Venerable Dionysius of Glushetsk
(According to the Gospel, what should our charity be like?)
By Archpriest Grigory Dyachenko
I. Today the memory of the Venerable Dionysius of Glushetsk is celebrated. The Venerable Dionysius, known in the world as Dmitri, was born in the vicinity of Vologda in the year 1362. Who his parents were and how the first years of his life passed are unknown. Information about the Saint begins from the time of his monastic tonsure by Dionysius of the Holy Mountain, abbot of the Monastery of the Savior on Kamenny Island in Lake Kubenskoye. Dionysius remained in that monastery for nine years, and afterward sought a more secluded place and withdrew to the Glushitsa River. After some time, other ascetics began to gather around him and settled near his cell.
Seeing the increase of the brotherhood, Dionysius asked Bishop Gregory of Rostov for a blessing to establish a monastery. “Your desire is praiseworthy,” said the bishop, “for the Lord Himself taught: ‘Where two or three are gathered in My name, there am I in the midst of them’ (Matthew 18:20).”
Having received the bishop's blessing, Dionysius asked Prince Dmitri of Kubensk for assistance in building the monastery, and the prince sent carpenters and the materials needed for construction. The brethren also labored greatly in this work, and Dionysius himself set the example of diligence. Within three years a church dedicated to the Protection of the Mother of God and the necessary buildings for the brotherhood had been completed.
A strict ascetic who had dedicated himself to the service of God, Dionysius taught the brethren by both word and example. “Children, be merciful and generous,” the Venerable one would say, “for those who show no mercy are hated by God, but he who has mercy on the poor lends to God Himself, according to the words of Scripture.”
Yet the brethren did not always approve of Dionysius' generosity. Wishing to persuade him to be less liberal toward the needy, the monks once sent to him a young man disguised as a poor female wanderer. Dionysius gave assistance. That same evening those who had tested the Saint returned the money to him and, revealing who the supposed wanderer had been, reproached him for his imprudent distribution of money.
The Venerable one summoned the young man, gave the money back to him, and said to the brethren: “If you take the money from him against my will, you will violate two commandments: first, by showing yourselves unmerciful to the poor; second, by transgressing the commandment that forbids demanding back what has been given. The Lord God commands us to do good as much as we are able. Therefore cease urging me toward mercilessness.”
II. On the day commemorating the Venerable Dionysius, who was distinguished by mercy and generosity, I find it fitting and profitable, brethren, to show you what our charity should be according to the Gospel.
As the foundation of this discourse let us take the rule with which Jesus Christ once concluded His teaching on this very virtue: “Be merciful, even as your Father also is merciful” (Luke 6:36). This means that just as God refuses His mercy to no one and in nothing, so we also ought: first, to give for the benefit of the unfortunate from all our abundance; second, to give not merely to certain persons, but to every unfortunate person without exception.
Let us explain these thoughts more fully.
a) We say that we ought to devote all the surplus of our possessions to the relief of the unfortunate. This duty arises from the very purpose of Divine Providence, which has permitted such an unequal distribution of earthly goods, whereby some possess everything in abundance, even to excess, while others lack everything to the point of extreme need. For why does such inequality exist? Why is Providence, from whom come both “poverty and riches” (Sirach 11:14), apparently so generous to some and so seemingly severe toward others? Is it because some are more worthy than others? But God is not only a righteous Judge who rewards according to merit; He is also a most merciful Father. And for whom would mercy exist if not for the unworthy, when for the worthy the rewards of justice alone would suffice? Or is it because some have obtained abundance through their own skill, care, and labor? But could not God have poured a shower of gold upon others as well, without requiring any effort from them?
“It is easy in the sight of the Lord suddenly to make the poor rich” (Sirach 11:21), says the son of Sirach. It is easy — yet heaven does not rain gold upon the poor. Evidently their portion is also to be found upon the earth. Why then, we ask again, does such inequality exist? Not, reasons the Apostle, so that some might enjoy ease while others endure distress, but “for equality” (2 Corinthians 8:13–15), so that the abundance of some may supply the lack of others, and that what others possess may in turn supply the deficiency of the first, “that there may be equality.” Therefore, this unequal distribution of earthly goods is almost necessary, so that the rich, by supplying from their abundance what the poor lack — those who for whatever reason cannot provide for themselves or sustain their well-being — may also supply their own deficiency through the abundance of the poor, that is, through the blessings which rest upon the poor for the sake of the rich and are purchased by the rich through mercy shown toward the poor.
Thus, listeners, in the order established by Providence, the rich are mediators between God and the poor; and likewise the poor are mediators between God and the rich. The poor convey heavenly blessings to the rich. God Himself has chosen such mediators between Himself and the wealthy. And it pleases God that the rich distribute earthly goods to the poor, so that there may be equality — not an equality that abolishes all distinction in earthly circumstances, but one in which the poor do not lack what is necessary for a decent and peaceful life, and the rich do not become miserable because of their very abundance.
