The Objectors' Case Against the Command to Rejoice Always

You have heard the words of the Apostle, in which he speaks to the Thessalonians, laying down law for all of life. His teaching was addressed to those who happened to be with him at the time, but the benefit from it extends to the whole of human life. “Rejoice always,” he says; “pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). What rejoicing itself is, what benefit comes from it, how it is possible to achieve unceasing prayer, and how to render thanksgiving to God in all things—these we will explain a little later, as far as we can. But first we must deal with the objections that come against us from opponents, who slander the command as impossible. For what virtue is it, someone says, to pass night and day in a diffusion of soul, bright and beaming? And how can this be achieved, when countless unwanted evils surround us and force a necessary gloom upon the soul? Because of these, rejoicing and being in good spirits is no more possible than for a man being fried on a pan not to feel pain, or for a man being pierced through not to suffer. Perhaps someone here among us, sick with this weakness of reasoning, makes excuses in sins—one who, because he is sluggish about keeping the commands, tries to turn the blame onto the lawgiver, as if he were prescribing impossible things. And he says: How is it possible for me to rejoice always, when the causes of joy do not lie in my power? For the things that produce joy are external, not stored up within us: a friend's presence, prolonged time with parents, discoveries of money, honors from people, restoration to health from a severe illness, and the rest of life's prosperity—a house flourishing in every way, a table overflowing, close friends as partners in festivity, sounds and sights that bring pleasure, the health of those nearest to us, and the rest of their smooth course of life. For the things that grieve us are not only the painful events that fall on us, but also those that distress friends and relatives. So from all these things, the soul's overflowing joy and cheerfulness must necessarily be gathered. And in addition to these, when it is possible to see the downfall of enemies, the blows struck against plotters, requitals for one's benefactors—and, in a word, if nothing difficult is present or even expected to disturb our life at all—then joy can come into the soul. How then has a command been given to us that is not achieved by choice, but exists as a consequence of other things that come first? And how shall I pray without ceasing, when the needs of the body necessarily turn the mind's attention to themselves, since it is impossible for the understanding to be cut into two concerns at the same time? But I have also been ordered to give thanks in everything. Shall I give thanks while being tortured on the rack, while being abused, while stretched on the wheel, while having my eyes gouged out? Shall I give thanks while being struck with the dishonorable blow by one who hates me? While being frozen by cold, choked by hunger, bound to the stake, suddenly made childless, or deprived of my very wife? While suddenly cast out of prosperity by shipwreck? While falling in with pirates at sea or robbers on land? While having wounds, being falsely accused, wandering as a vagabond, living in prison? These things and still more they string together, accusing the lawgiver, thinking that they are preparing a defense for their own sins by slandering what has been commanded to us as impossible.