John Chrysostom, much like Origen, places Abraham’s hospitality at the center of his homilies on Genesis 18 and 19. It is Abraham’s virtuous behavior that induces the Lord to appear to him by the oak of Mamre. This is clear from the patriarch’s exemplary attitude in the previous chapter, when the Lord first appeared to him (17:1) and gave him the command of circumcision. Abraham— the “just man” (ho dikaios), as Chrysostom customarily calls him—obeyed God “without hesitating in the slightest.”68 This ready obedience is the reason God again appears to him in the Mamre theophany: “This, you see, is what our Lord is like: when he sees people grateful in the first instance, he lavishes further kindnesses on them and never desists from rewarding the gratitude of those obedient to him.”69 For Chrysostom, there is a harmonious interplay between divine synkatabasis and human hospitality: Abraham responds to the divine appearance of Genesis 17:1 with obedience, which in turn triggers the Mamre theophany of the next chapter, which then again moves Abraham to extend hospitality to God.
Abraham, then, is emphatically a “just man” for Chrysostom. But Chrysostom does not link this justice with any kind of intimate, mystical relationship between Abraham and the Lord. For Chrysostom, it is not the vertical relationship with God that is central, and it is not the visitor’s divine identity that turns Abraham’s act of hospitality into a just act. To be sure, like Origen, Chrysostom assumes that the identity of the three visitors is that of “the Lord of all with his angels.”- The Antiochene preacher takes his cue from what he regards as allusions to the Mamre theophany in the Letter to the Hebrews and the Gospel of Matthew: “Hence Paul too said, ‘Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some people have entertained angels all unawares’ [Heb. 13:2], referring precisely to the patriarch. Hence Christ too said, ‘Whoever receives one of the least of these in my name, receives me’ [Matt. 18:5; 25:40, 45].”71 So, like Origen, Chrysostom follows the well-trodden pre-Nicene path of a christological reading of the Mamre theophany.
But it is not the identity of his visitor as the pre-incarnate Christ that turns Abraham into a “just man.” Unlike Origen, Chrysostom is of the opinion that Abraham does not know who his visitors are, and it is precisely this lack of knowledge that makes his virtue stand out.72 Abraham, explains Chrysostom, simply “realized that people obliged to travel are in need of much service at that time particularly.”73 So when Chrysostom (and here he is no different from Origen) highlights how “the old man runs and flies,” having “espied his prey,”74 the patriarch’s hurry is commendable not because he recognizes the Lord but precisely because he does not recognize him; Abraham assists someone he believes to be a needy stranger. In other words, Abraham’s hospitality functions
not at the vertical level, as something offered to God—though that is the serendipitous side effect—but it functions first and foremost at the horizontal level: it is rendered to unknown, needy strangers. In Chrysostom’s theology, God condescends to the level of ordinary human relationships; it is at that level, therefore, that the Antiochene preacher believes human hospitality ought to be practiced in the first place.
This emphasis on the moral virtue of interpersonal hospitality means that Chrysostom looks for additional biblical examples showing us how we can offer hospitality and generosity. He digresses, for example, on the hospitality that the widow of Zarephath offered to Elijah (1 Kings 17:8-16)—who, in contrast to King Ahab’s purple clothing, wore “only a sheepskin.”75 The widow, despite her extreme poverty, welcomed the prophet by offering him her last meal. The sermon turns from the widow of Zarephath to the poor widow who placed the only two small coins she had in the temple treasury (Luke 21:1-4).
Chrysostom’s point throughout—quite in contrast to Origen’s—is that we ought to “imitate” or “emulate” Abraham, the widow of Zarephath, the poor widow of Luke’s Gospel, and Lot, by living hospitable lives: “Since this just man’s [i.e., Abraham’s] virtue (arete) is so wonderful, therefore, let us bestir ourselves to imitation (zelon) of him, and at least at this late stage let us acknowledge our own nobility, emulate (mimesometha) the patriarch.”76 Hospitality demands that, regardless of the status of the person we encounter or of our own material condition, we freely share our possessions and extend liberal care toward the poor.
