Homilies on John 79.1–79.5

“A little while, and you do not see me; and again a little while, and you will see me, because I am going to the Father.” Then some of his disciples said to one another, “What is this that he says, ‘A little while’?” and what follows. Nothing is so wont to cast down a soul that is in pain and gripped by great dejection as words that cause grief being turned over continually. Why then does Christ, having said, “I am going away,” and, “I will no longer speak with you,” continually turn over the same things, saying, “A little while, and you no longer see me,” and, “because I am going to him who sent me”? For when he had restored them by the words about the Spirit, then he casts down their spirits again. Why then does he do this? He tests them well, by hearing painful things, to bear his separation nobly. For those who had practiced this in words were going to bear it easily in deeds too thereafter. And if one examines it exactly, this very thing is a comfort: to say, “I am going away to the Father.” For this was the language of one showing that he will not perish, but that his end is a kind of removal. And he put another comfort before them. For he did not say only, “A little while, and you no longer see me,” but also added, “A little while, and you will see me,” showing that he will also return, and that the separation will be for a short time, and his company with them perpetual. This, however, they did not understand. Hence one might rightly wonder how, having heard these things often, they are in doubt as though they had heard nothing. Why then did they not understand? Either because of grief, as I think (for this drove what was said out of their minds), or because of the obscurity of what was said. Therefore he seemed to them to set down two contraries that are not contrary. For if we shall see you, they say, where are you going? And if you are going, how shall we see you? This is why they say, “We do not know what he is saying.” For that he was going to depart, they knew; but they did not know that after a little while he would come to them. For this very reason he also rebukes them, because they did not understand what was said. For, wishing to fix in them the doctrine about his death, what does he say? “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament”—which referred to the death and the cross—“but the world will rejoice.” For since, because they did not wish it, they quickly ran to believing that he would not die, and then, hearing that he would die, were in doubt, not knowing what “a little while” meant, he says, “You will weep and lament, but your sorrow will turn into joy.” Then, showing that after grief comes joy, and that grief gives birth to joy, and that the one is short but the pleasure endless, he came to an example from the world; and what does he say? “A woman, when she gives birth, has [sorrow].” And he uses a comparison which the prophets too use continually, likening dejection to the extremity of labor pains. What he says is something like this: labor pains will seize you, but the pain of childbirth becomes a cause of joy; at the same time confirming the word about the resurrection, and showing that departing from here is like coming out of the womb into bright light; as if he were saying, Do not marvel that I lead you through such grief to what is to your advantage; for a mother too comes to be a mother so, through grief. And he hints here at something mystical too: that he loosed the pains of death and caused a new man to be born. And he did not say only that the affliction will pass, but that she does not even remember it; so great is the joy that succeeds it. So it will be with the saints too. And yet the woman does not rejoice because a human being has come into the world, but because a child has been born to her. For if she rejoiced for that reason, nothing would prevent women who do not give birth from rejoicing when another woman gives birth. Why then did he speak so? Because he took the example for this purpose only, to show that the grief is temporary but the joy perpetual, and that it is a removal to life, and how great the gain of the pains is. And he did not say, “A child has been born,” but “a human being.” For here, it seems to me, he hints at his own resurrection, and that he was to be born not to the death that suffered the pains, but to the kingdom. This is why he did not say, “A child has been born to her,” but, “A human being has been born into the world.” “So you too now will grieve; but I will see you again, and your sorrow will turn into joy.” Then, showing that he will no longer die, he says, “And no one takes it from you. In that day you will ask me nothing.” Again by these words he establishes nothing else than that he is from God. For then you will know everything thereafter. And what is “You will ask me nothing”? You will not need a mediator, but it is enough to name my name alone to receive everything. “Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in my name.” He shows the power of his name, if, neither seen nor entreated, but only named, he makes people admired even before the Father. Where did this happen? Where they say, “Look upon their threats, and grant to your servants to speak your word with all boldness, and to do signs in your name.” “And the place where they were was shaken.” “Until now you have asked nothing.” From this he shows that it is to their advantage, again, that he go away, if until then they had asked nothing, but then they will receive all that they ask. For do not think, because I shall no longer be with you, that you have been abandoned; my name will give you greater boldness.

