Grief attacks soft souls; Job's thanksgiving; mourning is for those without hope
Basil continues his argument that grief must be moderated, now showing that Job's restrained thanksgiving proves grief is not irresistible, and that Christians who know the resurrection must not practice theatrical mourning.
For just as worms breed especially in the softer kinds of wood, so griefs implant themselves in the softer dispositions of human beings. Was Job's heart made of adamant? Were his inward parts fashioned from stone? Ten children fell to him in a brief moment of time, crushed by a single blow in the house of celebration, at the hour of enjoyment, when the devil brought the building down upon them. He saw a table mingled with blood; he saw children born at different times but reaching the end of life together. He did not wail, he did not tear his hair, he did not utter any ignoble sound, but he spoke that famous thanksgiving celebrated by all: "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; as it seemed good to the Lord, so it has happened; blessed be the name of the Lord" (Job 1:21). Was the man without fellow-feeling? How could that be, when he says of himself, "I wept for everyone who was afflicted" (Job 30:25)? But was he lying when he said this? Indeed, the truth bears witness for him that along with his other virtues he was also truthful. For it says, "A man blameless, righteous, God-fearing, truthful" (Job 1:1). But you lament with songs composed for gloom, and you practice melting away your own soul with mournful melodies. And just as the invention and costume with which they take the theaters is proper to tragic actors, so you think a fitting appearance also belongs to the mourner: a black garment, unkempt hair, darkness in the house, filth, dust, and a gloomy song, always keeping the wound of grief fresh in the soul. Leave these things to those who have no hope. But you have been taught about those who have fallen asleep in Christ, that "it is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body" (1 Corinthians 15:42-44). Why then do you weep for the one who has gone out to change his clothing? Do not mourn for yourself as one deprived of some helper for life. For it says, "It is good to hope in the Lord rather than to hope in man" (Psalm 117:8 LXX). Do not grieve for him as one who has suffered terribly. For a little later the trumpet from heaven will wake him, and you will see him standing before the judgment seat of Christ. Put away, then, these low and untaught cries: "Woe is me for these unexpected evils!" and "Who would have thought this would happen?" and "When would I have expected to hide in the earth the head dearest to me?" For even if we hear another person saying these things, we ought to blush—we who have been taught the necessary sufferings of nature both from the memory of the past and from the experience of the present. Neither untimely death, then, nor any other misfortunes falling upon us unexpectedly will ever shock us, who are being instructed by the word of piety. For example: I had a son, a young man, my only heir in life, the comfort of my old age, the ornament of my family, the flower of his contemporaries, the support of my household—he was at the very prime of his age. He has been snatched away and is gone; he has become earth and dust—he who a short while ago was a sweet sound to hear and a most delightful sight to the eyes of his father. What then shall I do? Shall I tear my clothing, and consent to roll on the ground, and cry aloud, and be indignant, and display myself to those present like some child screaming and convulsing under blows? Or shall I attend to the necessity of what happens—that the law of death is inescapable, passing through every age alike and dissolving all composite things in turn—and not be shocked by what has occurred? Shall I not have my mind overturned, as if struck down by an unexpected blow, since I was instructed long ago that, being mortal, I had a mortal son, and that nothing human is secure, nor is it natural for any possession to remain with its owners forever? But even great and famous cities, distinguished by the splendor of their buildings, the power of their inhabitants, and their other prosperity in land and marketplace, now bear the symbols of their ancient dignity only in ruins.
