Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 58.1–58.5

“And while they were staying in Galilee, Jesus said to them, ‘The Son of Man is about to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise.’ And they were greatly grieved.” For so that they might not say, “Why do we stay here continually?”, he speaks to them again about the passion; and hearing this, they did not even wish to see Jerusalem. See, at any rate, how, though Peter had been rebuked, and Moses and Elijah had spoken with him about it and called the thing glory, and the Father had sent forth a voice from above, and so many signs had happened, and the resurrection was at the doors (for he did not say he would remain long in death, but that he would rise on the third day), not even so did they bear it, but were grieved; and not simply, but greatly. This happened because they did not yet know the force of what was said; which Mark and Luke hinted at when they said, the one, that “they did not understand the saying and were afraid to ask him”; the other, that “it was veiled from them, so that they should not perceive it, and they were afraid to ask him about the saying.” And yet, if they did not understand, how were they grieved? Because they were not ignorant of everything; but that he would die they knew, hearing it continually; but what this death was, and that it would quickly be dissolved and would work countless good things, this they did not yet know clearly, nor what this resurrection was, but were ignorant of it; that is why they grieved; for they clung very much to their teacher. “And when they came to Capernaum, those who collected the double drachma came to Peter and said, ‘Does your teacher not pay the double drachma?’” And what is this double drachma? When God killed the firstborn of the Egyptians, he then took the tribe of Levi in their place. Then, since the number of the tribe was less than the firstborn among the Jews, he commanded a shekel to be paid in place of those lacking from the number; and besides, from that time a custom prevailed that the firstborn should pay this tax. Since, then, Christ was a firstborn, and Peter seemed to be first among the disciples, they come to him. For, as it seems to me, they demanded it city by city; that is why they came to him in his home country, since Capernaum was thought to be his home country. And they did not dare to come to him, but to Peter; and not even to him with much vehemence, but rather gently. They spoke not accusing but asking: “Does your teacher not pay the double drachma?” For they did not yet have the fitting opinion of him, but were disposed toward him as toward a man; yet they paid him a certain respect and honor because of the signs that had gone before. What then does Peter say? “Yes,” he says. And to them he said that he pays; but to him he did not say it, perhaps blushing to speak to him about these things. That is why the gentle one, who knows all things clearly, anticipates him and says, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do the kings of the earth take toll or tribute? From their sons, or from strangers?” And when he said, “From strangers,” he said, “Then the sons are free.” For so that Peter might not think he says this because he had heard it from them, he anticipates him, both showing this very thing and giving him boldness, since he was hesitant to speak first about these things. What he says is something like this: “I am free from paying tribute. For if the kings of the earth do not take it from their sons but from their subjects, much more must I be exempt from this demand, being the son not of an earthly king but of the King of the heavens, and myself a king.” Do you see how he distinguished the sons and those who are not sons? But if he were not a son, he brought in the example of the kings in vain. “Yes,” someone says, “a son, but not a genuine one.” Then not a son; and if not a son, not genuine either, not his own, but a stranger. But if a stranger, the example has no force of its own. For he speaks not simply of sons, but of genuine and own sons, who share the kingdom with those who begot them. That is why, by way of contrast, he set down the strangers, calling strangers those not born of them, and their own those whom they had begotten of themselves. But consider this too, how he confirms from this also the knowledge revealed to Peter. And not even here did he stop, but by his condescension too he shows this same thing, which was a mark of great wisdom. For having said this, he says, “But so that we may not offend them, go, cast a hook into the sea, and take the first fish that comes up, and you will find in it a stater; take that and give it to them for me and for you.” See how he neither refuses the tax nor simply commands it to be paid, but having first shown that he is not liable, then he gives it: the one so that those men might not be offended, the other so that these might not. For he does not give it as owing it, but as setting right their weakness.

Elsewhere, however, he disregards the offense, when he was speaking about foods, teaching us to know the times at which we must take thought for those who are offended, and those at which we must disregard them. And by the very manner of the giving he shows himself again. For why does he not command him to give from what was stored up? So that, as I said, in this too he might show that he is God of all, and that he rules the sea as well. For he had shown it already too, by rebuking it and by commanding this same Peter to walk on the waves; and he shows the same thing now too, in another way, but in this also producing great amazement. For it was no small thing to foretell from those depths that the first fish to come up would be the one paying the tax, and, casting his command like a net into that abyss, to bring up the one carrying the stater; but it belonged to a divine and unspeakable power to make even the sea bring gifts in this way, and to show its subjection on every side: both when, raging, it fell silent, and when, savage as it was, it received its fellow servant, and now again, when it settles accounts on his behalf with those who demand payment. “And give it to them,” he says, “for me and for you.” Do you see the surpassing honor? See also the wisdom of Peter’s mind. For Mark, his disciple, does not appear to have written this chapter, because it showed the great honor paid to him; but the denial he too wrote, while the things that made him illustrious he passed over in silence, perhaps because his teacher begged him not to speak great things about him. And he said, “for me and for you,” since he too was a firstborn. And as you were amazed at Christ’s power, so admire also the disciple’s faith, that he obeyed in so impossible a matter. For it was utterly impossible by nature. That is why, rewarding his faith, he joined him to himself in the payment of the tax. “At that hour the disciples came to Jesus, saying, ‘Who then is greater in the kingdom of the heavens?’” The disciples felt something human; that is why the evangelist also marks it, saying, “At that hour,” when he had preferred him above all. For of James and John too, one was a firstborn, but he did nothing of the kind for them. Then, being ashamed to confess the feeling they had, they do not say openly, “Why have you preferred Peter to us?” and, “Is he greater than we?” for they were ashamed; but they ask indefinitely, “Who then is greater?” For when they saw the three preferred, they felt nothing of the kind; but when the honor had come round to the one, then they were pained. And not this only, but gathering together many other things too, they kindled the feeling. For he had said to him, “To you I will give the keys,” and, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah,” and here, “Give it to them for me and for you”; and seeing also his great boldness in general, they were irritated. And if Mark says that they did not ask but reasoned among themselves, this is not contrary to that. For it is likely that they did both this and that, and that they felt this before on another occasion, once and twice, but then both spoke it out and reasoned among themselves. But do not look only at the fault; consider this too: first, that they seek none of the things here; then, that afterward they laid aside even this feeling and yield the first place to one another. But we cannot reach even their shortcomings, nor do we seek who is greater in the kingdom of the heavens, but who is greater in the kingdom of the earth, who is wealthier, who more powerful. What then does Christ do? He uncovers their conscience, and answers the feeling, not simply the words. “For having called a child,” it says, “he said, ‘Unless you turn and become like this child, you will not enter the kingdom of the heavens.’” “For you,” he says, “inquire who is greater and quarrel about first places; but I say that the one who has not become lower than all is not worthy even of entering there.” And well does he both bring in the example, and not only bring it in, but also set the child in the midst, shaming them by the very sight and persuading them to be humble and unaffected like this. For the child is pure of envy and vainglory and love of first places, and possesses the greatest virtue, simplicity and what is unaffected and humble. So there is need not of courage only, nor of prudence, but of this virtue too, humility I mean, and simplicity. For even in the greatest matters our salvation limps if these are not present with us. The child, whether insulted or beaten, honored or glorified, is neither vexed nor envious at the one, nor lifted up by the other.

