On Compassion
From a homily on the Letter to the Romans by Saint John Chrysostom, bishop (c.349-407)
Saint John Chrysostom was born at Antioch about the year 349. After an extensive education he embraced a life of asceticism. He was ordained a priest and distinguished himself by his preaching which achieved great spiritual results among those who heard him preach. He was elected bishop of Constantinople in 397 and proved himself a capable pastor, committed to reforming the life of the clergy and the faithful. Twice he was forced into exile by the hatred of the imperial court and the envy of his enemies. After he had completed his difficult labors, he died at Comana in Pontus on September 14, 407. His preaching and writing explained Catholic doctrine in a way that is unequaled to this day. As a trained orator from the best schools of his day, he presented the merits of living the Christian life in such a persuasive and eloquent way that he was called “Chrysostom” which means “Golden Mouth” by those who studied his works.
Compassion is Christ’s command
God gave us his own Son; but you will not even share your bread with him when he is wasting away with starvation, even though you would be spending on him what is really his, spending it moreover for your own good. What can be worse than such injustice? He was given up for you, put to death for you, went about hungry for you; you would be giving only what is his, giving moreover for your own benefit; even so, you refuse to give.
What stone could be more insensitive than such men, for despite so many inducements they persist in this satanic cold heartedness. He was not satisfied only to endure death on a cross; he chose to become poor and homeless, a beggar and naked, to be thrown into prison and suffer sickness, so that in this way too he might invite you to join him.
“If you will make me no return for having suffered for you, at least have pity on my poverty. If not that, be moved at least by my sickness and imprisonment. If none of these elicit your compassion, at least grant me this, because it is so small a request. I want nothing expensive, just a little bread, shelter, a few kind words. If all this leaves you unmoved, at least improve your conduct for the kingdom of heaven’s sake, for all the rewards I have promised. Or is this too of no account in your eyes? Well, at least out of natural pity you might feel upset when you see me naked; and remember how I was naked on the cross, which I suffered for your sake; or, if not this, then recall the poverty and nakedness I endure today in the poor. Once I was in fetters for you; I am still in fetters for you, so that whether by those earlier bonds or by these present ones, you might be moved to show some feeling for me. I fasted for you and I go hungry again, still for your sake; I thirsted as I hung upon the cross, and I am thirsty again in the poor of today. In one way or another, I would draw you to myself. For your soul’s sake, I would have you compassionate.
“You are bound to me by innumerable favors, and now I ask you to make some return. Not that I demand it as my due. I reward you as though you were acting out of generosity. For your trifling gestures, I am giving you a kingdom.
“I do not say: ‘Put an end to my poverty,’ or ‘Make over to me your wealth, although it was for you that I became poor.’ All I ask for is a little bread, clothing and a little comfort in my hunger.
“If I am in prison, I do not ask you to set me free of my chains and release me. All I ask is that, for my sake, you should visit someone in prison. This will be favor enough. In return, I bestow upon you heaven. I released you from the heaviest chains. It will be enough for me if you visit me in prison.
“I could, of course, reward you without any of this; but I want to be in your debt, so that, along with your reward, you may have confidence in yourself.
Source: The Liturgy of the Hours – Office of Readings