Opening
I notice that you've provided only a biblical citation "Matthew 26:6-7" rather than a paragraph of text to rewrite.
Could you please provide the actual paragraph text that you'd like me to rewrite in clear, modern English? Once you share the paragraph, I'll be happy to simplify it while preserving all the theological precision and transliterated Greek technical terms as you've requested.
Matthew 26:6-7.
Now when Jesus was in Bethany, at the house of Simon the leper, a woman came to Him carrying an alabaster jar of very expensive ointment, and she poured it on His head while He was reclining at the table.
Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, there came unto Him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on His head, as He sat at meat.
This woman appears to be one and the same person across all the evangelists, but she is not. With three of the evangelists she does seem to me to be the same woman, but not with John. In John's account she is a different person, one greatly to be admired—the sister of Lazarus.
This woman seems indeed to be one and the same with all the evangelists, yet she is not so; but though with the three she does seem to me to be one and the same, yet not so with John, but another person, one much to be admired, the sister of Lazarus.
But the evangelist didn't mention Simon's leprosy without purpose. He wanted to show where the woman got her confidence to come to Him. Since leprosy seemed the most unclean disease and was thoroughly detested, yet she saw that Jesus had both healed the man (otherwise He wouldn't have chosen to stay with a leper) and had entered his house, she became confident that He would also easily wipe away the uncleanness of her soul. And He doesn't name the city Bethany without reason either, but so you might learn that He comes to His passion willingly. For He who earlier was escaping through their midst now, at the time when their envy was most inflamed, comes within about fifteen furlongs of them. This shows how completely His earlier withdrawal was part of a dispensation.
But not without purpose did the evangelist mention the leprosy of Simon, but in order that He might show whence the woman took confidence, and came unto Him. For inasmuch as the leprosy seemed a most unclean disease, and to be abhorred, and yet she saw Jesus had both healed the man (for else He would not have chosen to have tarried with a leper), and had gone into his house; she grew confident, that He would also easily wipe off the uncleanness of her soul. And not for nought does He name the city also, Bethany, but that you might learn, that of His own will He comes to His passion. For He who before this was fleeing through the midst of them; then, at the time when their envy was most kindled, comes near within about fifteen furlongs; so completely was His former withdrawing Himself a part of a dispensation.
The woman, having seen Jesus and gained confidence from what she observed, came to him. After all, if the woman with the issue of blood approached him trembling and fearful—even though she was guilty of nothing like this woman's sin but only suffered from what seemed like a natural uncleanness—how much more likely would this woman be hesitant and hold back because of her guilty conscience. This is why she comes to him only after many other women—the Samaritan, the Canaanite, the woman with the issue of blood, and others—being conscious of her great impurity. And even then she comes not publicly but in a house. Whereas all the other women came to him solely for physical healing, she came to him only to honor him and for the correction of her soul. She was not suffering from any bodily affliction at all, which makes her especially worthy of admiration.
The woman therefore having seen Him, and having taken confidence from thence came unto Him. For if she that had the issue of blood, although conscious to herself of nothing like this, yet because of that natural seeming uncleanness, approached Him trembling and in fear; much more was it likely this woman should be slow, and shrink back because of her evil conscience. Wherefore also it is after many women, the Samaritan, the Canaanite, her that had the issue of blood, and other besides, that she comes unto Him, being conscious to herself of much impurity; and then not publicly but in a house. And whereas all the others were coming unto Him for the healing of the body alone, she came unto Him by way of honor only, and for the amendment of the soul. For neither was she at all afflicted in body, so that for this most especially one might marvel at her.
And she did not come to Him as though He were merely a man; for then she would not have wiped His feet with her hair, but as to one greater than any man could be. Therefore she laid at Christ's feet the most honorable member of the whole body, even her own head.
And not as to a mere man did she come unto Him; for then she would not have wiped His feet with her hair, but as to one greater than man can be. Therefore that which is the most honorable member of the whole body, this she laid at Christ's feet, even her own head.
When His disciples saw this, they became indignant and said, "What is the point of this waste? This ointment could have been sold for a large sum and the money given to the poor." But when Jesus perceived their thoughts, He said, "Why are you troubling the woman? She has done a good work for me. You will always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me. By pouring this ointment on my body, she has prepared me for my burial. I tell you the truth: wherever this gospel is preached throughout the entire world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her."
