The soul's true possessions and the body's discipline

This is what is set straight; this is what receives the recompense for those who have lived as citizens here. And you would find that the virtues also become our possessions when they are woven together with our nature by our own care. They are not willing to leave us while we labor on earth, unless we ourselves willingly drive them away by the inducements of worse things. They run ahead of us as we press on to the other world, they rank their possessor together with the angels, and they shine forever under the eyes of their Creator. But wealth, and power, and distinction, and luxury, and all that sort of crowd that grows daily from our own folly—these did not come forth with us into life, nor have they departed with anyone. What was said long ago by the righteous man stands fixed and prevails over every human being: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart” (Job 1:21).

So the person who plans best will care for the soul as much as possible, and through everything will try to keep it pure and genuine. But if the flesh is wasting with hunger, or struggling against cold and heat, or pained by illnesses, or suffering something violent from others, he will make little account of it. In every hardship he will speak Paul’s words and say: “Even if our outer person is wasting away, yet our inner person is being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16). And when he sees dangers coming that threaten his life, he will not appear afraid, but will say to himself with confidence: “We know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands” (2 Corinthians 5:1).

But if someone wishes to spare the body as well, as the one necessary possession of the soul and its fellow worker for living on earth, he will turn only a little attention to its needs—just enough to hold it together and keep it strong for the soul’s service through moderate care, but certainly not to allow it to leap about from being overfed. And if he ever sees it inflamed with desires for more than what is profitable, he will cry out to it, laying down Paul’s law: “We brought nothing into this world, and it is clear that we can carry nothing out. But if we have food and covering, with these we will be content” (1 Timothy 6:7-8).

For by chanting these words to it constantly and crying out, he will make it obedient to the rein and always light for the heavenly journey, and will gain it rather as a fellow worker for the things set before him. But if he allows it to run wild and to be filled with everything every day, like some untamed beast, he will later be dragged down with it by its violent pulls toward the earth, and will lie groaning to no profit. And when he is brought before the Master and asked for the fruit of the earthly journey that was given to him, and then cannot give it, he will lament at length and dwell in perpetual darkness, blaming luxury and its deception, by which he was robbed of the time of salvation—yet gaining nothing more from his tears. For “in the grave who will praise you?” says David (Psalm 6:5).

Let us flee, then, as quickly as possible, so that we do not willingly choke ourselves. But if someone was enticed long ago and heaped up the dust of wealth from injustice upon himself, and bound his mind with its cares, or attached to his nature a defilement of licentiousness that is hard to wash out, or filled himself with other accusations—let this person, while there is still time, before he comes to utter destruction, put off the greater part of his cargo. Before the vessel goes under the water, let him jettison the goods he gathered improperly, and let him imitate the workers of the sea.