Commentary on the Psalms 1 part 1/3

When I called upon Him, the God of my righteousness heard me.

The Prophet utters these words, not merely that we may learn that he was heard;

but that we too may be instructed how, when we call upon God, we may be able to be heard swiftly, and to receive our request even before the prayer is ended.

For he did not say, 'After I called upon Him He heard me,' but, 'When I called upon Him.'

For indeed such also is the very promise of God Himself, when He says somewhere to the one who calls upon Him:

For it is not a multitude of words that is wont to persuade God, but a pure soul and the showing forth of good works.

To those, therefore, who live in wickedness yet expect to prevail upon Him by the length of their words, see what He says:

When you multiply your supplication, I will not hearken unto you.

If you stretch forth your hands, I will turn my eyes away from you.

So then, before all else the one who prays must have confidence, and by all means the fulfilment of his request will follow.

For this very reason the Prophet did not say, 'He heard me,' but, 'the God of my righteousness,' showing his confidence toward God, and that it was with this that he always drew near to Him.

But let no one suppose that in saying these things he is boasting.

For he says these things not out of a wish to exalt himself, but by way of introducing a certain teaching and a common exhortation that carries much profit.

For lest anyone should say, 'That man was heard because he was David, but I shall not be heard, since I am small and of no account,'

he shows that God neither hears the former without reason, nor disregards you carelessly and at random, but everywhere is an exact observer of things.

If you have those things that are able to plead on your behalf, you will assuredly be heard.

Just as, if you do not have them, not even were you a David could you persuade God.

And just as lovers of money look neither to worth nor to anything else, but only to those who possess silver, and go off to them as though they would accomplish everything;

so also God, since He is a lover of righteousness, whoever comes to Him with it will not depart empty; whereas the one who comes without it, and is entangled in the contrary things, though he entreat ten thousand times, will accomplish nothing more, having no power of persuasion with him.

So then, if you wish to accomplish anything with God, take this with you and go.

And do not think righteousness here to be a part of virtue, but whole and universal.

So also Job was righteous, possessing every human virtue;

not abstaining from this evil while clinging to another.

So too we call that a just balance which is equal in every case;

not one that can weigh gold accurately but lead the opposite way, but that which affords equality in all materials;

and again a measure, that which is equal in every case.

So also Job was righteous, being equal in every case.

For he preserved this equality not in matters of money alone, but in all other things as well, nowhere transgressing the measure.

Nor could anyone say that in matters of money he loved fair dealing, but in his intercourse with his neighbours he transgressed the measure, being boastful and disdainful.

For indeed this too he shunned with great care.

But if I despised the cause of my manservant or my maidservant when they contended with me;

did not He who made me make them also?

Therefore this too is the greatest injustice—to be boastful and haughty.

For just as we call a man covetous who wishes to seize what belongs to others and is not content with his own possessions,

so also we call a man arrogant when he demands from his neighbour more than is due to him;

when a man establishes himself in every honour, but treats another with dishonour,

this comes from no other source than from injustice.

That this indeed is injustice, consider from what follows.

God made both you and him, and has given you all things in common with him and on equal terms.

How then do you cast him out and rob him of the honour which God gave, and do not allow him to be a partaker, but making everything your own, render him a pauper not only in money but also in glory? God bestowed upon each of them one and the same nature;

He deemed them worthy of the same precedence, of the same fashioning.

For the words, 'Let us make man,' belong in common to the whole race.

How then do you cast him out of his paternal inheritance, dragging him down to the utmost degradation, and appropriating to yourself what is common? But the blessed Prophet was not such a man;

therefore also he said with boldness:

'He hearkened to my righteousness.'

So too Paul often brings himself forward into the midst, not exalting himself, nor puffing himself up, but becoming an example to others; as when he says, 'I would that all men were even as I myself in self-control.'

So too David, when the occasion called for it, brings into the midst his own valour, which came from God's aid, saying that he even strangled bears and embraced lions, yet not exalting himself either—God forbid!—but rather providing for himself thereby a claim to be believed.