But when His disciples saw it, they had indignation, such are the words, saying, To what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor. But when Jesus understood it, He said, Why trouble ye the woman? For she has wrought a good work upon me? For you have the poor always with you, but me you have not always. For in that she has poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman has done, be told for a memorial of her.
Where did they get this idea? They had heard their Master say, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice," and they had heard him criticize the Jews for neglecting the weightier matters—judgment, mercy, and faith. They had also heard him teach extensively on the mountain about almsgiving. From all these things, they drew conclusions and reasoned among themselves that if he does not accept burnt offerings or the old forms of worship, he certainly would not accept the anointing with oil.
And whence had they this thought? They used to hear their Master saying, I will have mercy, and not sacrifice, and blaming the Jews, because they omitted the weightier matters, judgment, and mercy, and faith, and discoursing much on the mount concerning almsgiving, and from these things they inferred with themselves, and reasoned, that if He accepts not whole burnt offerings, neither the ancient worship, much more will He not accept the anointing of oil.
But even though they thought this way, He knew her intention and allowed her to proceed. For indeed her reverence was great and her zeal unspeakable; therefore, out of this exceeding condescension, He permitted the oil to be poured even on His head.
But though they thus thought, He knowing her intention suffers her. For indeed great was her reverence, and unspeakable her zeal; wherefore of this exceeding condescension, He permitted the oil to be poured even on His head.
If He did not refuse to become human, to be carried in the womb, and to be nursed at the breast, why are you surprised if He does not completely reject this? For just as the Father accepted the smell of meat and smoke, so He accepted the prostitute, receiving, as I have already said, her intention. For Jacob also anointed a pillar to God, and oil was offered in the sacrifices, and the priests were anointed with ointment.
For if He refused not to become man, and to be borne in the womb, and to be fed at the breast, why do you marvel, if He does not utterly reject this? For like as the Father suffered a savor of meat, and smoke, even so did He the harlot, accepting, as I have already said, her intention. For Jacob too anointed a pillar to God, and oil was offered in the sacrifices, and the priests were anointed with ointment.
But the disciples, not understanding her purpose, found fault at the wrong time, and by the things they accused her of, they revealed the woman's generosity. For by saying that it could have been sold for three hundred denarii, they showed how much this woman had spent on the ointment and how great her generosity was. Therefore He also rebuked them, saying, "Why do you trouble the woman?" And He added a reason, since it was His will to remind them again of His passion: "For she did it for my burial," He said. And another reason: "For you have the poor always with you, but me you do not have always," and "Wherever the gospel is preached, what this woman has done will also be told."
But the disciples not knowing her purpose found fault unseasonably, and by the things they laid to her charge, they show the woman's munificence. For saying, that it might have been sold for three hundred pence, they showed how much this woman had spent on the ointment, and how great generosity she had manifested. Wherefore He also rebuked them, saying, Why trouble ye the woman? And He adds a reason, as it was His will again to put them in mind of His passion, For she did it, He said, for my burial. And another reason. For you have the poor always with you, but me you have not always; and, Wheresoever the gospel shall be preached, that shall be told also which this woman has done.
Do you see how once again He announces beforehand the mission to the Gentiles, thereby also comforting them concerning His death, since after the cross His power would shine forth in such a way that the gospel would be spread throughout every part of the earth.
Do you see how again He declares beforehand the going forth unto the Gentiles, in this way also consoling them for His death, if after the cross His power was so to shine forth, that the gospel should be spread abroad in every part of the earth.
Who could be so miserable as to oppose so much truth? Look—what He said has come true, and no matter what part of the world you travel to, you will see her celebrated everywhere.
Who then is so wretched as to set his face against so much truth? For lo! What He said has come to pass, and to whatever part of the earth you may go, you will see her celebrated.
And yet the person who did this was not famous, nor did the deed have many witnesses. It did not happen in a theater but in a house, specifically the house of a leper, with only the disciples present.
And yet neither was the person that did it distinguished, nor had what was done many witnesses, neither was it in a theatre, but in a house, that it took place, and this a house of some leper, the disciples only being present.
