Слово 11, о малоценности внешнего человека и о суете настоящего

Who was I? Who am I now? And what will I be after a short time? Where will you bring and place, O Immortal, a great creature, if there is a great thing among creatures? But in my opinion, we are meaningless, one-day creatures and in vain we raise our eyebrows high, if in us there is only one thing that people see, and we have nothing but perishing life. Taurus, having barely left the bowels of the birthing mother, is already galloping and tightly squeezing the sweet nipples, and in the third year he wears a yoke, drags a heavy chariot and puts his mighty neck into a strong beak. A mottled deer, barely out of its mother’s womb, immediately stands firmly on its feet next to its mother, runs from bloodthirsty dogs and from a fast horse, and hides in the thickets of a dense forest. Bears, a breed of destructive boars, lions, tigers and lynxes equal in speed to the wind, only see iron for the first time - their fur immediately bristles and they rush furiously at strong hunters. The newly feathered chick has barely fledged and is circling high above the nest in the spacious air. The golden bee left only a cave - and now she builds herself an opposite abode and fills the house with sweet fruit; and all this is the work of one spring. They all have ready-made food, the earth gives a feast to everyone. They do not cut through the furious sea, they do not plow the land; They have no storehouses, no cupbearers. And the fast-flying bird is nourished by its wings, and the beasts are nourished by the wilds. If they work, they only have a small one-day job. And a huge lion, as I heard, having torn to pieces the beast it had killed, abhors the remains of its feast. Moreover, they say that he alternately eats food on one day, and on the other, with one drink, he cools his greedy larynx in order to accustom his belly to abstinence. So their life is not burdened with work. They always have a home ready under a stone or branches. They are healthy, strong, beautiful. When the illness subdues them, they carelessly breathe out their last breath, do not accompany each other with lamentable songs, and friends do not tear out their hair. I will say even more: they fearlessly lose their lives; and the beast, dying, is not afraid of any evil. Look at the pitiful human race; then you yourself will say with the poet: “There is nothing weaker than man” (Homer. Odyssey. Song 18, v. 130). I am the fruit of the expired seed; My mother gave birth to me with illnesses, and I was fed with great and difficult labor. At first, my mother carried me in her arms - sweet labor! - and then, not without painful cries, I descended to the ground; then he began to walk on the ground like a four-legged man, until he stood up on swaying feet, supported by someone else’s hands. Over time, my mind flashed through the hints of the silent voice. And then, under the guidance of others, I cried out to myself. At the age of twenty I gathered my strength, but before that, as someone who struggled in the field, I met many defeats. Some things remain with me, others have perished for me, and others (let it be known to you, my soul!) you will still work on as you go through life - this is an aspiration that is contrary to you in everything, this wild stream, this wavering sea, boiling here and there from the incessant gusts of wind. I am often overwhelmed by my own recklessness; and it was brought upon me by the enemy of our life - the demon. If you set the scales correctly and weigh everything that is pleasant and deplorable in life, then one cup, loaded to the top with evil, will go to the ground, and the other, on the contrary, with the blessings of life, will run upward. War, the sea, cultivation of the land, labor, robbers, the acquisition of property, inventories of estates, tax collectors, petitioners for cases, records, judges, an untruthful boss - all these are still children's toys in a difficult life. Look at the pleasantness of life: satiety, burden, singing, laughter, a coffin always filled with decayed dead; marriage gifts, marriage, second marriage if the first one is dissolved, adulterers, capture of adulterers; children - anxious grief; beauty is a false lure; ugliness is innocent evil; worries about good children, sadness about bad ones; wealth and poverty are pure evil; contempt, pride - all this is like a ball flying from hand to hand among young people. So, looking at this, my heart is consumed if they consider that which has more evil than good to be better. Do you not cry when you hear how many sorrows there were among those who lived before us? However, I don’t know whether you will cry or laugh at this. The sages of antiquity found both decent for themselves; and it brought tears to one of them, and aroused laughter in the other, that the Trojans and Achaeans, rushing at each other, fought and mutually destroyed themselves for their adulterous wife; that the Curetes and the abuse-loving Aetolians scolded them for a pig's head and for the bristles of a young boar; that the sons of Jacob, with all their great glory, died, one among enemies from a violent hand, and the other from love of woman; that the son of Amphitryon was named (Hercules - Ed.), but this one, all-destroying, died from poisonous clothing. Neither Cyrus nor Croesus escaped the evil fate, nor did our kings, who seemed like only yesterday. And you, revered as the son of the serpent, an unstoppable force - Alexander, were destroyed by wine when you walked around the whole earth! What is the advantage between the rotten? The same dust, the same bones - the hero Atrid, and the beggar Ir, Tsar Constantine and my servant; and whoever suffered and who prospered, everyone has nothing but a coffin. Such is the lot here; but what about in another life? Who can say what the last day brings to the unrighteous? There is a bubbling flame, terrible darkness for those who have retreated from the light, a worm - an everlasting remembrance of our sins. It