Homilies on John 46.1–46.4

“So the Jews grumbled about him because he said, ‘I am the bread that came down from heaven’; and they said, ‘Is this not the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How then does he say that he has come down from heaven?’” “Whose god is the belly, and whose glory is in their shame”—so Paul said about certain people, writing to the Philippians. And that the Jews too were such is clear from what went before, and clear also from what they said when they came to Christ. For when he gave them bread and filled their bellies, they both called him a prophet and sought to make him king; but when he taught them about spiritual food, about eternal life, when he led them away from perceptible things, when he spoke about the resurrection and made their minds loftier—when they ought above all to have admired him—then they grumble and leap away. And yet, if this was the prophet, as they had said before—“This is the one of whom Moses says, ‘The Lord God will raise up for you a prophet from among your brothers, like me; him you shall hear’”—they ought to have listened to him when he said, “I have come down from heaven.” But they did not listen; they grumbled. For they still respected him because the sign of the loaves was fresh. That is why they did not contradict him openly, but by grumbling showed that they were indignant because he had not given them the table they wished. And grumbling they said, “Is this not the son of Joseph?” From which it is clear that they did not yet know his wonderful and strange birth either. That is why they still call him the son of Joseph. And he does not rebuke them, nor say to them, “I am not the son of Joseph”—not because he was the son of Joseph, but because they could not yet hear of that wonderful birth. And if they could not plainly hear of the birth according to the flesh, much less of the unspeakable one above. If he did not reveal the lowly one, much less would he have attempted those things. And yet this offended them greatly, that he was from a cheap and ordinary father; but nevertheless he did not reveal it, so as not to make another offense while removing one. What then does he answer when they grumble? “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him.” The Manichaeans leap on this, saying that nothing lies in our power; yet it above all confirms that we are masters of our will. For “if someone comes to him,” he says, “what need is there of drawing?” And this too does not take away what is in our power, but rather shows that we need help; and he shows here that the one who comes is not an ordinary person, but one who enjoys great assistance. Then he shows also the manner in which he draws. For so that they might not again suspect something perceptible about God, he added, “Not that anyone has seen God, except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father.” How then does he draw? someone says. This the prophet showed long before, foretelling it and saying, “And they shall all be taught by God.” Did you see the dignity of faith? And how he foretold that they would learn not from men nor through a man, but through God himself? That is why, making his word credible, he sent them to the prophets. “And if it has been said,” someone says, “‘They shall all be taught by God,’ how is it that some do not believe?” Because what was said was said of the majority. Besides, even apart from this, the prophetic saying does not mean simply all, but all who are willing. For the teacher sits before all, ready to provide his own, pouring out his teaching on all. “And I will raise him up on the last day.” The dignity of the Son here is no small one, if the Father brings and he raises—not dividing the works with the Father (how could he?), but showing the equality of power. As, then, there, having said, “And the Father who sent me testifies about me,” he then sent them to the Scriptures, so that some might not busy themselves about a voice, so here too, so that they might not suspect the same, he sends them to the prophets, turning to them again and again, showing that he is not opposed to the Father. “What then of those before this?” someone says. “Were they not taught by God? What then is special here?” That then they learned the things of God through men, but now through the only-begotten Son of God and through the Holy Spirit. Then he adds, “Not that anyone has seen the Father, except the one who is from God,” saying this here not in the sense of cause, but of the manner of being. For if he were saying it in that sense, we are all from God; where then is the special and distinct character of the Son? “And why did he not put it more clearly?” someone says. Because of their weakness. For if they were so offended when he said, “I have come down from heaven,” what would they not have suffered if he had added this too? He calls himself the bread of life because he holds together our life, both this one and the one to come; that is why he also added, “Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever.” By bread here he means either the saving doctrines and faith in him, or his own body; for both strengthen the soul. And yet elsewhere, when he said, “If anyone hears my word, he will never taste death,” they were offended; but here they suffered nothing of the kind, perhaps because they were still abashed before him because of the loaves that had been made.