Who, then, proclaimed it and caused it to spread abroad? It was the power of the One who is speaking these words. While the noble deeds of countless kings and generals—even those whose monuments still remain—have been forgotten, and though they overthrew cities, built walls around them, erected trophies, and enslaved many nations, they are not known even by report or by name, despite having set up statues and established laws. Yet this woman, who was a harlot, poured out oil in the house of a leper in the presence of ten men, and all people throughout the world celebrate this act. So much time has passed, and yet the memory of what was done has not faded away. Rather, Persians and Indians, Scythians and Thracians, Sarmatians, the race of the Moors, and those who live in the British Islands all proclaim what was done secretly in a house by a woman who had been a harlot.
2. Who then proclaimed it, and caused it to be spread abroad? It was the power of Him who is speaking these words. And while of countless kings and generals the noble exploits even of those whose memorials remain have sunk into silence; and having overthrown cities, and encompassed them with walls, and set up trophies, and enslaved many nations, they are not known so much as by hearsay, nor by name, though they have both set up statues, and established laws; yet that a woman who was a harlot poured out oil in the house of some leper, in the presence of ten men, this all men celebrate throughout the world; and so great a time has passed, and yet the memory of that which was done has not faded away, but alike Persians and Indians, Scythians and Thracians, and Sarmatians, and the race of the Moors, and they that dwell in the British Islands, spread abroad that which was done secretly in a house by a woman that had been a harlot.
Great is the Lord's loving-kindness. He endures a prostitute, a prostitute kissing his feet and moistening them with oil and wiping them with her hair, and He receives her and reproves those who blame her. For it was not right that the woman should be driven to despair after showing so much zeal.
Great is the loving-kindness of the Lord. He endures an harlot, an harlot kissing his feet, and moistening them with oil, and wiping them with her hair, and He receives her, and reproves them that blame her. For neither was it right that for so much zeal the woman should be driven to despair.
But notice this too: how far they had now risen above worldly concerns, and how advanced they were in giving to the poor. And why did He not simply say, "She has done a good work," but before this, "Why are you troubling the woman?" So that they might learn not to demand overly high standards from weaker people right from the start. Therefore He does not examine the act merely by itself, but takes into account who the woman is. And indeed, if He had been establishing a law, He would not have brought in the woman, but so that you might learn that these things were said for her sake—so that they would not damage her budding faith, but rather nurture it—He says this, teaching us that whatever good thing may be done by anyone, even if it is not quite perfect, we should receive it, encourage it, and advance it, and not seek complete perfection from the beginning. For that He Himself would rather have preferred this is clear from the fact that He required a bag to be carried, even though He had nowhere to lay His head. But the time then did not call for Him to correct the deed, only to accept it. For just as, if someone had asked Him about this without the woman having done it, He would not have approved it, so after she had done it, He looks to one thing only: that she not be driven to confusion by the disciples' rebuke, but that she should leave His presence having been made more cheerful and better. For indeed, after the oil had been poured out, their rebuke had no proper timing.
But mark thou this too, how far they were now raised up above the world, and forward in almsgiving. And why was it He did not merely say, She has wrought a good work, but before this, Why trouble ye the woman? That they might learn not at the beginning to require too high principles of the weaker sort. Therefore neither does He examine the act merely itself by itself, but taking into account the person of the woman. And indeed if He had been making a law, He would not have brought in the woman, but that you might learn that for her sake these things were said, that they might not mar her budding faith, but rather cherish it, therefore He says it, teaching us whatever good thing may be done by any man, though it be not quite perfect, to receive it, and encourage it, and advance it, and not to seek all perfection at the beginning. For, that at least He Himself would rather have desired this, is manifest from the fact, that He required a bag to be borne, who had not where to lay His head. But then the time demanded not this, that He should correct the deed, but that He should accept it only. For even as, if any one asked Him, without the woman's having done it, He would not have approved this; so, after she had done it, He looks to one thing only, that she be not driven to perplexity by the reproof of the disciples, but that she should go from His care, having been made more cheerful and better. For indeed after the oil had been poured out, their rebuke had no seasonableness.
If you see someone providing sacred vessels and offering them, or eagerly working on some other ornament for the church—its walls or floor—do not order what has been made to be sold or destroyed, lest you destroy his zeal. But if he were to tell you about it before he had provided them, then command that they be given to the poor, since Christ also did this so as not to destroy the woman's spirit, and whatever He says, He speaks for her comfort.
