Way back, just before my seminary days, I remember how excited I was to begin reading St. John Chrysostom. I had heard so much about the Golden-mouthed and was only just learning how much of the Fathers' writings were actually in English. I had been informed that I needed to be careful, though, as some translations made him far more readable than others. I knew, then, that the Nicene/Post-Nicene Fathers set was considered by most to be a bit archaic and stilted in its language. I was too eager, however, to wait to purchase the CUA Press version of his Homilies on the Gospel of John when I had the other version at my fingertips, so I cracked open the book and began to read.
The language didn't much bother me; the content, however, did. This is not to say in any way that I found what St. John said to be at all objectionable. Instead, I had gone in expected one thing and ended up getting another. I suppose what I expected was something more like Fr. Lawrence Farley's current commentaries (which I generally find to be excellent) in The Orthodox Bible Study Companion series. With each verse or chunk of verses, he gives succinct and insightful commentary. Every page contains a plethora of facts, insights, and interpretation, often providing me with multiple ideas for sermon topics. Of course, his commentary is based on various commentaries of the Fathers along with a large deal of historical/critical features, so he had a wealth of source material that St. John Chrysostom did not have, but St. John was and is a God-bearing Saint, illumined by the Holy Spirit. His commentary was certainly something magnificent, but I couldn't yet understand why.
It turns out that I was not alone in this thought. When I went to seminary, many of my fellow seminarians mentioned similar things. This confusion was not limited to Chrysostom. I remember a class in which everybody read St. Athanasius' On the Incarnation. C S Lewis, in his introduction to the text in the SVS Press version, comments that, when he first read the work, he knew he held in his hands a masterpiece. Many of us read it and thought, "That's it?"
This wasn't a confusion based in pride, mind you. We were genuinely confused in that we expected one thing and got something else. For some, however, including myself, this "something else" was known to be higher and beyond our own comprehension. We didn't understand the greatness not because it fell short of our expectations but because it exceeded them beyond our ability. Sometimes, you must be quite brilliant (or very filled with the Holy Spirit yourself) to see something as complex even if it appears simple, to see it as multi-layered and full when you see it as straightforward and simple.
With St. John Chrysostom, this confusion was doubled, as he seemed able to spend many minutes on a single point that could be related in one sentence. He was verbose to such an extent that, after 10 minutes of reading, one felt like only one or two insights had been gained, at best. Eventually, however, a few things changed.
First, I took a class on St. John Chrysostom in my last year at seminary. The professor would read a sentence or two of Chrysostom's commentary (mostly his commentary on the Acts of the Apostles) and would fawn over them for many minutes, praising Chryostom's brilliance and explaining the wisdom of his words. I heard one student comment that this class should have been called "a professor's commentary on St. John Chrysostom's commentary on Acts." This wasn't, however, an insult. It was a brilliant class. It left me desiring more, every week. With this class, I began to see that, the reason I hadn't fully appreciate Chrysostom was because I was attempting to read him like I would any modern author. Over time, I developed a few principles which I follow when reading St. John:
1) One of the key's to reading Chrysostom is to read him slowly and carefully. I once read his homilies concerning the incomprehensible nature of God. I read one of the homilies at a regular reading pace and thought, about 2/3 of the way through, that there wasn't much as far as content went. Then, at the end of the homily, he recounted, point by point, all of the arguments he had made. I was astounded. He had said so much, and I took it as so little. Now, I read him as if listening to him, trying to take in each word at a methodical and steady pace.
2) Don't go into a text of St. John Chrysostom with a question or questions you are hoping he answers. I do this with homilies sometimes. I come upon a difficult passage of a Gospel or Epistle or am asked a question by a parishioner (or, more often, a challenge by a non-Orthodox) and I open a commentary of St. John's hoping for a specific answer. Most of the time, I find that he was looking at the text from a completely different angle... and a more beneficial one, at that. It's not that we should not have questions, but we need to read trying to find out what St. John wanted to say, not hoping that he addressed our specific concerns.
3) Learn to appreciate his approach to Scripture. St. John asks questions that I wouldn't have asked and answers questions in ways that I wouldn't answer them... and he always has the upper hand. His ability to bring out the proper interpretation of Scripture by using other verses or his tendency to explain the minds of the subjects of Scripture with such confidence is something that only the truly experienced and holy among us could - and should - do. We should read St. John trying to truly discover what he already has. If we read a homily through and are unable to answer the questions he posits, we've missed the heart of his talk.
4) Learn to ask the questions that he is answering, even when he doesn't provide the question explicitly. This is very difficult to do. To explain what I mean, let me go back to St. Athanasius' On the Incarnation. When I read contemporary theology concerning salvation and the many questions pertaining to it from Catholic and Protestant theologians, I am frequently shocked at how often St. Athanasius' work corrects their misconceptions and false interpretations. But he wasn't speaking to them directly. If we constantly ask, however, "What are the alternatives to this thought?" we begin to see that the Patristic text teaches far more than it seems. St. John Chrysostom may say something that doesn't seem all that profound until we realize that there are endless other ideas out there today in conflict with his thought. What may be clear and obvious to us may not be to others; further, it may only be clear and obvious to us because we don't see the alternatives. When we learn to see Chrysostom in the light of so many false teachings around us, we begin to understand and appreciate his orthodoxy to a much greater extent.
5) St. John's approach to Scripture and the Faith reveals the Mind of the Church. We too often today hope to walk away from a text with a list of facts to memorize. Very often, Chrysostom does not offer us those facts. What he does offer, however, is far more significant and far more valuable. When we delve into his God-illumined heart and mind, we learn to think the way he thinks and (hopefully) live the Faith the way he lived it. He reveals to us the Mind of the Church. When we truly learn the Mind of the Church, when questions arise that a particular Father may not have answered, we will still know what their answer would be, even if not in their exact words.
6) Finally, we ought to read Chrysostom always with the practical in mind, just as he always provides practical guidance, even in the most theological of his homilies. Chrysostom was a brilliant teacher, to be sure, but he was also a brilliant shepherd. He is able to go from an obscure theological point to an admonish against the passion of anger seamlessly so that, in the end, we don't know how he got to where he is. If we read St. John Chrysostom without asking, "How ought this affect my life?" we are missing a great deal, including his central hope for our salvation. As a pastor, Chrysostom has much to give, if only we will receive it.
These are the general principles I try to follow when reading Chrysostom, and they have helped me tremendously to not only admire this great Saint but to truly love him. In truth, one can't simply read Chrysostom; one must breathe him. We must make his mind our mind, his heart our heart, seeing with his eyes and hearing with his ears. When we immerse ourselves in his Spirit-filled words rather than simply looking for facts and answers to specific questions, we learn so much more and benefit far beyond our expectations. I pray that, for the readers of this, you will learn from my mistakes and recognize the depth of this Saint, so that you too will fall in love with reading Chrysostom...