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On the Lord’s Prayer

St Gregory of Nyssa, tr. Graef, 1954

3. The Beatitudes: Sermon 3

Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted

We have not yet reached the summit of the mountain, but our minds are still at its foot. Even though we have already passed two hills and have been led up by the Beatitudes to blessed poverty and to the meekness that surpasses it, the Word now guides us to yet higher things. In orderly sequence He shows us through the Beatitudes the third height. To this one can ascend only, as the Apostle says, Laying aside every weight and sin which surround us,¹ and having thus come to the summit burdenless and light, our souls will approach truth in a purer light.

Now what does this saying mean: Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted? If one looks at it from the point of view of the world, he will certainly say that the words are ridiculous, and argue like this: If one calls blessed those people whose life is spent enduring all manner of misfortune, it follows that those who live without sorrow or care must be miserable. Then he will enumerate the various kinds of calamities and will further provoke laughter among his audience by giving a vivid description of the miseries of widowhood and the sad condition of orphans. He will mention financial losses, shipwrecks, and the fate of prisoners of war; he will proceed to unjust judgements in lawcourts, to exile, confiscation of property, and loss of one’s honour. He will enlarge on the calamities resulting from illness, such as blindness, mutilations, and any sort of physical ailment. In short, he will show in detail every kind of suffering, whether of body or soul, that may afflict men in this life. And thus he thinks he will have made appear ridiculous the saying that calls blessed those that mourn.

We, however, care little about those who consider the Divine thoughts in a mean, unworthy spirit, and will try as far as possible to examine the riches that lie hidden in the depth of the saying. Then it will perhaps become clear how very different is the mind that is concerned with the sublime things of Heaven from that which is carnal and clings to the earth.

Now in the first place one can take that mourning to be blessed which follows the transgressions of sinners, according to St. Paul’s teaching on sorrow. He says² that there is more than one kind of sorrow, the one of the world, the other brought about by God; and that the work of the worldly sorrow is death, whereas the other works in those afflicted with it salvation through repentance. For surely, if a soul bewails its wicked life because it feels its bad effects, such suffering cannot be excluded from the sorrow that is called blessed. It is with this as with physical ailments. If through some accident a part of the body has become paralyzed, insensibility is a sign that the affected limb has gone dead. But if medical skill has restored to the body the sensibility of life, both patient and doctors are glad when the sick part feels pain; for the fact that the limb can already feel what causes pain is a sign that the illness has turned the corner. Thus, as the Apostle says,³ if people indulge in a life of sin because they no longer feel pain, they have become truly paralyzed and are dead to the life of virtue, for they have no feeling for what they are doing.

But then some healing word may lay hold of them like a bitterly pungent medicine—I speak of the fierce threats of the Judgement to come—and pierce the heart to its depth with the fear of the things that are to be expected. It would tell them of the terror of hell and the unquenchable fire, of the worm that does not die and the gnashing of teeth, the perpetual weeping and the outer darkness.⁴ All these things would be rubbed in like pungent medicines, and so the man who had been numbed by the passions and pleasures of the senses would be warmed again and made to realize what kind of life he had been leading, and he would become blessed through the pain he would feel in his soul.

In this way Paul’s words chastized the man who had violated his father’s marriage bed as long as he remained unconscious of his sin; but when the medicine of correction had struck home, he began to comfort him as if he had already become blessed by his sorrow, lest, as he says, perhaps such a one be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow.⁵ So let us also reflect on this when we consider the Beatitude before us; for this is not without profit even for a virtuous life, seeing that human nature somehow abounds with sin, the remedy of which is shown to be the sorrow of repentance.

But it seems to me that the Word indicates something deeper than what has so far been said, and intends us to understand something else by the steady, invigorating influence of sorrow. For if He meant to indicate only repentance for sin, it would have been more consistent to call blessed those who have mourned rather than those who are always mourning. Taking by way of comparison an example from illness, we would call blessed those who are healed, but not those who are forever in process of being healed. Obviously the continual healing would indicate at the same time the continued existence of the disease.

In another respect, too, I think we ought not to cling to this meaning, as if the Word had assigned this Beatitude only to those mourning for sin. For we shall find many who have led a blameless life, to which this same Divine Voice has borne witness that it was in every way praiseworthy. Thus, was John by any chance covetous? Was Elias an idolater? Which sin, great or small, does history record in the lives of these men? What about it? Is the Word going to exclude them from this Beatitude, because from the very beginning they were not sick nor in need of this remedy—I mean of the sorrow that comes from repentance? Would it not be absurd to suppose these to be excluded from the Divine Beatitude because they neither sinned nor cured sin by sorrow? Would not this mean that it would be better to sin than to live without sin, if the grace of the Comforter⁶ were to be given only to those who repent? For He says, Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Let us therefore follow as far as possible Him who, as Habacuc says, leads me upon the high places,⁷ and examine again the meaning contained in the saying, in order to learn to what kind of mourning the comforting of the Holy Spirit is promised.