Do thou then likewise, if you should see any one provide sacred vessels and offer them, and loving to labor upon any other ornament of the church, about its walls or floor; do not command what has been made to be sold, or overthrown, lest you spoil his zeal. But if, before he had provided them, he were to tell you of it, command it to be given to the poor; forasmuch as He also did this not to spoil the spirit of the woman, and as many things as He says, He speaks for her comfort.
Then, because He had said, "She has done it for my burial," He did not want to seem to trouble the woman by mentioning such a thing as His burial and death. So notice how He reassures her with what He says next: "What she has done will be spoken of throughout the whole world."
Then because He had said, She has done it for my burial; that He might not seem to perplex the woman, by making mention of such a thing as this, His burial and death, I mean; see how by that which follows He recovers her, saying, What she has done shall be spoken of in the whole world.
This was at the same time a consolation to His disciples and both comfort and praise to her. For all people, He says, will celebrate her from now on, and even now she has proclaimed my passion in advance by bringing to me what was needed for a funeral—so let no one criticize her. For I am so far from condemning her as if she had done something wrong, or from blaming her as if she had not acted rightly, that I will not allow what has been done to remain hidden. Instead, the world will know what has been done in a house and in private. For truly the deed came from a reverent mind, fervent faith, and a contrite soul.
And this was at once consolation to His disciples, and comfort and praise to her. For all men, He says, shall celebrate her hereafter; and now too has she announced beforehand my passion, by bringing unto me what was needed for a funeral, let not therefore any man reprove her. For I am so far from condemning her as having done amiss, or from blaming her as having not acted rightly, that I will not suffer what has been done to lie hidden, but the world shall know that which has been done in a house, and in secret. For in truth the deed came of a reverential mind, and fervent faith, and a contrite soul.
And why did He promise the woman nothing spiritual, but only perpetual memory? By this He is causing her to have confidence about the other things as well. For if she has done a good work, it is quite clear that she will receive a proper reward.
And wherefore did He promise the woman nothing spiritual; but the perpetual memory? From this He is causing her to feel a confidence about the other things also. For if she has wrought a good work, it is quite evident she shall receive a due reward.
Then went one of the twelve, he that was called Judas Iscariot, unto the chief priests, and said to them, What will you give me, and I will deliver Him unto you? Then. When? When these things were spoken, when He had said, it is for my burial, and not even by this was he moved to repentance, nor when he heard that the Gospel would be preached everywhere did he fear (and yet this was language showing unspeakable power), but when women showed so much honor, and women who had been harlots, then he did the devil's works.
Then went one of the twelve, he that was called Judas Iscariot, unto the chief priests, and said to them, What will you give me, and I will deliver Him unto you? Then. When? When these things were spoken, when He had said, it is for my burial, and not even thereby was he moved to compunction, neither when he heard that the Gospel should be preached everywhere did he fear (and yet it was the language of unspeakable power), but when women showed so much honor, and women that had been harlots, then he wrought the devil's works.
But why do they mention his surname? Because there was also another Judas. And they do not hesitate to say that he was one of the twelve. They hide nothing that might seem shameful. They could have simply said he was one of the disciples, since there were others beyond the twelve. But instead they specify that he was one of the twelve—as if to say, from that first group chosen as the best, from those who included Peter and John. They cared about one thing only: the truth, not concealing what actually happened.
But what can be the reason they mention his surname? Because there was also another Judas. And they do not shrink from saying, He was of the twelve; so entirely do they hide none of those things which seem to be matters of reproach. And yet they might have said merely this, that he was one of the disciples, for there were others besides. But now they add, of the twelve, as though they had said, of the first company of those selected as the best, of them with Peter and John. Because for one thing did they care, for truth alone, not for concealing what things were done.
For this reason they pass over many of the signs, but they conceal nothing of the things that appear to be matters of reproach. Whether it is a word, a deed, or anything else of this kind, they proclaim it with confidence.
For this cause many of the signs they pass by, but of the things that appear to be matters of reproach they conceal nothing; but though it be word, though it be deed, though it be what you will of this kind, they proclaim it with confidence.
And not only these, but even John himself, who expresses the higher doctrines. For he above all tells us about the insults and shameful things that were done to Him.
