John Chrysostom, On Repentance

he imitates a man mourning. And the prophet: Woe to the sinful nation, a people full of sins; the body is not sound. Did you see them covered with sores? An evil seed, lawless sons. Why do you mourn, tell me? You have forsaken the Lord, and provoked the Holy One of Israel. Why should you be struck any more? With what shall I strike you? With famine, or with pestilence? Every punishment came, and your wickedness was not consumed; adding lawlessness. The whole head is in pain, and the whole heart in grief. There is no wound, no bruise. New things. A little before you were saying: An evil seed, lawless sons, you have forsaken the Lord, and provoked the Holy One of Israel; and, Woe to the sinful nation! You mourn, you beat your breast, you lament, you list the wounds, and then coming back you say, Neither wound, nor bruise? Pay attention: a wound occurs when the rest of the body is healthy, but one part of the body remains senseless; but here he says that the whole is a wound. Neither wound, nor bruise, nor festering sore, but from the feet to the head there is no plaster to apply, nor oil, nor bandages. Your land is desolate, your cities are burned with fire, strangers devour your country. I have done all these things, and you were not corrected; I have done everything of my art, but the sick one remains dead. Come, hear the word of the Lord, you rulers of Sodom and Gomorrah. What is the multitude of your sacrifices to me? What then? Is he speaking to the people of Sodom? No, but he calls the Jews people of Sodom; 49.343 for since they imitated their way of life, he also applies their name to them. Come, hear the word of the Lord, rulers of Sodom and Gomorrah. What is the multitude of your sacrifices to me? says the Lord. I am full of the burnt offerings of rams, and I do not want the fat of lambs. If you bring me fine flour, it is in vain; incense is an abomination to me; your new moons and your sabbaths my soul hates; fasting and the great day I cannot bear. When you stretch out your hands to me, I will turn my eyes away from you. Is there anything equal to this anger? The prophet calls upon heaven, mourns, wails, laments, says: There is no wound, there is no bruise; God is angry, he does not accept sacrifice, nor new moon, nor sabbath, nor fine flour, nor prayer, nor the stretching out of hands. Did you see an ulcer? did you see an incurable disease, not of one, not of two, not of ten, but of thousands? What then after these things? Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean. Is there any sin that leads to despair? God himself says, I do not hear you; and you say: Wash yourselves. For what purpose do you say those things? For what purpose these things? both are useful; those, that I might be afraid, these, that I might be drawn in. If you do not hear them, they have no hope of salvation; if they have no hope of salvation, how do you say, Wash yourselves? But he is a loving father, alone good, and compassionate beyond a father. And that you may learn that he is a father, he says to them: What shall I do, Judah? Do you not know what you will do? I know; but I do not want to; the nature of their sins demands it, but the greatness of his love for humanity restrains him. What shall I do to you? Shall I spare you? But you become more negligent. But shall I come upon you? But my love for humanity cannot bear it. What shall I do to you? Shall I make you like Sodom, and shall I overthrow you like Gomorrah? My heart is turned. The impassible one imitates a passionate man, or rather, a loving mother. My heart is turned; which a woman would say over a child; my heart is turned 49.344 like a mother's. But he was not content with the former word; but, I was troubled in my repentance. Is God troubled? Away with it! May it not be! the Divine is untroubled; but, as I said, he imitates our words. My heart is turned; Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean. What did I promise you? That God, taking sinners who are full of countless sins and covered with sores, when they repent, so heals them as not to leave them a trace of their sins, so as not to leave a scar, so as not to leave a reminder. Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean, take away your wickednesses from your souls; learn

μιμεῖται ἄνθρωπον θρηνοῦντα. Καὶ ὁ προφήτης· Οὐαὶ ἔθνος ἁμαρτωλὸν, λαὸς πλήρης ἁμαρτιῶν· μὴ ἔχει ὑγιὲς τὸ σῶμα. Εἶδες αὐτοὺς ἡλκωμένους; Σπέρμα πονηρὸν, υἱοὶ ἄνομοι. ∆ιὰ τί θρηνεῖς, εἰπέ μοι; Ἐγκατελίπετε τὸν Κύριον, καὶ παρωργίσατε τὸν Ἅγιον τοῦ Ἰσραήλ. Τί ἔτι πληγῆτε; Τί ἔχω ὑμᾶς πλῆξαι; λιμῷ, ἢ λοιμῷ; Πᾶσα τιμωρία ἦλθε, καὶ ἡ κακία ὑμῶν οὐκ ἀνηλώθη· Προστιθέντες ἀνομίας. Πᾶσα κεφαλὴ εἰς πόνον, καὶ πᾶσα καρδία εἰς λύπην. Οὐκ ἔνι τραῦμα, οὐ μώλωψ. Καινὰ πράγματα. Πρὸ μικροῦ ἔλεγες· Σπέρμα πονηρὸν, υἱοὶ ἄνομοι, ἐγκατελίπετε τὸν Κύριον, καὶ παρωργίσατε τὸν Ἅγιον τοῦ Ἰσραήλ· καὶ, Οὐαὶ ἔθνος ἁμαρτωλόν! Θρηνεῖς, κόπτῃ, ὀδύρῃ, καταλέγεις τὰ τραύματα, καὶ ἐπανιὼν λέγεις, Οὔτε τραῦμα, οὔτε μώλωψ; Πρόσεχε· τραῦμα τότε γίνεται, ὅταν τὸ μὲν ἄλλο μέρος τοῦ σώματος ὑγιὲς ᾖ, ἓν δὲ μέρος τοῦ σώματος ἀναίσθητον μένῃ· ἐνταῦθα δὲ λέγει, ὅτι ὅλον τραῦμά ἐστιν. Οὔτε τραῦμα, οὔτε μώλωψ, οὔτε πληγὴ φλεγμαίνουσα, ἀλλὰ ἀπὸ ποδῶν ἕως κεφαλῆς οὐκ ἔστι μάλαγμα ἐπιθεῖναι, οὔτε ἔλαιον, οὔτε καταδέσμους. Ἡ γῆ ὑμῶν ἔρημος, αἱ πόλεις