Homilies on John 83.1–83.5

“When Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the brook Kidron, where there was a garden, into which he himself entered, and his disciples.” Death is a thing to shudder at and full of great fear, but not for those who know the philosophy from above. For one who knows nothing clearly about the things to come, but thinks the matter a dissolution and an end of life, naturally shudders and is afraid, as one going into nonexistence. But we, who by the grace of God have learned the unseen and hidden things of his wisdom, and think the matter a journey abroad, would not be right to tremble; we should rather rejoice and be of good cheer, because, leaving this perishable life, we are going to another far better and more splendid, one that has no end. Teaching this, then, by his deeds, Christ too goes to his passion not by force and necessity, but willingly. “Jesus spoke these words,” it says, “and went away across the brook Kidron, where there was a garden, into which he himself entered, and his disciples. And Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place, because he had often met there.” And he crosses a river, and hastens to come to the place known to the traitor, cutting off the labor for those who were plotting against him and freeing them from all trouble; and he shows the disciples that he goes to the matter willingly, which was most of all able to comfort them; and he places himself in the garden as in a prison. “He spoke these words to them.” What do you say? Was he not speaking with the Father? Was he not praying? Why then do you not say that, having ended his prayer, he came there? Because it was not a prayer, but a discourse for the disciples' sake. “And his disciples entered into the garden.” So completely had he freed them from fear that they no longer resisted, but even entered the garden. But how did Judas come there? Or from where did he learn it and come there? From this it is plain that he often spent the night outside. For if he had been spending his time at home, Judas would not have come to the desert place, but to the house, expecting to find him there asleep. And so that you may not, hearing “garden,” think that he was hiding, he added, “Judas knew the place”; and not simply so, but “because he had often met there with his disciples.” For he often met with them privately, speaking about necessary things which it was not lawful for others to hear. And he did this especially on mountains and in gardens, always seeking a place free of tumult, so that the mind would not be distracted from listening. “Judas then, having received the cohort and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees, comes there.” These men had often sent at other times too to seize him, but could not. From this it is plain that then too he gave himself up willingly. And how did they persuade the cohort? They were soldiers, men who had made it their practice to do anything for money. “Jesus, knowing all that was coming upon him, went out and said to them, ‘Whom do you seek?’” That is, he did not wait to learn these things from their arrival, but spoke and acted calmly, as one who knew all of it. But why do they come with weapons when they mean to arrest him? They were afraid of his followers; and for this reason they came upon him late at night. “And going out, he says to them, ‘Whom do you seek?’ And they say, ‘Jesus the Nazarene.’” Do you see his irresistible power, how, standing in their midst, he blinded their eyes? For the evangelist showed that the darkness was not the cause, by saying that they also had torches. And even if there had been no torches, they ought at least to have recognized him from his voice; and even if they did not know him, how did Judas fail to know him, who had been with him continually? For he too stood with them, and knew no more than they, but even fell backward with them. Jesus did this to show that they were not only unable to seize him, but could not even see him while he was in their midst, unless he himself allowed it. Again he says to them, “Whom do you seek?” O the folly! His word threw them backward, and not even so did they turn back, after learning such power, but again they set upon the same thing. When then he had fulfilled all his own part, then at last he gives himself up, and says to them, “I told you that I am he.” “And Judas, who betrayed him, was also standing with them.” See the evangelist's freedom from rancor, how he does not abuse the traitor, but relates what happened, eager to show one thing only: that the whole came about by his own permission. Then, so that no one might say that he himself led them to this by handing himself over and making himself plain to them, after he had shown all that was able to drive them back, since they persisted in their wickedness and had no excuse, then he handed himself over, saying, “If then you seek me, let these go their way,” showing his love for them to the last hour. If you want me, he says, have nothing to do with these. For see, I give myself up. “So that the word might be fulfilled which he spoke: ‘I have lost none of those whom you gave me.’” By “loss” here he does not mean this loss by death, but that eternal one; but the evangelist took it of the present also. One might wonder how they did not seize them too along with him and cut them down, especially when Peter had provoked them by what he did to the servant. Who then held them back? No one else than the power that had thrown them backward. Showing this, that it was not of their own will but of the power and decision of the one who was arrested, the evangelist added, “So that the word might be fulfilled which he spoke: ‘None of them was lost.’”

