making allowances to accommodate them. But when strength prudently leans this way, the inexperienced think it is falling. So then some of the subjects reach out a hand of resistance, and lose their life for their rashness. The Levite lending a hand reached out but lost his life for his error, for when the weak rebuke the deeds of the strong, they are cast out from among the living. Sometimes holy men say things to the weak out of condescension, and sometimes they give voice to lofty thoughts of contemplation; then fools, who cannot understand the reason either for the condescension or for the exaltation, brashly criticize them. What does it mean to want to dissuade the just man from his condescension, if not that we are reaching out to support the ark with the haughty hand of rebuke? When we blame the just man for saying something we do not understand, we mistake the action of strength for the fall of an error. But the man who arrogantly tried to help God's ark lost his life, because none of the holy would try to correct what was right unless he already knew better of himself. So this Levite is rightly called Oza because that is translated, "The strong man." For the presumptuous always think they are strong men in the Lord (such is their audacity) and thus think that the words and deeds of their betters are somehow worse than they really are. The friends of Job therefore, when they break out against him as if to defend God, are breaking the rules of God's commands in their pride.
525 But when the deeds of better men are displeasing to worse men,
what disturbs the mind should never be kept in silence but expressed with great humility. The compassionate intentions of the speaker can thus truly follow the pattern of righteousness by pursuing the path of humility. What we feel should be said freely, and what we say should be set out most humbly, lest our good intentions turn into bad deeds by arrogance of expression.
Paul, for example, said many things humbly to those who heard him, but he tried even more humbly to placate them with the humility of his exhortation, saying, "I ask you brothers, that you endure word of solace; for I have written for a very few of you." Saying farewell to the Ephesians at Miletus, when they were groaning and afflicted, he called his own humility to mind, saying, "Keep watch, remembering that for three years I have not left off weeping night and day, admonishing each one of you." To the same Ephesians he said again in a letter, "I beseech you, brothers, I who am bound in the Lord, that you proceed in a way worthy of the call by which you have been called." From this the disciple should learn the humility with which he should speak to the teacher, even when he has something just to say, if the teacher of the nations should so submissively speak to his disciples on matters in which he could preach with authority. We should all learn from this how humbly to say what we well understand to those from whom we have received our examples of living well, if Paul humbled himself with his words to those whom he had himself called to life.
526 But Eliphaz, the first of the friends to speak,
though he had come to console out of pity, abandons humble speech and forgets the rules of consolation. Forgetting to watch his words, he bursts out with insults for the victim, saying, "The tiger perished because he had no prey; the roar of the lion and the voice of the lioness, and the teeth of the lion cubs are ground down." Calling blessed Job with the name of tiger he is accusing him of the vice of inconsistency; by the roar of the lion, he hints at his own fear of the man; by the voice of the lioness, he suggests the chattering of his wife; by the ground-down teeth of the cubs, he means the now-destroyed gluttony of the children. So it is fitting that the divine judgment reprimanded the friends for offering such proud criticism, saying, "You have not spoken rightly before me, as did my servant Job."
527 But we must ask why Paul used the opinions of the friends
as if they were authoritative, if their opinions are rendered void by the Lord's criticism. For they were words of Eliphaz which he offered to the Corinthians, saying, "I shall trap the wise with their own cleverness." How can we spit out these words as wicked things, if Paul uses their authority to his own ends? Or how shall we think that these words, which are defined as not right by the Lord himself, are right on Paul's authority? But we can quickly understand how these positions are not in fact different, if we consider the words of the Lord's judgment precisely. For when he said,"You have not spoken rightly before me," he added immediately, "as did my servant Job." It is clear therefore that some things in their words are right but are bested in comparison with what is better. Among the things which they say irrationally, they offer many bold opinions to blessed Job, but when compared with bolder words their opinions lose all their strength. Many of the things they say would be remarkable, if they were not said in opposition to a holy man. In themselves, therefore, they are great things, but because they were meant to attack the virtue of a just man, they lose their greatness. Thus though the dart is strongly hurled, it is hurled in vain and strikes solid rock, and then bounces off, blunted, the more for having been so strongly thrown. So the words of the friends, though in themselves they are strong, when they strike the strong life of the holy man, lose all the point from their tips. Because they are great in and of themselves but should not have been used against Job, Paul could use them on the one hand authoritatively, weighing their strength, while the judge still reproved them as incautious by considering the person involved.
528 But because we said before that the friends of blessed Job
take the part of the heretics, now we must study to see how their words resemble those of the heretics. Some of their thoughts are righteous, but then in the midst of those they slide into thoughts that are perverse. Heretics have this characteristic: they mix good with evil, the more readily to deceive their hearers. If they always spoke evil, they would quickly be recognized for the evil they willed and would never make their ideas persuasive. But if they always thought rightly, they would clearly not be heretics. So while they use both kinds of thoughts in their crafty deceptions, they infect the good with evil, and hide their evil under good to make it palatable. In just this way, the poisoner touches the rim of the cup with the sweetness of honey, and at first taste the sweetness of the honey is enjoyed, even while that which brings death is unhesitatingly swallowed. So heretics mix right with wrong to draw listeners by a show of good; revealing then their evil, they corrupt them with the hidden plague. But sometimes, corrected by the preaching and exhortation of holy church, they are saved from their errant ideas.
So the friends of Job eventually offer the sacrifice of their reconciliation by the hands of the holy man himself, and are called back under summons to the grace of the judge above. They are well represented in the gospel by the cure of the ten lepers. In a leper, part of the skin is made shiny while the rest keeps its healthy color. Lepers stand for heretics because while they mix right with wrong, they scatter stains on their healthy complexion. Well they cry out to be saved, "Jesus, teacher!"
By their words they show they have erred, they call him humbly the teacher of salvation. And since they come to recognize their teacher, soon they recover the appearance of health. But because we went on for a time in our preface about the speeches of the friends, we can now turn to weighing their words precisely.
Gregorius Moralia EN 468