Homilies on John 27.1–27.3

[Homily 27.] “If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how will you believe if I tell you heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man, who is in heaven.” What I have often said I will say now too, and I will not stop saying it. What is it? That when Jesus is about to touch on lofty teachings, he often holds himself back because of the weakness of his hearers, and does not dwell continually on words worthy of his greatness, but rather on those that involve condescension. For what is lofty and great, even said once, is enough to present that dignity, as far as we are able to hear it; but the humbler things, close to the understanding of the hearers, if they were not said continually, the lofty things would not quickly have taken hold of the hearer who clings to the ground. That is why most of what he said is humbler rather than lofty. But so that this might not in turn do another kind of harm, holding the disciple down below, he does not simply set down the lesser things unless he first states the reason for which he says them; which is what he did here too. For after saying what he said about baptism and the birth by grace that takes place on earth, wishing to bring them down to that ineffable birth of his own, [he holds back and does not bring them down; and] he states the reason why he does not. What is it? The dullness and weakness of the hearers. And hinting at this he added, “If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how will you believe if I tell you heavenly things?” So whatever moderate and humble thing he says must be reckoned to the weakness of the hearers. Some say that “earthly things” here was said of the wind; that is, “If I gave you an example from earthly things and not even so were you persuaded, how will you be able to learn the loftier things?” But if he calls baptism earthly here, do not be surprised. For he calls it so either because it is performed on earth, or naming it so by comparison with that most awesome birth of his own. For even if this birth is heavenly, still, compared with that true one which is from the essence of the Father, it is earthly. And he rightly did not say, “You do not understand,” but, “You do not believe.” For when someone is difficult about things that can be grasped by the mind and does not easily accept them, he might rightly be charged with folly; but when he does not accept things that cannot be grasped by reasoning but only by faith, the charge is no longer folly but unbelief. So leading him away from seeking what was said by reasonings, he touches him more sharply by charging him with unbelief. And if we must accept our own birth by faith, what would they deserve who meddle with that of the Only-begotten by reasonings? But perhaps someone might say: And why were these things said, if the hearers were not going to believe? Because even if they did not believe, those after them were going to accept them and gain. Touching him very sharply, then, he goes on to show that he knows not only these things, but others much more numerous and greater. That is why he made this plain by what follows, saying, “And no one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man, who is in heaven.” And what sort of sequence is this, someone says? A very great one indeed, and in close agreement with what went before. For since Nicodemus had said, “We know that you have come from God as a teacher,” he corrects this very thing, all but saying: Do not think me a teacher in the way that most of the prophets were, being from the earth. For I am here now from heaven. None of the prophets has ascended there; but I dwell there. Do you see how even what seems very lofty is very unworthy of his greatness? For he is not in heaven only, but everywhere, and fills all things. But he is still speaking to the weakness of the hearer, wishing to lead him up little by little. And here he did not call the flesh Son of Man, but now named his whole self, so to speak, from the lesser nature. For this is his custom, to name the whole often from the divinity and often from the humanity. “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert,” he says, “so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” Again this seems to be cut off from what went before, but it too has a close connection. For having spoken of the greatest benefit that came to human beings through baptism, he adds the cause of this too, which is not less: the benefit through the cross. As Paul too, discussing with the Corinthians, sets these benefits side by side, saying, “Was Paul crucified for you, or were you baptized into the name of Paul?” For these two above all show his love: that he suffered for his enemies, and that, having died for enemies, he gave through baptism complete forgiveness of sins.

