Sermons to the People 27.1–29.6

As a door leads into a house, so the title of a psalm leads into its understanding. For it is headed thus: “When the house was being built after the captivity.” You ask what house; the psalm itself tells you: “Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth.” See what house. When the whole earth sings a new song, it is the house of God. It is built by singing, founded by believing, raised by hoping, completed by loving. Now, then, it is being built; but at the end of the age it is dedicated. Let the living stones, then, run together to the new song; let them run together and be fitted into the structure of the temple of God: let them acknowledge the Savior, let them receive the one who will dwell in them.

We have said what house; we must say after what captivity. The psalm shows you this too; follow a little further: “Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, bless his name; proclaim well from day to day his salvation. Announce among the nations his wonders, among all peoples his glory. For all the gods of the nations are demons.” See under whose captivity the house lay hidden. For from the first transgression of the first man, the devil, as victor, possessed the whole human race, born bound by sin. For if we were not held in captivity, we would not need a Redeemer. He came to captives, not captive himself: he came to redeem captives, having in himself nothing of captivity, that is, of iniquity, but bearing our price in mortal flesh. For if he had not had mortal flesh, where would there have been blood in the Word to shed for captives? But he who came into our captivity came with the likeness of sinful flesh, not with sinful flesh. For it was the likeness of sinful flesh: true flesh, but like sinful flesh; true flesh, but not sinful flesh. Who, then, was he who came in this way? “Proclaim well from day to day.” See who he was. He was day from day, he was God from God, he was light from light: but “the Word became flesh, so that he might dwell in us”; majesty hidden, weakness appearing, so that weakness might die and majesty be held fast.

If, then, the whole world was held in captivity, it is well said, “I will have mercy on whom I have had mercy, and I will show mercy to whom I have had mercy.” For if the whole world is in captivity, the whole world in sin, the whole world most justly destined for punishment, but in part set free by mercy, who would say to God, “Why do you condemn the world?” How is God the judge accused when the guilty world is condemned? You are guilty: if you consider what you owe, it is called punishment; and when the debt is demanded of you, the one who demands it is not justly blamed. Let the collector be blamed if he demands what is not owed; but when he demands what is owed, who would blame the collector, though one may hope for someone who will forgive the debt? “He has mercy on whom he wills, and he hardens whom he wills.” So you say to me: “Why does he still find fault? For who resists his will?” “O man, who are you to answer back to God?” Consider who he is; consider who you are. He is God; you are a man. But do you think that you are speaking justice, and that the fountain of justice has dried up? If you speak what is just, where do you get it from? Either you speak what is unjust, and you ought to be silent; or you speak what is just, and you have it only from the fountain of justice: and who is the fountain of justice, if not God? First, then, lay the foundation of faith: “Is there iniquity with God?” His equity may be hidden from you; iniquity cannot be there.

Perhaps you expect me to tell you why he has mercy on whom he wills and hardens whom he wills? Do you expect it of me, a man? If you are a man and I am a man, let us both listen: “O man, who are you to answer back to God?” For faithful ignorance is better than rash knowledge. God says to me (Christ speaks through the apostle), “O man, who are you to answer back to God?” And am I indignant because I do not know the justice of God? If I am a man, let me not be indignant: let me go beyond man, if I can, and reach the fountain. But even if I reach it, I will not tell it to a man; let him too go beyond, and reach it with me. “And who is there,” you say, “who as a man can go beyond man?” Then does the apostle not reproach certain people, saying, “For when you say, I am of Paul, I of Apollos, are you not men?” What did he want to make them, whom he reproached for being men? You are a man: you belong to Adam. Belong to the Son of Man.