Since then what had been said was veiled, he says, “These things I have spoken to you in figures; the hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in figures.” There will be a time when you will all know clearly. And he means the time of the resurrection. “Then I will tell you plainly about the Father.” For he was with them for forty days and talked with them, eating with them and speaking of the things concerning the kingdom of God. For now, being in fear, you do not attend to what is said; but then, seeing me risen and being with me, you will be able to learn everything plainly, because the Father himself will love you, once your faith in me has become firm. “And I will not ask the Father.” Your love for me is enough to stand up for you. “Because you have loved me, and have believed that I came out from God. I came out from the Father and have come into the world. Again I leave the world and go to the Father.” For since the word about the resurrection comforted them no ordinary amount, and together with these the hearing that “I came out from God and am going there,” he continually turns these things over. For the one guaranteed that they believe rightly in him, the other that they would be in safety. When then he said, “A little while, and you do not see me; and a little while, and you will see me,” they reasonably did not understand; but now no longer. And what is “You will not ask me”? You will not say, “Show us your Father,” and, “Where are you going?”, because you will know all knowledge, and the Father will be disposed toward you as I am. This above all made them breathe again, learning that they will be friends to the Father. Therefore they say, “Now we know that you know all things.” Do you see that he answered what lay hidden in their mind? “And you have no need for anyone to question you”; that is, before hearing, you know what scandalizes us, and you have given us rest, since you said, “The Father loves you, because you have loved me.” After so many and such great things, then they say, “Now we know.” Do you see how imperfect they were? Then, since they say, “Now we know,” as though granting him a favor, he says: You need many other things to come to perfection; nothing has yet been achieved by you. Now you will betray me to my enemies, and such fear will master you that you will not even be able to withdraw together. But I will suffer nothing terrible from this. Do you see how again the discourse is of condescension? This, at any rate, he also charges against them, that they continually need condescension. For since they said, “See, now you are speaking plainly and saying no figure, and for this reason we believe you,” he shows that now, when they believe, they do not yet believe, and he does not accept their words. He says these things, referring them to another time. And he set down “The Father is with me” again for their sake; for they wished to learn this again and again. Then, showing that he was not handing on perfect knowledge to them in saying these things, but so that their reasoning might not be in revolt (for it was likely that they were reasoning in a human way, and that they would enjoy no help from him), he says, “These things I have spoken to you, that in me you may have peace”; that is, that you may not cast me out of your mind, but receive me. Let no one, then, drag what is said into doctrine; for it was said for our comfort and love. For not even here, he says, will your terrible things stop, when you suffer such things; but as long as you are in the world, you will have affliction, not now only when I am handed over, but also afterward. But raise up your thoughts; for you will suffer nothing terrible. For when the Teacher has overcome the enemies, the disciples must not be distraught. And how, tell me, have you conquered the world? I have already said that I cast down its ruler; and you will know later too, when all things yield and give way to you. And we too may conquer, if we will, looking to the author of our faith and walking this road which he cut for us. So not even death will overcome us. What then? someone says, Shall we not die? From this it is clear that it will not overcome. For the contestant is glorious, not when he does not grapple with the enemy, but when, having grappled, he is not held down. So we are not mortal because of the grappling, but immortal because of the victory. For we would then have been mortal, if we remained with it always. As then I would not call the longest-lived animals immortal, although they remain a long time outside death, so I would not call mortal, because he is dissolved by death, the one who is going to rise after death. For tell me, if someone blushes for a little while, shall we therefore call him red always? Not at all; for the thing is not a settled state. If someone becomes pale, shall we call him jaundiced? Not at all; for the affection is temporary. So neither will you call mortal the one who has been in death for a short time; since then we shall call sleepers so too; for they are dead, so to speak, and inactive. “But death corrupts the bodies?” And what of it? It is not so that they may remain in corruption, but that they may become better. [Let us conquer] the world, then, let us run toward immortality, let us follow the King, let us set up a trophy to him, let us despise its pleasures. And there is no need of toils: let us move our soul to heaven, and the whole world is conquered. If you do not desire it, it is conquered; if you laugh at it, it is defeated. We are strangers and sojourners; let us then grieve at none of its painful things. For if, born of a famous country and of illustrious ancestors, you had gone off to some distant land, known to no one, having neither servants nor wealth, and then someone had insulted you, you would not grieve as if you had suffered these things at home. For knowing clearly that you are in a strange and foreign land would easily persuade you to bear everything, being despised and hungering and thirsting and suffering anything whatever. Reckon this now too: that you are a stranger and a sojourner, and let nothing in this foreign land trouble you. For you have a city whose builder and maker is God; and this sojourning is for a short and little time. Let whoever wishes strike, insult, revile. We are in a foreign land, and live meanly. For the terrible thing is to suffer this in one's own country, before one's fellow citizens; then is the greatest disgrace and loss. But if one is where he has no acquaintance, he endures everything easily. For insult becomes harsher from the intention of those who insult. For example, if someone insults the prefect knowing that he is the prefect, then the insult is bitter; but if he insults him thinking him a private person, he cannot even touch the one who suffers it. So let us too reason. For those who insult us do not know what we are: that we are citizens of heaven, enrolled in the country above, and fellow choristers of the cherubim. [Let us not] then grieve [nor count their insult an insult; if they knew, they would not have] insulted. “But they think us poor and mean?” Then neither let us think this an insult. For tell me, if someone on a journey, having got ahead of his servants, were sitting for a short while in an inn waiting for them, and then the innkeeper or one of the travelers, not knowing who he was, were rude to him and reviled him, would he not laugh at the man's ignorance? Would not the mistake rather delight him? Would he not enjoy it, as if someone else were being insulted? So let us too act. For we too are sitting in an inn waiting for our own, who are traveling this road. When we are all together, then they will know whom they insult. Then they will hang their heads; then they will say, “This is the one whom we fools held in derision.”

With these two things, then, let us comfort ourselves: that we are not insulted (for they do not know who we are), and that, if we wished to obtain satisfaction, they will pay a most grievous penalty afterward. But may no one have a soul so cruel and inhuman. What then, if we are insulted by our own kin? For this is the burdensome thing. No, this is the light thing. Why so? Because we do not bear insults from those we love in the same way as from those we do not know. At any rate, comforting those who have been insulted, we often say these words: “It is a brother who has insulted you; bear it nobly”; “He is a father, he is an uncle.” And if the name of brother and father puts one to shame, much more if I name something more intimate than these. For we are not only brothers to one another, but also members and one body. And if the name of brother puts one to shame, much more that of member. Have you not heard the outsiders' proverb, which says that one must keep one's friends along with their defects? Have you not heard Paul saying, “Bear one another's burdens”? Do you not see those in love? For I am compelled, since we cannot take the example from you, to bring the discourse to that subject. And Paul too does this, saying, “Besides this, we had fathers of our flesh who disciplined us, and we respected them.” Or rather, it is more fitting to say what he says to the Romans: “As you presented your members as slaves to uncleanness and to lawlessness for lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness.” For this reason we too follow the example with confidence. Do you not see, then, those in love, how much they [suffer], burning for harlots, [while she] insults [them in countless ways]? And yet, if once they see something sweet and gentle, all is well with them, all that went before is gone, and everything is borne along by a fair wind, whether poverty, whether sickness, or anything else besides these. For they count their own life wretched or blessed according as they have the beloved disposed toward them. And they know neither human glory nor dishonor; but even if someone insults them, they bear everything easily because of the great pleasure and the delight from her; and if she reviles them, if she spits in their face, they think, suffering this, that they are being pelted with roses. And what is surprising if they are so disposed toward her? For they think even her house more splendid than any, even if it is of mud, even if it is falling down. And why do I speak of walls? For even seeing the places where they spend time in the evening, they are excited. Here allow me henceforth to speak the apostle's word. As he says, “As you presented your members as slaves to uncleanness, so present your members to righteousness,” in the same way I too say: as we have loved these women, let us love one another, and we shall think we suffer nothing terrible. And why do I say “one another”? Let us so love God. Did you shudder on hearing that I demand as great a measure of love toward God as we have shown toward a harlot? But I shudder because we do not show even so much. And, if you wish, let us pursue the discourse, even though what is said is very painful. The beloved woman promises her lovers nothing good, but dishonor and shame and insolence. For this is what attending on a harlot makes one: ridiculous, shameful, dishonored. But God promises heaven and the good things in heaven, and has made us sons and brothers of the Only-begotten, and has given you countless things while you live, and resurrection when you die, and promises to give such good things as one cannot even conceive, and makes us honored and revered. And again, she compels them to spend all they have into a pit and destruction; but God bids us sow heaven, and gives a hundredfold, and eternal life. Again, she gives orders to her lover as to a slave, harsher than any tyrant; but God says, “No longer do I call you servants.”

