But we would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.
—1 Thess. 4:12
The following is a letter written by Saint John Chrysostom to a young widow, still grieving the loss of her husband, Therasius.
Therasius was a virtuous, godly, and apparently gifted Christian with a promising political career in the Roman Empire. He and his young wife were in the prime of their lives when he died.
The loss of Therasius was a particularly devastating blow to this woman because of her youth, her affection for her husband, and the promising future that they had been looking forward to before calamity struck.
It is a very moving letter, with a beautiful combination of compassion for the suffering widow and encouragement for her (and each of us) to trust God’s Providential designs and to look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
One of the things I love most about this letter is how human it is. It’s a great example of how our love on earth is not wasted, and how Heaven is a continuation and improvement of life, not the end of it. Our relationships on earth matter, we will recognize and continue our relationships with our loved ones in Heaven, and they do not forget about us while we continue our struggle on Earth.
Below is an abridged (for the sake of brevity) version of the letter, salted with some of my commentary. You will find a link to the full letter at the end of this post. Now, without further ado…
Letter to a Young Widow from St. John Chrysostom
That you have sustained a severe blow, and that the weapon directed from above has been planted in a vital part all will readily admit, and none even of the most rigid moralists will deny it; but since they who are stricken with sorrow ought not to spend their whole time in mourning and tears, but to make good provision also for the healing of their wounds, lest, if they be neglected their tears should aggravate the wound, and the fire of their sorrow become inflamed, it is a good thing to listen to words of consolation, and restraining for a brief season at least the fountain of your tears to surrender yourself to those who endeavour to console you. On this account I abstained from troubling you when your sorrow was at its height, and the thunderbolt had only just fallen upon you; but having waited an interval and permitted you to take your fill of mourning, now that you are able to look out a little through the mist, and to open your ears to those who attempt to comfort you, I also would second the words of your handmaids by some contributions of my own. For while the tempest is still severe, and a full gale of sorrow is blowing, he who exhorts another to desist from grief would only provoke him to increased lamentations and having incurred his hatred would add fuel to the flame by such speeches besides being regarded himself as an unkind and foolish person. But when the troubled water has begun to subside, and God has allayed the fury of the waves, then we may freely spread the sails of our discourse.
Two things strike me from this opening. First, that it is natural and okay to grieve when we have suffered loss. Second, that we should not to be too quick to open our mouths with advice or platitudes when we are consoling those who have suffered loss.
Not even the eloquent and holy St. John Chrysostom ventured to offer advice to this grieving woman right away. When he finally did, he chose to do so with a letter. You’ll often hear of priests describing the importance of just being present with families who are grieving. They can’t offer much advice in the midst of the storm, but they can be symbol of God’s loving and faithful presence; words of counsel can come later.
The Title of “Widow”
For as long as that blessed husband of yours was with you, you enjoyed honour, and care and zealous attention; in fact you enjoyed such as you might expect to enjoy from a husband; but since God took him to Himself He has supplied his place to you. And this is not my saying but that of the blessed prophet David for he says “He will take up the fatherless and the widow,” and elsewhere he calls Him “father of the fatherless and judge of the widow;” thus in many passages you will see that He earnestly considers the cause of this class of mankind.
The bottom line of this paragraph: you are not forgotten, you are not alone. God is with you. By drawing her attention to God’s special care for widows, Chrysostom also gently encourages her to set her heart all the more fully on God, Who has supplied Himself to her, since He took Therasius to Himself.
In a section that I omit here, Chrysostom explains at length how the title of “widow” is exalted in the Scriptures and even a guarantee of God’s special protection. He even sympathizes by opining that it is harder to be a widow than a priest!
Chrysostom will now continue the letter by discussing what I believe is the primary suffering that most of us face when grieving the loss of a loved one: the loss of their company. He ends this section by giving her some encouragement that I was, frankly, a bit surprised to hear. He encourages her that, if she lives a godly life, perhaps Therasius will visit her by means of visions, so that she can speak with him “face to face.”