'And if I have righteousness,' someone will perhaps say, 'what need is there of prayer, since the deed itself suffices to accomplish everything aright, and He who is to give knows the things of which we have need?' Because prayer is no small bond of love toward God, forming in us a habit of converse with Him, and leading us to the love of wisdom.

For if a man who keeps company with an admirable person reaps much from the fellowship, how much more he who continually converses with God!

But we do not know the gain of prayer as we ought, since we neither attend to it with exactness, nor employ it according to the laws of God.

But when we are about to converse with certain men who are above us, we arrange our posture, our gait, our garment, and everything to what is fitting, and so converse;

but when we approach God we yawn, we scratch ourselves, we turn about, we are slothful;

while our knees lie upon the ground, we wander off into the marketplace.

But if we approached with the reverence that is due, and as men about to converse with God, then we would come to know, even before receiving what we asked, how great a gain we reap.

For a man taught to converse with God, as it is fitting for one who converses with God, will henceforth be an angel;

thus the soul is loosed from the bonds of the body;

thus his reasoning becomes uplifted;

thus he is removed to dwell toward heaven;

thus he despises the things of this life;

thus he stands beside the royal throne itself, even if he be poor, even if a household slave, even if a common man, even if unlearned.

For God does not seek beauty of tongue, nor a composition of words, but the loveliness of the soul;

and if that utters the things pleasing to Him, one departs having accomplished the whole.

Do you see how great the ease? For in the case of men, one who approaches someone must be an orator, and be capable of flattering all those about the ruler, and must devise many other things in order to become acceptable.

But here there is need of nothing, but only of a sober mind, and nothing hinders one from being near to God.

'For I am a God at hand, and not a God afar off.'

So that our becoming far off comes about from ourselves;

for He Himself is always near.

And why do I say that we have no need of rhetoric? Often we have no need even of a voice.

For even if you utter it in your heart, and call upon Him as you ought, He will readily give assent even then.

So too He hearkened to Moses;

No soldier stands by to drive one away, no spearman to cut short the time;

there is no one who says, 'Now it is not possible to approach; come at another time';

but whenever you come, He stands hearkening, even if it be at the hour of the morning meal, even if at the hour of dinner, even in the very dead of night, even in the marketplace, even on the road, even in the bedchamber, even if you stand within before a ruler in a court of judgment and call upon Him, there is nothing to hinder His giving assent to your request, if you call upon Him as you ought.

It is not possible to say, 'I am afraid to draw near and to make my request.'

This obstacle has been done away with.

For He does not turn His attention to an enemy and so cut off your petition;

rather, you are able to entreat Him always and without ceasing, and no difficulty stands in the way.

For there is no need of doorkeepers to usher you in, nor of stewards, agents, guards, or friends; but whenever you draw near by yourself, of your own accord, then above all will He hear you, then, when you ask nothing through another.

We do not, then, so prevail upon Him by making our plea through others, as when we do so through our own selves.

For since He longs for our friendship, He does everything so that we may have confidence toward Him;

and whenever He sees us doing this of ourselves, then above all does He assent.

Thus also did He act in the case of the Canaanite woman;

and when Peter and James came forward on her behalf, He did not assent;

but when she persevered, He quickly granted what was asked.

For even if He seemed to delay a little, He did this not in order to put the woman off, but that He might crown her the more greatly, and might make her perseverance the more His own.

Let us, then, also practice entreating God;

let us learn how we ought to make this entreaty.

One need not go off to a school of the muses, nor spend money, nor hire tutors, orators, and sophists, nor spend a great deal of time, in order to learn this art of eloquence;

rather, it suffices merely to will it, and the whole of the art is accomplished.

And you will be able in this tribunal to speak not only on your own behalf, but also on behalf of many others.

And what is the aim of this pleading? The manner of prayer.