Peter then, emboldened by this word and by what had already happened, arms himself against those who had come. And how, someone says, does one who was ordered not to have a wallet, nor two tunics, have a sword? It seems to me that he had prepared it long before, fearing this very thing. And if you say, How does one ordered not even to strike with the hand become a man of blood? He was indeed commanded above all not to defend himself; but here he was not defending himself, but his Teacher. And besides, they were not yet in any way perfect and complete. But if you wish to see Peter practicing philosophy, you will see him afterward wounded and bearing it meekly, suffering countless terrible things and not provoked. And Jesus works a miracle here too, at once teaching that we must do good to those who do us harm, and revealing his own power. To this man, then, he restored the ear, and to Peter he says, “All who take the sword will perish by the sword.” As he did at the washing basin, relaxing his zeal by a threat, so here too. The evangelist adds the name of the servant because what was done was very great, not only because he healed, but because he healed one who had come against him and who a little later would strike him, and because he checked the war that was about to be fanned up from this against the disciples. This is why the evangelist set down the name too, so that those who read then might be able to inquire and investigate whether these things really happened. And it is not without purpose that he says “the right ear”; it seems to me that he means to show the apostle's impetuosity, that he went almost for the head itself. But Jesus not only restrains him with a threat, but also comforts him with other words, saying, “The cup which the Father has given me, shall I not drink it?”, showing that what was happening was not of their power, but of his permission, and showing that he is not one who opposes God, but obedient to the Father unto death. “Then at last Jesus is arrested, and they bound him, and led him away to Annas.” Why to Annas? In their delight they paraded what had happened, as though they had set up a trophy. “He was the father-in-law of Caiaphas; and this Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was expedient that one man should die.” Why did the evangelist again remind us of the prophecy? To show that these things were done for salvation. And so great is the excess of the truth that even enemies proclaim it beforehand. For so that the hearer, hearing of bonds, might not be troubled, he reminds him of that prophecy, that his death was salvation for the world. “And Peter followed, and the other disciple.” Who is the other disciple? The one who wrote these things himself. And why does he not name himself? When he reclined on Jesus' breast, he naturally hid himself; but now why does he do this? For the same reason. For here too he relates a great achievement, that when all had leapt away, he followed. This is why he hides himself and puts Peter before himself. But he was compelled to mention himself now, so that you might learn that he relates what happened in the court more exactly than the others, since he was inside. And see how he cuts short his own praise. For so that no one may say, How, when all had withdrawn, did this man go in even further than Simon?, he says, “He was known to the high priest,” so that no one should marvel that he followed, nor proclaim him for his courage. But that was the wonder in Peter, that, being so fearful, he came even as far as the court when the others had withdrawn. His coming there was from longing; his not going in was from anguish and fear. For this is why the evangelist wrote these things too, preparing the way for the defense of the denial. For he does not set down as something great about himself that he was known to the high priest; but since he had said that he alone went in with Jesus, so that you may not think that the thing came from a lofty spirit, he gives the reason too. And that Peter too would have gone in if he had been allowed, he showed by what follows. For when he went out and told the doorkeeper to bring him in, Peter went in at once. And why did he not bring him in himself? He was keeping close to Christ and following him. This is why he told the woman to bring him in. What then does the woman say? “Are you not also one of this man's disciples?” And he says, “I am not.” What are you saying, Peter? Did you not say just now, “If I must lay down my life for you, I will lay it down”? What then has happened, that you cannot bear even the question of a doorkeeper? Was it a soldier who asked? Was it one of those who arrested him? It was a doorkeeper, a lowly and despised woman, and the question was not even insolent. For she did not say, “Are you a disciple of the deceiver and destroyer?”, but “of this man,” which was rather the word of one pitying and softened. But Peter could bear none of this. And “Are you not also” was said because John was inside; so gently did the woman speak. But he perceived none of this, nor did it come into his mind, neither the first time nor the second, nor even the third, but only when the cock crowed; and not even this brought him to his senses, until Jesus looked at him bitterly. And he stood warming himself with the high priest's servants, while Christ was held inside, bound. We say these things not accusing Peter, but showing the truth of what Christ had said. “The high priest then