Loss of Companionship
Now if it is not the name of widow which distresses you, but the loss of such a husband I grant you that all the world over among men engaged in secular affairs there have been few like him, so affectionate, so gentle, so humble, so sincere, so understanding, so devout. And certainly if he had altogether perished, and utterly ceased to be, it would be right to be distressed, and sorrowful; but if he has only sailed into the tranquil haven, and taken his journey to Him who is really his King, one ought not to mourn but to rejoice on these accounts. For this death is not death, but only a kind of emigration and translation from the worse to the better, from Earth to Heaven, from men to angels, and archangels, and Him who is the Lord of angels and archangels. For here on earth while he was serving the emperor there were dangers to be expected and many plots arising from men who bore ill-will, for in proportion as his reputation increased did the designs also of enemies abound; but now that he has departed to the other world none of these things can be suspected. Wherefore in proportion as you grieve that God has taken away one who was so good and worthy you ought to rejoice that he has departed in much safety and honour, and being released from the trouble which besets this present season of danger, is in great peace and tranquillity. For is it not out of place to acknowledge that Heaven is far better than earth, and yet to mourn those who are translated from this world to the other? For if that blessed husband of yours had been one of those who lived a shameful life contrary to what God approved it would have been right to bewail and lament for him not only when he had departed, but while he was still living; but inasmuch as he was one of those who are the friends of God we should take pleasure in him not only while living, but also when he has been laid to rest. And that we ought to act thus you have surely heard the words of the blessed Paul “to depart and to be with Christ which is far better.” (Philippians 1:33)
But perhaps you long to hear your husband's words, and enjoy the affection which you bestowed upon him, and you yearn for his society, and the glory which you had on his account, and the splendour, and honour, and security, and all these things being gone distress and darken your life. Well! The affection which you bestowed on him you can keep now just as you formerly did.
For such is the power of love, it embraces, and unites, and fastens together not only those who are present, and near, and visible but also those who are far distant; and neither length of time, nor separation in space, nor anything else of that kind can break up and sunder in pieces the affection of the soul. But if you wish to behold him face to face (for this I know is what you specially long for) keep your bed in his honour sacred from the touch of any other man, and do your best to manifest a life like his, and then assuredly you shall depart one day to join the same company with him, not to dwell with him for five years as you did here, nor for 20, or 100, nor for a thousand or twice that number but for infinite and endless ages. For it is not any physical relation, but a correspondence in the way of living which qualifies for the inheritance of those regions of rest… the place of rest will receive you also with the good Therasius, if you will exhibit the same manner of life as his, and then you shall receive him back again no longer in that corporeal beauty which he had when he departed, but in lustre of another kind, and splendour outshining the rays of the sun.
For tell me if any one had promised to make your husband king of all the earth, and then had commanded you to withdraw for twenty years on his account, and had promised after that to restore him to you with the diadem and the purple, and to place you again in the same rank with him, would you not have meekly endured the separation with due self-control? Would you not have been well pleased with the gift, and deemed it a thing worth praying for? Well then submit to this now, not for the sake of a kingdom on earth, but of a kingdom in Heaven; not to receive him back clad in a vesture of gold but robed in immortality and glory such as is fitting for them to have who dwell in Heaven. And if you find the trial very unbearable owing to its long duration, it may be that he will visit you by means of visions and converse with you as he was wont to do, and show you the face for which you yearn: let this be your consolation taking the place of letters, though indeed it is far more definite than letters. For in the latter case there are but lines traced with the pen to look upon, but in the former you see the form of his visage, and his gentle smile, his figure and his movements, you hear his speech and recognize the voice which you loved so well.
I love this reminder of the reality of Heaven. If we truly believe in Heaven, then we ought to rejoice when those who are godly depart to be with Christ, for that is far better. Even though we will miss them, we should not grieve as others do who have no hope, but rejoice for their sake and set our hearts on joining them.
Yes, it is appropriate to shed tears for those whom we miss, but our sorrow at their absence ought to be more akin to the sorrow you would feel in the hypothetical situation that Chrysostom described: the sorrow of someone whose loved one has gone off to become king of the world, and with whom you will be reunited. The length of the separation from our loved ones who have gone before us to Heaven may be difficult, but we ought to endure it with a sort of holy impatience to join them in Paradise rather than a despairing grief that they are not able to rejoin us in this valley of tears.
I also love Chrysostom’s emphasis on the communion of saints. As long as we are in a state of grace, we are always connected, through the Holy Spirit, to the communion of saints. It’s very interesting to me how Chrysostom doesn’t tell her to detach herself from the love of her husband and just love God instead, but instead uses her love of her husband to help draw her closer to God and kindle her hope for Heaven. It’s a great lived example of how we never truly lose anything that is good when we seek God. Our poor young widow can still have a relationship with Therasius while she lives in this life, and forever with God in the next, if only she lives a life of faith, hope, and love.
