As in the natural order we weep for the dead [writes Saint John Chrysostoml, so should we weep-to put it no more strongly-for our salva¬ tion. It is with such desire and courage that we all should keep the eye of our soul trained to this end; everything should serve us as a reminder of it. Those who have lost their children or their wives can think of nothing but their lost ones, whereas we who have lost a heavenly kingdom think of anything rather than that. No bereaved man, even of the most royal stock, will be ashamed to sub¬ mit to the law of mourning. He will throw himself on the ground, will weep bitterly, will change his clothing, will gladly undergo all the other mani¬ festations which are fitting at such a time, and this without any thought of his training, or of the infir¬ mities that might follow such affliction. He will undergo all this without the slightest difficulty .... And we who are in mourning not for a wife or 26 Causes of Compunction 27 child but for a soul and not for another's soul but for our own, we excuse ourselves on the pretext of delicate health or an advanced education! And if only this were the worst of it! But we neglect even what requires no physical effort. What bodily strength is needed, I ask you, for contriteness of heart, for vigilant prayer, for reflection on our sins, for beating back the growth of foolish pre¬ sumption, for humbling the understanding? That is what would make God favorable to us, but we do not even do that much.
— Irénée Hausherr
Chrysostom's sermon turns on a comparison that is itself a trap. The bereaved man who throws himself on the ground, who changes his clothing, who weeps without concern for his dignity or his health — he is not being held up as a model of spiritual achievement. He is being held up as evidence of what the soul already knows how to do when it accepts that something is actually gone. The lost child is gone. There is no strategy for recovering her. And so mourning moves through the body without needing to be argued into it.
What Chrysostom is noticing, without quite naming it, is that the soul withholds this abandon from its own losses. We grieve the external deaths freely; the internal one we negotiate. We cite our education, our constitution, our busy schedule. The pretext changes but the structure stays constant: something in us prefers to remain in the condition of the loss rather than acknowledge that the loss has already occurred. Compunction — the Latin *compungere*, to sting or pierce — is not something we work ourselves up to. It is what arrives when the negotiation stops.
The contempt Chrysostom directs at "an advanced education" is precise. Refinement of understanding is precisely the capacity that permits indefinite deferral. The man on the ground weeping has no such resource. His grief requires no theological framework to authorize it.
Irénée Hausherr·Penthos: The Doctrine of Compunction in the Christian East·1944