3. And not these only, but even John himself, who utters the higher doctrines. For he most of all tells us of the affronts and the reproachful things that were done unto Him.
And see how great Judas's wickedness is, in that he comes to them on his own initiative, in that he does this for money, and for such a small amount of money.
And see how great is the wickedness of Judas, in that he comes unto them of his own accord, in that he does this for money, and for such a sum of money.
But Luke says that he consulted with the chief captains. For after the Jews became rebellious, the Romans placed over them those who would maintain order. For their government had now changed in accordance with the prophecy.
But Luke says, that he conferred with the chief captains. For after that the Jews became seditious, the Romans set over them those that should provide for their good order. For their government had now undergone a change according to the prophecy.
He went to these people and said, "What will you give me, and I will hand him over to you?" They agreed to pay him thirty pieces of silver. From that time on, he looked for an opportunity to betray him. He was indeed afraid of the crowd and wanted to seize him when he was alone.
To these then he went and said, What will you give me, and I will deliver him unto you. And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver. And from that time he sought opportunity to betray Him. For indeed he was afraid of the multitude, and desired to seize him alone.
What madness! How completely covetousness blinded him! Even though he had often seen Jesus pass through the midst of a crowd without being seized, and had witnessed many demonstrations of His divine nature and power, he still planned to capture Him. This happened despite Jesus using so many solemn and gentle words—like a remedy—to try to end this evil intention. For even at the supper, Jesus did not stop caring for him, but continued speaking to him about these things right up to the last day. But it did him no good. Yet even so, the Lord did not stop doing His part.
Oh madness! How did covetousness altogether blind him! For he that had often seen Him when He went through the midst, and was not seized, and when He afforded many demonstrations of His Godhead and power, looked to lay hold on Him; and this while He was using like a charm for him so many, both awful and soothing words, to put an end to this evil thought. For not even at the supper did He forbear from this care of him, but unto the last day discoursed to him of these things. But he profited nothing. Yet not for that did the Lord cease to do His part.
Understanding this, let us not stop doing everything we can for those who sin and fall short—warning, teaching, urging, correcting, counseling—even if we accomplish nothing. For Christ knew beforehand that the traitor could not be corrected, yet He never stopped doing what He could do on His part: warning, threatening, and lamenting over him, always in a hidden and indirect way, never plainly or openly. And even at the moment of betrayal, He allowed him to kiss Him, but this did him no good. Greed is such a great evil—it made him both a traitor and a thief who stole sacred things.
Knowing this, then, let us also not intermit to do all things unto them that sin and are remiss, warning, teaching, exhorting, admonishing, advising, though we profit nothing. For Christ indeed foreknew that the traitor was incorrigible, yet nevertheless He ceased not to supply what could be done by Himself, as well admonishing as threatening and bewailing over him, and nowhere plainly, nor openly, but in a concealed way. And at the very time of the betrayal, He allowed him even to kiss Him, but this benefited him nothing. So great an evil is covetousness, this made him both a traitor, and a sacrilegious robber.
Listen, all you greedy people, you who have the disease of Judas; listen, and beware of this disaster. For if he who was with Christ, and performed signs, and had the benefit of so much teaching, because he was not freed from the disease, was plunged into such a pit, how much more will you—who do not even listen to Scripture, who are constantly fixated on present things—become an easy prey to this disaster, unless you have the advantage of constant care. Every day that man was with Him who had nowhere to lay His head, and every day he was instructed by deeds and by words not to have gold, or silver, or two coats; and yet he was not taught self-control. And how do you expect to escape the disease if you do not have the benefit of serious attention and do not use much diligence? For terrible, terrible is the monster, yet nevertheless, if you are willing, you will easily overcome it. For the desire is not natural; and this is clear from those who are free from it. For natural things are common to all, but this desire has its origin from laziness alone. From there it takes its birth, from there it derives its increase, and when it has seized upon those who look greedily after it, it makes them live contrary to nature. For when they disregard their fellow countrymen, their friends, their brothers—in a word, all people—and along with these even themselves, this is to live against nature. From this it is clear that the vice and disease of greed, in which Judas, being entangled, became a traitor, is contrary to nature. And how did he become such a person, you may say, having been called by Christ? Because God's call is not compulsory, nor does it force the will of those who are not inclined to choose virtue, but it advises and counsels and does and manages all things so as to persuade people to become good. But if some do not endure, it does not compel. But if you would learn from what cause he became such as he was, you will find him to have been ruined by greed.