On a related note, I know many of us desire to be friends with this or that Saint to whom we have a special devotion. Chrysostom’s advice to the widow applies to us as well: if we desire friendship with them, then we ought to strive to live like them, for it is not any physical relation, but a correspondence in the way of living that binds us in friendship to the Blessed in Heaven. The more we conform our lives to Christ on earth, the greater the fellowship we will enjoy with all the Saints in Heaven, and those to whom we have a special devotion in particular, for neither length of time, nor separation in space, nor anything else of that kind can break up and sunder in pieces the affection of the soul.
Hopes for the Future & God’s Providence
But since you mourn also over the loss of security which you formerly enjoyed on his account, and perhaps also for the sake of those great hopes of distinction which were dawning (for I used to hear that he would speedily arrive at the dignity of prefect, and this, I fancy, it is which more especially upsets and distresses your soul) consider I pray the case of those who have been in a higher official position than his, and yet have brought their life to a very pitiable end.
Chrysostom goes on to give several real-life examples of families that shared her late husband’s line of work and whose very rise to earthly power and glory resulted in their tragic ends, all the way up to the emperor’s family itself.
And the only reason why I mentioned those instances to which I referred just now was that you might learn that human things are nothingness but that truly as the prophet says “all the glory of man is as the flower of grass.” (Isaiah 40:5) For in proportion to men's elevation and splendour is the ruin wrought for them…
He shares all this to emphasize God’s wisdom and providence. If it is security and peace that she seeks, then perhaps this painful stroke of providence was a “severe mercy” of sorts, that ultimately protected both her and her husband from many possible physical and spiritual harms that might have awaited them as his career progressed.
I think that a very common sorrow when we are grieving any sort of loss is the question what could have been? We grieve the loss of all the good things that we had hoped to enjoy. Yet Chrysostom turns this regret on its head by reminding us of the Providence of God, Our Father in Heaven. Perhaps the very things we had hoped to enjoy, but lost, would ultimately have been our undoing. What if, having received all we hoped for, we lost our lives? Or, worse, our souls?
In a section that I omit, Chrysostom explains the “cruel bondage” of vanity, worldly glory, and arrogance that are an ever present temptation when succeeding in the world, and would only have increased as her husband progressed in his career. He emphasizes that perhaps she was spared this for the sake of her (and her husband’s) soul.
Now that he has admonished her to despise the vain glories of the world, he ends his letter by encouraging her to seek Heaven.
Therefore seek Heaven, and all things which conduce to life in the other world, and none of the things here will be able to harm you, not even the world-ruler of darkness himself, if only we do not injure ourselves. For if any one deprives us of our substance, or hews our body in pieces, none of these things concern us, if our soul abides in its integrity.
Now, once for all, if you wish your property to abide with you in security and yet further to increase I will show you the plan, and the place where none of those who have designs upon it will be allowed to enter. What then is the place? It is Heaven. Send away your possessions to that good husband of yours and neither thief, nor schemer, nor any other destructive thing will be able to pounce upon them. If you deposit these goods in the other world, you will find much profit arising from them. For all things which we plant in Heaven yield a large and abundant crop, such as might naturally be expected from things which have their roots in Heaven. And if you do this, see what blessings you will enjoy, in the first place eternal life and the things promised to those who love God, “which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither have they entered into the heart of man,” and in the second place a perpetual relationship with your good husband; and you will relieve yourself from the cares and fears, and dangers, and designs, and enmity and hatred which beset you here. For as long as you are surrounded with this property there will probably be some to make attempts upon it; but if you transfer it to Heaven, you will lead a life of security and safety, and much tranquillity, enjoying independence combined with godliness.
For now we are confident that by the grace of God he has taken his flight to the region of rest, because he had not committed himself to any of those deeds which exclude from the kingdom of Heaven… and we are firmly persuaded that in the great day he will appear in much radiance, shining forth near the King, and going with the angels in advance of Christ and clad with the robe of unutterable glory, and standing by the side of the King as he gives judgment, and acting as one of His chief ministers. Wherefore desisting from mourning and lamentation do thou hold on to the same way of life as his, yea even let it be more exact, that having speedily attained an equal standard of virtue with him, you may inhabit the same abode and be united to him again through the everlasting ages, not in this union of marriage but another far better. For this is only a bodily kind of intercourse, but then there will be a union of soul with soul more perfect, and of a far more delightful and far nobler kind.
If you’d like to read this letter in it’s entirety, you can do so for free at New Advent.
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Thanks, Stuart, what a wonderful letter and reflection!
Thanks for sharing and breaking down this letter, Stuart. Beautiful. My heart kindof needed this tonight. <33