Catholic Commentary
Caution in Dealing with Those Who Hold Power Over Life
13Keep yourself far from the man who has power to kill, and you will not be troubled by the fear of death. If you come to him, commit no fault, lest he take away your life. Know surely that you go about in the midst of snares, and walk upon the battlements of a city.
Sirach 9:13 advises maintaining distance from those with power to take life, and if unavoidable contact occurs, to maintain perfect moral integrity to avoid becoming their victim. The verse employs vivid metaphors of hidden snares and narrow battlements to illustrate the moral and physical peril of proximity to tyrannical authority.
Proximity to power demands moral armor—the closer you stand to those who can destroy you, the more immaculate your integrity must be.
Typological and Spiritual Senses
On the typological level, this verse anticipates the New Testament accounts of the disciples' encounters with political authority — most especially Christ before Pilate and Herod, and the apostles before the Sanhedrin and Roman governors. Christ himself embodies the perfectly innocent man who comes before the one with "power to kill" and commits no fault, yet is condemned. His innocence before Pilate (John 19:4, 6) fulfills the Sirachic ideal absolutely, while simultaneously transfiguring it: the fear of death is overcome not by avoidance but by perfect fidelity to the Father's will. In the spiritual sense, the "man who has power to kill" can be read as a figure for diabolical temptation — the adversary who holds the power of spiritual death over the soul through sin. The counsel to "keep far" and to "commit no fault" maps perfectly onto the traditional spiritual teaching on the near occasion of sin: avoidance first, and when avoidance is impossible, uncompromising moral integrity.
Catholic tradition uniquely illuminates this passage at the intersection of political theology, moral anthropology, and the theology of prudence.
Prudence as Cardinal Virtue: The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines prudence as "the virtue that disposes practical reason to discern our true good in every circumstance and to choose the right means of achieving it" (CCC 1806). Sirach 9:13 is a classical illustration of prudential reasoning in action: Ben Sira does not issue an absolute prohibition on contact with power but calibrates the counsel to circumstances, recognizing that wisdom governs engagement as much as withdrawal. St. Thomas Aquinas, following Aristotle, identifies circumspection and caution as integral parts of prudence (Summa Theologiae II-II, q. 49, aa. 7–8) — precisely the virtues Ben Sira commends here.
The Church Fathers on Power and Moral Danger: St. John Chrysostom, in his homilies on the statues (De Statuis), returns repeatedly to the theme that proximity to imperial power corrupts even the well-intentioned, and urges Christians to prioritize the integrity of conscience over political advancement. St. Ambrose, in De Officiis, counsels clergy especially to maintain dignity and moral independence before powerful patrons — a direct pastoral application of Sirachic wisdom.
Fear of Death and Christian Hope: The Letter to the Hebrews (2:14–15) teaches that Christ destroyed "him who has the power of death, that is, the devil," and freed "those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong bondage." Sirach's prudential fear of the death-wielder is thus eschatologically resolved in Christ, while remaining a legitimate guide for temporal life. Catholic moral theology holds that a rightly ordered fear of physical death — distinct from the disordered fear that leads to apostasy — is consistent with virtue (cf. CCC 2473 on bearing witness to the faith even at the cost of life).
Social Teaching: The Church's social doctrine, particularly in Gaudium et Spes (§74–75), affirms that citizens relate to political authority within a framework of moral obligation: authority is legitimate only insofar as it serves the common good, and citizens are never dispensed from their own moral responsibility before those in power.
Sirach 9:13 speaks with startling directness to Catholic professionals navigating institutional power today — in government, law, medicine, business, the academy, or even within ecclesial structures. The temptation Ben Sira identifies is not dramatic villainy but the slow erosion of moral integrity through proximity to those who can reward or punish: the supervisor who expects complicity in dishonesty, the politician who demands loyalty over truth, the institutional culture that normalizes ethical compromise for the sake of self-preservation.
The verse calls contemporary Catholics to two concrete practices. First, deliberate governance of proximity: not every professional relationship or institutional affiliation is morally neutral, and wisdom sometimes demands strategic distance before a situation becomes coercive. Second, prior moral commitment: Ben Sira's counsel to "commit no fault" presupposes that the disciple has already formed clear moral commitments before entering the room. The person who has not decided in advance what they will not do is already vulnerable. Catholic professionals are encouraged by this verse to examine their professional contexts with the same candid realism Ben Sira brings to the royal court — naming the snares beneath the surface of apparently routine decisions, and walking with the deliberate care of someone who knows they stand on a battlement.
Commentary
Verse-by-Verse Commentary
"Keep yourself far from the man who has power to kill"
Ben Sira opens with a command that is at once practical and spiritually charged. The Hebrew underlying the Greek kyrios thanatou — the "lord of death" — evokes not merely a magistrate or king but anyone whose position grants them the capacity to extinguish human life at will: the tyrant, the ruthless official, the corrupt judge. The counsel is not cowardice but wisdom. The sage does not say to oppose such a person, nor to flatter him, but to maintain deliberate distance. This mirrors the broader Sirachic principle that the wise person governs proximity — to persons, to speech, to wealth — as a form of moral hygiene. The fear of death (phobos thanatou) is presented here not as a spiritual vice (which it is in other contexts, as in Hebrews 2:15) but as a natural, embodied alarm that signals genuine moral danger. Ben Sira takes the body's fear seriously as a form of practical knowledge.
"If you come to him, commit no fault, lest he take away your life"
Here the instruction pivots from avoidance to conditional engagement. Sirach is realistic: total withdrawal from powerful figures is not always possible. One may be summoned, obligated by civic duty, or called by conscience. In such cases, the imperative is moral integrity: commit no fault. The Greek mē hamartanēs — do not sin — carries the full weight of the Hebrew ḥāṭāʾ, missing the mark, transgressing the boundary. Ben Sira is acutely aware that proximity to power creates temptation: to curry favor through dishonesty, to shade the truth, to participate in injustice for self-preservation. The warning is that moral failure before such a man carries a double cost: the corruption of the soul and the possible forfeit of physical life. This is a rare moment in the wisdom literature where physical prudence and moral fidelity are shown to coincide perfectly.
"Know surely that you go about in the midst of snares, and walk upon the battlements of a city"
The concluding images are strikingly poetic and carry the full weight of the verse's counsel. Snares (pagides) recall the hunting trap — hidden, sudden, lethal — and appear repeatedly in the Psalms as a metaphor for the plots of enemies and the deceptions of the wicked (cf. Ps 91:3; 124:7; 141:9). The battlements of a city (epálxeis póleos) evoke the narrow parapet atop a city wall — a place of genuine tactical importance but extreme physical vulnerability. One false step there means a fatal fall. Together, these images form a two-part warning: danger is both hidden below (snares) and exposed above (battlements). The wise person inhabiting such terrain cannot walk carelessly; every step must be deliberate, every word weighed. Ben Sira here exercises a gift that distinguishes the greatest wisdom literature: the compression of an entire moral posture into a single, unforgettable image. This is not pessimism about political life; it is a clear-eyed acknowledgment of its moral topography.