But why did he not say plainly, “I am going to be crucified,” but sent his hearers to the ancient type? First, so that they might learn that the old things are akin to the new, and that those are not foreign to these; then, so that you may know that he did not come to his passion unwillingly; and further, so that you may learn that no harm comes to him from the event, while salvation is born from it for many. For so that no one might say, “And how is it possible to be saved by believing in one who was crucified, when he himself was held by death?”, he leads us to the ancient history. For if the Jews escaped death by looking at the bronze image of a serpent, much more will those who believe in the crucified one rightly enjoy a much greater benefit. For this happens not because of the weakness of the one crucified, nor because the Jews prevail, but because “God loved the world”; that is why his living temple is crucified, “so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.” Do you see the cause of the cross and the salvation from it? Do you see the kinship of the type with the truth? There the Jews escaped death, but the temporal one; here believers escape the eternal one. There the hanging serpent healed the bites of serpents; here the crucified Jesus healed the wounds of the spiritual dragon. There the one who looked with these eyes was healed; here the one who sees with the eyes of the mind puts away all his sins. There what hung was bronze shaped into the form of a serpent; here the Lord’s body formed by the Spirit. A serpent bit there, and a serpent healed; so here too death destroyed, and death saved. But the serpent that destroyed had venom, while the one that saved was clean of venom. And here again the same: the death that destroyed had sin, as the serpent had venom; but the Master’s death was free of all sin, as the bronze serpent was of venom. For “he committed no sin,” it says, “nor was deceit found in his mouth.” And this is what Paul says: “Having disarmed the rulers and authorities, he made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it.” For as a noble athlete, when he lifts his opponent into the air and dashes him down, makes his victory more brilliant, so Christ too, with the whole world watching, threw down the opposing powers, and having healed those struck in the desert, freed them from all the wild beasts by hanging on the cross. But he did not say, “He must be hung,” but, “He must be lifted up.” For he used what seemed the more auspicious word because of his hearer, [and as more proper to the type.] “For God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.” What he says is this: Do not marvel that I am going to be lifted up so that you may be saved. For this seems good to the Father too, and he so loved you as to give his Son for slaves, and ungrateful slaves. Yet no one would do this even for a friend, nor readily even for a righteous man, as Paul too showed when he said, “For one will scarcely die for a righteous man.” But he spoke more broadly, since he was speaking to believers; here Christ speaks concisely, since the discourse was with Nicodemus, but more expressively. For every word has great emphasis. For by saying, “so loved,” and, “God the world,” he shows the great intensity of the love. For the distance between them was great and infinite. The immortal, the one without beginning, the boundless majesty, loved those from earth and ashes, those full of countless sins, those who had offended at all times, the ungrateful: these he loved. And again the words that follow are equally expressive, which he added, saying, “that he gave his only-begotten Son”: not a servant, not an angel, not an archangel, he says. And yet no one would show such earnestness for his own child as God showed for his ungrateful servants. The passion, then, he does not set down very nakedly, but in a veiled way; but the gain from the passion he states clearly and openly, saying, “so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.” For since he had said, “must be lifted up,” and hinted at death, so that the hearer might not become downcast at these words, suspecting something merely human about him and thinking his death to be ceasing to exist, see how he corrects this, saying that the one given is the Son of God, and the cause of life, and of eternal life. One who gives life to others through death would not himself remain in death for ever. For if those who believe in the crucified one do not perish, much less will he himself, crucified, perish. For one who takes away the destruction of others is much more free from it himself; one who gives life to others much more pours forth life for himself. Do you see that everywhere there is need of faith? For he says that the cross is a fountain of life, which reasoning would not easily accept; and the Greeks still bear witness to this now by their mockery. But faith, which goes beyond the weakness of reasonings, could easily both accept it and hold it fast. And why did God so love the world? From no other source but from goodness alone.

Let us, then, be put to shame by his love; let us be ashamed at the excess of his love for humankind. For he did not spare even the Only-begotten for our sake, while we spare money to our own harm. He gave up even his true Son for us, while we do not even despise silver for him, nor even for ourselves. And how could these things deserve pardon? If we see a man who has accepted dangers and death for us, we set him before all, and count him among the first of our friends, and hand over to him everything of ours, and say it is his rather than ours; and even so we do not think we are giving him a worthy return. But with Christ we do not keep even this measure of gratitude. He laid down his life for us and poured out his precious blood for our sake, though we had not been well disposed or good; while we do not even pour out money for our own sake, but overlook him, naked and a stranger, who died for us. And who will rescue us from the punishment to come? For if not God but we ourselves were punishing ourselves, would we not cast the vote against ourselves? Would we not condemn ourselves to the fire of Gehenna, overlooking the one who laid down his life for us as he wastes away with hunger? And why do I speak of money? If we had ten thousand lives, ought we not to lay them all down for him? And yet not even so would we have done anything worthy of his benefit. For the one who does good first shows his kindness plainly; but the one who has received good, whatever he gives back, pays a debt and does not bestow a favor; especially when the one who began was doing good to enemies, and the one who repays both bestows what is done on a benefactor and himself enjoys it in turn. But not even gain draws us to these things. We are so ungrateful as to put gold collars on servants and mules and horses, but to overlook the Master going about naked, going from door to door, always standing at the street corners and stretching out his hands; and often even to look at him with a pitiless eye. And yet he endures even this for our sake. For he gladly hungers so that you may be fed; and goes about naked so as to provide you with the material for the garment of incorruption. But not even so do you give up anything of yours; but of your clothes some are moth-eaten, others a burden to the chest and a superfluous worry to their owners, while he who gave both these and everything else goes about naked. But you do not store them in the chest, but wear them and adorn yourselves? Tell me, what more do you get from them? That the crowd of market people may see you? And what is that? For they will not admire you for wearing them, but the one who provides them to those in need. So if you want to be admired, by clothing others you will rather enjoy countless applause. Then God too will praise you, along with men. But now no one will praise you, and all will envy you, seeing the body adorned and the soul neglected. Prostitutes too have this adornment; often even their clothes are more costly and more splendid. But the adornment of the soul belongs only to those who live in virtue. I say these things continually, and I will not stop saying them, caring not so much for the poor as for your souls. For they will have some comfort from elsewhere, even if not from us; and even if they get no comfort but perish of hunger, their loss is no great thing. For what harm did poverty and wasting with hunger do to Lazarus? But no one will rescue you from Gehenna unless you obtain help from the poor. But we shall say the same things to the rich man who was being continually broiled and obtained no comfort. But may it never happen that anyone hears these words, but may all go to the bosom of Abraham, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, to the ages of ages. Amen.