[2] And see from what he makes the difference with the manna: from hearing, as it were, the outcome of each food. For showing that that food provided no unusual benefit, he added, “Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and died.” Then he establishes what would most persuade them: that they themselves have been counted worthy of things much greater than their fathers, hinting at those wonderful men around Moses. That is why, having said that those who ate the manna died, he added, “Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever.” And he did not put “in the wilderness” idly, but hinting that it was neither extended over a long time nor went in with them into the land of promise. But this bread is not such. “And the bread that I shall give is my flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world.” One might reasonably ask here, in perplexity, what timeliness these words had, since they built up nothing and were of no use, but rather harmed even those who had been built up: “From this time,” it says, “many of his disciples went back, saying, ‘This is a hard saying; who can hear it?’” For these things could have been delivered to the disciples alone, as Matthew said that he explained things to them privately. What then shall we say to this? That even now there was great usefulness and necessity in such words. For since they were pressing him, asking for food, but bodily food, and [reminding] him of the food supplied in their ancestors' time, calling the manna great, he, showing that all those things were a type and shadow, and that the truth of the realities is the present one, mentions spiritual food. “But he should have said,” someone says, “‘Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, but I have provided you with bread.’” But the difference was great. For this seemed even less than that, because that was brought from above, while this wonder of the loaves happened below. Since, then, they were seeking food brought from heaven, that is why he kept saying, “I have come down from heaven.” And if someone inquires why he also introduced the discourse about the mysteries, we would say to him that this was a very fitting time for these words too. For the obscurity of what is said always rouses the hearer and makes him more attentive. They ought not, then, to have been offended, but rather to have asked and inquired; but as it is they withdraw. For if they thought him a prophet, they ought to have believed what was said. So the offense came from their folly, not from the difficulty of what was said. But see how little by little he bound the disciples to himself; for these are the ones who say, “You have the words of life; where shall we go?” Yet here he introduces himself as the giver, not the Father: “The bread,” he says, “that I shall give is my flesh.” But the crowds were not so, but the opposite: “This is a hard saying.” That is why they withdraw. And yet the teaching was not strange and novel. For John hinted at this long before, calling him a lamb. “But not even so did they know,” someone says. I know that too; but not even the disciples understood. For if they did not yet know anything clear about the resurrection, and for this reason were ignorant of what “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” meant, much more about what was said here; for these things were more obscure than those. For that prophets had raised the dead they knew, even if the Scriptures did not say it so clearly; but that someone ate flesh, none of them ever said. But nevertheless they obeyed and followed, and confessed that he had the words of eternal life. For this is the mark of a disciple: not to be curious about the things of the teacher, but to hear and obey, and to wait for the proper time of the solution. “Why then,” someone says, “did the opposite happen, and they went back?” This was due to their folly. For when the question of “how” enters, unbelief comes in with it. So too Nicodemus was troubled, saying, “How can a man enter into his mother's womb?” So too these are troubled, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” If you seek the “how,” why did you not say this in the case of the loaves: how did he extend the five to so many? Because then they were intent only on being filled, not on seeing the wonder. “But then,” someone says, “experience taught them.” Then that wonder ought to have made these things too easy to accept; [for this was why he worked] that strange wonder beforehand, so that, taught by it, they might no longer disbelieve what was said afterwards. They, then, reaped nothing from what was said at the time; but we have enjoyed the benefit through the very deeds. That is why it is necessary to learn the wonder of the mysteries: what it is, why it was given, and what the benefit of the thing is. “We become one body,” it says, “and members of his flesh and of his bones.” Let the initiated follow what is said.