Hearken, all you covetous, you that have the disease of Judas; hearken, and beware of the calamity. For if he that was with Christ, and wrought signs, and had the benefit of so much instruction, because he was not freed from the disease, was sunk into such a gulf; how much more shall you, who do not so much as listen to the Scripture, who are constantly riveted to the things present, become an easy prey to this calamity, unless you have the advantage of constant care. Every day was that man with Him, who had not where to lay His head, and every day was he instructed by deeds, and by words, not to have gold, nor silver, nor two coats; and yet he was not taught self restraint; and how do you expect to escape the disease, if you have not the benefit of earnest attention, and dost not use much diligence? For terrible, terrible is the monster, yet nevertheless, if you be willing, you will easily get the better of him. For the desire is not natural; and this is manifest from them that are free from it. For natural things are common to all; but this desire has its origin from remissness alone; hence it takes its birth, hence it derives its increase, and when it has seized upon those who look greedily after it, it makes them live contrary to nature. For when they regard not their fellow countrymen, their friends, their brethren, in a word all men, and with these even themselves, this is to live against nature. Whence it is evident that the vice and disease of covetousness, wherein Judas, being entangled, became a traitor, is contrary to nature. And how did he become such a one, you may say, having been called by Christ? Because God's call is not compulsory, neither does it force the will of them who are not minded to choose virtue, but admonishes indeed, and advises, and does and manages all things, so as to persuade men to become good; but if some endure not, it does not compel. But if you would learn from what cause he became such as he was, you will find him to have been ruined by covetousness.
And how was he overtaken by this calamity? One might ask. Because he grew careless. For such changes arise from this, just as changes for the better come from diligence. How many, for instance, who were violent are now gentler than lambs? How many promiscuous people have later become self-controlled? How many who were formerly greedy have now cast away even their own possessions? And the opposite has also resulted from carelessness. For Gehazi also lived with a holy man, and he too became corrupt from the same disease. For this calamity is the most serious of all. From this come tomb robbers, from this come murderers, from this come wars and conflicts, and whatever evil you might name comes from this. And in every respect such a person is useless, whether he needs to lead an army or guide a people—or rather, not only in public matters, but also in private ones. If he is to marry a wife, he will not choose the virtuous woman, but the most worthless of all; if he has to buy a house, not one that befits a free man, but what can bring much rent; if he is to buy slaves, or whatever else it may be, he will choose the worst.
And how was he taken by this calamity? One may say. Because he grew remiss. For hence arise such changes, as on the other hand, those for the better from diligence. How many for instance that were violent, are now more gentle than lambs? How many lascivious persons have become afterwards continent? How many, heretofore covetous, yet now have cast away even their own possessions? And the contrary again has been the result of remissness. For Gehazi also lived with a holy man, and he too became depraved from the same disease. For this calamity is the most grievous of all. Hence come robbers of tombs, hence menslayers, hence wars and fightings, and whatsoever evil you may mention, it comes hence. And in every respect is such a one useless, whether it be requisite to lead an army or to guide a people: or rather not in public matters only, but also in private. If he is to marry a wife, he will not take the virtuous woman, but the vilest of all; if he have to buy a house, not that which becomes a free man, but what can bring much rent; if he is to buy slaves, or what else it may be, he will take the worst.
Why should I even mention leading an army, guiding a people, or managing households? If such a person becomes a king, he is the most miserable of all people, a plague to the world, and the poorest of all. He will feel like a common person, not counting all people's possessions as his own, but thinking of himself as just one among all. Even while plundering everyone's goods, he considers himself to have less than anyone. By measuring what he currently has against his desire for what he doesn't yet possess, he regards what he has as nothing compared to what he lacks. This is why it is written, "There is not a more wicked thing than a covetous man" (Sirach 10:9).
