The rich young man's mixed character and his failure of love

We spoke before about this young man, and the diligent hearer certainly remembers what we examined then. First, he is not the same as the lawyer in Luke. That man was a tester, asking questions ironically; this one asks soundly but does not receive the answers obediently. For he would not have gone away grieving at such answers from the Lord if he had brought his questions contemptuously. So his character appeared to us as mixed: the account showed him partly praiseworthy, partly most wretched and utterly despaired of. For recognizing the true teacher, passing by the arrogance of the Pharisees, the conceit of the lawyers, and the crowd of scribes, and giving this title to the only true and good teacher—this was what was praised. And indeed, appearing to make it a matter of concern how he might inherit eternal life—this too was acceptable. But the rest convicts his whole purpose, which did not look toward what is truly good but seeking what pleases the crowd: having learned saving lessons from the true teacher, he did not write them on his own heart, nor bring the teachings to deed, but went away disheartened, darkened by the passion of love of wealth. This convicts the unevenness of his ways and his discord with himself. You call him Teacher, and you do not do what students do? You confess him good, and you pass by what he gives? Yet surely the good one is a provider of good things. And you ask about eternal life, but you are convicted of being wholly bound to the enjoyment of the present life. What harsh, heavy, or excessive word did the teacher set before you? Sell your possessions and give to the poor (Matthew 19:21). If he had set before you agricultural labors, or the dangers of trade, or all the other toils that come to those who make money, you would have had reason to grieve, distressed at the command. But if by so easy a road, holding no labor or sweat, he promises to make you an heir of eternal life, do you not rejoice at the ease of salvation, but go away pained in soul and mourning, and make useless for yourself everything you labored at beforehand? For if you did not murder, as you say, nor commit adultery, nor steal, nor bear false witness against anyone, you make your zeal about these things unprofitable for yourself by not adding what is lacking, through which alone you will be able to enter the kingdom of God. If a physician promised to correct the mutilations of limbs that were yours by nature or from illness, you would not be disheartened to hear it. But when the great physician of souls wishes to make you complete, though you are lacking in the most critical things, you do not receive the grace, but mourn and are gloomy. For you are clearly far from that commandment, and you bore witness to yourself falsely, that you loved your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 19:19). For see, what the Lord set before you convicts you of falling far short of true love. For if what you asserted were true, that from youth you kept the commandment of love (Matthew 19:20), and you gave back to each as much as to yourself, where did this surplus of possessions come from? For the care of those in need is costly to wealth: each one receives little for his necessary care, but all together divide up what exists and spend it on themselves. So the one who loves his neighbor as himself possesses nothing more than his neighbor. But you clearly have many possessions. Where did these come from? It is clear that you make your own enjoyment more important than the relief of the many. So as much as you abound in wealth, so much you fall short in love. For long ago you would have practiced the giving away of your possessions, if you had loved your neighbor. But now possessions cling to you more than the limbs of your body, and separation from them grieves you like the amputation of your vital parts. For if you had clothed the naked, if you had given your bread to the hungry, if your door had been open to every stranger, if you had become a father to orphans, if you had suffered with every powerless person, over what possessions would you have grieved? Where would you have been distressed at putting away what remained, having long practiced distributing them to those in need? Then, at a festival no one grieves at giving up what he has and acquiring what he lacks; but the cheaper he buys what is costly, the more he rejoices, as though the exchange had turned out brilliantly for him. But you grieve at giving gold and silver and possessions—that is, at providing stones and dust—in order to acquire the blessed life.