And perhaps he says to you: “I will no longer call you servants, but friends; because what I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.” But he said this to the disciples, to those apostles; to them he said it. We ought not to be saddened because we are not yet such. And yet how did he say this even to them: “All that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you”? I think he said it in hope, not yet in reality; I think he spoke of what he was going to do, not of what he had already done. And how is this proved, when he says, “I have made known to you,” and not, “I will make known to you”? Because some things in the Scriptures are said in the past tense which are to be understood of the future. How are they said in the past tense when they are to be understood of the future? “They dug my hands and feet,” it says; “they numbered all my bones.” It had not yet happened, and what was going to happen was announced as though it had happened. “He saved us through the washing of regeneration.” But in another place the same apostle says: “In hope we have been saved; but hope that is seen is not hope.” “In hope we have been saved”: we say it only in the past tense; and since we have been saved in hope, not yet in reality, what we hope for is still future. For if we already saw and held it, it would no longer be hope but reality. “For what anyone sees,” he says, “why does he hope for it? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” And yet we have been saved, and yet we still hope for and await salvation; we do not yet hold it. So too the Lord says to his disciples, “All that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.” If this had already been done, why does he say to them in another place, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now”? Certainly, “All that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you”; but when he says, “You cannot bear them now,” and says, “I have things to say to you,” he defers, he does not take away. Because of a certain hope, then, since he knew beyond doubt that he would do it, it was counted with him as done; and therefore he said, “I have made known to you.”

So “as long as we are in the body, we are away from the Lord; for we walk by faith, and not by sight.” As far as it is given us, let us hold fast to faith and not doubt the justice of God. Let us not believe at all that there is iniquity with him, lest we fall into a great abyss of ungodliness. And when we have held with perfect faith that there is no iniquity with him, even if we do not now see it, that is, the equity that is with him, let the journey come to an end and let us reach the homeland: it cannot be seen in the time of faith; it will be seen in the time of sight. For now we walk by faith, then by sight. What does “by sight” mean? “Beautiful in form beyond the sons of men.” Because “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” “Whoever loves me,” he says, “keeps my commandments; and whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him.” And what will you give him? “And I will show myself to him.” This will be sight, when he does what he said: “And I will show myself to him.” There you will see the equity of God; there you will read in the Word without a book. So when we see him as he is, our pilgrimage will have passed; and afterward we shall rejoice with the joy of the angels. For this way: what is it? It is faith. For the sake of your faith Christ was made unsightly; but Christ remains beautiful. “Beautiful in form beyond the sons of men” he will be seen after our pilgrimage. But now, by faith, how is he seen? “And we saw him, and he had no form nor comeliness; but his face was cast down, and his state unsightly” (that is, his power): “despised and unsightly his state,” a man set under the blow, and knowing how to bear infirmities. Christ’s unsightliness gives you form. For if he had not been willing to be unsightly, you would not have recovered the form you lost. So he hung on the cross unsightly; but his unsightliness was our beauty. In this life, then, let us hold fast to the unsightly Christ. What is “the unsightly Christ”? “Far be it from me to glory, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” This is Christ’s unsightliness. “Did I claim to know anything among you,” except the way? This is the way: to believe in the Crucified. We carry the sign of this unsightliness on our forehead; let us not be ashamed of this unsightliness of Christ. Let us keep to this way, and we shall come to sight. When we have come to sight, we shall see the equity of God; and there will no longer be any saying there, “Why did he help this one and not that one? Why was this one led by the governance of God to be baptized, while that one, though he lived well as a catechumen, died in a sudden collapse and did not come to baptism? And why did that other, though he lived wickedly, a profligate, an adulterer, an actor, a hunter in the arena, fall sick, get baptized, and depart, so that sin was proved in him and sin was blotted out in him?” Look for merits: you will find nothing but punishment. Look for grace: “O the depth of the riches!” Peter denies, the thief believes: “O the depth of the riches!”