In line with this moral turn of the hospitality theme, Chrysostom sees the virtue of hospitality as intimately linked to other virtues. Sermons 41-43 constitute a lengthy exposition on the importance of virtue (arete). Saint John makes the point at the beginning of Homily 42 that Abraham not only was hospitable but also displayed care and compassion. Abraham is also a model of endurance, humility, and faith.77 The inevitable upshot of this focus on virtue is a sharp challenge to the congregation: “So what excuse remains for us, when, despite the example of one human being adorned with every virtue, we prove to be so bereft as to have no intention to practice any virtue?”78
Lot too gets drafted into the service of modeling virtue; Chrysostom doesn’t evaluate him nearly as negatively as Origen does. The virtue of Abraham’s nephew is the topic of Homily 43: his association with Abraham “led him to the very pinnacle of virtue,” claims Chrysostom.79 Living in Sodom rather than in the mountains was by no means an obstacle to Lot; one need not be a desert monk to live a virtuous life. Saint John exclaims: “Where now are those who say that it is not possible for someone growing up in the environment of the city to
keep one’s virtue, but for this is required retreat and a life in the mountains, and that it is not possible for the man of the house, with a wife and with children and servants to look after, to be virtuous?”80 Whereas Origen contrasted the valley of Sodom (a hindrance to virtue) with mountainous territory (nearness to God), Chrysostom points out that virtue can flourish in either setting.
Though amelioration of the hardship of strangers and of the poor is important to Chrysostom, this is not the only aim of the virtue of hospitality. The preacher does not hesitate to point out that hospitality has payoffs also for the benefactor. Throughout his life, Abraham “exerted every effort of his own,”81 as a result of which he was judged “worthy” (exiouto) of God’s help.82 We ought to follow Abraham in his virtue in “consideration of our salvation,”83 to “gain a reward for it in the age that never ends,”84 “taking great care of our salvation.”85 Appealing directly to his listeners’ hope to be rewarded with eternal life, the Antiochene preacher intones:
Let us all imitate this and display much zeal in practicing hospitality, not merely to receive some recompense for these perishable and corruptible things but to lay up for ourselves as well the enjoyment of immortal blessings. You see, if we practice hospitality, we shall welcome Christ here and he will, in turn, welcome us in those mansions prepared for those who love him, and we shall hear from him, “Come my Father’s blessed ones, take possession of the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” [Matt. 25:34]. Why so? “For I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you made me welcome; I was in custody and you came to see me” [Matt. 25:35].86
Chrysostom’s preaching is perhaps characterized by a somewhat one-sided focus on moral demands—along with the prospect of reward. To be sure, the three sermons do have an obvious christological center: the theophany is that of Christ appearing as one of the three visitors, and God’s gracious condescension in the theophany is part of a divine pedagogy that foreshadows his synkatabasis in the incarnation itself.87 At the same time, however, the incentive for Christian living stems at least as much from the Abrahamic example as from God’s synkatabasis in the pre-incarnate Christ. For Chrysostom, the life of virtue leads invariably to its fitting, eternal reward, and he regards it as his task, as a preacher, to lead his listeners toward that end.
We should not exaggerate the differences either between Origen and Chrysostom or between the Antiochene and the Alexandrian interpretive approaches. At several points in this book, we will see that the Alexandrian tradition was not
indifferent to the historical or literal meaning of the text; and it is also true that theologians in the Antiochene school were keenly interested in exploring deeper levels of meaning in the biblical text.88 Diodore of Tarsus, Chrysostom’s erstwhile teacher, writes in the prologue to his Commentary on the Psalms that “we will not disparage anagogy and the higher theoria. For history is not opposed to theoria. On the contrary, it proves to be the foundation and the basis of the higher senses.” Diodore did add a word of caution: “One thing is to be watched, however: theoria must never be understood as doing away with the underlying sense; it would then be no longer theoria but allegory. For wherever anything is said apart from the foundational sense, we have not theoria but allegory.”89 While Diodore obviously disliked allegory, neither he nor the Antiochene tradition as a whole restricted its exegesis to the literal sense. As Frances Young rightly observes in her book Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture: “The traditional categories of ‘literal,’ ‘typological’ and ‘allegorical’ are quite simply inadequate as descriptive tools, let alone analytical tools. Nor is the Antiochene reaction against Alexandrian allegory correctly described as an appeal to the ‘literal’ or ‘historical’ meaning.”90
Young’s observation holds true particularly for Saint John Chrysostom: he was perhaps even more interested in spiritual exegesis than were some of his Antiochene predecessors. Chrysostom often employed typology in his interpretation of Scripture, something of which Diodore had been rather wary.91 Chrysostom, comments Ashish Naidu, “reflects a modification of the Antiochene hermeneutical tendencies in a direction which is broadly consonant with the Alexandrian tradition.”92 Origen and Chrysostom are not nearly as far apart as unwarranted caricatures may make us believe.
