Have mercy upon us, O Lord, the God of all, and look upon us,
and cause the fear of thee to fall upon all the nations…
and let them know thee, as we have known
that there is not God but thee, O Lord.
Show signs anew, and work further wonders;
make thy hand and thy right arm glorious.
-cf. Sirach 36:3-6
One of the most dramatic political events in history unfolded in a Catholic Church.
A very high-ranking politician in the Eastern Roman Empire named Eutropius lived in the 300’s at the same time as Saint John Chrysostom, who was Archbishop of Constantinople. The Church at this time enjoyed a right that you may have seen in movies: that of sanctuary, or asylum. This allowed the Church the right in the Empire to give shelter to fugitives who fled there seeking refuge. Eutropius was no friend of the Church, and he was also ambitious. In his quest for power, he restricted what we would call today the “religious freedom” of the Church to provide sanctuary in order to cut off any route of escape for his political opponents.
Slowly but surely however [Eutropius] climbed to the summit of power by the simple process of putting out of the way on various pretexts all dangerous competitors. He deprived his victims of their last hope of escape by abolishing the right of the Church to afford shelter to fugitives.
However, after he rose to power by persecuting the Church, Eutropius eventually fell out of favor when he scorned a promotion for a deserving military officer. The offended officer retaliated by leading his troops in a revolt, which ultimately resulted in the fall of Eutropius.
Eutropius was deprived of his official dignity, his property was declared confiscated, and he was commanded to quit the palace instantly under pain of death. Whither could the poor wretch fly who was thus in a moment hurled from the pinnacle of power into the lowest depths of degradation and destitution. There was but one place to which he could naturally turn in his distress—the sanctuary of the Church; but by the cruel irony of his fate, a law of his own devising here barred his entrance.
Nevertheless, despite the fact that his own persecution of the Church had removed the sanctuary laws, he trusted in the mercy of Chrysostom, found his way into the Cathedral, slunk past the sanctuary curtain and clung to a pillar of the altar. Soldiers entered the church looking for Eutropius, but Chrysostom came out and actually defended his enemy Eutropius with his own life.
He concealed Eutropius in the sacristy, confronted his pursuers, and refused to surrender him. “None shall violate the sanctuary save over my body: the church is the bride of Christ who has entrusted her honor to me and I will never betray it.”
Things only get more dramatic from here. Remember, Eutropius is what we would consider today a “culturally Catholic” politician who persecuted the Church, second in power only to the Emperor. The modern equivalent of this in the United States would be someone like Nancy Pelosi or Joe Biden. Can you imagine how significant and dramatic it would be to see a career anti-Catholic politician suddenly cast down from power, only to be defended by the same Bishop they persecuted? But that is not the end…
The next day was Sunday. The Cathedral was filled, and Chrysostom took his place to preach the homily. As he took his place, the curtain concealing the altar was drawn aside, and there clung Eutropius—no doubt disheveled from sleep deprivation and fear. It is thus that Chrysostom begins this homily:
Vanity of vanities, all is vanity—it is always seasonable to utter this but more especially at the present time. Where are now the brilliant surroundings of your consulship? Where are the gleaming torches? Where is the dancing, and the noise of dancers’ feet, and the banquets and the festivals? Where are the garlands and the curtains of the theatre? Where is the applause which greeted you in the city, where the acclamation in the hippodrome and the flatteries of spectators? They are gone — all gone: a wind has blown upon the tree shattering down all its leaves, and showing it to us quite bare, and shaken from its very root; for so great has been the violence of the blast, that it has given a shock to all these fibres of the tree and threatens to tear it up from the roots.
Where now are your feigned friends? Where are your drinking parties, and your suppers? Where is the swarm of parasites, and the wine which used to be poured forth all day long, and the manifold dainties invented by your cooks? Where are they who courted your power and did and said everything to win your favour? They were all mere visions of the night, and dreams which have vanished with the dawn of day: they were spring flowers, and when the spring was over they all withered: they were a shadow which has passed away — they were a smoke which has dispersed, bubbles which have burst, cobwebs which have been rent in pieces. Therefore we chant continually this spiritual song —Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.
For this saying ought to be continually written on our walls, and garments, in the market place, and in the house, on the streets, and on the doors and entrances, and above all on the conscience of each one, and to be a perpetual theme for meditation. And inasmuch as deceitful things, and maskings and pretence seem to many to be realities it behooves each one every day both at supper and at breakfast, and in social assemblies to say to his neighbour and to hear his neighbour say in return vanity of vanities, all is vanity.
Was I not continually telling you that wealth was a runaway? But you would not heed me. Did I not tell you that it was an unthankful servant? But you would not be persuaded. Behold actual experience has now proved that it is not only a runaway, and ungrateful servant, but also a murderous one, for it is this which has caused you now to fear and tremble. Did I not say to you when you continually rebuked me for speaking the truth, I love you better than they do who flatter you?I who reprove you care more for you than they who pay you court? Did I not add to these words by saying that the wounds of friends were more to be relied upon than the voluntary kisses of enemies. If you had submitted to my wounds their kisses would not have wrought you this destruction: for my wounds work health, but their kisses have produced an incurable disease.
Where are now your cup-bearers, where are they who cleared the way for you in the market place, and sounded your praises endlessly in the ears of all? They have fled, they have disowned your friendship, they are providing for their own safety by means of your distress. But I do not act thus, nay in your misfortune I do not abandon you, and now when you are fallen I protect and tend you. And the Church which you treated as an enemy has opened her bosom and received you into it; whereas the theatres which you courted, and about which you were oftentimes indignant with me have betrayed and ruined you. And yet I never ceased saying to you why doest thou these things? You are exasperating the Church, and casting yourself down headlong, yet you hurried away from all my warnings. And now the hippodromes, having exhausted your wealth, have whetted the sword against you, but the Church which experienced your untimely wrath is hurrying in every direction, in her desire to pluck you out of the net.
The homily continues, and you can find the whole thing at New Advent. It is an incredible testimony to the vanity of the world, the power of God, and the impact one bold shepherd can have.
Let us remember how vain and fleeting the honors and riches of this life are, and how glorious and lasting are those of Heaven for which we strive. Let us also pray, through the intercession of Saint John Chrysostom, for boldness and zeal for our Bishops and Priests, and for the conversion of our politicians.
Saint John Chrysostom, Pray for us.
If you liked this post, you might be edified by:
