Homilies on Hebrews 16.1–16.3

“And for this reason he is the mediator of a new covenant, so that, a death having taken place for the redemption of the transgressions under the first covenant, those who are called may receive the promise of the eternal inheritance. For where there is a covenant, the death of the one who made it must be brought in; for a covenant is valid over the dead, since it is never in force while the one who made it lives. Hence not even the first was inaugurated without [blood].” It was likely that many of the weaker … would disbelieve his promises most of all because Christ had died. Paul, then, overturning such a suspicion with abundant force, sets down this example, taking it from common custom. What is this? For this very reason one ought to be confident, he says. Why? Because covenants are valid and receive their force not while those who made them are living, but when they have died. That is why he begins so, and for this reason says, “He is the mediator of a new covenant.” A covenant is made toward the last day of one’s life. And such is the covenant … So here too Christ says about the heirs, “I wish that where I am, these too may be.” And again, hear him speaking about those disinherited: “I do not ask for all, [but] for those who believe in me through their word.” Again, a covenant has some things that belong to the one who makes it, and some that belong to those who receive it; so that they receive some things and do others. So here too: after promising countless things, he demands also what is theirs, saying, “A new commandment I give you.” Again, a covenant ought to have witnesses; and hear him again saying, “I am he who bears witness about myself, and the Father who sent me bears witness about me”; and again, “He will bear witness about me,” speaking of the Paraclete; and he sent the twelve apostles, saying, “Bear witness before God.” And for this reason he says, “He is the mediator of a new covenant.” What is a mediator? The mediator is not master of the thing of which he is mediator, but the thing is one and the mediator another; for example, the mediator of a marriage is not the one who marries, but the one who helps the one about to take a wife. So here too the Son became mediator between the Father and us. The Father did not wish to leave us this inheritance, but was angry with us and indignant, as against those who were estranged; so he became mediator between us and him, and persuaded him. And see how he became mediator: he carried words back and forth, ferrying across to us the things from the Father, and [bringing in] death; … [for those for whom we had sinned], he died for us, and made us worthy of the covenant. For this reason the covenant is valid, since it is no longer made for the unworthy. At the beginning, then, he made the covenant as a Father to sons; but since we became unworthy, there was no longer need of a covenant, but of punishment. Why then, he says, do you think highly of the law? For it brought us into such sin that we could never have been saved; if our Master had not died for us, the law would not have prevailed, being weak. And he no longer confirms it from common custom only, but also from what happened in the Old [Testament], which drew them most. “But no one had died there,” one says; “how then was that covenant valid?” In the same way, he says. How? For there too there was blood, as here there is blood. And if it was not the blood of Christ, do not wonder; for it was a type. That is why he says, “Hence not even the first was inaugurated without blood.” What is [“inaugurated”? Confirmed …]. “Hence,” that is, for this reason, he says, the symbol of the covenant had to …

For why, tell me, was the book of the covenant sprinkled? “For when every commandment had been spoken by Moses to all the people according to the law, he took the blood of calves with water and scarlet wool and hyssop, and sprinkled both the book itself and all the people, saying, This is the blood of the covenant which God commanded you.” Why then, tell me, are the book of the covenant and the people sprinkled? Because the precious blood was being sketched from of old, that blood and the other things became a kind of type. And why with hyssop too? Because, being thick and soft, it held the blood. And what of the water? This too as signifying cleansing through water. And what of the wool? This too was taken so as to hold the blood. He shows here that blood and water are the same thing; for baptism is a symbol of his very passion. “And he likewise sprinkled with blood the tabernacle and all the vessels of the ministry. And according to the law almost all things are cleansed with blood, and without shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.” Why did he say “almost”? Why did he qualify it? Because those were not a perfect cleansing, nor a perfect forgiveness, but half-complete and in the smallest part; but here, “This is the blood,” he says, “of the new covenant, poured out for you for the forgiveness of sins.” Where then is the book? Their minds. So they themselves were the books of the new covenant. And where are the vessels of the ministry? They themselves are. And where is the tabernacle? They themselves again: “For I will dwell in them,” he says, “and walk among them.” But here he did not sprinkle with scarlet wool nor with hyssop. Why? For the cleansing was not bodily but spiritual, and the blood spiritual. How? For it did not flow from the body of irrational animals, but from a body fashioned by the Spirit. With this blood not Moses but Christ sprinkled us, through the word that was spoken: “This is the blood of the new covenant for the forgiveness of sins.” This word, dipped in the blood instead of hyssop, sprinkles all. And there the body was cleansed outwardly, for the cleansing was bodily; but here, since the cleansing is spiritual, it enters into the soul and cleanses, not simply being sprinkled around, but springing up in our souls. Those who are initiated know what is said! And in their case it sprinkled the very surface, and the one sprinkled washed himself again; for he did not go about always bloodied; but with the soul it is not so, but the blood is mingled with its very substance, making it strong and pure, and leading it to beauty itself beyond conception. He now shows that death was the cause not only of confirmation but also of cleansing. For since death seemed a polluted thing, and above all death on a cross, he says that it cleansed, and cleansed with a precious cleansing, and for greater things; for this reason the sacrifices went before, because of this blood; for this reason lambs, for this reason all things came about. “It was necessary, then, for the copies of the things in the heavens to be cleansed with these, but the heavenly things themselves with better sacrifices than these.” And how are they copies of the things in the heavens? And what does he now call the things in the heavens? Heaven? Or the angels? None of these, but our things. So our things are in the heavens, and heavenly, even if they are performed on earth. For angels too are on earth, yet they are called heavenly; and the cherubim appeared on earth, yet they are heavenly. And why do I say “appeared”? Rather they dwell on the earth, as in paradise. But this did not hinder anything; for even so they are heavenly. “And our commonwealth is in heaven,” though we live as citizens here. “But the heavenly things themselves,” that is, the philosophy that is ours, those who are called there. “With better sacrifices than these.” “Better” is said of what is better than something good; so the copies of the things in the heavens too had become good. For not even the copies were evil; otherwise those things too would be evil of which they are copies.