would be better for you, sinner, not to enter the gates of life, and if you did, everything would be destroyed along with the beasts; Why, after enduring so much sorrow here, should you still suffer a punishment that is more severe than anything you have endured in your life here? Where is the great glory of my ancestor? - Ruined by food. Where is the wise Solomon? - Conquered by wives. Where is this Judas, numbered among the twelve? - For a small gain, he is enveloped in darkness. I pray to You, my King Christ: grant, O Blessed One, immediate healing from evil to Your servant, banishing him from here! For people there is only one good, and a lasting good - these are heavenly hopes. I breathe a little of them; but I feel a great aversion to other benefits. And I am ready to provide one-day beings with everything that drags along the earth: the fatherland and foreign countries, thrones and the honors associated with them, loved ones, strangers, pious, vicious, frank, secretive, looking with an unenvious eye, consumed by internally suicidal sin. To others I yield to the pleasantness of life; and I myself will willingly avoid them. Oh, how long have these disasters made this life! - How long should I sit at the pus? It’s as if all the blessings of our life are contained in one consolation - day after day, either taking in or throwing out what is measured out. Not many people use the larynx; and everything else turns into a waste stream. Still winter, still summer; now spring, now autumn alternately; days and nights are the double ghosts of life; sky, air, sea - in all this, both what is motionless and what rotates, there is nothing new for me, I am satiated with everything. Grant me another life and another world, for which I will willingly bear all the burdens of labor. It would have been better for me to die when You locked me in my mother’s womb; for as soon as I began life, darkness and tears became my lot. What kind of life is this? - Having risen from the coffin, I go to another coffin and, having risen from the grave, I will be buried in merciless fire. And this time, while I am breathing, is a fast stream of a running river, in which one thing constantly leaves, another comes, and nothing is permanent. Here everything is just dust, which covers my eyes, and I further fall away from God’s light, groping along the wall, clutching at this and that, wandering outside of the great life. I will venture one truthful word: man is God’s game, similar to one of those we see in cities. On top is a mask made by hands; when it was removed, I turned to stone with shame, suddenly appearing differently. Such is the whole life of pathetic mortals. They have a dreamy hope in their hearts, but they do not enjoy it for long. But I, who feed on Christ, will never renounce Him while I am bound by the bonds of this earthly life. I have a dual nature. The body is created from earth, and therefore is prone to the dust inherent in it. But the soul is God’s breath, and always desires to have the best fate of those above heaven. Just as a stream flows from a source on level ground, and a flaming fire knows one unchanging path - to ascend upward, so man is great; he is even an Angel when, like a snake, having stripped himself of his variegated old age, he rises from here. Priests rejoice, I am dead! And you, evil neighbors, will no longer be in awe of me as before! You yourself are blocking the great mercy of the ever-living King. And I, having left everything, have one thing - the cross, the bright pillar of my life. When will I be delighted from here on and touch the heavenly sacrifices, to which secretive evil - envy - does not approach; then (if I may say so) I will also pray unenviably for the envious. Who am I? Where did you come into life? And after the earth accepts me into its depths, how will I emerge from the rising dust? Where will the great God place me? And, having stolen from here, will he lead you into a peaceful haven? There are many paths to a troubled life, and each has its own sorrows; there is no good for people that is not mixed with evil; and it would be good if sorrows were not a greater measure! Wealth is wrong; throne - the dreamer’s pride; being in subjection is painful; poverty - bonds; beauty is the short-term flash of lightning; youth is a temporary effervescence; gray hair - the mournful decline of life; words are volatile; glory - air; nobility is old blood; strength is also the property of a wild boar; satiety - impudently; marriage is a yoke; having many children is a necessary concern; childlessness is a disease; national assemblies are a school of vices; inactivity relaxes; arts are befitting of reptiles on the earth; someone else's bread is bitter; it is difficult to cultivate the land; most of the sailors died; the fatherland is one’s own pit; the other side is a reproach. Everything is difficult for mortals; everything here - laughter, fluff, shadow, ghost, dew, blow, feather, steam, sleep, wave, stream, ship's wake, wind, dust, circle, forever whirling, renewing everything like before, and motionless and spinning, and collapsing and indispensable - in the seasons, days, nights, labors, deaths, worries, fun, illnesses, falls, success. And this is the work of Your wisdom, Parent and Word, that everything is impermanent, so that we retain within ourselves the love for the constant! I flowed around everything on the wings of my mind - both ancient and new; and nothing is weaker than mortals. There is only one thing that is beautiful and lasting for a person: taking up the cross and moving from here. Beautiful are the tears and sighs, the mind nourished by divine hopes, and the illumination of the heavenly Trinity entering into communion with the purified. Beautiful are the renunciation of the foolish dust, the non-corruption of the image we have received from God. It is wonderful to live a life that is alien to you and, having exchanged one world for another, patiently endure all sorrows. You might be interested in: