An Ornament for the Altar

A Translation of Chrysostom's Sermon Concerning Eutropius

The original Greek text is found in PG 52.391B-396C. An alternate, much older English translation can be found in the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first series, volume IX, pp. 249-252.

by Professor DAVID C. FORD

Translator's Preface:

Eutropius was a high-ranking official — a consul — in the imperial government, and the grand chamberlain in the imperial court of Constantinople. He had arranged the marriage of Emperor Arcadius and Empress Eudoxia in 395 and had such influence with the imperial couple that he was considered the most powerful person in the Eastern Roman Empire. He was also fabulously wealthy, though apparently much of that wealth had been acquired through extortion.

Suddenly, in 399, he fell out of favor with Empress Eudoxia, who had been protecting him from mounting popular opposition. When guards were sent to arrest him, Eutropius managed to flee to the leading church of the city, Hagia Sophia, where St. John Chrysostom, the city’s archbishop, was the main preacher. Once inside the church, the panic-stricken man ran up and threw his arms around the altar.

In a wonderful testimony to the archbishop’s magnanimity, Chrysostom allowed Eutropius to stay and use the cathedral as a refuge from the authorities. This is all the more remarkable given that Eutropius had set himself up as an opponent of the Church and had even tried to restrict the Church’s right to provide sanctuary to those fleeing there. But not only did St. John forgive the man, but he also urged his flock to do the same.

What follows is the bulk of the sermon preached by Chrysostom on the day after Eutropius fled into the church, while he was again clinging to the altar. Chrysostom begins by addressing the consul.

Vanities of vanities!

“Vanities of vanities! All is vanity!” (Eccles. 1:2). It’s always appropriate to quote these words — but especially now! Where now are the glittering trappings of your consulship? Where are the gleaming torches? Where are the rounds of applause, the choral dancing, the banquets, the public festivals? Where are the garlands and the curtains of the theater? Where are the cheers of the city’s citizens, the acclamation in the hippodrome, and the flatteries of the theater-goers?

All of that is no more! Suddenly, a wind has blown against the tree, tearing down its leaves, revealing it to be quite bare, and shaken to its very roots.

Where now are the friends gathered around you? Where are the drinking parties and the suppers? Where is the swarm of parasites, and the wine which used to flow all day long, and the great variety of dishes created by the cooks? And where are those courting your authority, doing and saying everything to gain your favor?

All these things were like a dream in the night, or a fleeting vision in the day. They were like spring flowers, which all withered when spring was over. They were a shadow which has fled away, fruit which has rotted, bubbles which have burst, cobwebs which have been torn apart.

Therefore, we continually chant these spiritual words, saying, “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity!” This saying ought to be written continually on our walls, on our garments, in the marketplace, in our homes, along the roadways, on the doors and entrances, and above all on the conscience of each one of us, to be a perpetual subject for meditation. Since the deceitfulness of present things, and masks, and pretense seem to many to be truth, it’s needful every day, at dinner and at breakfast, and at community assemblies, to say to one’s neighbor, and to hear from one’s neighbor, the words: “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity!”

Because of his position as head of the Church in the capital city, St. John had access to those who were closest to the imperial couple. As seen from this next portion of the sermon, St. John had spoken with Eutropius personally about the dangers of seeking and relying on wealth, fame, and fortune — but apparently to no avail. Stringent warning about the accumulation of excessive material goods is a common theme in the Church Fathers.

Was I not telling you constantly, Eutropius, that wealth is fleeting? But you did not heed us. Was I not telling you that it is an untrustworthy servant? But you did not wish to be persuaded.

But behold now — how your experience of things has shown that not only is wealth fleeting and untrustworthy, but it also can lead to one’s own demise. For this is what has led to your trembling and fear.

