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On the Lord’s Prayer

St Gregory of Nyssa, tr. Graef, 1954

7. The Beatitudes: Sermon 7

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God

Moses the Lawgiver fashioned the sacred Tabernacle¹ for the Israelites according to the pattern which God had shown him on the mountain. Whatever was contained within the sanctuary was pure and sacred; but its innermost part was adyton² and inaccessible and was called the Holy of Holies. I think this more emphatic appellation shows that the sacredness of this part was not the same as that of the others; but inasmuch as something that has been duly consecrated differs from what is common and profane, the adyton is of purer holiness than the sacred places around it. This I believe also to be the case with the Beatitudes that have been shown us on this mountain. All that the Divine Word has so far laid down is indeed perfectly holy. But what we are now invited to contemplate is truly adyton, and the Holy of Holies. For if the blessedness of seeing God cannot be surpassed, to become the son of God transcends bliss altogether. For what do the words mean? What terms would suffice to exhaust the gift of so great a promise? Whatever the mind may conceive, what is signified is completely above it. If you call that which the Beatitude promises good, or glorious, or sublime, yet what is made known is something more than these words mean: it is fulfilment that outstrips prayer, gift surpassing hope, grace transcending nature. What is man compared with the Divine Nature? Which Saint’s words shall I quote to prove that human nature is held in low esteem? According to Abraham it is dust and ashes,³ according to Isaias, grass.⁴ David does not actually call it grass, but “as” grass.⁵ For the one says, All flesh is grass, the other, Man is as grass. Ecclesiastes says it is vanity,⁶ St. Paul, misery.⁷ For the whole human race bemoans its fate in the words the Apostle uses for his own person.

This is man. But what is God? How shall I name that which can neither be seen nor heard, nor comprehended by the heart? By which words shall I make known His Nature? Where among the things we know can I find a likeness of this greatest good? What new words can I coin so as to describe the wholly inexpressible? I have heard the Divinely inspired Scriptures disclose marvellous things about the transcendent Nature—yet what are they compared with that Nature Itself? For even if I were capable of grasping all that the Scripture says, yet that which is signified is more. For when we breathe in the air according to the space that is in each of us, one will receive more air, the other, less; yet he who takes in much has not absorbed the whole element into himself; but he, too, has only taken from the whole as much as he could, while the whole is still there.

So it is also with the words said about God in Holy Scripture, which are expounded to us by men inspired by the Holy Spirit. If measured by our understanding, they are indeed exalted above all greatness; yet they do not reach the majesty of the truth. Who has measured heaven with a span, and water in his hand, and all the earth in his palm?⁸ Do you see by what majestic words he describes the transcendent power? Yet what are they compared with the reality? For despite these magnificent terms the words of the prophet show but part of the Divine Energy. He does not name the Power Itself from which springs this Energy, to say nothing of the Nature from which comes the Power; nor would he name it. Rather does he by these words rebuke those who attempt some representation of the Divinity; for, speaking in the Person of God, he says, To whom have you likened me? saith the Lord.⁹ Ecclesiastes puts the same injunction in his own words: Utter not a word hastily before God; for God is in heaven above, and thou on the earth below.¹⁰ By the distance of these elements from each other he intends to show, I suppose, how far the Divine Nature surpasses earthly thoughts. Man is esteemed as nothing, as ashes and grass and vanity among the things that exist, yet he becomes akin to this great Majesty that can neither be seen nor heard nor thought; he is received as a son by the God of the universe.

How can one give thanks worthily for such a gift? With what words, what thoughts that move our mind can we praise this abundance of grace? Man transcends his own nature, he who was subject to corruption in his mortality, becomes immune from it in his immortality, eternal from being fixed in time—in a word, a god from a man. For if he is made worthy of becoming a son of God, he will possess in himself the dignity of the Father and be made heir of all the Father’s goods. How munificent is this rich Lord! How generously He opens His Hands wide to give us His ineffable treasures! Through His love of man He brings our nature, dishonoured by sin, to an honour that almost equals His own. For if He brings man into relationship with what He Himself is by nature, what else does He promise but a certain equality of honour due to such kinship?