Greek
Ὥσπερ γὰρ οἱ σκώληκες τοῖς ἁπαλωτέροις τῶν ξύλων ἐντίκτονται μάλιστα, οὕτως αἱ λῦπαι τοῖς μαλακωτέροις ἤθεσι τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἐμφύονται. Μὴ γὰρ ἀδαμάντινος ἦν ὁ Ἰὼβ τὴν καρδίαν; μὴ γὰρ ἐκ λίθου ἦν αὐτῷ πεποιημένα τὰ σπλάγχνα; Ἔπεσον αὐτῷ δέκα παῖδες ἐν βραχείᾳ καιροῦ ῥοπῇ, μιᾷ πληγῇ συντριβέντες ἐν τῷ οἴκῳ τῆς θυμηδίας, ἐν τῷ καιρῷ τῆς ἀπολαύσεως, ἐπικατασείσαντος αὐτοῖς τοῦ διαβόλου τὸ οἴκημα. Εἶδε τράπεζαν αἵματι μεμιγμένην· εἶδε παῖδας διαφόρως μὲν κατὰ τὸν χρόνον ἀποτεχθέντας, κοινῇ δὲ ὑπελθόντας τοῦ βίου τὸ τέλος. Οὐκ ᾤμωξεν, οὐ κατετίλατο κόμην, οὐκ ἀφῆκέ τινα φωνὴν ἀγενῆ, ἀλλὰ τὴν ἀοίδιμον ἐκείνην καὶ παρὰ πᾶσιν ἀνυμνουμένην εὐ-χαριστίαν ἀπεφθέγξατο· Ὁ Κύριος ἔδωκεν, ὁ Κύριος ἀφείλετο· ὡς τῷ Κυρίῳ ἔδοξεν, οὕτω καὶ ἐγένετο· εἴη τὸ ὄνομα Κυρίου εὐλογημένον. Μὴ ἀσυμπαθὴς ὁ ἄνθρωπος; Καὶ πῶς; ὅς γε περὶ ἑαυτοῦ λέγει· Ἐγὼ ἔκλαυσα ἐπὶ παντὶ θλιβομένῳ. Ἀλλ' ἆρα μὴ ἐψεύδετο ταῦτα λέγων; Καὶ μὴν μαρτυρεῖ αὐτῷ ἡ ἀλήθεια, ὅτι πρὸς ταῖς λοιπαῖς ἀρεταῖς καὶ ἀληθινὸς ἦν· Ἄνθρωπος γὰρ, φησὶν, ἄμεμπτος, δίκαιος, θεοσεβὴς, ἀληθινός. Σὺ δὲ ᾠδαῖς τισι πρὸς τὸ κατηφὲς πεποιημέναις παραθρηνεῖς, καὶ μέλεσι γοεροῖς ἐκτήκειν σεαυτοῦ τὴν ψυχὴν ἐπιτηδεύεις· καὶ ὥσπερ τῶν τραγῳδῶν ἴδιόν ἐστι τὸ ἀνάπλασμα καὶ ἡ σκευὴ μεθ' ἧς τὰ θέατρα καταλαμβάνουσιν· οὕτως οἴει προσήκειν καὶ τῷ πενθοῦντι πρέπον εἶναι σχῆμα, μέλαν ἱμάτιον, καὶ αὐχμηρὰν κόμην, καὶ σκότος ἐν οἰκίᾳ, καὶ ῥύπον, καὶ κόνιν, καὶ μέλος στυγνὸν, ἀεὶ νεαρὸν τῆς λύπης τὸ τραῦμα τῇ ψυχῇ διασῶζον. Κατάλιπε ταῦτα ποιεῖν τοῖς μὴ ἔχουσιν ἐλπίδα. Σὺ δὲ ἐδιδάχθης περὶ τῶν ἐν Χριστῷ κοιμηθέντων, ὅτι Σπείρεται ἐν φθορᾷ, ἐγείρεται ἐν ἀφθαρσίᾳ· σπείρεται ἐν ἀσθενείᾳ, ἐγείρεται ἐν δυνάμει· σπείρεται σῶμα ψυχικὸν, ἐγείρεται σῶμα πνευματικόν. Τί οὖν κλαίεις τὸν ἐξελθόντα μεταμφιάσασθαι; Μήτε σεαυτὸν θρήνει ὡς βοηθοῦ τινος πρὸς τὸν βίον στερούμενος· Ἀγαθὸν γὰρ, φησὶν, ἐλπίζειν ἐπὶ Κύριον, ἢ ἐλπίζειν ἐπ' ἄνθρωπον. Μήτε ἐκεῖνον ὀδύρου, ὡς δεινὰ πεπονθότα. Μικρὸν γὰρ ὕστερον. ἡ ἐξ οὐρανῶν σάλπιγξ αὐτὸν διυπνίσει, καὶ ὄψει αὐτὸν παριστάμενον τῷ βήματι τοῦ Χριστοῦ. Ἄφες οὖν ταύτας τὰς ταπεινὰς καὶ ἀπαιδεύτους φωνάς. Οἴ μοι τῶν ἀπροσδοκήτων κακῶν· καὶ τό· Τίς δ' ἂν ταῦτα ᾠήθη γενέσθαι; καὶ, Πότε δ' ἂν προσεδόκησα γῇ κατακρύψειν τὴν φιλτάτην ἐμοὶ κεφαλήν; Ταῦτα γὰρ κἂν ἑτέρου λέγοντος ἀκούωμεν, ἐρυθριᾷν ἡμᾶς προσῆκε τοὺς ἔκ τε τῆς μνήμης τῶν παρελθόντων καὶ ἐκ τῆς τῶν παρόντων πείρας τὰ ἀναγκαῖα τῆς φύσεως πάθη δεδιδαγμένους. Οὔτε οὖν ἀωρίαι θανάτου, οὔτε ἄλλαι τινὲς δυσκληρίαι ἀδοκήτως ἐμπεσοῦσαι, ἐκπλήξουσιν ἡμᾶς ποτε τοὺς παιδαγωγουμένους τῷ λόγῳ τῆς εὐσεβείας. Οἷον, παῖς μοι ἦν νεανίας, μόνος τοῦ βίου διάδοχος, παραμύθιον γήρως, ἐγκαλλώπισμα γένους, ἄνθος τῶν ὁμηλίκων, στήριγμα τῆς οἰκίας, αὐτὸ τῆς ἡλικίας ἦγε τὸ χαριέστατον· οὗτος ἀνάρπαστος οἴχεται· καὶ γῆ καὶ κόνις γέγονεν, ὁ πρὸ βραχέως ἡδὺ μὲν ἄκουσμα φθεγγόμενος, ἥδιστον δὲ θέαμα ὢν τοῖς τοῦ γεννήσαντος ὀφθαλμοῖς. Τί οὖν ποιήσομαι; Καταῤῥήξομαι τὴν ἐσθῆτα, καὶ καταδέξομαι κυλινδεῖσθαι χαμαὶ, καὶ ποτνιᾶσθαι, καὶ δυσανασχετεῖν, καὶ δεικνύειν ἐμαυτὸν τοῖς παροῦσιν οἱονεὶ παῖδά τινα ὑπὸ πληγῶν ἐκβοῶντα καὶ ἀποσπαίροντα; Ἢ τῷ ἀναγ-καίῳ τῶν γινομένων προσέχων, ὅτι ἀπαραίτητος ὁ τοῦ θανάτου νόμος, καὶ διὰ πάσης ὁμοίως ἡλικίας χωρῶν, καὶ πάντα ἐφεξῆς τὰ σύνθετα διαλύων, οὐ ξενισθήσομαι τῷ συμβάντι; οὐδ' ἀνατραπήσομαι τὸν νοῦν ὡς ὑπὸ πληγῆς ἀπροσδοκήτου καταῤῥαχθεὶς, πάλαι προπεπαιδευμένος, ὅτι, θνητὸς ὢν, θνητὸν εἶχον τὸν παῖδα, καὶ ὅτι οὐδὲν τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων βέβαιον, οὐδὲ εἰς τὸ παντελὲς παραμένειν τοῖς κτησαμένοις πέφυκεν; Ἀλλὰ καὶ πόλεις μεγάλαι καὶ περιφανεῖς τῇ τε τῶν κατασκευασμάτων λαμπρότητι, καὶ τῇ δυνάμει τῶν ἐνοικούντων, καὶ τῇ λοιπῇ κατά τε τὴν χώραν καὶ τὴν ἀγορὰν εὐθηνίᾳ διαπρέπουσαι, ἐν ἐρειπίοις νῦν μόνοις τῆς παλαιᾶς σεμνότητος τὰ σύμβολα φέρουσι.