And why do I speak of leading an army, and guiding a people, and managing households; for should he be a king, he is the most wretched of all men, and a pest to the world, and the poorest of all men. For he will feel like one of the common sort, not accounting all men's possessions to be his, but himself to be one of all; and when spoiling all men's goods, thinks himself to have less than any. For measuring the things present by his desire for those whereof he is not yet possessed, he will account the former nothing compared to the latter. Wherefore also one says, There is not a more wicked thing than a covetous man. Sirach 10:9
For such a person both puts himself up for sale and goes about as a common enemy of the world, grieving that the earth does not produce gold instead of grain, and that fountains do not flow with gold instead of water, and that mountains are not made of gold instead of stone. He is vexed at the productivity of the seasons, troubled by benefits that are available to everyone, avoiding every means by which he cannot obtain money, pursuing every means by which he can scrape together even two small coins. He hates all people, both the poor and the rich—the poor, lest they should come and beg from him; the rich, because he does not possess what they have. He considers all people to be in possession of what belongs to him, and as though he had been wronged by everyone, he is displeased with everyone. He does not know abundance, he has no experience of being satisfied, and he is more wretched than anyone. On the other hand, the person who is freed from these things and practices self-restraint is the most enviable. For the virtuous man, even if he is a servant or a prisoner, is the happiest of all people. No one will harm him, not even if all people from the entire world should gather together, mobilizing armies and camps and making war against him. But the person who is depraved and vile, such as we have described, even if he is a king wearing a thousand crowns, will suffer the worst miseries, even at the hand of an ordinary person. So weak is vice, so strong is virtue.
4. For such a one both sets himself to sale, and goes about, a common enemy of the world, grieving that the earth does not bear gold instead of the grain, and the fountains instead of streams, and the mountains instead of stone; vexed at the fruitfulness of the seasons, troubled at common benefits; shunning every means whence one cannot obtain money; undergoing all things whence one can scrape together so much as two farthings; hating all men, the poor and the rich; the poor, lest they should come and beg of him; the rich, because he has not their possessions. All men he accounts to be possessed of what is his, and as though he had been injured by all, so is he displeased with all. He knows not plenty, he has no experience of satiety, he is more wretched than any, even as, on the other hand, he that is freed from these things, and practises self-restraint, is the most enviable. For the virtuous man, though he be a servant, though a prisoner, is the most happy of all men. For no one shall do him ill, no not though all men should come together out of the world, setting in motion arms and camps, and warring with him. But he that is depraved and vile, and such as we have described, though he be a king, though he have on a thousand diadems, will suffer the utmost extremities, even from a common hand. So feeble is vice, so strong is virtue.
Why then do you mourn when you are in a state of poverty? Why do you wail while keeping a feast, for indeed it is an occasion of feasting? Why do you weep, for poverty is a festival, if you are wise? Why do you lament, you little child—for we should call such a person a little child? Did someone strike you? What of it—he made you more able to endure? But did he take away your money? He has removed the greater part of your burden. But has he cut off your honor? Again you tell me of another kind of freedom. Hear even those outside the faith teaching wisdom about these things and saying, "You have suffered no harm, if you pay no regard to it." But has he taken away that great house of yours with its enclosures? But look, the whole earth is before you, the public buildings, whether you would have them for delight or for use. And what is more pleasing or more beautiful than the firmament of heaven?
Why then do you mourn, being in a state of poverty. Why do you wail keeping a feast, for indeed it is an occasion of feasting. Why do you weep, for poverty is a festival, if you be wise. Why do you lament, thou little child; for such a one we should call a little child. Did such a person strike you? What is this, he made you more able to endure? But did he take away your money? He has removed the greater part of your burden. But has he cut off your honor? Again you tell me of another kind of freedom. Hear even those without teaching wisdom touching these things, and saying, You have suffered no ill, if you show no regard to it. But has he taken away that great house of yours, which has enclosures about it? But behold the whole earth is before you, the public buildings, whether you would have them for delight, or for use. And what is more pleasing or more beautiful than the firmament of Heaven.
How long will you be poor and needy? It is impossible for someone to be rich if he is not wealthy in his soul, just as it is impossible for someone to be poor if he does not have poverty in his mind. For if the soul is nobler than the body, the less noble parts have no power to affect it according to their condition. Instead, the noble part draws to herself and changes those that are not as noble. In the same way, when the heart suffers any injury, it affects the whole body accordingly. If its balance is disturbed, it harms everything; if it is properly balanced, it benefits everything. And if any of the other parts becomes corrupted while the heart remains sound, it easily shakes off what is evil in them as well.