Who, after hearing this, does not see that the unfortunate, although not by natural or civil laws, nevertheless according to the spirit of the gospel, possess a legitimate claim upon the surplus of the fortunate? Every excess in the hands of a prosperous man, who is merely a steward, is the rightful portion of the unfortunate. Every use of that surplus, after one's legitimate needs have been met, for purposes other than the relief of the needy, is the theft of a share that rightfully belongs to them. And what a theft it is! It cries out to heaven! For this reason the word of God so often reproaches the prosperous for their lack of mercy toward the unfortunate. For this reason it so often threatens with judgment those who have shown no mercy. For this reason it continually reminds us of our duty of compassion.
b) Having explained the reasons why we must devote all the surplus of our possessions to the relief of the unfortunate, let us now show why we must exercise such charity not merely toward certain individuals, but toward every unfortunate person without exception.
Permit me to ask you, listeners: when the Gospel commands us to love our neighbors, does it make any distinction among them? Or rather, does it not condemn every such distinction by the commandment to love even our enemies? What does this mean? It means that since every human being is our neighbor, whoever he may be and whatever he may be like — friend or enemy, stranger or acquaintance, virtuous or sinful — Christian charity embraces every unfortunate person, just as the Heavenly Father “makes His sun rise” not only upon the good but also upon the evil, and “sends rain” not only upon the righteous but also upon the unrighteous (Matthew 5:45).
There is, however, a kind of charity that is not so all-embracing, and is all the more dangerous because it appears to be inspired by prudence itself. This is a charity that is either excessively cautious, helping only those whose misfortune is absolutely certain, or excessively partial, showing mercy only to relatives and friends. “For we hear that there are some who walk among you disorderly, working not at all, but being busybodies. Now them that are such we command and exhort by our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietness they work and eat their own bread” (2 Thessalonians 3:11–12). There are such beggars among us as well; but we are not speaking about them. Yet even concerning such people we might add the apostolic exhortation: “But ye, brethren, be not weary in well doing,” and “count him not as an enemy, but admonish him as a brother” (vv. 13, 15).
There are unfortunate people whose disorderly or idle life we do not know with certainty, yet whose misfortune is not so clearly established that doubt is impossible. Cautious benefactors often refuse assistance even to such people. But for what respectable reason? Is it because of probable suspicion? But why do they trust their suspicions more than the words of the unfortunate person himself, who assures them that his condition is truly miserable? Why do they not believe him, at least for the sake of the appearance in which he presents himself before them? Is not his very willingness to appear as unfortunate already a kind of misfortune? Or is it out of caution, lest they be deceived — for indeed, being deceived is unpleasant? But why are such people more careful to avoid the possibility of doing an unnecessary good deed than they are to avoid neglecting a necessary one? One may doubt not only a fabricated misfortune but also a genuine one when it lacks obvious signs. Thus, on mere suspicion — that is, without sufficient reason — one may fail to help a truly unfortunate person. Perhaps they fear that by helping a suspected beggar they may encourage a life of vice and idleness? A vain fear!
If he is virtuous, he will not abuse their mercy. If he is corrupt, a cold refusal will not reform him; rather, it may give him occasion to slander and revile them, or even drive him toward shameful and criminal means of obtaining his livelihood. Thus, while imagining that they are preventing a merely suspected vice, they may actually push him into a real crime. In such cases, listeners, we must obey the voice of that “love which believes all things” (1 Corinthians 13:7).
“Your treasure is not lost,” says Chrysostom, “if you give alms; but if you do not give, it will be lost.” And how could it be lost when, in “having mercy on the poor” (Proverbs 19:17) — whether known or unknown to us, genuinely needy or only seemingly so — we lend to God Himself? For this reason, even a cup of cold water given to anyone in Christ's name shall not lose its reward. The misuse or deceit of the recipient, therefore, does not destroy the virtue of the giver. “Give to every man that asks of you,” Christian — thus has Jesus Christ commanded you (Luke 6:30).
Equally unchristian is that charity which shows mercy only to one's relatives according to the flesh. If degrees of blood relationship make some people closer to us and others more distant, spiritual kinship unites all Christians in a bond as intimate as that of the members of one body. “You are the body of Christ, and members in particular,” says the Apostle to believers. “For by one Spirit are we all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether bond or free; and have all been made to drink into one Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:27, 13). Where, then, is that supposed privilege by which the right to our charity should belong exclusively, or chiefly, to our blood relatives? You may say that natural affection draws us more strongly toward our own family. True enough — if a Christian is guided only by the natural law of the flesh. But in that case, how is he different from a pagan? For pagans do the same. If this is so, then such a benefactor bears the name of disciple of Christ in vain; it is an empty title for him. As for showing special kindness to friends while being merciless toward enemies: the first, like preferential love toward relatives, does not raise a Christian above a pagan; and the second has already been condemned by the commandment to love one's enemies.
Christian charity “suffers long and is kind” (1 Corinthians 13:4) toward all, without inquiring whether the unfortunate person is friend or foe, relative or stranger. “If your enemy hungers, feed him; if he thirsts, give him drink” (Romans 12:20). And if a person entirely unknown to you is in distress, be to him a compassionate Samaritan.
III. Such is the charity that Jesus Christ requires of us in the Gospel! One might now repeat the question: Is our charity such as this? But lest I prolong this discourse, let each person examine his own conscience. Let us only remind ourselves that judgment upon the merciless has already been pronounced: “Inasmuch as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to Me ... Depart ... into everlasting fire” (Matthew 25:45).
(Compiled from the “Sermons and Discourses” of Nicholas, Bishop of Tambov, edition of 1872.)
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