asked Christ about his disciples and his teaching.” O the wickedness! He had often heard him speaking publicly in the temple and teaching openly, and now he wishes to learn. For since they had no charge to bring, they asked about the disciples, perhaps where they were, and why he had gathered them, with what intention, and on what terms, wishing to convict him as one to whom no one else gave heed except those men only, as though it were some workshop of wickedness. What then does Christ say? Overturning this, he says, “I have spoken openly to the world,” not to the disciples privately; “I have taught openly in the temple.” What then? Did he say nothing in secret? He did, but not, as they supposed, out of fear and forming conspiracies, but where what was said was beyond the hearing of the many. “Why do you ask me? Ask those who have heard.” These words are not those of arrogance, but of one confident in the truth of what had been said. What he said at the beginning, “If I bear witness about myself, my witness is not true,” this he hints at now too, wishing to make the testimony trustworthy beyond measure. For since the high priest had mentioned the disciples as disciples, what does he say? Do you ask me about my own? Ask my enemies, those who plotted, those who bound me; let them speak. For this is the indisputable proof of truth, when one calls his enemies as witnesses of what he says. What then does the high priest do? When he ought to have made the examination in this way, he did not do so. “And one of the officers standing by gave him a blow, when he had said these things.” What could be more insolent than this? Shudder, O heaven; be amazed, O earth, at the long-suffering of the Master and the ingratitude of the servants. And yet what was it that had been said? For he did not say “Why do you ask me?” as declining to speak, but wishing to cut away every pretext for ingratitude. And being struck for this, though able to shake and annihilate and overturn all things, he does none of these things, but utters words able to undo all savagery. And he says, “If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness to the wrong”; that is, if you can lay hold of anything in what was said, prove it; but if you cannot, “why do you strike me?” Do you see the court full of tumult and disorder and rage and confusion? The high priest asked treacherously and deceitfully; Christ answered straightforwardly and as was fitting. What then was the consequence? To refute or to accept what was said. But this is not done; instead the servant strikes him. So what was going on was not a court, but a conspiracy and a tyranny. Then, finding nothing more even so, “they send him bound to Caiaphas. And Peter was standing and warming himself.” In what a stupor was the hot-tempered and frenzied man held, while Jesus was being led away! And after so much he does not even stir, but still warms himself, so that you may learn how great is the weakness of nature when God forsakes it; and being asked again, he denies. Then the kinsman of the servant whose ear Peter cut off, pained at what had happened, says, “Did I not see you in the garden?” And not even the garden brought him to remember what had happened, nor the great affection which he had shown there by those words; but the anguish drove all these things out. And why did the evangelists all record these things about him with one voice? Not accusing the disciple, but wishing to teach us how great an evil it is not to entrust the whole to God, but to rely on oneself. But marvel at the Teacher's care, that even when held and bound he took great forethought for the disciple, raising him up when he had fallen by his look and drawing him to tears. “They lead him then from Caiaphas to Pilate.” This happened so that the number of the judges might show, even against their will, that the truth had been tested. “And it was early morning.” Before cockcrow he is led to Caiaphas; in the morning to Pilate. By this the evangelist shows that, though questioned by Caiaphas for the whole half of the night, he was convicted of nothing; and so Caiaphas sent him on to Pilate. But leaving those things for the others to relate, he himself tells what follows. And consider how ridiculous the Jews are. Having seized the innocent man and carried weapons, they do not enter the praetorium, “so that they might not be defiled.” And yet what defilement is it, tell me, to set foot in a court where wrongdoers pay the penalty? Those who tithe mint and dill did not think they were defiled by murdering unjustly, but thought they defiled themselves by even setting foot in a court. And why did they not kill him themselves, but brought him to Pilate? Chiefly because the greater part of their rule and authority had by then been cut away, their affairs lying under the Romans. And besides, they were afraid of being accused by him and paying the penalty afterward. And what is “that they might eat the Passover”? And yet he himself had kept it on the first day of Unleavened Bread. Either, then, he calls the whole feast “the Passover”; or they were keeping the Passover then, while he had kept it a day earlier, reserving his own slaughter for the Preparation day, when the old Passover too took place. But they, who had carried weapons, which was not lawful, and were shedding blood, are scrupulous about the place, and bring Pilate out to themselves. “And going out he says, ‘What accusation do you bring against this man?’”