So great, then, is the prize of the contest. But what is this contest? If you are a peacemaker, He says, you will be crowned with the grace of adoption as a son. It seems to me that the work, for which so great a reward is promised, is itself also a gift. For which of the things men desire is sweeter than a peaceful life? Whatever you may mention of the pleasant things of life, it needs peace in order to be pleasant.

Supposing one had all the things that are held dear in this life; riches, good health, wife and children, a house, one’s parents, servants, and friends. Add to this produce from land and sea, pleasant gardens and venison, imagine even baths and boxing rings, gymnasiums and places where youth can amuse itself, and whatever other things there may be invented for pleasure. Add yet further attractive shows and musical recitals and anything else that makes life pleasant for those who live in luxury. If all this is there, yet the blessing of peace be absent, what good are these fine things if war cuts short their enjoyment? Therefore peace itself is sweet to enjoy, and sweetens all that is held dear in life. And even if we suffer any human misfortune, as long as there is peace the evil is borne more easily, because it is mixed with some good; but if life is haunted by war, we become in a way insensible even to our own occasions of grief. For the common calamity is greater than the individual causes of pain.

Doctors tell us something similar in the case of physical ailments. If two diseases coincide in the same body, only the stronger one makes itself felt, whereas the pain caused by the lesser illness remains latent, since it is overlaid by the attack of the more virulent one. Thus also the more poignant evils of war make individuals insensible to their own misfortunes. But if the soul becomes somehow insensible even to its own woes, because the common evils of war have struck panic into it, how can it still savour what is pleasant? For now there are everywhere arms and horses, iron and sounds of trumpets. Men are in battle array, bristling with spears; shields are clanging together and crests nod from their helmets inspiring fear. There are single encounters, close fights, hand-to-hand wrestlings, battles where men are slaughtered, flee and are pursued. There are noisy laments, the earth is moist with blood, the dead are trodden under foot and the wounded abandoned—all those grim atrocities connected with war.

Can one who is involved in such things ever give his mind to any joyful memory? And even if sometimes the thought of something lovely steals into his soul, will he not at once remember that his dearest ones are in danger, and will not this thought that creeps into his mind add to his unhappiness? Therefore, when He rewards you if you keep away from the evils of war, He bestows a double gift on you. For one gift is the reward of the contest, the other is the contest itself. So even if no further hope was promised a man, those who have sense would prize peace for its own sake above all else.

By this, therefore, one can see how greatly He loves man, that He bestows the precious reward not on pains and sweat, but, so to speak, on the enjoyment of happiness. Peace is indeed the greatest of the joy-giving things; and this He wishes each of us to have in such measure as to keep it not only for himself, but to be able to dispense from the overflow of his abundance also to others. For He says, Blessed are the peacemakers. Now a peacemaker is a man who gives peace to another; but one cannot give another what one does not possess oneself. Hence the Lord wants you first to be yourself filled with the blessings of peace, and then to communicate it to those who have need of it.

And our sermon need not be too much concerned with the profound spiritual sense¹¹ of the passage; the obvious meaning is all we need to acquire this marvellous thing. Blessed are the peacemakers—these words give us the cure of many diseases as it were in a nutshell, for all the individual things are contained in its comprehensive universality.

Let us first consider what peace is. Surely it is nothing else but a loving disposition towards one’s neighbour. Now what is held to be the opposite of love?¹² It is hate and wrath, anger and envy, harbouring resentment as well as hypocrisy and the calamity of war. Do you see for how many different diseases this single word is an antidote? For peace is equally opposed to every one of the things mentioned, and wipes out these evils by its own presence. Just as illness vanishes when health supervenes, and as no darkness is left when light begins to shine, so also when peace appears, all the passions connected with its opposite are eliminated.

