Ephesians 4:31. "Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger,
and clamor, and railing, be put away from you, with all malice."
As bees[1] 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,[1] 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 powerless[2] 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 yea 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. 15:6)
And observe how great was his treachery. "He went about," it saith, "and
said, 'Hast thou no judgment?'"[3] 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. 10:9);
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. 3:18) 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 2:46, 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. 1:4) "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?[1] 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,[1] 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?[2]
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.
11:5-15) 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.[3] 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. 7:2) 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."[1] 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
god, 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.