It is to draw near to Him with a sober mind, with a contrite soul, with fountains of tears; to ask for nothing pertaining to this life; to long for the things to come; to make one's supplication for spiritual things; not to imprecate against one's enemies; to bear no one a grudge; to cast out from the soul all the passions; to draw near thus, with a heart broken in contrition; to be humble; to practice great forbearance, and to turn the tongue to good speech; to make no common cause with wicked deeds; to have nothing in common with the common enemy of the whole world, I mean the devil.

For the man who, while speaking to the king on behalf of others, holds converse with that king's enemies, even the laws of this world punish.

You too, then, if you wish to speak both on your own behalf and on behalf of others, accomplish above all this one thing: to have nothing in common with the common enemy of the whole world.

And being righteous, you will be heard, having such an advocate.

He did not say, 'You brought the afflictions to an end,' nor, 'You took away the trials,' but, 'You let me stand firm,' and, 'You have set me at large.'

For the resourcefulness of God and His readiness of means is shown most of all even from this: not only in His removing the afflictions, but also in His granting much relief while they yet remain.

This both shows the strength of God, and makes those who fall into afflictions more given to wisdom, whenever there is at once a spaciousness that consoles the afflicted soul, and yet the affliction is not dissolved but tightens its grip on the soul that had grown slothful, and delivers it from all faintheartedness.

And how, one asks, could there be enlargement in affliction? As in the furnace of the three young men, as in the den of the lions.

For He did not quench the flame and then set them in a spacious place;

nor did He kill the lions and only then establish him in safety;

but while the furnace there was fiercely blazing, and the wild beasts here remained, the righteous enjoyed great relief.

But it is possible to speak of enlargement in yet another way:

namely, whenever the soul, afflicted by trials, is delivered from the passions and from its many maladies;

for it is then above all that it enjoys the enlargement.

For many, while abiding in prosperity, have most absurd cravings that afflict their soul—cravings for money, for bodies, and for other such unseemly things;

but when they have fallen into affliction, they are set free from all those things, and come to be in a spacious place.

And just as those who are in fevers, so long as they indulge in

their untimely desires—I mean a laden table, unmixed wine, and other such things—are the more sorely straitened;

but if they should be willing, having afflicted themselves a little, to endure, they enjoy great enlargement, and, having laid aside what was stifling them, henceforth revel in pure health;

so also does it come about in the affairs of life.

For nothing is so wont to bring relief as affliction, which leads one away from all the concerns of this life.

How do you suppose the Jews came to be in affliction, even when they were in prosperity? Was it not from a soul feverish and distraught and tossed to and fro, that they came to say:

'Make us gods, who shall go before us;'

'for as for this Moses, who brought us up out of Egypt, we know not what has become of him.' Are not these the words of a soul given to true wisdom and breathing free of the passions of this life, when in their affliction they showed forth so great a prayer as to draw down upon themselves the aid of God? But this very prophet, when he was at ease, how sorely was he afflicted, hemmed in and torn asunder by evil desire? Yet when he came into affliction, you know how he came to be at ease.

For the fire did not so much as touch him, but rather the whole flame was quenched.

For nothing produces affliction so much as the soul's being besieged by the passions.

For the other afflictions fall upon us from without, but these spring up from within, and this is above all the grievous affliction.

Though the world grieve us, yet if we ourselves do not grieve ourselves, nothing dreadful shall befall us.

Therefore it lies within ourselves, both to be afflicted and not to be afflicted.

But that you may learn also from the apostolic voice how great an enlargement comes from affliction, hear Paul himself declaring the fruit of affliction:

'And affliction works patience;'

'and patience, proof; and proof, hope;'

'and hope makes not ashamed.'

Do you see an unspeakable enlargement? Do you see a harbor of gladness? 'Affliction,' he says, 'works patience.'

For what is more to be borne with than a man most steadfast, and able easily to endure all things? And what could be stronger than one who is tried and proven? And what is equal to the delight that springs from this? For he tells us that three pleasures are born from this source: patience, proof, and the hope of good things to come.