πυρίκαυστοι, τὴν χώραν ὑμῶν ἀλλότριοι κατεσθίουσι. Πάντα ταῦτα ἐποίησα, καὶ ὑμεῖς οὐ διωρθώθητε· πάντα ἐποίησα τὰ τῆς τέχνης, ὁ δὲ νοσερὸς μένει νεκρός. ∆εῦτε, ἀκούσατε λόγον Κυρίου, οἱ ἄρχοντες Σοδόμων καὶ Γομόῤῥας. Τί μοι πλῆθος τῶν θυσιῶν ὑμῶν; Τί οὖν; Σοδομηνοῖς διαλέγεται; Οὐχὶ, ἀλλὰ Ἰουδαίους Σοδομηνοὺς καλεῖ· 49.343 ἐπειδὴ γὰρ αὐτῶν τὸν τρόπον ἐμιμήσαντο, καὶ τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῖς ἐπιτίθησι. ∆εῦτε, ἀκούσατε λόγον Κυρίου, ἄρχοντες Σοδόμων καὶ Γομόῤῥας. Τί μοι πλῆθος τῶν θυσιῶν ὑμῶν; λέγει Κύριος. Πλήρης εἰμὶ ὁλοκαυτωμάτων κριῶν, καὶ στέαρ ἀρνῶν οὐ βούλομαι. Ἐὰν προσφέρητέ μοι σεμίδαλιν, μάταιον· θυμίαμα βδέλυγμά μοι ἐστί· τὰς νεομηνίας ὑμῶν καὶ τὰ σάββατα μισεῖ ἡ ψυχή μου· νηστείαν καὶ ἡμέραν μεγάλην οὐκ ἀνέχομαι. Ὅταν ἐκτείνητε τὰς χεῖρας ὑμῶν πρὸς μὲ, ἀποστρέψω τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς μου ἀφ' ὑμῶν. Ἔνι τῆς ὀργῆς ταύτης ἴσον; Ὁ προφήτης τὸν οὐρανὸν καλεῖ, θρηνεῖ, ὀλοφύρεται, ὀδύρεται, λέγει· Οὐκ ἔνι τραῦμα, οὐκ ἔνι μώλωψ· ὁ Θεὸς ὀργίζεται, οὐ δέχεται θυσίαν, οὐ νεομηνίαν, οὐ σάββατον, οὐ σεμίδαλιν, οὐκ εὐχὴν, οὐκ ἔκτασιν χειρῶν. Εἶδες ἕλκος; εἶδες νόσημα ἀνίατον, οὐχ ἑνὸς, οὐ δύο, οὐ δέκα, ἀλλὰ χιλιάδων; Τί οὖν μετὰ ταῦτα; Λούσασθε, καθαροὶ γίνεσθε. Μή ἐστιν ἁμαρτία ἀπόγνωσιν ἔχουσα; Αὐτὸς λέγει ὁ Θεὸς, οὐκ ἀκούω ὑμῶν· καὶ λέγεις· Λούσασθε. Εἰς τί ἐκεῖνα λέγεις; Εἰς τί ταῦτα; χρησίμως ἀμφότερα· ἐκεῖνα, ἵνα φοβήσωμαι, ταῦτα, ἵνα ἐπισπάσωμαι. Εἰ οὐκ ἀκούεις αὐτῶν, οὐκ ἔχουσιν ἐλπίδα σωτηρίας· εἰ οὐκ ἔχουσιν ἐλπίδα σωτηρίας, πῶς λέγεις, Λούσασθε; Ἀλλὰ πατήρ ἐστι φιλόστοργος, μόνος ἀγαθὸς, καὶ σπλαγχνιζόμενος ὑπὲρ πατέρα. Καὶ ἵνα μάθῃς, ὅτι πατήρ ἐστι, λέγει αὐτοῖς· Τί ποιήσω, Ἰούδα; Οὐκ οἶδας τί ποιήσεις; Οἶδα· ἀλλ' οὐ βούλομαι· ἀπαιτεῖ τῶν ἁμαρτημάτων ἡ φύσις, καὶ κατέχει τῆς φιλανθρωπίας τὸ μέγεθος. Τί σοι ποιήσω; Φείσομαί σου; ἀλλὰ γίνῃ ῥᾳθυμότερος. Ἀλλ' ἐπέλθω σοι; ἀλλ' οὐκ ἀνέχεται ἡ φιλανθρωπία. Τί σοι ποιήσω; ὡς Σόδομα θήσομαί σε, καὶ ὡς Γόμοῤῥα καταστρέψω σε; Ἐστράφη ἡ καρδία μου. Ὁ ἀπαθὴς ἐμπαθῆ ἄνθρωπον μιμεῖται, μᾶλλον δὲ μητέρα φιλόστοργον. Ἐστράφη ἡ καρδία μου· ὅπερ ἂν εἴποι γυνὴ ἐπὶ παιδίου· ἐστράφη ἡ καρδία μου 49.344 κατὰ τὴν μητέρα. Ἀλλ' οὐκ ἠρκέσθη τῇ προτέρᾳ λέξει· ἀλλ', Ἐταράχθην ἐν τῇ μεταμελείᾳ μου. Θεὸς ταράττεται; Ἄπαγε! μὴ γένοιτο! ἀτάραχον τὸ Θεῖον· ἀλλ' ὅπερ εἶπον, μιμεῖται τὰς λέξεις ἡμῶν. Ἐστράφη ἡ καρδία μου· Λούσασθε, καθαροὶ γίνεσθε. Τί ὑπεσχόμην ὑμῖν; Ὅτι τοὺς ἁμαρτωλοὺς, καὶ μυρίων γέμοντας ἁμαρτημάτων, καὶ ἡλκωμένους λαβὼν ὁ Θεὸς μετανοοῦντας, οὕτω θεραπεύει, ὡς μὴ ἀφεῖναι αὐτοῖς ἴχνος ἁμαρτημάτων, ὡς μὴ ἀφεῖναι οὐλὴν, ὡς μὴ ἀφεῖναι ὑπόμνημα. Λούσασθε, καθαροὶ γίνεσθε, ἀφέλετε τὰς πονηρίας ὑμῶν ἀπὸ τῶν ψυχῶν ὑμῶν· μάθετε