John of Damascus, Sacred parallels

he philosophized for us, and in those words: Declare unto me the fewness of my days; and he defines human days as the measure of a palm. Many are the ways of this life of many sorrows; one is mingled with various harms; wealth is untrustworthy; power and prosperity, the pride of dreams; and being ruled is toil, and poverty a bond; beauty that shines and flashes, is a small grace; youth is the heat of a season; old age is the sorrowful end of life; glory is like air; strength like the grass of the chaff in the field. Satiety is unruly; marriage is bonds; having good children, a compulsory care; having bad children, a sickness and pain; the marketplaces, the cares of wickedness; solitude, a weakness. Narrow and reproachful is the food of others; to plow the earth is labor; of seafarers, for the most part, in Hades; one's fatherland, a private pit; living abroad, a reproach. All things here are toil for men, all are a mockery, scattered dust, a shadow, and an illusion; dew, wind, a feather, vapor, a spark, a dream, a flowing stream, a ship's trace, ash, an ever-turning wheel, all things like rollers, standing and running, dissolving, solidifying, by hours, by days, by nights, by toils, by deaths, by griefs, by pleasures, by illnesses, by falls, by misfortunes. But nothing is weaker than human affairs; one thing only is a sure and certain good for men, to depart from here bearing the cross, tears and groans and a mind enlightened with divine cares and hopes, and with the Trinity, the heavenly, which is mingled with the pure. 95.1125 Woe is me for this life, made longer by harms; how long shall I sit beside dung? What a life? What an existence? Having leapt from the tomb, I journey again to the tomb; and from the tomb again I am buried abruptly in fire. This very thing, as long as I breathe, is the stream of a running river, always departing and coming from behind, again having or bringing nothing certain; as much as dust sprinkled upon the eyes, so that I might fall far from God. Man is a plaything. I and time and each other, we run past one another like birds or like ships on the sea, having nothing certain. But what I have sinned does not run past, but remains with my life. The earthly realm is of things that turn and change. Always, but especially now is it opportune to say: Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. Where is the splendid robe of the consulate? Where are the bright torches? Where are the applauses, and the dances, and the banquets, and the festivals? Where are the crowns, and the curtains? Where is the clamor of the city, and the acclamations in the hippodromes, and the flatteries