I do not think it is necessary here to elaborate in detail how great a good this is. You can think over for yourself what kind of life those lead who treat each other with jealousy and hatred. Their conversations are unpleasant; they abominate all mutual intercourse; their mouths make no sound, their eyes are turned away from each other, and their hearing is blocked to the voice of him who hates and is himself hated. Whatever is dear to the one is not so to the other, and conversely, whatever is hated and detested by the one is acceptable to his enemy. Therefore He wants the grace of peace fully to abound in you like the pleasant scent of sweet spices that fills the air around it with its own fragrance, so that your life may heal the sickness of others.

How great a good this is you will know more clearly if you consider the ravages produced in the soul by all the passions connected with hate. Who could expose adequately the vicious effects of wrath? Which sermon could describe how shameful is this disease? You see the passions of the possessed appear in those dominated by wrath. Consider side by side the symptoms of the demon and the symptoms of wrath, and what difference there is between the two. The eye of the demoniac is bloodshot and distracted, his tongue is unsteady and his speech harsh, his voice sounds sharp like barking. These symptoms are common both to wrath and to the demon. His head, too, is tossed about wildly, his hands make senseless movements, his whole body shakes and his feet are wobbling—this whole description is the same for both diseases. They differ from each other only in this, that the one evil is voluntary, whereas the other happens to its victims against their will. But how much more miserable is it to be in this predicament through one’s own fault than to suffer it involuntarily! Moreover, if one sees that the disease is caused by the demon, it will certainly arouse pity; but if the derangement is produced by wrath, the man who sees it at once also imitates it, as if he lost something if he did not outdo the first sufferer in his own disease. If the demon racks the body of an afflicted man, the evil goes no further than vainly throwing about the hands of the maniac in the air; whereas the demon of wrath causes no useless bodily movements. For when the passion lays hold of a man and the heartblood boils over, when wrath, as they say, makes the black gall diffuse itself throughout the body, then all the senses that are placed in the head are affected with cramp by the compression of the internal vapours. The eyes protrude from under their confining lids, staring bloodshot like dragons at the offending object; the inside is compressed, panting for breath, the veins in the throat swell and the tongue thickens. Since the windpipe is straitened, the voice automatically becomes rasping; the diffusion of the cold bile causes the lips to go all stiff and black, and they find it difficult to open and close in the natural way, so that they cannot even control the spittle that overflows in the mouth, but emit it together with the words, and while gasping out the sound dribble froth as well. Then one will also see the hands and feet being tossed about by the disease; but the limbs are no longer thrown about aimlessly, as happens with the demoniacs, but in order to inflict harm on those wrestling with each other in the grip of this illness. For when they hit each other, their attacks are immediately directed against the vital organs. And if in the close fight the mouth perchance approaches the other’s body, even the teeth do not remain idle but, after the manner of wild beasts, are dug into anyone who comes near.

But who could recount in detail all the evil that comes from wrath? Therefore a person who prevents such disgrace may truly be called blessed and should be honoured for such beneficial action. For if someone who has relieved a man from some physical ailment is honoured for his good deed, how much more should every sensible person consider a benefactor him who has freed the soul from this disease? Inasmuch as the soul is superior to the body, the man who cures souls is more honourable than those who heal bodies.

Let no one imagine that I consider the viciousness of wrath the gravest of the evils produced by hatred. Envy and hypocrisy seem to me much worse diseases than the one just mentioned, since a hidden evil is more dangerous than one that is obvious. In the case of dogs, too, we beware more of those whose fury is not announced in advance by their barking, so that their attack does not seem imminent, but who, under a pleasantly gentle appearance, wait for us to be unsuspecting and off our guard. Such is the disease of envy and hypocrisy; it is cherished secretly in the depth of the heart, like a hidden fire, while externally everything is made to look deceptively like friendship. It is like a fire that is hidden under chaff. For a time it smoulders inside and burns only what lies near; the flame does not flare up visibly, only a biting smoke penetrates, because it is so vigorously compressed from within. But if it meets with some gust of wind, it is rekindled into a bright open flame. Thus envy, too, consumes the heart from within like fire that is kept down by a pile of chaff. A man may hide his disease for shame, yet he cannot conceal it forever; but like a certain acrid smoke the bitterness that springs from envy is given away by telltale looks and mien. If the envied person meets with some misfortune, then he reveals his disease, because he makes that man’s sorrow his own joy and pleasure.