It is also evident that both preachers take seriously God’s synkatabasis in relating to human beings. Both use the term—though Chrysostom does so much more pervasively than Origen, and Origen doesn’t use the term in his sermons on the Mamre theophany. Both see God’s self-revelation—in theophany, in the incarnation, and in the biblical text—as involving divine condescension. Both wish to do justice to the divine transcendence as well as to the divine immanence implied in the theophany. Synkatabasis, David Rylaarsdam points out, both reveals and conceals God:
On the one hand, adapted revelation overcomes the dissimilarity between God and humans by forming a symbolic bridge between the two. Since a corporeal symbol has similarities to the spiritual reality it represents, some knowledge is possible. Yet, on the other hand, Chrysostom’s understanding of the symbolic character of revelation does not compromise the incomprehensibility of God. For a symbol and the reality it signifies are not only similar but also different. God is always higher than the reach of any symbolic bridge. In revealing himself, he appears not as he is. Symbols are a limited means of
communication, but adequate to lead humans to faith in God’s plan of redemption and to a heavenly way of life.93
Rylaarsdam’s comments hold true not only for Chrysostom but also for Origen. Both preachers believed that God’s synkatabasis at Mamre reveals and conceals at the same time; similarly, both were convinced that also the incarnation and the inspired Scripture reveal and conceal at the same time.
Yet it is not overly difficult to enumerate the differences between Origen’s and Chrysostom’s approaches. They each have their own distinct reading strategies and their own styles of preaching. These differences have to do with the fact that the two authors do represent two fairly distinct theological and interpretive traditions. The Alexandrian tradition of Origen treated the allegorizing of the Jewish philosopher and exegete Philo as something that, to a large extent, was transferable to the Christian tradition. The reason for this is that Origen and other Alexandrian exegetes believed that the apostle Paul himself had allegorized the biblical text. Origen was convinced, therefore, that one couldn’t possibly avoid allegorizing if one wished to do justice to the newness of the Christ event.94 The Antiochene tradition of Diodore of Tarsus and Saint John Chrysostom was much more reticent in the use of allegory: both exegetes were distrustful of the speculative turn that the practice of allegorizing might take, preferring the term theoria (contemplation) instead.
The differences in nuance between the Alexandrian and Antiochene traditions are reflected in the exegetical and homiletical choices that Origen and Chrysostom make. The object of Abraham’s hospitality is, for Origen, the Lord himself; for Chrysostom, this is true only indirectly: Abraham in the first instance reaches out to a fellow human being in need of food and drink. As a result, Origen’s sermon has a more mystical feel. He wants to explore how the biblical text describes the soul’s growth in perfection in relationship with God; Chrysostom, by contrast, is interested in fostering particular embodied practices in his listeners. He wants their behavior to be like that of the “just man.” Although both exegetes pay detailed attention to the particulars of the text, Origen often does this so that he can determine the allegorical meaning of various textual details, while Chrysostom does it mostly to explore the numerous ways in which Scripture brings to the fore the moral virtues of the main characters of the narrative. Perhaps the difference between the two preachers can best be expressed by noting that for Origen divine theophany is inextricably bound up with transformed vision (“sharpness of sight”), whereas Chrysostom connects it with transformed virtue (reaching out with compassion). Origen is
more vertical whereas Chrysostom is more horizontal in his reading of the Mamre theophany.