of the theaters? All those things are gone; and a wind, blowing suddenly, has cast down the leaves, and has shown us the tree bare, and shaken now from its very root. For such was the assault of the wind, as to threaten to tear it up by the roots, and to shake the very sinews of the tree. Where now are the deceitful friends? Where are the masks of the flatterers? Where are the drinking-parties and the dinners, and the swarm of parasites, and the unmixed wine poured out all day long, and the various arts of the cooks, and the servants of power? Those who do and say all things to please? All those things were night and a dream, and when day came, they vanished. They were spring flowers, and when the spring had passed, they all withered; it was a shadow, and it ran past; it was smoke, and it was dispersed; they were bubbles, and they burst; it was a spider's web, and it was torn apart. Therefore let us bring on this spiritual refrain again, constantly saying: Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. This saying ought to be continually inscribed on walls, and on garments, and in marketplaces, and in houses, and on roads, and on doors, and at entrances, and at exits, and above all in the conscience of each person, and to be meditated upon always. Since the deceit of things, and the masks, and the hypocrisy is great, it seems to many to be a kind of truth, these things each day, both at dinner, and at breakfast, and in gatherings

ἡμῶν ἐφιλοσόφησεν, καὶ ἐν ἐκείνοις τοῖς ῥήμασι· Τὴν ὀλιγότητα τῶν ἡμερῶν μου ἀνάγγειλόν μοι· καὶ παλαιστῶν μέτρον τὰς ἀνθρωπίνας ἡμέρας ὁρίζεται. Πολλαὶ μὲν τοῦ βίου τοῦ πολυπαθοῦς αἱ ὁδοί· ἄλλη δὲ ἀλλοίαις βλάβαις συμμίσγεται· ὁ πλοῦτος μὲν ἄπιστος· ἡ δὲ ἀρχὴ καὶ εὐδαιμονία, ὀνείρων ὑπερηφανία· καὶ τὸ ἄρχεσθαι μόχθος, ἡ πενία δὲ δεσμός· εὐμορφία δὲ ἐπιλάμπουσα καὶ ἐξαστράπτουσα, μικρὰ χάρις· ἡ νεότης δὲ θερμότης χρόνου· τὸ γῆρας λυπηρὸν τέλος τοῦ βίου· ἡ δόξα ὡς ἀήρ· ἡ ἰσχὺς ὡσεὶ χόρτος τοῦ ἐν ἀγρῷ ἀχύρου. Ἄτακτος ἡ πλησμονή· δεσμὰ ὁ γάμος· εὐπαιδία τέκνων, μέριμνα ἀναγκαστική· ἡ κακοτεκνία, νόσος καὶ ὀδύνη· αἱ δὲ ἀγοραὶ, τῆς κακίας φροντίδες· ἡ μόνωσις δὲ, ἀσθένεια. Στενὴ καὶ ἐπονείδιστος ἡ ἀλλοτρία τροφή· τὸ δὲ τὴν γῆν ἀροτριᾷν κόπος· τῶν θαλασσοπλόων, ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πλέον ἐν τῷ ᾄδῃ· ἡ πατρὶς δὲ, βάραθρον ἴδιον· ἡ ξενιτεία, ὄνειδος. Πάντα μόχθος τοῖς ἀνθρώποις τὰ ἐνταῦθα, πάντα ἐμπαιγμὸς, ῥιπιζόμενος χνοῦς, σκιὰ, καὶ φαντασία· δρόσος, ἄνεμος, πτερὸν, ἀτμὶς, σπινθὴρ, ἐνύπνιον, χύμα ῥεύματος, πλοίου ἴχνος, τέφρα, τροχὸς ἀεὶ στρεφόμενος, ὅμοια πάντα κυλίνδροις, ἑστώς τε καὶ τρέχων, λυόμενος, πεπηγὼς, ὥραις, ἡμέραις, νυξὶ, μόχθοις, θανάτοις, λύπαις, τέρψεσιν, ἀῤῥωστίαις, πτώσεσι, κακοπραγίαις. Τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων δὲ οὐδέν ἐστιν ἀδρανέστερον· ἓν μόνον καὶ βέβαιόν ἐστιν τοῖς ἀνθρώποις καλὸν, ἐντεῦθεν ἀναχωρεῖν τὸν σταυρὸν βαστάζοντας, δάκρυά τε καὶ στεναγμοὺς καὶ νοῦν θείαις φροντίσι καὶ ἐλπίσι, καὶ τῇ Τριάδι λελαμπρυσμένους, τῇ ἐπουρανίῳ, τῇ μιγνυμένῃ τοῖς καθαροῖς. 