Reflecting now upon these things in true wisdom, the Prophet said:

For since he had said, 'God heard me,' he now tells in what manner He heard.

for he sought no such thing;

but rather in the relief that came to him in the midst of his affliction.

'Have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer.'

What do you say? Above you made mention of righteousness, here of compassion and mercy;

and how could these two follow in due sequence? In great sequence indeed, and closely joined to what went before.

For even though we accomplish countless good deeds, it is from His compassion and loving-kindness that we are heard.

And though we ascend to the very summit of virtue, it is by mercy that we are saved.

From this we learn that together with righteousness there is need also of a contrite mind.

For even though one who is a sinner pray with humility—which is itself a part of virtue—he will be able to accomplish great things;

while though one who is righteous draw near with arrogance, he will fall away from all his good things.

Both these examples the publican and the Pharisee have taught us.

We must therefore know also the manner of prayer.

And what is the manner of prayer? Learn it from the publican, and be not ashamed to take him for your teacher, who so well accomplished this that from bare words alone he brought the whole matter to pass.

For since his mind was well prepared, even a single word sufficed to open heaven to him.

And how was it prepared? He counted himself wretched, he smote his breast, he could not even bear to lift up his eyes to heaven.

If you too are minded to pray in this manner, you will make your prayer lighter than a feather.

For if the sinner became righteous through prayer, consider how great the righteous man shall be, if he learn to offer up such a supplication.

For this very reason, not even here does he simply set forth himself,

but rather his prayer;

above speaking of righteousness, here of prayer:

'Have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer.'

So also Cornelius was heard, since he had this for his advocate.

'Your prayers,' it says, 'and your alms are come up as a memorial before God.'

for it is the works that are heard, and the good deeds accomplished;

yet not prayers simply, but the prayers that are made according to the law of God.

And what sort of prayers are these? Those that ask for the very things which it befits God to give, prayers that do not entreat Him for things contrary to His own laws.

And who, one may ask, is so audacious as to deem it right that God should do things contrary to His own laws? He who calls upon Him against his enemies.

For this is contrary to the law that has been laid down by Him.

For He Himself says, 'Forgive your debtors.'

Yet you call upon the very One who commands you to forgive, so that He may act against your enemies? And what could be worse than this folly? He who prays ought to have the bearing, the mind, and the disposition of a suppliant.

Why, then, do you put upon yourself another mask, that of the accuser? For how will you be able to obtain pardon for your own sins, when you demand that God be the avenger of the wrongs committed by others? Let your prayer, therefore, be gentle, serene, wearing a gracious and tender countenance.

For such is the prayer that is made with meekness, and not against one's enemies.

Whereas the opposite kind resembles a woman drunken and raving, something swinish and savage.

Therefore heaven too is impassable to her.

But the prayer that goes with meekness is not so.

Rather it has something clear and sweet, something winning and worthy of royal ears, delightful, all-harmonious, and tuneful.

Therefore indeed she is not cast out of the theatre, but departs crowned.

For she has a golden harp and a golden robe.

Therefore she also delights the Judge, both by her bearing, and by her gaze, and by her voice.

For these reasons no one drives her away from the vaults of heaven.

For she rouses that whole theatre to rejoicing.

This is the prayer worthy of the heavens.

This is the tongue of the angels, when it utters nothing bitter, but everything winning.

When it comes forward making its supplication on behalf of those who wrong and abuse us, then the angels too stand by, listening with deep silence, and when it has ceased, they do not cease to applaud it, to praise it, and to marvel at it.

Let us too offer such a prayer, and we shall assuredly be heard.

And when we draw near to God, let us not think it to be such a theatre as this, but one gathered together out of the whole inhabited world, or rather also out of the hosts on high in heaven, with the King seated in the midst, willing to hearken to our prayer.

And let us make of the matter a public display.

Let no harpist nor lyre-player be so full of contest, when about to enter upon the stage and dreading lest he strike some jarring note, as we are when about to enter into the theatre of the angels.