Do you think that we can search out what the blessed apostle shuddered at? When he looked into such great depth and height and trembled, he cried out, “O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!” For what had he said before, to come to this exclamation? He had said something in which, unless God is believed, because there is no iniquity with God, his dealings will be judged unjust. He was speaking to the Gentiles, to believers, about the Jews: “Just as you,” he says, “did not believe God, but now have obtained mercy because of their unbelief, so these too have not believed in your mercy, so that they too may obtain mercy. For God has shut up all in unbelief, so that he may have mercy on all.” Here Paul spoke the words that follow. And what is this reasoning of the equity and justice of God, to shut up all in unbelief so that he may have mercy on all? You seek a reason; I tremble at the depth. “O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!” You reason; let me wonder. You argue; let me believe. I see the height; I do not reach the bottom. “O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!” Is he perhaps going to explain? “For who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? Or who first gave to him, and it will be repaid him? For from him and through him and in him are all things; to him be glory for ever and ever.” He came to rest, because he found wonder: let no one ask me for the reason of hidden things. He says, “His judgments are unsearchable”; and have you come to search them? He says, “His ways are past finding out”; and have you come to find them out? If you have come to search the unsearchable and to find out what is past finding out, believe me, you have already perished. To want to search the unsearchable and to find out what is past finding out is like wanting to see the invisible and to speak the ineffable. So let the house be built: when it comes to its dedication, then perhaps it will find the plainest reason for these hidden things.

On verse 3 of Psalm 104: “Let the heart of those who seek the Lord rejoice.”

From all the divine words we have heard, let us with the Lord’s help speak rather of the last one we heard: “Let the heart of those who seek the Lord rejoice.” And fittingly, since we are fasting in our bellies too. Our heart will rejoice if we hunger in our minds. When something sweet is set before us at our meals, the palates of those who seek food rejoice; when things of varied color and charmingly painted are set before our sight, the eyes of those who seek to see something bright rejoice; the ears of those who seek song rejoice; the sense of smell of those who seek a pleasant scent rejoices. So: “Let the heart of those who seek the Lord rejoice.”

No doubt the particular things presented to our various senses delight the particular senses. For sound does not delight the sight, nor color the hearing. But to our heart the Lord is light, and voice, and fragrance, and food; and he is all of these because he is none of them; and he is none of them because he is the creator of all of them. He is light to our heart, to whom we say, “In your light we shall see light.” He is sound to our heart, to whom we say, “To my hearing you will give gladness and joy.” He is fragrance to our heart, of which it is said, “We are the good fragrance of Christ.” And if you seek food, because you are fasting: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.” And of the Lord Jesus Christ himself it is said that he “became for us righteousness and wisdom.” See, the banquet is prepared: Christ is righteousness; he is never lacking; he is not prepared for us by cooks, nor brought by merchants from overseas like foreign fruit. He is food that everyone tastes who has a healthy palate; he is the food of the inner man. Commending himself, he says, “I am the living bread, who came down from heaven.” He is food that refreshes and does not run out; food that is eaten and not used up; food that satisfies the hungry and remains whole. When you go from here to your own tables, you will eat nothing like this. Since you have come to this banquet, then, eat well; but when you have gone away, digest well. For he eats well and digests badly who hears the word of God and does not do it: he draws no useful nourishment from it, but belches up the raw distaste of indigestion.

And do not wonder that our hearts feast in such a way that they are refreshed and do not diminish what refreshes them. God has given such food to our bodily eyes. For this light is the food of the eyes; our eyes are fed by it, and if someone has been in darkness too long, they fail as if from fasting. People have lost their eyes by sitting in darkness, though nothing struck their eyes, no one hit them, no foreign humor flowed into them, no dust, no smoke: a man is brought out after the darkness and does not see what he used to see. His eyes have died of hunger; they failed by not taking their food, that is, light. See, then, what I proposed: what sort of food our eyes have. This light is seen by all; it feeds the eyes of all; the gaze of the one who sees is refreshed, and the light remains whole. If two see, it remains as great; if more see, it remains the same; let the rich man see, let the poor man see, it is equal for all. No one fixes boundaries in it. It fills the want of the poor man; it leaves nothing for the avarice of the rich. For does he who has more see more, or does he get ahead of the poor man by offering gold, and buy for himself something to see, so that the other does not have it? If such is the food of our eyes, what is God himself to our minds?