Finally, we can put the difference between the two approaches in sacramental terms. Origen is typically intrigued with the transcendent, hidden truth of the theophany, of the incarnation, and of the Scriptures: Abraham’s spiritual vision at Mamre gives him access to the inner reality (res) of the sacrament.
Chrysostom is much more at home with the immanent, revealed symbol of the theophany, of the incarnation, and of the Scriptures: Abraham’s hospitality to strangers indicates that there is no way of bypassing the outward symbol of the sacrament (sacramentum). Both approaches have their strengths: Origen beautifully highlights the importance of the contemplative life, of the vision of God as the sacramental aim of Abraham’s hospitality, and Chrysostom rightly emphasizes that we dare not circumvent the embodied, sacramental grounding of the active life. Both approaches also have their weaknesses: Origen can come across as ignoring the significance of the human form in which God reveals himself in history; Chrysostom may seem to be courting a moralism that reduces salvation to the emulation of human examples.
We need the complementarity of the two approaches. Both, after all, are sacramental in character, even if the one tends to emphasize the inward reality and the other the outward sacrament. The tension between the two exegetes is one that we should be hesitant to relinquish, because it is only by retaining the tension that we can give expression to the paradox of the incarnation. When in the incarnation God stoops down in gracious love, he invites us to enter into Christ and so to join the very life of God himself. This divine grace is the ultimate form of hospitality, of which human hospitality is a mere shadow. Or, to put it theologically, ordinary human hospitality (philoxenia) is merely an analogous participation in God’s gracious condescension (synkatabasis) in Jesus Christ.
In the incarnation, we witness the paradox of God himself appearing in human form. This preeminent act of synkatabasis cannot be explained either by an extreme Alexandrian focus on the divinity of Christ or by a radical Antiochene insistence on his humanity. It is in the paradoxical tension between the two that the truth of God’s condescension in Christ is to be found. When it comes to biblical interpretation, perhaps we retain this tension best by acknowledging that Origen’s allegorizing of hospitality and Chrysostom’s injunction of caring for the poor each give expression to an indispensable aspect of what hospitable reading looks like in response to theophanic revelation.
1. I explore hospitality as a metaphor for divine grace in detail in Violence, Hospitality, and the Cross.
2. Throughout this chapter I will quote the Greek translation (the Septuagint) from Brannan, Lexham English Septuagint.
3. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I, q.12, a.4 (“Cognitum autem est in cognoscente secundum modum cognoscentis”). See also ibid., I, q.75, a.5: “For it is clear that whatever is received into something is received according to the condition of the recipient” (“Manifestum est enim quod omne quod recipitur in aliquo, recipitur in eo per modum recipientis”).
4. Augustine, On the Trinity 2.2.11 (WSA I/5:107).
5. For a helpful overview of the use of synkatabasis, see Dreyfus, “Divine Condescendence,” 74-86.
6. According to Arnold Huijgen, Calvin’s pervasive use of the term accommodatio is the result of his borrowing from Chrysostom, the Genevan Reformer’s favorite church father, though Calvin does so indirectly, via Erasmus. “Divine Accommodation in Calvin,” 252-53.
7. R. Hill, introduction to Homilies on Genesis 1-17, 17-18. See also R. Hill, “On Looking Again at Sunkatabasis,” 3-11; and Sheridan, Language for God, 41.
8. Rylaarsdam, John Chrysostom, 29-30.
9. See “condescend, v.,” OED Online, June 2015, http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/38511.
10. The above discussion should make clear that I believe the metaphor of hospitality (as depicting divine grace) is not without risks and has only limited, heuristic value. We can speak of divine hospitality only by way of analogy to human hospitality, which implies obvious limitations in terms of our understanding of God. Divine grace is by no means fully “captured” by the term “hospitality,” and my distinction between synkatabasis and philoxenia is one way of alluding to the infinite difference between God’s grace and the human response of faith and love.
11. Rylaarsdam, John Chrysostom, 30. Cf. R. Hill’s comment that for Chrysostom synkatabasis “is an extremely rich notion, with a dozen or so distinct notes requiring explication.” “St. John Chrysostom,” 36.
12. Throughout this book, we will come across ways in which the church fathers guarded against subjectivism in interpretation and tried to channel a fitting interpretive response to the biblical text.