How long are you poor and needy? It is not possible for him to be rich, who is not wealthy in his soul; like as it is not possible for him to be poor, who has not the poverty in his mind. For if the soul is a nobler thing than the body, the less noble parts have not power to affect it after themselves; but the noble part draws over unto herself, and changes those that are not so noble. For so the heart, when it has received any hurt, affects the whole body accordingly; if its temperament be disordered, it mars all, if it be rightly tempered, it profits all. And if any of the remaining parts should have become corrupt, while this remains sound, it easily shakes off what is evil in them also.
And to make what I'm saying even clearer, what is the benefit, I ask you, of green branches when the root is dying? And what is the harm of withered leaves above when the root is sound? So also here there is no benefit of money while the soul is poor, nor harm from poverty when the soul is rich. And how can a soul, someone may ask, be rich when it lacks money? Precisely at such times might this be most true, for then the soul is especially accustomed to being rich.
And that I may further make what I say more plain, what is the use, I pray you, of verdant branches, when the root is withering? And what is the harm of the leaves being withered above, while this is sound? So also here there is no use of money, while the soul is poor; neither harm from poverty, when the soul is rich. And how can a soul, one may say, be rich, being in want of money? Then above all times might this be; for then also is it wont to be rich.
For if, as we have often shown, this is a sure proof of being rich—to despise wealth and to want nothing—and of poverty again, to want, and if anyone would more easily despise money in poverty than in wealth, it is quite evident that being in poverty rather makes one rich. For indeed that the rich man sets his heart on money more than the poor man is surely plain to everyone, just as the drunken man is thirsty rather than he who has drunk sufficiently. For his desire is not such as to be quenched by too much; but on the contrary, it is its nature to be inflamed by this. For fire likewise, when it has received more fuel, then most of all grows fierce; and the tyranny of wealth, when you have cast more gold into it, then most especially is increased.
For if, as we have often shown, this is a sure proof of being rich, to despise wealth, and to want nothing; and of poverty again, to want, and any one would more easily despise money in poverty than in wealth, it is quite evident that to be in poverty rather makes one to be rich. For indeed that the rich man sets his heart on money more than the poor man, is surely plain to every one; like as the drunken man is thirsty, rather than he that has partaken of drink sufficiently. For neither is his desire such as to be quenched by too much; but, on the contrary, it is its nature to be inflamed by this. For fire likewise, when it has received more food, then most of all waxes fierce; and the tyranny of wealth, when you have cast into it more gold, then most especially is increased.
If, then, desiring more is a mark of poverty, and the person who possesses riches is like this, then he is especially in poverty. Do you see that the soul is most of all poor when it is rich, and is rich when it is in poverty?
If then the desiring more be a mark of poverty; and he that is in the possession of riches is like this; he is especially in poverty. Do you see that the soul then most of all is poor, when it is rich; and then is rich, when it is in poverty?
If you like, let's test this reasoning with actual people. Imagine two people: one has ten thousand talents, the other has ten. Now take away what each person has. Who will grieve more? The one who lost the ten thousand. But he wouldn't grieve more unless he loved it more. And if he loves it more, he desires it more. And if he desires it more, he is more in poverty. For we most desire what we most lack, since desire comes from want. Where there is satisfaction, there cannot be desire. We are most thirsty when we most need drink.
And if you will, let us exercise our reasoning in persons also, and let there be two, the one having ten thousand talents, the other ten, and from both let us take away these things. Who then will grieve the most? He that has lost the ten thousand. But he would not have grieved more, unless he had loved it more; but if he loves more, he desires more; but if he desires more, he is more in poverty. For this do we most desire, of which we are most in want, for desire is from want. For where there is satiety, there cannot be desire. For then are we most thirsty, when we have most need of drink.
I have said all these things to show that if we are watchful, no one will harm us, and that the harm comes not from poverty but from ourselves. Therefore I urge you with all diligence to put away the plague of covetousness, so that we may both be wealthy here and enjoy the eternal good things, which may God grant that we all attain, by the grace and love towards humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.
And all these things have I said, to show that if we be vigilant, no one shall harm us; and that the harm arises not from poverty but from ourselves. Wherefore I beseech you with all diligence to put away the pest of covetousness, that we may both be wealthy here, and enjoy the good things eternal, unto which God grant we may all attain, by the grace and love towards man of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory world without end. Amen.