[3] So that we may become this not only by love but in very fact, let us be blended into that flesh. For this happens through the food which he has freely given, wishing to show us the longing he has for us. That is why he mixed himself with us and kneaded his body into us, so that we might be one thing, like a body joined to a head. For this is the mark of those who love intensely. Job at any rate hinted at this, speaking of his servants, to whom he was so exceedingly dear that they desired to cling to his flesh. For they, showing the great longing they had, said, “Who would give us to be filled with his flesh?” That is why Christ too has done this, leading us into greater friendship and showing his longing for us: he has granted to those who desire him not only to see him, but also to touch him, to eat him, to fix their teeth in his flesh, to be joined with him, and to satisfy all their longing. Let us, then, depart from that table like lions breathing fire, made fearsome to the devil, thinking of our head and the love he has shown for us. Parents often give their children to others to nurse; but I do not do so, he says; I feed you with my own flesh, I set myself before you, wishing you all to be noble, and holding out to you good hopes of the things to come. For one who gave himself to you here, much more will he do so in the future. I wished to become your brother; for your sake I shared flesh and blood; again I give you the very flesh and blood by which I became your kinsman. This blood makes the image in us flourishing and royal; this produces an unspeakable beauty; this does not let the nobility of the soul wither, watering and nourishing it continually. For the blood that comes to be in us from food does not become this at once, but something else first; but this is not so, but at once waters the soul and implants a great power in it. This blood, worthily received, drives demons away and puts them far from us, and calls angels to us, and the Master of the angels. For wherever they see the Master's blood, demons flee and angels run together. This blood, poured out, washed the whole world clean. Blessed Paul too reasoned much about this blood in the Letter to the Hebrews. This blood cleansed the inner sanctuary and the holy of holies. And if its type had such strength, both in the temple of the Hebrews and in the midst of Egypt, smeared on the doorposts, much more the truth. This blood sanctified the golden altar; without it the high priest did not dare to enter the inner sanctuary; this blood ordained priests; this washed away sins in the types. And if it had such strength in the types, if death so shuddered at the shadow, how, tell me, would it not have feared the truth itself? This is the salvation of our souls; by this the soul is washed, by this it is beautified, by this it is set on fire; this makes our mind brighter than fire, this makes the soul more radiant than gold; this blood was poured out and made heaven accessible.

[4] Truly awesome are the mysteries of the Church, truly awesome the altar. A spring went up out of paradise, pouring out perceptible rivers; from this table goes up a spring that sends out spiritual rivers. By this spring are planted not fruitless willows but trees reaching to heaven itself, with fruit always ripe and unfading. If anyone is scorched, let him come to this spring and cool the heat. For it dissolves droughts and refreshes all that is burning—not what is scorched by the sun, but by the fiery darts. For it has its beginning from above and its root there, from where it is also watered. Many are the streams of this spring, which the Paraclete sends forth; and the Son becomes the mediator, not holding a mattock and making a channel, but opening our disposition. This spring is a spring of light, bubbling up rays of truth. By it the powers above have taken their stand, looking at the beauty of its streams, [since they see more clearly] the power of what lies before us and its unapproachable flashes. For as if gold were molten and someone could put his hand into it, or his tongue, it would at once make it golden, so too and much more do the things set before us here make the soul. For the river boils up more vehemently than fire, yet does not burn, but only immerses whatever it takes. This blood was always prefigured of old, on altars, in the slaughterings of the righteous. This is the price of the world; with this Christ bought the Church; with this he adorned her wholly. For as a man buying servants gives gold, and wishing to adorn them again does this with gold, so too Christ both bought us with blood and adorned us with blood. Those who share this blood stand with angels and archangels and the powers above, clothed in Christ's own royal robe, holding the spiritual weapons. But I have not yet said anything great: they have put on the King himself. But as it is great and wonderful, so, if you approach with purity, you have approached for salvation; but if with an evil conscience, for punishment and retribution. “For whoever eats and drinks unworthily of the Lord,” it says, “eats and drinks judgment on himself.” If, then, those who soil the royal purple are punished like those who tear it, what is strange if those who receive the body with an impure mind undergo the same punishment as those who tore it with the nails? See, at any rate, how fearful Paul showed the punishment to be, saying, “Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses; how much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has trampled on the Son of God and counted common the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified?” Let us take heed to ourselves, then, beloved, enjoying such good things; and when we wish to say something shameful, or see ourselves carried away by anger or some other such passion, let us consider what we have been counted worthy of, what a Spirit we have enjoyed; and this reasoning will be a check on our irrational passions. For how long shall we be nailed to present things? How long shall we not rouse ourselves? How long shall we not care for our own salvation? Let us consider what God has counted us worthy of; let us give thanks, let us glorify him, not by faith only but also by our very works, so that we may obtain the good things to come too, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.