13. Origen, Homilies on Genesis 4.1 (FC 71:104).
14. Ibid., 4.2 (FC 71:105).
15. Ibid., 4.5 (fC 71:108).
16. Cf. Ronald E. Heine’s comment that “on the whole, the substance can be regarded as representing Origen’s thought. The major exception to this statement is theological statements regarding the Trinity and the resurrection of the body. Whenever statements on these subjects agree with the doctrines of the fourth-century Church they should be regarded with suspicion.” Introduction to Homilies on Genesis, 38.
17. Thomas B. Falls suggests that the debate took place in Ephesus shortly after the Bar Kokhba revolt (AD 135) and that Justin Martyr wrote up the proceedings in Rome between the years 155 and 161. Falls, introduction to The First Apology, 139. Cf. the more technical discussion of Justin’s exposition in Trakatellis, Pre-Existence of Christ, 60-68.
18. Kari Kloos argues that the Jewish context obscures Justin’s real target: Marcionites rejecting a connection between Jesus and the Old Testament or adoptionists insisting that Jesus was merely human. Christ, Creation, and the Vision of God, 32.
19. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 56 (FC 6:232). It appears that Trypho follows an established rabbinic line of exegesis, which included fascinating speculation on the identity and varying missions of the three angels. See Grypeou and Spurling, “Abraham’s Angels,” 181-203. Philo thought of the three visitors as the living God and Father along with both his creative power, called “God” (by which the living God created the universe), and his royal power, called “Lord” (by which he sustains the universe). On Abraham 24.120 (Yonge, 421). Cf. Lavery, “Abraham’s Dialogue,” 64-65.
20. Justin, Dialogue 56 (FC 6:232).
21. Throughout the pre-Nicene period, Genesis 19:24 functioned as proof that the “Lord” who rained sulfur and fire on Sodom and Gomorrah was the pre-incarnate Christ, to be distinguished from the second “Lord” mentioned in this verse. See, for instance, Irenaeus, Proof of the Apostolic Preaching 44; Novatian,
On the Trinity 18.16; Eusebius, Book of the Gospel 5.8 and Ecclesiastical History 1.2; Hilary of Poitiers, On the Trinity 4.29.
22. Justin points to the parallels of Ps. 109 (110):1 (“The Lord spoke to my Lord”) and Ps. 44:7-8 (45:67) (“Your throne, O God, is forever and ever. . . . On account of this, God, your God, anointed you”).
23. Bogdan G. Bucur, appealing to Larry Hurtado, argues that Justin’s christological reading of Old Testament theophanies goes back to the New Testament itself. “Justin Martyr’s Exegesis,” 44-47.
24. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 56 (FC 6:237).
25. Ibid., 56 (FC 6:231).
26. Ibid., 56 (fC 6:232).
27. Doerfler, “Entertaining the Trinity Unawares,” 488.
28. Ambrose’s On Abraham anticipates Augustine’s trinitarian reading, though Ambrose (1) doesn’t polemicize against the Arian cause, (2) follows Origen’s allegorizing in several instances, and (3) urges the importance of hospitality toward other people. On Abraham 1.32-58 (Tomkinson, 19-29). Cf. the discussion in Mattox, “Sancta Domina,” 112-17, 128-29. For Augustine’s interpretation of the Mamre theophany, see The City of God 16.29 and On the Trinity 2.4. For insightful discussion on these developments, see Barnes, “Visible Christ,” 329-55; Bucur, “Theophanies,” 67-93; and Kloos, Christ, Creation, and the Vision of God.
29. Justin’s christological exegesis of Gen. 18 is followed by Irenaeus, Proof of the Apostolic Preaching 43-46; Tertullian, Against Marcion 3.9; Novatian, On the Trinity 18; Eusebius, The Book of the Gospel 5.89; Ecclesiastical History 1.2; Ecclesiastical Theology 2.21; and Hilary of Poitiers, On the Trinity 4.24-31. Although all of these authors regard one of the three visitors in some way as the pre-incarnate Lord, they widely differ in how they understand the relationship between the Logos and the Father.