Do you see him free from their love of power and their malice? For seeing him bound and led by so many, he did not think they had an indisputable proof of a charge, but asks, saying that it was absurd for them to seize the judgment for themselves and to hand the punishment over to him without a trial. What then do they say? “If this man were not an evildoer, we would not have handed him over to you.” O the folly! Why do you not state the evildoing, but [only hint at it]? Why do you not prove the evil? Do you see how everywhere they avoid a straightforward accusation and can say nothing? That Annas asked about his teaching, and having heard, sent him to Caiaphas; and he too, having questioned him again and found nothing, sent him to Pilate. Pilate says, “What accusation do you bring against him?” And not even here do they have anything to say, but again they resort to certain conjectures. Then he himself, at a loss, says, “Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.” They then said, “It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death.” And they said this “so that the word of the Lord might be fulfilled which he spoke, signifying by what death he was going to die.” And how did “It is not lawful to put anyone to death” show this? Either the evangelist means that he was going to be slain not for them only but for the Gentiles too; or that it was not lawful for them to crucify. And if they say, “It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death,” they speak with respect to that time. For that they did put people to death, and by another manner, Stephen being stoned shows; but they desired to crucify him, so as to make a public show of the manner of his death too. Pilate, wishing to be rid of the burden, does not let the trial run long, but going in he questions Jesus, and says, “Are you the King of the Jews?” And he said, “Do you say this of yourself, or did others tell it to you about me?” Why does Christ ask this? Wishing to uncover the wicked intent of the Jews. Pilate had heard this from many; but since they had nothing to say, so that the examination might not become long, he wishes to bring into the open what was always being circulated. And since he had said to them, “Judge him according to your law,” they, wishing to show that the offense was not a Jewish one, say, “It is not lawful for us.” For he did not sin against our law, but the charge is a public one. Pilate then, perceiving this, as one who would himself be in danger, says, “Are you the King of the Jews?” So Christ does not ask out of ignorance, but wishing the Jews to be accused by Pilate himself, he says, “Did others tell it to you?” Making this clear, Pilate said, “Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?”, wishing here to clear himself. Then, since he had said, “Are you the King?”, Jesus, refuting him, says: you heard this from the Jews. Why do you not make an exact examination? They said that I am an evildoer: ask what evil I have done. But this you do not do; you simply put together charges. “Do you say this of yourself, or from elsewhere?” Then Pilate cannot at once say that he heard it, but simply follows the people, saying, “They handed you over to me.” So I must ask you what you have done. What then does Christ say? “My kingdom is not of this world.” He leads Pilate upward, since he was not very wicked, nor like them, and wishes to show that he is not a mere man, but God and the Son of God. And what does he say? “If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have fought, so that I might not be handed over to the Jews.” He dissolved what Pilate had so far feared, the suspicion of usurping power. Is his kingdom then not of this world? Certainly it is. How then does he say, “It is not”? Not that he does not rule here too, but that he has his rule from above, and it is not human, but much greater than this and more splendid. If then it is greater, how was he taken by this one? Willingly, by giving himself up. But he does not reveal this yet; but what does he say? “If I were of this world, my servants would have fought, so that I might not be handed over.” Here he shows the weakness of the kingdom among us, that it has its strength in its servants; but that above is sufficient for itself, needing no one. Taking occasion from this, the heretics say that he is foreign to the Creator. What then of when it says, “He came to his own”? What of when he says, “They are not of the world, just as I am not of this world”? In the same way he says that his kingdom is not from here, not depriving the world of his providence and oversight, but showing, as I said, that it is not human or perishable. What then does Pilate say? “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am also a king. For this I have been born.” If then he was born a king, he was also born with all the rest, and has nothing that he received later. So when you hear, “As the Father has life in himself, so he has given to the Son also to have life,” think of nothing else than the begetting; and likewise with the rest. “And for this I came, to bear witness to the truth”; that is, to say this very thing, and teach and persuade all.