And sound is a kind of food for the ears; and what is it like? From these senses of the body let us draw inferences about the intelligible things of the mind. See, I am speaking to your Charity: ears are present, minds are present. I have named two things, ears and minds; and in what I say there are two things, sound and meaning. They are carried together, they reach the ear together; the sound stays in the ear, the meaning goes down into the heart. But first let us notice from the sound itself how much more excellently we ought to love the meaning. Sound is like the body, meaning like the soul. But sound, as soon as it has struck the air and touched the ear, passes away; it is not called back, and it no longer sounds. For syllables follow one another, going before and coming after, so that the second does not sound unless the first has passed. Yet transitory as it is, it holds a great wonder. For see: if I set bread before you when you are hungry, it would not reach each of you whole; you would divide among you all that I had set out, and the more of you there were, the less each would have. But now, when I utter a sermon, you do not divide the words and syllables among you, nor cut up my sermon so that one takes this part and another that, and what I say reaches each person bit by bit and piece by piece. Rather, one hears it all, two hear it all, more hear it all, and however many come hear it all; it suffices for all and is whole for each. Your ear is made ready to hear, and your neighbor’s ear does not cheat it. If this happens with a sounding word, what happens with the almighty Word? For just as this voice of ours is whole for each of all who hear and whole with each, and my voices are not as many as your ears, but one voice fills many ears undivided, whole for all: so think of the Word of God, whole in heaven, whole on earth, whole in the angels, whole with the Father, whole with the Virgin, whole in eternity, whole in the flesh, whole in the underworld when he visited it, whole in paradise, to which he brought the thief. This I have said about sound.

What if I say something about meaning? How much less is it than the Word of God? For see, I utter a sound; but once I have uttered it, I do not call it back. If I want to be heard, I utter another sound, and when that has passed, I utter another, or silence will follow. But a meaning I both bring out to you and keep with me: you find what you heard, and I do not lose what I said. See how true these things are, and “let the heart of those who seek the Lord rejoice.” For the Lord is himself the first truth. So the meaning, remaining in my heart, moves into yours, and does not leave mine. Yet when the meaning is in my heart and I want it to be in yours too, I look for a sound as a kind of vehicle by which it may pass over to you; I take up the sound, and as it were put the meaning on it, and bring it out and bring it forth, and I teach and do not lose it. If my meaning could do this with my voice, could not the Word of God do it with his flesh? For see, the Word of God, God with God, the Wisdom of God remaining unchangeably with the Father, in order to come forth to us sought flesh as a kind of sound, put himself into it, and came forth to us, and did not withdraw from the Father. Understand, savor what you have heard; think how great and of what kind it is, and think greater things of God. He surpasses all light, surpasses all sound, surpasses all meaning. He is to be desired, and longed for with love, so that “the heart of those who seek the Lord may rejoice.”

We have been admonished, and it has been commanded us by the Spirit of God, that we should confess to the Lord; and the reason given for confessing to the Lord is “because he is good.” It is said briefly; it is pondered most deeply. “Confess to the Lord,” it says. And as if we asked, “Why?”, the answer is, “Because he is good.” What more do you seek, or if you seek anything else, what do you seek but the good? So great is the power of the good that even the wicked seek the good. But other things that are called good have from some good that they are good; and if we ask from whom all good things have it that they are good, let us recall what was said: “And God made all things, and behold, they were very good.” There would, then, be no good unless it had been made by the good. And by what kind of good? One that no one made. So there would be no good unless it had been made by a good that was not made. Heaven is good, but made good; the angels are good, but made good; good are the stars, sun and moon, the alternation of night and day, the changes of the seasons, the rolling of the ages, the course of the years, the kinds of plants and trees, the natures of animals, and among all these the creature that praises, man: all good, but made good, and good from God, not from themselves. He who made these things is good above all, because no one made him good; he is good of himself. Yet he is good not to himself alone but to us as well. “Confess, then, to the Lord, for he is good.” Confession is either of one who praises or of one who repents. For there are people too little instructed who, when they hear “confession” in the Scriptures, as if it could only be of sins, at once beat their breasts, as though they were being told to confess sins. But so that your Charity may know that confession does not belong to sins alone, let us hear him of whom we cannot doubt that he had no sin at all, crying out and saying, “I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth.” Who said this? He who “committed no sin, nor was deceit found in his mouth”; who alone could most truly say, “See, the prince of the world is coming, and in me he will find nothing.” And yet he confesses. But this one who confesses is one who praises, not a sinner. Hear, then, what he confesses; hear the praises, and that praise itself is our salvation. For what does the Son without sin confess to God the Father? “I confess to you,” he says, “Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them to little ones.” This is the praise of the Father that he commended: that he hid these things from the wise and prudent, that is, the proud and arrogant; and revealed them to little ones, that is, the weak and humble.

