And it came to pass after these things, that Naboth the Jezreelite had a vineyard, which was in Jezreel, near by the palace of Ahab king of Samaria.
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Ambrose of Milan
AD 397
The story of Naboth is old in time but daily in practice. For who of the rich does not daily covet the goods of others? Who of the wealthy does not strive to drive off the poor person from his little acre and turn out the needy from the boundaries of his ancestral field? Who is content with his own? What rich person’s heart is not set on fire by a neighbor’s possession? Not, therefore, was one Ahab born, but, what is worse, daily is Ahab born and never dies in this world. If one perishes, many others spring up; there are more to steal than there are to suffer loss. Not one poor man, Naboth, was killed: daily is Naboth struck down, daily is a poor person put to death. Alarmed by this fear, the human race is now departing from its lands; the poor man, carrying his latest born, wanders forth with his little ones; his wife follows in tears, as if accompanying her husband to his tomb. Less, however, does she grieve who weeps over the bodies of her dead: for, although she has not her sons yet she does not mourn for exiles, she does not groan at the hunger of her tender brood, which is worse than death.