And let our tongue be for us the plectrum, uttering nothing unpleasant, but everything tuneful and all-harmonious, with the fitting frame of mind.

And drawing near to God, entreating and beseeching, let us strike the string on behalf of our enemies.

For in this way we shall also be heard on behalf of our own selves.

This voice puts demons to shame; this gives us boldness.

This puts the devil to shame and makes him withdraw.

For the demon does not so shudder at a man who casts him out and drives him from another man, as at a man who masters his anger and prevails over his wrath.

Since this too is a grievous demon, and such men are more to be pitied than those who are possessed by demons.

For to be possessed by a demon does not cast one into hell;

but to be angry and to bear a grudge casts a man out of the very kingdom of heaven.

If we thus order our prayer, we too shall be able to say to God with boldness, 'Hear my prayer.'

So that you will not only benefit yourself, and

prepare the way for your own supplication, but you will also gladden the God who hears, by asking something worthy of His commandments.

This is worthy of that adoption as sons;

this most of all displays that stamp of character.

'Be merciful,' He says, 'as your Father who is in the heavens'; and again, 'Pray for those who abuse you, that you may become like your Father who is in heaven.'

What, then, is equal to this prayer? This makes one like, not to angels, nor to archangels, but to the King Himself.

And he who has become like the King, so far as is possible, consider how great is the boldness he will enjoy in his prayers.

'Ye sons of men, how long will ye be heavy of heart? Why do ye love vanity, and seek after a lie?' Against whom does he direct his word, and administer his rebuke, and bring in his counsel? Whom does he call sons of men? Those who live in wickedness, those who are prone to evil.

How is this, then? For are not we also sons of men? By nature indeed we are sons of men, but by grace no longer so, but rather sons of God.

If then we also preserve intact the image that is according to virtue toward Him, the gift will remain to us undiminished.

For those who have become sons of God through grace must also, through their manner of life, stamp upon themselves this image.

And that it is the more worldly, and those inclining toward evil, whom he calls sons of men, hear:

'And when the sons of God saw the daughters of men.'

'But indeed,' someone says, 'you have said the opposite.'

For here he called 'sons of God' those who before this were of virtuous men, and had enjoyed the honor of God, and then changed, and became worse, and betrayed their honor.

For in order to heighten the accusation against them, he called to mind their honor, showing it to be the greatest ground for a charge, that being such men, and sprung from such, they should be dragged down to such wickedness.

'I said, Ye are gods, and all of you sons of the Most High.'

'But ye shall die like men.'

And behold the discernment of the Prophet.

Having first shown the strength of God, and His readiness to help, His resourcefulness, His kindness, and His love toward mankind—that in affliction He gives room, that in mercy He assents—

then, reflecting upon the wickedness poured out among men, and the tyranny of impiety, as though stifled by despondency, he turns his word toward those who live in wickedness, all but saying: Having such a God, so kind, so loving toward mankind, so mighty, how have ye swerved aside into impiety? And observe the exhortation, how full it is, together with indignation, of gentleness, and of how much philosophy.

For what does he say? 'Ye sons of men, how long will ye be heavy of heart?' Here he is reproaching them severely, and that from the length of time.

For if from the beginning to fail to perceive the beneficence of God is a charge, what pardon shall it have to be blind to the truth for so long a time? And what is 'heavy of heart'? Thick of heart, carnal, nailed fast to the earth, pursuing wickedness, chasing after evil, rotting away in sensual pleasures.

For such is the carnal man.

And in reproaching their manner of life, he points out the source of their impiety, making clear that this above all is what hinders them from lofty doctrines.

For nothing so makes the heart heavy as evil desire, and sympathy with the things of this life, and being nailed fast to the earth.

Such a heart one would not err in calling a heart of clay.

Wherefore also he called it heavy.

And he declared this to be the cause of their evils, that, holding the rank of a charioteer, it not only fails to restrain the horse with the reins, but is itself dragged down along with it.