Hence let us scrutinize the human life to find first what this mourning is in itself, and why it arises. Now it is evident to all that mourning is a sorrowful disposition of the soul which arises from being deprived of some of the things that are pleasant, a sorrow which finds no place in people who spend their life in happiness. Take as an example a man whose life is altogether flourishing. All things go well with him and according to plan. He is happily married, pleased with his children, and can rely on the help of his relatives. He is respected in the community and held in honour by the authorities. His opponents fear him, his subjects esteem him. He is always welcome to his friends, wealthy, enjoying life, pleasant, carefree, and of robust physique. In fact, he has everything the world thinks worthwhile. A man like this thoroughly enjoys all things of this present world. But supposing there was a change in his prosperous circumstances. Perhaps some misfortune caused him to be separated from his dear ones, he might lose his property or suffer in his health. Then the removal of something pleasant would bring about the opposite disposition, and this we call mourning. Therefore the definition we have given is correct, and mourning is a painful sensation caused by the privation of what is pleasant.

If then we understand human sorrow, this sorrow, which is well-known, should be a guide to what is unknown, so that it may become clear what is this mourning that is called blessed, and that is followed by comforting. For though the loss of the good things a man possessed causes sorrow here below, yet no one will grieve for the loss of things unknown to him. Therefore we must first know what really is the true good, and then, with this in mind, consider human nature. For only thus can we attain to the mourning that is called blessed.

Let us take for an example two men living in a dark place, one of whom had been born in the dark, whilst the other had been used to enjoying the light outside and has somehow been shut up in that place by force. Surely the present calamity will not affect both in the same way; for the man who knows of what he has been deprived will think the loss of light a very grave matter, whereas the one who does not know this gift at all will continue to live without sorrow. He will not think that he has lost anything worth having, because he has been brought up in darkness. And so the desire to enjoy the light will induce the one to use every device he can think of in order to see once more what has been taken from him by force, whereas the other man will grow old in darkness; for he will think good what he has because he does not know anything better.

It is the same with the subject of our present meditation. If a man has been able to perceive the true good, and then realizes the poverty of human nature, he will certainly think the soul in distress. For he will consider that the present life is spent in sorrow, because it is removed from this true good. Therefore I would say that the Word does not call blessed the sorrow itself, but rather the realization of the good that produces this state of sorrow, which is due to the fact that the object of the desire is absent from our life.

After this we have to ask what is this light which, in this life, does not shine into this cave of our human nature.⁸ Can it be that we desire something vain and elusive? For what human thought can search out the nature of what we seek? What names or expressions can we invent to produce in us a worthy conception of the light beyond? How shall I name the invisible, how describe the immaterial? How shall I show what cannot be seen, or comprehend what has neither size nor quantity, neither quality nor form? How can I grasp what is neither in place nor in time, which eludes all limitation and every form of definition? For His work is life and the substance of all good things, and with Him everything sublime in thought and word is concerned. Whether it be called Godhead, or Kingdom, power, eternity and incorruption, joy or exultation—every noble thought and word is related to Him. By what line of thought can this Divine goodness enter our consciousness, this goodness that can be contemplated yet cannot be seen? Which gives being to all things, but itself is ever-existing and has no need of becoming?

But lest our words should labour in vain in our effort to reach what is inaccessible, we will cut short our enquiry into the nature of the transcendent good; for it is impossible that such a thing should come within the scope of our comprehension. We have, however, gained one advantage from our examination: we have succeeded in forming an idea of the greatness of what we have sought by the very fact of having been unable to perceive it. And the more we believe the nature of the good to exceed our comprehension, the more should our sorrow grow within us, because we are separated from a good so great that we cannot even attain to its knowledge. Yet once we did share in this good that surpasses every power of perception. Indeed our nature shared in this good that transcends all thought to such an extent that the human being seemed to be another such, since it was fashioned to the most exact likeness⁹ in the image of its prototype. For all those attributes of His on which we now speculate and conjecture, once also belonged to man, such as incorruptibility and beatitude, the power to govern oneself without a master, and to lead a life devoid of grief and labour. Man then passed his life in Divine things, and contemplated the Good with a pure mind devoid of veils.

The story of the creation of the world hints at all these things in a few words, when it says that man was made in the image of God and lived in Paradise, enjoying the things that were growing there. But the fruit of those plants was life, knowledge, and things like that. If these once belonged to us, how should we not bewail our misfortune, when we contrast our former beatitude with our present misery? What was exalted has been brought low, and what was made in the image of Heaven has been reduced to earth. What was meant to rule has been enslaved, and what had been created for immortality has been destroyed by death. Man, who once lived in the delights of Paradise, has been transplanted into this unhealthy and wearisome place, where his life, once accustomed to impassibility, became instead subject to passion and corruption.

