Chapter V — On the goods of the kingdom of God

The fifth reason seems to me to be this: that the goods of the saints dwelling in the heavens do indeed appear similar to the goods of those who reign on earth; but they are as much greater and more splendid as heaven is above the earth. And so the kingdom prepared for the saints is called not simply a kingdom, but the kingdom of God: that we may understand the goods of the one to be in such proportion to the goods of the other as earth is to heaven—that is, to a thing most vast, most lofty, most noble, and, what is greatest of all, everlasting. The goods of an earthly kingdom are usually reckoned to be power, honor, riches, and pleasures. An earthly king can command his subjects, and if they do not obey, he can punish them with chains, prisons, exile, fines, scourging, and death. Hence kings are dreaded by the people and are reckoned to be, as it were, gods. Again, kings wish to be honored with a worship almost beyond human nature: they wish to be adored on bended knees, and often they do not deign to hear those who speak to them unless the knee is bent and the face bowed to the ground; and when they happen to walk through the streets, they wish all who meet them to step aside from the way. Moreover, they require a large treasury filled with gold and silver, nor do they reckon their revenues by hundreds or thousands of gold pieces, but by millions; and rightly so, since they must feed not ten or twenty servants, but lead great armies against the enemy. Finally, they do not deign to refresh their minds with customary amusements, but think it belongs to the splendor of their majesty to consume many pounds of gold and silver in banquets, in hunting, and in the theater. And these are, in general, the goods of earthly princes, which have this above all in common: that they are all brief and fleeting, beginning with the prince's birth and ending with his death—unless perhaps at times the contrary happens, that life lasts longer than the reign. Furthermore, they are not pure goods, but power has weakness mixed in, honor has disgrace, riches have poverty, and joys have grief and sorrows. The power of a king is such that the people hang upon the nod of the prince; but weakness is mixed with that power, because the prince hangs upon the arms and strength of the people. What will the nod of a prince accomplish in capturing or defending a city, if the people cannot or will not join battle? Nor does the nod of the prince depend only on the strength of his subjects, but also on walls, on ramparts, on weapons, on engines of war, and on money, which is wont to be called the sinew of war. And so the people hang upon one thing—namely, the nod of the prince—and serve one man; but the prince hangs upon very many men and other things besides, and is the servant of them all. Finally, a king can punish his subjects with chains, prison, exile, scourging, and death; but a king can also (I speak of fact, not of right) be bound, consigned to prison, and punished with exile, wounds, and death. This was the lot of Nero, Galba, Vitellius, Domitian, Commodus, Heliogabalus, and others without number: and not only those infamous princes, but also the most moderate—Alexander Mamaea, Gordian the Younger, Pertinax, Tacitus, Numerian, Probus, Gratian, and Valentinian the Second—to say nothing of holy men: St. Edward, king of the English; St. Wenceslaus, duke of Bohemia; St. Sigismund, king of Burgundy; St. Canute, king of Denmark; and others. Let us come now to honor: kings are certainly honored while they are present and in the sight of others; but in their absence they are often torn to pieces by insults and held up to ridicule. And even in their presence, many flatter them with the tongue who in their heart despise and scorn them; and if the number of all who praise and who revile could be counted, far more would be found to revile than to praise. Truly, therefore, the glory of kings is often less than their ignominy, since those present, who honor their exalted rank, are few, while the absent are very many, of whom some mark the stains of avarice, others cruelty, others lust, others...

But perhaps the riches of kings are pure and have no poverty mixed in? On the contrary, none at all are found more needy and poor than kings: they have great revenues and great treasures, but they sometimes have debts far greater still. And he is not so much poor who has little, as he who desires much because he needs much. And is it not a great proof of poverty that they beg, as it were, pennies even from the poor themselves, while they exact petty taxes on the things that are necessary for sustenance? Nor do I say this as though I would dare to find fault with taxes and tributes being paid to kings, since the Apostle says in the Epistle to the Romans: Be subject not only for wrath, but also for conscience' sake. For therefore also you pay tribute; for they are the ministers of God, attending upon this very thing. Render therefore to all their dues: tribute to whom tribute is due, custom to whom custom (Rom. 13:5-7). But I wished to show the miserable condition of mortal kings, who must needs abound in riches, and yet are compelled to gather a portion of them even from the poor and the needy. What, then, do we say of comforts and delights? Kings certainly have gardens, orchards, sumptuous tables, hunts, theaters, and many other things of that kind most suited to refresh the mind; but they also commonly have gout, pains of the stomach and head, and—what is more bitter—the gravest anxieties of mind, which sometimes compel them to pass whole nights sleepless: suspicions, fears, and anguish. If the doors of the bedchamber creak at night, they suspect treachery; if it is reported that a multitude of armed men has been seen, they fear revolt. Thus are joys mingled with sorrows, and rest is interrupted by care; which was the reason why not a few, abandoning their kingdoms, chose a private life.