But you, O man, hearing these things and seeing your Master bound and led about, consider present things as nothing. For how is it not absurd that Christ endured so much for you, while you often cannot bear even words? He is spat upon, while you adorn yourself with garments and rings, and if you do not obtain praise from everyone, you think life not worth living. He is reviled, he bears mockery and ridiculous blows on the cheek; while you wish to be honored everywhere, and do not bear the reproach of Christ. Do you not hear Paul saying, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ”? When then someone makes fun of you, remember your Master, that they worshiped him in mockery, and tore him apart with words and deeds, and showed much irony; and he not only did not retaliate, but repaid them with the opposite, with meekness and gentleness. Him let us too imitate; for so we shall be able to be free of all insult. For it is not the one who insults, but the one who is small-souled and pained by insults, who makes the insults [what they are], and makes them bite. For if you are not pained, you have not been insulted. For suffering harm depends not on those who do it but on those who undergo it. For why are you pained at all? If he insulted you unjustly, then you ought least of all to be indignant, but to pity him; and if justly, much more ought you to keep quiet. For as, if someone called you rich when you were poor, the praise of what was said is nothing to you, but the commendation is rather mockery, so if someone in insulting you says what is not so, again the reproach is nothing to you. But if your conscience lays hold of what was said, do not [be pained, but amend] … And I say these things about real insults. For if he reproaches you with poverty and low birth, again it is ridiculous. For these things are a reproach not to the one who hears them but to the one who says them, as one who does not know how to practice philosophy. But when these things are said, someone says, before many who do not know the truth, the wound becomes unbearable. This is most bearable of all, when you have a theater of witnesses present who praise you, approve you, and mock and ridicule him. For not the one who retaliates, but the one who says nothing, is admired among those who have sense. And if none of those present has sense, then most of all laugh at him, and take your delight in the theater of heaven. For there all will praise you and applaud and approve you. And one angel is enough instead of the whole world. And why do I speak of the angels, when the Master himself will proclaim you? Let us train ourselves with these thoughts. For it is no defect to [be silent when insulted]. For if it were a defect to bear in silence what is said, Christ would not have said, “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.” If then he says what is not so, let us pity him for this reason too, that he draws on himself the punishment and penalty of accusers, and has become unworthy even to read the Scriptures. For to the sinner God says, “Why do you declare my statutes, and take my covenant in your mouth? You sit and speak against your brother.” And if he says what is true, even so he is pitiable. For the Pharisee too spoke what was true; but he did the hearer no harm, and even helped him, while he deprived himself of countless good things, suffering shipwreck through this accusation. So on both counts it is he who is wronged, not you. But you, if you are sober, will gain double: you will appease God by your silence and grow the more in moderation, and you will take occasion from what was said to correct what you have done, and to look down on human glory. For our pain came from this, that many gape after human opinion. So, if we wish to practice philosophy, we shall know well that human things are nothing. Let us learn, then, and reckoning up our own defects, let us accomplish their correction over time, resolving to set right this one in the present month, another in the next, and yet another in the month after that. And so, ascending as by steps, let us reach heaven by Jacob's ladder. For that ladder too seems to me to hint at this by that vision: the gradual ascent through virtue, by which it is possible to go up from earth to heaven, not using steps of sense, but by advance and correction of character. Let us then lay hold of [this ladder, so that, attaining] the heavens, we may enjoy all the good things there, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.