Thus the creature that had once been without a master and in full possession of his free will, is now dominated by so many great evils that we can hardly count all our tyrants. For as soon as any of our innate passions is allowed to dominate, it becomes the master of the person it has enslaved. It occupies the castle of the soul like a tyrant, and afflicts the obedient lord through his own subjects. It uses our thoughts as its servants who carry out what seems good to it. For the whole array of passions, wrath and fear, cowardice and impudence, depression as well as pleasure, hatred, strife and merciless cruelty, envy as well as flattery, brutality together with brooding over injuries—they all are so many despotic masters who make the soul a slave in their territory as if it was a prisoner of war. If one were to add to this also the physical sufferings that are insolubly bound up with our nature, I mean the manifold forms of disease from all of which human nature was originally immune, our tears would flow still more, as we were comparing and contrasting what is painful and evil with the things that were good and pleasant.

Hence, when He calls mourning blessed, the underlying sense seems to be that the soul should turn to the true good and not immerse itself in the deceits of this present life. For no one who has clearly seen these things can live without tears himself, or fail to think miserable any one deeply involved in the pleasures of this life. We can see something similar in the animals. Their natural situation is indeed pitiable; for what is more to be regretted than the lack of reason? Yet they have no sense of their misfortune; on the contrary, their life, too, affords a certain pleasure. The horse prances, the bull kicks up dust, and the boar makes his bristles stand up. The puppies play and the calves leap; in short, in every animal there are certain signs by which they show pleasure. Yet, if they knew anything of the gift of reason, they would not spend their dumb and miserable life in pleasure. It is the same with those men who do not know the good things of which our nature has been deprived, and who therefore spend their present life in the pursuit of pleasure.

It follows from this that people who enjoy the present things do not look for better ones. But if a man does not seek, he will not find what comes only to those who seek. For this reason the Word calls mourning blessed. He does not judge it blessed for its own sake, but because of the results that follow from it. Now the context shows that mourning is something blessed for men because of the reference to consolation. For He says, Blessed are they that mourn; however He does not finish the sentence here, but adds, for they shall be comforted.

I think the great Moses had already observed this before—or rather the Word, who disposed these things in him—in connection with the mystical observance of the Pasch. For he prescribed unleavened bread during the days of the feast, but for the seasoning of the food he appointed bitter herbs.¹⁰ Thus we were to learn that we can partake of the mystical feast¹¹ in no other way except by mingling voluntarily the bitter herbs of this earthly life (bios) with the simple and unleavened life (zoe).¹² The great David saw indeed that he had arrived at the highest peak of good fortune, I mean at kingship. Yet he lavishly adds bitter herbs to his life, sighing and loudly lamenting his continued sojourn in the flesh. He almost faints away with desire for the better things. Woe is me, he says, that my sojourning is prolonged.¹³ Elsewhere¹⁴ he gazes intently at the loveliness of the Divine Tabernacles and says that he faints away with desire, for he prefers being given the last place there to having the first in the present world.

But if one would like to realize even more clearly the power of this blessed mourning, he should examine it for himself in the story of the rich man and Lazarus, where this teaching is explained more lucidly. Remember, says Abraham to the rich man, that thou didst receive good things in thy lifetime, and likewise Lazarus evil things; therefore now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.¹⁵ For this is right, seeing that want of advice, or rather bad advice, has removed us from the good destiny God had intended for us. God had laid down that we should enjoy the good things unmixed with evil; He had forbidden to join the experience of evil to what was good. Yet through our gluttony we filled ourselves voluntarily with the opposite, I mean we tasted disobedience to the Word of God. Hence human nature must now always live in both, and share in sorrow as well as in joy.

Since then there are two spheres of life, and life is considered in a double way, according to the diversity of these two spheres, thus there is also a twofold joy, the one belonging to this life, the other to the life that is presented to our hope. Therefore we should think it blessed to reserve our share of joy for the truly good things in eternal life, and to fulfil the duty of sorrow in this short and transitory life. We should not think it a loss to be deprived of some of the pleasant things of this life, but rather to lose the better things for the sake of enjoying the others. If therefore it is blissful to have the unending and everlasting joy in eternity, human nature is bound also to taste of the opposite. Then it will no longer be difficult to see the meaning of the passage, why those who mourn now are blessed, because they shall be comforted in the world without end. Now the comfort comes through participating in the Comforter. For the gift of comforting is the special operation of the Spirit, of which may we also be made worthy, through the grace of Our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

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