But let us hear St. John Chrysostom, who in a certain homily to the people of Antioch speaks thus of the emperors of his time: "Look not at the diadem, but at the tempest of cares; nor gaze upon the purple, but at the soul darker than the purple itself. For the crown surrounds the head just as care surrounds the soul. Look not to the troop of attendants, but to the multitude of troubles. For no private house can be found so full of cares as royal houses are: he expects deaths every single day, and at night, it cannot even be said how often his soul starts up and fancies it is leaping out of him. And this in peacetime: but if war should threaten, what could be more wretched than this life? And how many dangers rush in upon him from his own household and his subjects? For the royal pavement is always full of the blood of kinsmen — and that most of all, both in ancient times and in our own. One king, suspecting his wife of adultery, bound her naked on the mountains and gave her over to wild beasts, though she had already become the mother of many kings. What sort of life do you think he lived? For he would never have burst forth into such vengeance unless he had been consumed by a great sickness. This one cut the throat of his own son. Of his sons, one killed himself when captured by a tyrant; another killed his own grandson, his partner in the kingdom which he himself had seized. And this one is said to have done away even with his brother. Another after him was carried off by poisoned potions: for him the chalice was death, not a drink; and his son, though he had committed no crime, had an eye torn out, from fear of what he might do. Another ended his life so miserably that it is not fitting even to tell. Of those who followed, one was burned like some poor and wretched man, together with his horses and chariots and everything else; for no one could express in words the hardships of the life he was compelled to endure when revolt broke out against him. And he who now reigns — has he not, since being crowned with the diadem, been amid toils, amid dangers, amid sorrows, amid snares? But not such is the kingdom of heaven." (Hom. 66 to the people of Antioch). So spoke that man — and how truly he said, "Not such is the kingdom of heaven" — as what we shall now say will show.

For the kings of the kingdom of heaven — such are all those who live in blessedness with God — have power without weakness, honor without disgrace, riches without poverty, pleasure without pain. For of them it is said in the Psalm: "There shall no evil come to thee, nor shall the scourge come near thy dwelling" (Ps. 90). And in Revelation: "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and death shall be no more, nor mourning, nor crying, nor sorrow shall be any more" (Rev. 21). And so the power of those heavenly kings is the very greatest, and their weakness none. A single angel, without an army, without cannons, without swords and spears, slays at one stroke one hundred and eighty thousand Assyrians¹; nor did he fear lest he himself be wounded by some soldier (2 Kgs. 19). St. Gregory relates in his book of Dialogues that a certain holy man, when the executioner loomed over him with arm outstretched and drawn sword to kill him, cried out, "Saint John, hold him!" — and at once the executioner's hand stiffened, so that he could neither lower it nor move it (Bk. 3, ch. 36). Thus St. John heard from the height of heaven the voice of his devoted client, and struck his assailant with a stroke of withering so swiftly that he forestalled the blow already begun. Such is the power of the heavenly kings, that neither the almost infinite distance of the place, nor the helplessness of a poor and unarmed just man, nor the multitude of armed enemies, could hinder St. John from rescuing his suppliant from the peril of death. And numberless examples of this kind could be adduced. Now the honor of those heavenly kings is so great that not only godly men, but also the ungodly, and even the demons themselves, honor them. For there are many who despised and trampled upon holy men while they lived on earth, yet afterwards, when they have been taken up into heaven — especially if by public decree of the Church they have been enrolled among the saints — venerate and honor them; and even the demons themselves, who wearied the holy men with temptations while they lived in the flesh, and often, with God's permission, afflicted them with scourges and blows, afterwards fear the sacred relics and images of those who reign with God in heaven. What shall I say of the riches of the heavenly kings? Their great wealth is to lack nothing, since God is all in all. For he is not rich who possesses much, but he who desires nothing, since he lacks nothing; for it is the soul that ought to be rich, not the chest. To say nothing of the fact that heaven and earth, and whatever is in them, belong to the riches of the saints (1 Cor. 3): for what do they not possess, who are heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ (Rom. 8), whom the Father appointed heir of all things (Heb. 1)? There remains pleasure, which in the kings of heaven is altogether pure and unmingled, without any admixture of pain or sadness; for we have already heard from Revelation that God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes, and that there shall be no more any pain or mourning (Rev. 21). But more will have to be said about pleasure when we speak of paradise. We hold, therefore, that the goods of those who reign in heaven will be such as are common to all the saints and the blessed, so that the goods which are on earth seem in no way able to be compared with them, especially since earthly goods are passing, and heavenly goods everlasting.