If, then, we are heavenly, and have obtained such a substance, let us shudder; let us no longer remain on earth; for it is possible even now for one who wishes not to be on earth. For being on earth and not being on earth comes about by manner of life and by choice. I mean, for example: God is said to be in heaven; why? Not as shut up in a place, God forbid, nor as leaving the earth bereft of his presence, but by his relation and familiarity with the angels. If, then, we too are near God, we are in heaven. For what do I care about heaven, when I see the Master of heaven, when I myself become heaven? “For we will come,” he says, “I and my Father, and make our abode with him.” Let us make our soul heaven, then. Heaven is bright by nature; for it does not become black even in winter; for it does not change its appearance itself, but the clouds, running together, cover it. Heaven has a sun; we too have the Sun of righteousness. I said, It is possible to become like heaven; and I see that it is possible even to become better than heaven. How? When we have the Master of the sun. Heaven is pure and spotless on every side; it does not change in winter nor at night; let us not, then, suffer this either, neither in afflictions nor in the schemes of the devil, but let us remain spotless and pure. Heaven is high and far from the earth; let us too do this; let us withdraw ourselves from the earth and be lifted up to that height. And how shall we withdraw ourselves from the earth? When we imagine heavenly things. Heaven is above rains and storms, and is overtaken by nothing; this we too shall be able to do, if we will. It seems to suffer, but does not suffer; let us not, then, suffer either, even if we seem to suffer. For just as in winter most people do not know its beauty, but think that it is changed, while those who are wise know that it has suffered nothing, so too with us in afflictions: most people think that we have been changed along with them, and that the affliction has reached our very heart; but the wise know that it has not touched us. Let us become heaven, then; let us go up to that height, and so we shall see men differing nothing from ants; I do not mean the poor only, nor the rich, but even if one is a general, even if a king, we shall not see the king there, nor the private man; we shall not know what gold is, nor silver, nor a silk garment or a purple one; we shall see everything like flies, if we sit on that height; there is no tumult there, no disturbance, no shouting. “And how is it possible,” one says, “to be lifted to that height while walking on the earth?” I do not say this in word merely; but if you wish, I show you in deed those who reached that height. Who are these? Paul and those with him, I mean, who, being on earth, spent their time in heaven. And why do I say in heaven? They were higher than heaven, and than the other heaven, and went up to God himself. “For who shall separate us,” he says, “from the love of Christ? Affliction, or distress, or famine, or persecution, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?” And again, “while we look not at the things that are seen, but at the things that are not seen.” Do you see that he did not even see the things here? And that I may show you that he was higher than the heavens, hear him saying, “For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, will be able to separate us from the love of Christ.” Do you see how his mind, passing by everything, made itself higher, not of this creation only, and of the third [heaven] …, not of these heavens only, but of any others there might be? Have you seen the height of mind? Have you seen what the tentmaker became when he willed it, he who spent his whole life in the marketplace? For there is no hindrance, there is none, to surpassing all, if we will. For if we so achieve arts that surpass the many, much more what does not need so much toil. For what, tell me, is harder than to put on and take off one’s clothes walking on a stretched rope, as though sitting on a bed? Does not the thing seem so fearful to us that we do not even wish to watch it, but fear and tremble even at the sight? And what, tell me, is harder than to take a pole on one’s face, and then, having set a child on top, to do countless things and delight the spectators? What is harder than to play ball with swords? What, tell me, is heavier than to search out the depth of the sea? And one could name countless other arts; but virtue is easier than all these, if we will, and to go up to heaven; for here one need only will, and everything follows. For one cannot say, “I cannot”; for this is to accuse the Creator; for if he made us unable and then commands, it is an accusation against him. “How then,” one says, “are many not able?” Because they do not will. And why do they not will? From carelessness; so if they will, they will certainly be able. That is why Paul too says, “I wish all men to be as I myself am,” since he knew that all could be as he was; for he would not have said this if it were impossible. Do you wish to become virtuous? Only lay hold of the beginning. Tell me, in all the arts, when we wish to become skilled in them, are we content with willing, or do we also put our hands to the work? I mean, for example: someone wishes to become a pilot; he does not say, “I wish,” and rest content with this, but he also puts his hand to the thing. He wishes to become a merchant; he does not say only, “I wish,” but he also puts his hand to the thing. Again he wishes to travel abroad, and he does not say, “I wish,” but puts his hand to the thing. Then in everything willing alone is not enough, but the work too must be added; and when you wish to go up to heaven, do you say only, “I wish”? “How then,” one says, “did you say that willing is enough?” Willing with works, the willing that lays hold of the thing, that toils. For we have God working with us and acting with us; only let us choose, only let us apply ourselves to the thing in deed, only let us be anxious, only let us take it to heart, and everything follows. But if we sleep, and expect to enter heaven while snoring, when shall we be able to take possession of the inheritance of heaven? Let us will, then, I beg you, let us will. Why do we carry on all our trading for the present life …? [Let us choose] the virtue that will last for us for all eternity, in which we shall be forever and shall enjoy the eternal good things? Which may we all obtain, by grace and loving-kindness, and the rest.