Have you seen the excess both of the evils here and of the good things there? What then comes after this? For her sake many lie awake, and whatever she commands they readily obey, and they leave house and father and mother and friends and money and patronage, and all their affairs in want and desolation; but for God's sake, or rather for our own sake, we often do not choose to spend even a third part of what we have, but seeing the hungry we overlook him, and run past the naked, and do not even give him a word. But the lovers, if they see her maidservant, even a barbarian, stand in the middle of the marketplace, as if adorned by it, [talking with her and] unrolling endless rounds [of words]; and for her sake they think all their life nothing, rulers nothing, a kingdom nothing (and all who have had experience of the disease know it); and they are more grateful to her when she commands than to others when they serve them. Is not hell with good reason? Are not countless punishments with good reason? Let us then come to our senses, and give to the service of God at least as much, or half, or even a third, of what others give to the harlot. Perhaps you shudder again? And so do I. But I did not wish you to shudder at words only, but also at deeds. As it is, here our heart is drawn together, but when we go out we throw everything away. What then is the gain? For if money must be spent there, no one laments poverty, but one often even borrows to give, when he is caught; but here, if we mention almsgiving, they put forward to us children and wives and house and patronage and countless excuses. “But there is great pleasure there,” someone says. This is what I lament and mourn. What then, if I show that the pleasure here is greater? For there shame and insult and expense cut away no small part of the pleasure, and besides, the fighting and enmity; but here there is nothing of the kind. For what, tell me, equals this pleasure: to sit awaiting heaven and the kingdom there, and the glory of the saints, and the endless life? “But these things are in expectation,” someone says, “and those in experience.” What experience? Do you want me to tell you the things here that are in experience too? Consider what freedom you enjoy, and how you fear no one and tremble at no one when you live with virtue: no enemy, no plotter, no slanderer, no one who discredits you, no rival lover, no jealous man, no poverty, no sickness, nothing else human. But there, even if countless things go as one wishes, and wealth flows in as from springs, the war with rival lovers, and the plots and the ambushes will make the life of one who wallows with those women more wretched than anyone's. For when that despicable woman is haughty and luxurious, war must be stirred up to please her. This is harsher than ten thousand deaths and more unbearable than any punishment. But here there is nothing like this. “For the fruit of the Spirit,” it says, “is love, joy, peace.” Nowhere war, nor unseasonable expense of money, nor reproaches along with expense; if you give an obol, or a loaf, or a cup of cold water, he will be very grateful to you, and does nothing to bite you and grieve you, but everything to make you glorious and free you from all shame. What defense, then, shall we have, what pardon, if we leave these things and give ourselves up to the opposite, and willingly cast ourselves into the burning furnace of fire? Therefore I beseech those who are sick with such things to recover themselves, and bring themselves back to health, and not let themselves fall into despair. For that son too suffered things much worse than these; but when he returned to his father's house, he came to his former honor and appeared more glorious than the one who had always been well-pleasing. Let us emulate him, and returning to the Father, even if late, let us depart from that captivity and bring ourselves over to freedom, that we may also enjoy the kingdom of heaven, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, for ever and ever. Amen.