Woe is me, my mother, that you have borne me a man of strife and a man of contention to the whole earth! I have neither lent for interest, nor men have lent to me for interest; yet everyone of them does curse me.
All Commentaries on Jeremiah 15:10 Go To Jeremiah 15
Gregory the Theologian
AD 390
Such is our life, we whose existence is so transitory. Such is the game we play on earth. We do not exist, and we are born, and being born, we disintegrate and disappear. We are a fleeting dream, an apparition without substance, the flight of a bird that passes, a ship that leaves no trace on the sea. We are dust, a vapor, the morning dew, a flower growing but a moment and withering in a moment. “A person’s days are as grass. As the flower of the field, so shall he flourish,” beautifully, as described by holy David in meditating on our weakness. And again in these words: “Declare to me the fewness of my days.” And he defines the days of people as the measure of a span. What would you say to Jeremiah, who, complaining about his birth, even blames his mother, and that, too, for the failings of others. I have seen all things, says the Preacher, I have reviewed in thought all human things, wealth, pleasure, power, unstable glory, wisdom that evades us rather than is won; then pleasure again, wisdom again, often revolving the same objects, the pleasures of appetite, orchards, numbers of slaves, store of wealth, serving men and serving maids, singing men and singing women, arms, spearmen, subject nations, collected tributes, the pride of kings, all the necessaries and superfluities of life, in which I surpassed all the kings that were before me. And what does he say after all these things? Vanity of vanities.