But it is also true that the confession of sins is salutary. Hence we heard in the psalm that was read first, “Set, O Lord, a guard on my mouth, and a door of restraint around my lips, that you may not turn my heart to evil words, to make excuses in sins.” He asks God to set a guard on his mouth, and he explains what the guard is to keep watch against. For there are people who abound in this: when they begin to be accused, they run to excuse themselves. To excuse is to look for causes and string together pretexts why the sin should not seem to belong to oneself. One says, “The devil did it to me”; another says, “Fortune did it to me”; another, “I was compelled by fate”: no one blames himself. When you want to be your own excuser, your accuser triumphs over you. Do you want, then, to do something that will make your accuser, that is, the devil, grieve and groan? Do what you have heard, do what you have learned, and say to your God, “I said, Lord, have mercy on me; heal my soul, for I have sinned against you.” “I,” he says, “I said”: not the devil, not fortune, not fate. “I said”: I do not excuse myself; I accuse myself. “I said, Lord, have mercy on me; heal my soul.” For why is it sick? “Because I have sinned against you.”

“Confess, then, to the Lord, for he is good.” If you want to praise, what can you praise more safely than the good? If you want to praise, if you want to make a confession of praise, what can you praise more safely than the good? If you want to confess your sins, to whom more safely than to the good? To a man, because he is bad, you confess and are condemned; to God, because he is good, you confess and are cleansed. If you consider the confession of praise: whatever you are going to praise at length, your effort is spent on showing that what you praise is good. For good things are rightly praised, as bad things are rightly blamed. The praise of the Lord your God has been told you briefly: “He is good.” If you too are good, praise him from whom you are good; if you are bad, praise him from whom you may become good. For if you are good, you are good from him; if you are bad, you are bad from yourself. Flee from yourself, and come to him who made you: for by fleeing yourself you follow yourself; and by following yourself you cling to him who made you.

How many good things you seek, bad man! You are certainly bad: tell me what you want, if not what is good? You seek a horse: only a good one. You seek an estate: only a good one. You build a house: only a good one. You seek a wife: only a good one. A tunic, only a good one; a boot, only a good one: your soul alone, a bad one. Are you not at odds with yourself, you who seek good things when you are bad? If you seek good things, first be yourself what you seek. But if, while bad, you have found many good things, what good is it to you, since you yourself have perished? Love your souls as good; hate your souls as bad. But by loving him from whom is every good, you will be good. Hating your evils, choose good things.

What does it mean to hate your evils? To confess your sins by repenting. For everyone who repents, and confesses his sins in repentance, is angry with himself, and in a way, by repenting, punishes in himself what displeases him. For God hates sin. If you too hate in yourself what God also hates, you are meanwhile joined to God in some measure of will, while you hate in yourself what God also hates. Be severe with yourself, so that God may intervene for you and not condemn you. For sin must without doubt be punished: this is owed to sin, punishment, condemnation. Sin must be punished, either by you or by him. If it is punished by you, then it will be punished without you; but if it is not punished by you, it is punished together with you. “Confess, then, to the Lord, for he is good.” Praise as much as you can, love as much as you can; pour out your hearts before him: God is our helper, for he is good.