Homilies on First Timothy: Homily XIV
This is hospitality, this is truly to do it for God’s sake. But if you give orders with pride, though you bid him take the first place, it is not hospitality, it is not done for God’s sake. The stranger requires much attendance, much encouragement, and with all this it is difficult for him not to feel abashed; for so delicate is his position, that whilst he receives the favor, he is ashamed. That shame we ought to remove by the most attentive service, and to show by words and actions, that we do not think we are conferring a favor, but receiving one, that we are obliging less than we are obliged. So much does good will multiply the kindness. For as he who considers himself a loser, and thinks that he is doing a favor, destroys all the merit of it; so he who looks upon himself as receiving a kindness, increases the reward. “For God loveth a cheerful giver.” (2 Cor. ix. 7.) So that you are rather indebted to the poor man for receiving your kindness. For if there were no poor, the greater part of your sins would not be removed. They are the healers of your wounds, their hands are medicinal to you. The physician, extending his hand to apply a remedy, does not exercise the healing art more than the poor man, who stretches out his hand to receive your alms, and thus becomes a cure for your ills. You give your money, and with it your sins pass away. Such were the Priests of old, of whom it was said, “They eat up the sin of My people.” (Hosea iv. 8.) Thus thou receivest more than thou givest, thou art benefited more than thou benefitest. Thou lendest to God, not to men. Thou increasest thy wealth, rather than diminishest it. But if thou dost not lessen it by giving, then it is indeed diminished!
“If she have received strangers, if she have washed the Saints’ feet.” But who are these? The distressed saints, not any saints whatever. For there may be saints, who are much waited on by every one. Do not visit these, who are in the enjoyment of plenty, but those who are in tribulation, who are unknown, or known to few. He who hath “done it unto the least of these,” He saith, “hath done it unto Me.” (Matt. xxv. 40.)
Moral. Give not thy alms to those who preside in the Church to distribute. Bestow it thyself, that thou mayest have the reward not of giving merely, but of kind service. Give with thine own hands. Cast into the furrow thyself. Here it is not required to handle the plow, to yoke the ox, to wait the season, nor to break up the earth, or to contend with the frost. No such trouble is required here, where thou sowest for heaven, where there is no frost nor winter nor any such thing. Thou sowest in souls, where no one taketh away what is sown, but it is firmly retained with all care and diligence. Cast the seed thyself, why deprive thyself of thy reward. There is great reward in dispensing even what belongs to others. There is a reward not only for giving, but for dispensing well the things that are given. Why wilt thou not have this reward? For that there is a reward for this, hear how we read that the Apostles appointed Stephen to the ministry of the widows. (Acts vi. 5–7.)
Be thou the dispenser of thine own gifts. Thine own benevolence and the fear of God appoint thee to that ministry. Thus vainglory is excluded. This refreshes the soul, this sanctifies the hands, this pulls down pride. This teaches thee philosophy, this inflames thy zeal, this makes thee to receive blessings. Thy head, as thou departest, receives all the blessings of the widows.
Be more earnest in thy prayers. Inquire diligently for holy men, men that are truly such, who, in the retirement of the desert, cannot beg, but are wholly devoted to God. Take a long journey to visit them, and give with thine own hand. For thou mayest profit much in thine own person, if thou givest. Dost thou see their tents, their lodging? dost thou see the desert? dost thou see the solitude? Often when thou hast gone to bestow money, thou givest thine whole soul. Thou art detained, and hast become his fellow-captive, and hast been alike estranged from the world.
It is of great benefit even to see the poor. “It is better,” he saith, “to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of feasting.” (Eccles. vii. 2.) By the latter the soul is inflamed. For if thou canst imitate the luxury, then thou art encouraged to self-indulgence, and if thou canst not, thou art grieved. In the house of mourning there is nothing of this kind. If thou canst not afford to be luxurious, thou art not pained; and if thou canst, thou art restrained. Monasteries are indeed houses of mourning. There is sackcloth and ashes, there is solitude, there is no laughter, no pressure of worldly business. There is fasting, and lying upon the ground; there is no impure savor of rich food, no blood shed, no tumult, no disturbance, or crowding. There is a serene harbor. They are as lights shining from a lofty place to mariners afar off. They are stationed at the port, drawing all men to their own calm, and preserving from shipwreck those who gaze on them, and not letting those walk in darkness who look thither. Go to them, and make friends with them, embrace their holy feet, more honorable to touch than the heads of others. If some clasp the feet of statues, because they bear but a likeness of the king, wilt thou not clasp his feet who has Christ within him, and be saved? The Saints’ feet are holy, though they are poor men, but not even the head of the profane is honorable. Such efficacy is there in the feet of the Saints, that when they shake off the dust of their feet, they inflict punishment. When a saint is among us, let us not be ashamed of anything that belongs to him. And all are saints, who unite a holy life with a right faith and though they do not work miracles nor cast out devils, still they are saints.
Go then to their tabernacles. To go to the monastery of a holy man is to pass, as it were, from earth to heaven. Thou seest not there what is seen in a private house. That company is free from all impurity. There is silence and profound quiet. The words “mine and thine” are not in use among them. And if thou remainest there a whole day or even two, the more pleasure thou wilt enjoy. There, as soon as it is day, or rather before day, the cock crows, and you see it not as you may see it in a house, the servants snoring, the doors shut, all sleeping like the dead, whilst the muleteer without is ringing his bells. There is nothing of all this. All, immediately shaking off sleep, reverently rise when their President calls them, and forming themselves into a holy choir, they stand, and lifting up their hands all at once sing the sacred hymns. For they are not like us, who require many hours to shake off sleep from our heavy heads. We indeed, as soon as we are waked, sit some time stretching our limbs, go as nature calls, then proceed to wash our face and our hands; afterwards we take our shoes and clothes, and a deal of time is spent.
It is not so there. No one calls for his servant, for each waits upon himself: neither does he require many clothes, nor need to shake off sleep. For as soon as he opens his eyes, he is like one who has been long awake in collectedness. For when the heart is not stifled within by excess of food, it soon recovers itself, and is immediately wakeful. The hands are always pure; for his sleep is composed and regular. No one among them is found snoring or breathing hard, or tossing about in sleep, or with his body exposed; but they lie in sleep as decently as those who are awake, and all this is the effect of the orderly state of their souls. These are truly saints and angels among men. And marvel not when you hear these things. For their great fear of God suffers them not to go down into the depths of sleep, and to drown their minds, but it falls lightly upon them, merely affording them rest. And as their sleep is, such are their dreams, not full of wild fancies and monstrous visions.
But, as I said, at the crowing of the cock their President comes, and gently touching the sleeper with his foot, rouses them all. For there are none sleeping naked. Then as soon as they have arisen they stand up, and sing the prophetic hymns with much harmony, and well composed tunes. And neither harp nor pipe nor other musical instrument utters such sweet melodies, as you hear from the singing of these saints in their deep and quiet solitudes. And the songs themselves too are suitable, and full of the love of God. “In the night,” they say, “lift up your hands unto God. With my soul have I desired Thee in the night, yea with my spirit within me will I seek Thee early,” (Isa. xxvi. 9.)