John had also assured Eutropius of his love, affirming that his admonitions and rebukes were given out of that very love and concern that he had for this court official whose standing seemed so secure that he ignored St. John’s counsel. For the Church, justice is always rooted in love and mercy, for She always offers the opportunity for repentance to those who are treating others unjustly. How unlike the court of public

Did I not say to you, when you continually rebuked me for speaking the truth, “But I love you more than those flattering you?” And “I who reprove you care more for you than those currying your favor?” And did I not add to these words: “The wounds of friends are more trustworthy than the voluntary kisses of enemies?” (cf. Prov. 27:6)

If you had heeded my piercing words, the enemies’ kisses would not have brought about this destruction for you. For my wounding works for health, while their kisses have produced an incurable disease.

Where now are the cupbearers? Where are those who cleared the way for you in the marketplace, who a myriad of times sang your praises to everyone? They have run off; they have disowned their friendship; they are procuring their own safety, leaving you in anguish.

But we don’t do that; we don’t abandon you in your distress. And now that you have fallen, we protect you and minister to you. And the Church, which you made war against, has opened Her bosom and received you, while the theaters which you frequent— and you often laughed when I warned you about them — have betrayed you, playing a role in your ruination.

But we never ceased saying to you, “Why are you doing these things? You are vexing the Church, while casting yourself down a precipice.” But you spurned all my warnings.

Now the hippodromes, exhausting your wealth, whetted the sword against you. But the Church, having endured your unwarranted wrath, is hurrying in every direction, wishing to pluck you out of the nets.

Now our preacher shifts from addressing Eutropius to addressing his flock. We see him using Eutropius as an outstanding example of what not to do—just as the Scriptures also provide many examples of human activity that we are to learn not to follow!

Contemplating the vicissitudes of human affairs

I’m saying these things now not to trample upon one who is prostrate, but as wishing to make more secure those who are still standing; not to aggravate the sores of one who has been wounded, but to preserve in sound health those who have not yet been wounded; not to push downwards one who is being tossed by the waves, but to instruct those who are sailing with fair breezes, so that they might not become submerged. And how might this happen? By contemplating the vicissitudes of human affairs.

Even this man, if he had feared such vicissitudes, would not have endured such a sudden change in fortune. And while neither the counsel of his own conscience nor that of others made him better, may those of you who are prideful of your riches profit from his calamity.

Nothing is more fragile than human affairs. Wherefore, whatever one says to express their insignificance, it will be short of the truth — whether he calls them smoke, or grass, or a dream, or spring flowers, or any other name. So perishable are they that they partake of nothingness more than nothing itself ! Yet together with their nothingness, they have a perilous aspect also, as is evident here before us.

A soul turned to stone

For who was more exalted than this man? Did he not surpass the entire world in wealth? Had he not ascended to the very pinnacle of distinction? Did not everyone tremble before him, and fear him?

Yet, behold! He has become more wretched than those in bonds, more pitiable than household slaves, more indigent than paupers wasting away with hunger, having every day a vision of sharpened swords, a criminal’s grave, and the public executioner leading him out to his death. He doesn’t even know whether he once enjoyed past pleasures; he’s not even aware of the sun’s rays. For his sight is so dimmed that at midday it’s as if he’s encompassed with the darkest night.

Yet, however much we may strive, it’s impossible for us to adequately describe his suffering, which he’s naturally enduring due to his expectation of being put to death at any hour. But indeed, what need is there of any words from us, when he himself has depicted his agony before us as if in an engraved image? For yesterday, when they came to him from the imperial court, intending to drag him away by force, and he fled to the holy altar here, his face was then, just as it is now, no better than that of one already dead. And the chattering of his teeth, and the quaking and quivering of his whole body, and his faltering voice, and his stammering tongue, and indeed his entire appearance make it look like his soul has turned to stone.

Now St. John begins urging his flock to forgive the fugitive, despite his having “made war against the Church.” Again, he is demonstrating love for our enemies—being forgiving towards them, and more stringent on ourselves. This can remind us of how Christ was more lenient to the sinful woman caught in adultery than to the Pharisees in their prideful self-righteousness.

To incline you to mercy

I’m saying these things, not to reproach him, or to insult his misfortune, but wishing to soften your disposition towards him, to incline you to mercy, and to persuade you to be content with the punishment which has already come upon him. Since it seems there are many inhumane persons among us, who would likewise bring accusation against us for receiving this man into the sanctuary, I desire to soften their heartlessness by shedding light upon the depth of his sufferings.