30. Origen, Homilies on Genesis 4.5 (FC 71:108).
31. Because the three men—or God—are said to stand “before him,” Abraham mixes the bread “with three measures of fine wheat flour,” at which point Origen comments: “Everything he does is mystical, everything is filled with mystery.” Ibid., 4.2 (FC 71:105). And at the end of the homily, Origen comments: “But let us give attention to make our acts such, our manner of life such, that we may be held worthy of knowledge of God, that he may see fit to know us, that we may be held worthy of knowledge of his son Jesus Christ and knowledge of the Holy Spirit, that we, known by the Trinity, might also deserve to know the mystery of the Trinity fully, completely, and perfectly, the Lord Jesus Christ revealing it to us.” Ibid., 4.6 (FC 71:111). Cf. Doerfler, “Entertaining the Trinity Unawares,” 499-500.
32. Origen, Homilies on Genesis 4.1 (FC 71:103).
33. Ibid.
34. Ibid., 4.1 (FC 71:104).
35. Ibid., 4.1 (fC 71:104-5).
36. Ibid., 5.1 (fC 71:112).
37. Ibid.
38. Ibid., 5.2 (FC 71:114).
39. Ibid., 4.3 (FC 71:106). Philo maintains that Mamre is a combination of min (from) and ra’ah (to see). Philo, Supplement I, sec. 4.1, p. 266. Either Origen has in mind the same etymology, or his language of “sharpness of sight” (perspicacia) is linked with the Hebrew mar’eh (sight, vision). See Heine, “Appendix,” 390-91.
40. Origen, Homilies on Genesis 4.3 (FC 71:106).
41. To be sure, at one point Origen comments: “Abraham, the father and teacher of nations, is, indeed, teaching you by these things how you ought to receive guests and that you should wash the feet of guests. Nevertheless, even this is said mysteriously.” Ibid., 4.2 (FC 71:105).
42. Ibid., 5.1 (FC 71:112).
43. Ibid., 3.3 (fC 71:91-93).
44. Ibid., 3.6 (fC 71:98).
45. Ibid., 4.2 (fC 71:105).
46. Ibid.
47. Ibid., 4.2 (FC 71:104-5). An enkryphias is a cake baked hidden in ashes.
48. Ibid., 4.2 (FC 71:105). This trinitarian reference may well be Rufinus’s editorial gloss, since this vague identification of the three visitors with the three persons of the Trinity seems to contradict the overall christological reading of the theophany.
49. Ibid. The biblical quotations are from Phil. 2:6; 1 John 3:16; John 15:13; and Luke 15:23.
50. Ibid. On a more immediate and practical level, Origen suggests that Abraham, by washing the Lord’s feet, protected himself against divine judgment: dusty feet might be shaken off as a testimony against a deficient host, and in that case Abraham’s punishment would be worse than the judgment the Sodomites were about to undergo (Matt. 10:15; Mark 6:11). Ibid., 4.2 (FC 71:105-6).
51. Ibid., 4.4 (FC 71:107).
52. Ibid., 4.6 (fC 71:109-10).
53. R. Hill, introduction to Homilies on Genesis 1-17, 5-6.
54. Kelly, Golden Mouth, 211.
55. Rylaarsdam, John Chrysostom, 127.
56. Diodore of Tarsus, prologue to the Commentary on the Psalms, as quoted in Froehlich, Biblical Interpretation, 86. Cf. Rylaarsdam, John Chrysostom, 128.
57. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Genesis 18-45, 41.7 (FC 82:405).
58. R. Hill, “Akribeia,” 32. See also R. Hill, introduction to Homilies on Genesis 1-17, 18; Naidu, Transformed in Christ, 70-71.
59. Mitchell, “John Chrysostom (c. 347-407),” 574.
60. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Genesis 46-67, 58.12-13 (FC 87:159-60).
61. Cf. the discussion of this passage in Rylaarsdam, John Chrysostom, 91, 105.
62. Naidu, Transformed in Christ, 82.
63. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Genesis 18-45, 42.7 (FC 82:421-22). Earlier, Chrysostom had introduced the notion of synkatabasis into the homily with the comment: “See the Lord’s loving kindness in employing so much considerateness (synkatabasei) by showing regard for the good man and wishing at the same time to reveal the virtue that was concealed in his soul.” Ibid., 42.6 (FC 82:421).