Yet even while it still seems to be hidden, the secret disease betrays itself by visible indications in the face. For the symptoms of a person pining away with envy are the same as the signs of death in someone who has been given up; such as dry, hollow eyes within shrivelled lids, contracted eyebrows and bones showing in some places through the flesh. And what is the cause of this disease? That a brother or a friend or a neighbour lives happily. What unheard-of offences! To make it a ground of complaint that someone is not unhappy, merely because one is grieved by this man’s joy. Not that oneself had suffered any evil from that man which he could imagine to be wrong, but simply because that other man suffers no harm and lives as he likes. What have you suffered, you miserable creature—I would like to say to him—why are you in fits, glowering with an evil eye at the good fortune of your neighbour? What have you to complain of? That he is good-looking, gifted with eloquence, and of better family? That he has taken over an office which has brought him conspicuous dignity? That a windfall of wealth has come to him, or that he is honoured because of his prudent speech? Do you envy him because he is admired by the crowds as a benefactor, or because he is proud of his children, happy with his wife, and distinguishes himself by entertaining in his house? Why do these things pierce your heart like the barbs of arrows? You rub your palms in anger, you clench your fists, you are troubled in mind. You groan painfully from the depths, you find no pleasure in the enjoyment of the things at your disposal, your meals are tasteless, your hearth is gloomy, and your ears are ready to hear the happy man slandered. But if anything good be said about him, to such words you shut your ears.

Now if you are in such a state of mind, why do you put the cloak of hypocrisy round your disease? Why do you counterfeit the mask of friendship and fake well-wishing? Why do you welcome people with pleasant words, wishing them happiness and good health, while in your mind you silently imprecate the opposite? Such a man was Cain who raved when Abel was praised. The envy within commanded the murder, but hypocrisy became its executioner; for under the guise of a friendly and pleasant manner he led him out into the field far from the help of his parents, and then he revealed his envy by murder. Therefore a man who eliminates such a disease from man’s life and unites the members of the same race by peace and goodwill, truly performs a work of Divine power; for he banishes the evils of human nature and introduces instead a share in what is good. For this reason He calls the peacemaker a son of God, because he imitates the true God, who endows human life with these blessings.

Therefore, Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Who are these? Those who imitate the Divine love of men, who show forth in their own life the characteristic of the Divine energy. The Lord and Giver of good things completely annihilates anything that is without affinity and foreign to goodness. This work He ordains also for you, namely to cast out hatred and abolish war, to exterminate envy and banish strife, to take away hypocrisy and extinguish from within resentment of injuries smouldering in the heart. Instead, you ought to introduce whatever is contrary to the things that have been removed. For as light follows the departure of darkness, thus also these evil things are replaced by the fruits of the Spirit,¹³ by charity, joy, peace, benignity, magnanimity, all the good things enumerated by the Apostle. How then should the Dispenser of the Divine gifts not be blessed, since he imitates the gifts of God and models his own good deeds on the Divine munificence?

But perhaps the Beatitude does not only regard the good of others. I think that man is called a peacemaker par excellence who pacifies perfectly the discord between flesh and spirit in himself and the war that is inherent in nature, so that the law of the body no longer wars against the law of the mind, but is subjected to the higher rule and becomes a servant of the Divine ordinance. We should, however, beware of thinking that, because the Word counsels this, the life of the virtuous is conceived as a duality;¹⁴ on the contrary, when the partition wall of evil that blocks us up has been taken away, the two will become one and coalesce, because both are united to the good. Since, therefore, the Divine is believed not to be composite but simple and without counterfeit, by such peacemaking human nature, too, goes beyond its twofold composition; it returns completely to the good and becomes simple and free from deceit. Thus it is made truly one, so that what appears is the same as what is hidden, and what is hidden the same as what appears. Then the Beatitude has come true, for such men are verily called sons of God, since they are called blessed according to the promise of Our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

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