And though it ought to give wings to the flesh, and make it soar aloft, and lead it up toward heaven, it instead is dragged down together with it by the heaviest burden of its diseases.

When, therefore, the charioteer is such, or the pilot, what hope of salvation is there? Just as when He says, 'If the light that is in thee be darkness'—

how great is that darkness? When the pilot is drunk and mimics the disorder of the waves and the winds, how shall the ship be saved?

What, then, can make the soul light? A wondrous life: to gape after none of the things here, nor to bind fast to one's feet the things that are borne downward and drag others down.

For of bodies, some are wont to be borne downward, such as stones, and wood, and all such things;

but others upward, such as fire, and air, and the nature of light wings.

If, then, you attach to the light thing any of those that are borne downward, there is no benefit from the wings, nor from the air, since the weight surpasses the due proportion, and prevails, and gets the upper hand.

So too, if a man have his feet weighed down, either by some evil humor flowing in, or by some other disease, there is no benefit to him from the rest of the body being light.

And if this is so in the case of bodies, much more so in the case of the heart.

Let us not, therefore, make it heavy, lest, like ships that carry much sand, it be sunk.

For it is not such by nature, but by nature it was made light and upward-tending, while we make it heavy contrary to nature.

Wherefore also the Prophet brings the charge;

for if it were natural, he would not have brought the charge.

Just as, then, walking is natural to us, but if we weigh down the knees, the matter becomes contrary to nature, we being fettered;

so also it is wont to happen with the feet of the mind—I mean the reasonings.

'Why do ye love vanity, and seek after a lie?' Here he seems to me to speak both of the things pertaining to idols, and of the life lived in wickedness.

For that is called vain and empty, when there is a name indeed, but no reality.

Thus among the Greeks there are many names of gods, but nowhere any reality.

And it is the same with the other things as well.

The name of wealth, but the reality nowhere to be found;

and the name of glory, but the reality nowhere to be found;

the name of power, and yet the name alone remains bare.

Who then is so senseless as to seek after names that are empty of any substance, and to pursue those hollow things which one ought rather to flee? Or are not the pleasures of this life and its prosperities of this same kind? Do they not all deceive and beguile? Whether you speak of glory, or of wealth, or of power, all is vanity.

This is why the Preacher also said:

Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.

It is for these very things that the Prophet grieves, beholding so great an irrationality prevailing in the life of men.

For just as if someone, seeing a man fleeing from the light and pursuing the darkness, were to say:

Why do you do this irrational thing? — so too does he himself say:

Why do you love vanity, and seek after a lie? And know that the Lord has made His holy one wonderful.

Another interpreter says: But know that He has made wonderful.

Do you see the wisdom of the Prophet? From what starting point does he lead them up to the knowledge of God? From a most plain aspect and a more familiar manner, setting himself forward in their midst.

I am a servant, he says, of the true God;

therefore learn from me His power, His might, His providential care.

For this is no small chapter that leads to the knowledge of God.

For the Prophet makes this plain also from the created things, whenever he discourses concerning His providence, ranging over the sun, and the heaven, and the earth, and the air, and from the good order in the things that are seen proclaiming aloud the Creator;

but he also sets in motion the argument drawn from His servants, and from the things that befall them through Him;

which indeed also came to pass in the case of Abraham.

For they said to him, We know, he says, that you have come to us from God as a king.

Whence do you know? From the victory, from the trophies, from the wars.

This same thing came to pass also in the case of the Jews.

For the wonders that were wrought on their behalf cast the whole earth into fear;

which also the harlot of Jericho then said, namely, The fear of you and the trembling has fallen upon us.

One road, then, is that which is through the created things;

another and clearer is that which is through His servants;

and this teaching God sowed abroad from of old, in every generation.

Thus He instructed the Egyptians by means of Abraham, the Persians by means of the same,

and again the Israelites by means of his descendants, and countless others besides, and through Jacob still others, those in Mesopotamia between the rivers.