Tell me, beloved brother, what are you distressed about? You say it’s because he who continually made war against the Church has taken refuge within Her. Yet surely we ought to glorify God most especially for permitting him to be subjected to such need, so that he might learn both the power of the Church and Her love for mankind—Her power, in that he has suffered this great reversal of fortune due to his attacks against Her; and Her love for mankind, in that She whom he attacked now casts Her shield in front of him, receiving him under Her wings, and placing him in all security, not resenting anything he did against Her, but rather opening Her bosom unto him with great love (pollēs philostorgias).

This is more brilliant than any kind of trophy; this is an illustrious victory; this shames the Greeks and disgraces the Jews; this shows the brightness of the Church’s face — in that having received Her enemy as a captive, She spares him. And when all have despised him in his desolation, only She, as a mother filled with tender love, has concealed him under Her cloak, over against the wrath of the king, and the rage of the people, and their unbearable hatred.

An ornament for the altar

This is an ornament for the altar. A strange kind of ornament, you say? — with one accursed, an extortioner, a robber laying hold of it! No — don’t say that. For even the prostitute took hold of the feet of Jesus, she who was accursed and exceedingly unclean. Yet what happened was not a reproach to Jesus; rather, it became the occasion for great wonder and praise for Him. For the impure woman did no injury to the pure One; rather, the vile prostitute was made pure by the touch of the pure and spotless One.

So don’t hold a grudge, O man! We are the servants of the crucified One, Who said from the cross, “Forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.”

“But,” you say, “he cut off his right of refuge here because of his various ordinances and laws against us.” But behold! He has learned from what’s happened that he should not have done those things. And through what he’s done, he has become the first to break the law, becoming a spectacle to the whole world. And silent though he is, he gives from there a voice of warning to all: “Don’t do what I’ve done, so you won’t suffer what I’m suffering!"

You yourselves are witnesses that no persuasive arguments were used to bring you here in such great numbers, and with such great zeal. Brilliant indeed is the scene before us today, and magnificent is the multitude assembled, as now I see a gathering such as at Holy Pascha! Without speaking a word, this man has summoned you here; yet through his actions he has raised a voice clearer than a trumpet. So! Have I quelled your passion? Have I expelled your wrath? Have I extinguished your inhumanity? Have I led you to compassion? I very much believe I have done so. Your faces make this evident, especially the streams of your tears. Since your stony hearts have become deep and fertile ground, let’s hasten to blossom forth with some fruit of mercy, and to display a luxuriant crop of sympathy, by falling down before the Emperor— or rather, by beseeching our God Who loves mankind to melt away the wrath of the Emperor, and to make his heart tender, so that He would grant to all of us the favor we’re asking for.

Epilogue:

Shortly after this sermon was preached, mercy was indeed shown to the disgraced grand chamberlain. Instead of being immediately tried and executed, he was exiled to Cyprus. But shortly thereafter, Eutropius was recalled from exile, tried, found guilty of high treason, and beheaded in Chalcedon, a suburb of Constantinople.

We can appreciate St. John’s courage in defying the authorities of the State in giving refuge to this fugitive. It is always important for the Church to maintain Her prophetic voice vis-a-vis the State, to be able to freely exhort the State to adhere to moral principles in its governance and administration of justice.

Let us also benefit from this stark reminder of the dangers of reliance on one’s wealth — especially if it’s not shared liberally with others, and even more especially if it’s gained in any way illicitly. Our ultimate reliance and security must always be on and in our Creator and Savior, and not on or in any advantages we may have in this life. For every gift is from Him anyway, and as we are vividly reminded in this saga of Eutropius, it can all disappear in the blink of an eye.

So may we all be greatly edified by this powerful sermon.

DR. DAVID C. FORD is Professor of Church History at St. Tikhon’s Orthodox Seminary, where he and his wife, Dr. Mary Ford, have taught for more than 30 years. He has authored, edited, translated, or contributed to a dozen books. He is a parishioner at the St. Tikhon’s Monastery Church.