64. Ibid., 42.12 (FC 82:424).
65. Ibid., 42.12 (fC 82:424-25) (slightly altered for clarity).
66. Chrysostom seems to struggle somewhat at this point in the sermon. Immediately after this statement, he presents a lengthy digression on how it is we who must not pass judgment on our neighbor. Ibid., 42.1314 (FC 82:425-26). He then suggests that God feigns ignorance of the situation in Sodom either so as to forestall any objections that he hasn’t shown sufficient long-suffering or to convey to Abraham his compassionate and affectionate attitude. Ibid., 42.15 (FC 82:426).
67. Ibid., 42.19 (FC 82:428). Cf. Chrysostom’s earlier exclamation in the same paragraph: “Who could worthily praise the God of all for his marvelous longsuffering and considerateness (synkatabaseos), or congratulate the good man for enjoying such great confidence?” Ibid. And again a little later: “Do you see the Lord’s considerateness (synkatabasin)? Do you see the good man’s affection? Did you gain an insight into the great power of those who practice virtue?” Ibid., 42.21 (FC 82:429).
68. Ibid., 41.7 (FC 82:405-6).
69. Ibid., 41.7 (fC 82:406).
70. Ibid., 41.9 (FC 82:407). How such a theophanic appearance of the pre-incarnate Lord is possible, Chrysostom doesn’t claim to understand, apart from simply observing that God condescends to human beings. Rylaarsdam, John Chrysostom, 105.
71. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Genesis 18-45, 41.7 (FC 82:405). Chrysostom again refers to these passages in the conclusion of Homily 43 (43.32 [FC 82:453]).
72. Ibid., 41.10 (FC 82:407); 41.11 (FC 82:408). Similarly, Saint John claims that Lot was unaware that his two visitors were angels. Ibid., 43.10 (FC 82:440). He believes that the visitor showed his divine identity to Abraham when he exclaimed, “Nothing is impossible for God, is it?” (Gen. 18:14). Ibid., 41.24 (FC 82:415).
73. Ibid., 41.9 (FC 82:406).
74. Ibid., 41.11 (FC 82:407-8). Lot, according to Chrysostom, had a similar zeal; he “well nigh jumped for joy on seeing them, as though falling upon his prey and not missing the object of his desire.” Ibid., 43.9
(FC 82:440).
75. Ibid., 42.26 (FC 82:431).
76. Ibid., 42.5 (FC 82:420).
77. Ibid., 42.1 (fC 82:418).
78. Ibid.
79. Ibid., 43.2 (FC 82:436).
80. Ibid., 43.4 (fC 82:437).
81. Ibid., 42.3 (fC 82:419).
82. Ibid., 42.2 (fC 82:419).
83. Ibid., 42.5 (fC 82:420).
84. Ibid., 43.8 (fC 82:439).
85. Ibid., 43.32 (FC 82:453).
86. Ibid., 41.25 (fC 82:416).
87. Christology also comes to the fore in Chrysostom’s insistence that by showing hospitality to strangers we may welcome Christ himself. Rylaarsdam carefully points out the importance (even priority) of divine grace in Chrysostom’s synergistic understanding of salvation. John Chrysostom, 144-51. Still, these sermons on hospitality do not focus on the participatory union of the believer with Christ: the burden of virtue rests squarely on the listeners, who are told that Abraham’s “own goodwill” (Homilies on Genesis 18-45, 42.2 [FC 82:419]) and the “effort of his own” (ibid., 42.3 [FC 82:419]) render him worthy of divine help.
88. Naidu, Transformed in Christ, 28, 47-51.
89. Diodore, prologue to the Commentary on the Psalms, as quoted in Froehlich, Biblical Interpretation, 85. Cf. Naidu, Transformed in Christ, 52-53.
90. Young, Biblical Exegesis, 2.
91. Naidu, Transformed in Christ, 72-75.
92. Ibid., 19.
93. Rylaarsdam, John Chrysostom, 103.
94. See de Lubac, “Hellenistic Allegory,” 165-96.