95.1125 Οἴμοι τούτου τοῦ βίου βλάβαις ἐπιμηκεστέρου· ἕως τίνος κόπρῳ παρακαθέζομαι; Τίς βίος; ποία ζωή; ἐκ τάφου πηδήσας, ἐπὶ τάφον πάλιν ὁδεύων· ἐκ δὲ τοῦ τάφου πάλιν ἐν πυρὶ θάπτομαι ἀποτόμως. Αὐτὸ δὲ τοῦτο ὅσον ἀναπνέω, ποταμοῦ ἐστι ῥοῦς τρέχοντος, ἀεὶ ἀπερχομένου καὶ ἐρχομένου ἐκ τῶν ὀπίσω, πάλιν βέβαιον μηδὲν ἔχοντος ἢ φέροντος· ὅσον κόνις ὀφθαλμοῖς ἐπιπάσσουσα, ὅπως ἂν τοῦ Θεοῦ πόῤῥω πέσω. Παίγνιόν ἐστιν ὁ ἄνθρωπος. Ἀλλήλους μὲν καὶ ἐγὼ, καὶ ὁ χρόνος, ὡς ὄρνις ἢ ὡς πλοῖα ἐν πελάγει ἀντιπαρατρέχομεν, βέβαιον οὐδὲν ἔχοντες. Ὅπερ δὲ ἥμαρτον, οὐ παρατρέχει, ἀλλὰ παραμένει τῇ ζωῇ. Ὁ περίγειος χῶρος τῶν τρεπομένων καὶ ἀλλοιουμένων ἐστίν. Ἀεὶ, μάλιστα δὲ νῦν εὔκαιρον εἰπεῖν· Ματαιότης ματαιοτήτων, τὰ πάντα ματαιότης. Ποῦ ἡ λαμπρὰ τῆς ὑπατείας περιβολή; ποῦ δὲ αἱ φαιδραὶ λαμπάδες; ποῦ δὲ οἱ κρότοι, καὶ οἱ χοροὶ, καὶ αἱ θαλεῖαι, καὶ αἱ πανηγύρεις; ποῦ δὲ οἱ στέφανοι, καὶ τὰ παραπετάσματα; ποῦ δὲ τῆς πόλεως ὁ θόρυβος, καὶ αἱ ἐν ἱπποδρομίαις εὐφημίαι, καὶ τῶν θεάτρων αἱ κολακεῖαι; Πάντα ἐκεῖνα οἴχεται· καὶ ἄνεμος πνεύσας ἀθρόως, τὰ μὲν φύλλα κατέβαλεν, γυμνὸν δὲ ἡμῖν τὸ δένδρον ἀπέδειξεν, καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς ῥίζης αὐτῆς λοιπὸν σαλευόμενον. Τοιαύτη γὰρ ἡ τοῦ πνεύματος προσβολὴ, ὡς καὶ πρόῤῥιζον ἀπειλεῖν ἀνασπᾷν, καὶ αὐτὰ διασαλεῦσαι τοῦ δένδρου τὰ νεῦρα. Ποῦ νῦν οἱ πεπλανημένοι φίλοι; ποῦ δὲ τὰ προσωπεῖα τῶν κολάκων; ποῦ τὰ συμπόσια καὶ τὰ δεῖπνα, καὶ ὁ τῶν παρασίτων ἐσμὸς, καὶ δι' ὅλης ἡμέρας ἐκχεόμενος ἄκρατος, καὶ αἱ ποικίλαι τῶν μαγείρων τέχναι, καὶ οἱ τῆς δυναστείας θεραπευταί; οἱ πάντα πρὸς χάριν ποιοῦντες καὶ λέγοντες; Νὺξ ἦν πάντα ἐκεῖνα καὶ ὄναρ, καὶ ἡμέρας γενομένης ἠφανίσθη. Ἄνθη ἦν ἐαρινὰ, καὶ παρελθόντος τοῦ ἔαρος ἅπαντα κατεμαράνθη· σκιὰ ἦν, καὶ παρέδραμεν· καπνὸς ἦν, καὶ διελύθη· πομφόλυγες ἦσαν, καὶ διεῤῥάγησαν· ἀράχνη ἦν, καὶ διεσπάσθη. ∆ιὸ πάλιν τὴν πνευματικὴν ταῦτα ἐπῳδὴν ἐπάγωμεν, συνεχῶς λέγοντες· Ματαιότης ματαιοτήτων, τὰ πάντα ματαιότης. Ταύτην τὴν ῥῆσιν, καὶ ἐν τοίχοις, καὶ ἐν ἱματίοις, καὶ ἐν ἀγοραῖς, καὶ ἐν οἰκίαις, καὶ ἐν ὁδοῖς, καὶ ἐν θύραις, καὶ ἐν εἰσόδοις, καὶ ἐν ἐξόδοις, καὶ πρὸ πάντων ἐν τῷ ἑκάστου συνειδότι συνεχῶς ἐγγεγράφθαι ἔδει, καὶ διὰ παντὸς αὐτὴν μελετᾷν. Ἐπειδὴ πολλὴ τῶν πραγμάτων ἡ ἀπάτη, καὶ τὰ προσωπεῖα, καὶ ἡ ὑπόκρισις, ἀλήθειά τις παρὰ τοῖς πολλοῖς εἶναι δοκεῖ, ταῦτα καθ' ἑκάστην ἡμέραν, καὶ ἐν δείπνῳ, καὶ ἐν ἀρίστῳ, καὶ ἐν συλλόγοις