Do you see how he again calls us to natural excellences, showing that these can be achieved by choice, and stops the wicked madness of the Manichaeans? For if nature is evil, why does he draw the examples of wisdom from it? And he seems to me to have set in the midst a child who was very much a child, free of all these passions. For such a child is free of arrogance, and love of glory, and envy, and contentiousness, and all such passions; and having many virtues, simplicity, humility, freedom from meddling, it is lifted up by none of them; which is a twofold wisdom, to possess these things and not to be puffed up by them. That is why he brought it forward and set it in the midst; and he did not close his word there, but carries this exhortation further, saying, “And whoever receives one such child in my name receives me.” “For not only,” he says, “if you yourselves become such will you receive a great reward; but also if you honor others like this for my sake, I appoint the kingdom as your recompense for the honor shown them.” Or rather he sets down what is much greater, saying, “receives me.” “So greatly desired by me is what is humble and unaffected.” For by “child” here he means people who are simple and humble in this way, and cast aside by the many and despised. Then, making his word more acceptable still, he commends it not from the honor only but also from the punishment, adding and saying, “And whoever causes one of these little ones to stumble, it is better for him that a millstone turned by an ass be hung around his neck and that he be drowned in the depth of the sea.” “For as those who honor these for my sake have heaven,” he says, “or rather an honor greater than the kingdom itself, so those who dishonor them (for this is what causing them to stumble means) will pay the utmost penalty.” And if he calls insult “stumbling,” do not wonder; for many of the small-souled have been made to stumble in no ordinary way by being overlooked and insulted. Heightening, then, and increasing the charge, he sets down the harm that comes from it. And he no longer shows the punishment from the same things, but displays its unbearableness from things familiar to us. For when he wishes especially to strike the coarser sort, he brings sensible examples. That is why here too, wishing to show that they will undergo a great punishment, and to strike at the arrogance of those who spurn them, he brought into the midst a sensible punishment, that of the millstone and the drowning. And yet it would have followed from the former to say, “He who does not receive one of these little ones does not receive me,” which was more bitter than any punishment; but since for the very insensible and coarse this, though fearful, did not strike home so well, he sets down a millstone and drowning. And he did not say, “A millstone will be hung around his neck,” but, “It is better for him to undergo this,” showing that another evil harder than this awaits him; and if this is unbearable, much more that. Do you see how he made the threat fearful from both sides, making it plainer by comparison with a familiar example, and by the excess beyond it making one imagine it much greater than what is seen? Do you see how he tore up the mind of arrogance by the roots? How he healed the sore of vainglory? How he taught us nowhere to love first places? How he persuaded those who desire first places to pursue everywhere the last rank? For nothing is worse than arrogance. It drives men even out of their natural wits, and brings on them the reputation of fools, or rather makes them exceedingly foolish. For as, if someone three cubits tall forced himself to be higher than the mountains, or even thought so, and stretched himself up as though he overtopped their summits, we shall seek no other proof of his folly; so too when you see a man who is arrogant and thinks himself better than all, and considers it an insult to live with the many, do not seek any further proof to see his madness. For he is much more ridiculous than those who are fools by nature, inasmuch as he makes this disease willingly. And not in this only is he wretched, but also because he falls insensibly into the very pit of wickedness. For when will such a man recognize sin as he ought? When will he perceive that he does wrong? For the devil takes him like a wicked slave and a captive and goes off, and leads and carries him about, slapping him on every side and surrounding him with countless insults. For he brings them then to such folly as to persuade them to be proud even over their children and wives, and over their own ancestors. And others, on the contrary, he makes puffed up by the obscurity of their ancestors; than which what could be more senseless, when from opposite causes they swell alike, the one because they had humble fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers, the others because they had illustrious and famous ones? How then could one humble the swelling of each? To those, by saying: Go further back than your grandfathers and great-grandfathers, and you will perhaps find many cooks and donkey drivers and hucksters; and to these, who are puffed up by the humbleness of their ancestors, the opposite again: that you too, going further back than your ancestors, will see many far more illustrious than you.

For that nature runs this course, come, let me show you from the Scriptures too. Solomon was the son of a king, and of an illustrious king; but his father was of humble and obscure people, and his grandfather on the mother’s side likewise; for he would not have given his daughter to a common soldier. And if you go further back again from these humble people, you will see the family more illustrious and more royal. So too with Saul; so with many others one may find this happening. Let us not, then, be proud from this source. For what is lineage? Tell me. Nothing but a mere name, empty of reality; and this you will know on that day. But since that day is not yet present, come, let us persuade you from present things too that there is no superiority from this. For if war overtakes us, or famine, or anything else, all these puffings-up of noble birth are exposed; if sickness comes, or plague, it does not know how to distinguish the rich man from the poor, the famous from the obscure, the nobly born from the one who is not; nor does death, nor the other changes of fortune; but all things rise up against all alike, and, if one must say something surprising, against the rich more. For the less practiced they are in these things, the more they are destroyed when caught by them. And fear too is greater among the rich. For these above all tremble at rulers, and at the people no less than at the rulers, but even much more; many such houses, at any rate, both the anger of the people and the threat of rulers have overturned alike. But the poor man is free of both these waves. So, letting this nobility go, if you wish to show me that you are noble, show me the freedom of your soul, such as that blessed man had, and that though he was poor, who said to Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have the wife of your brother Philip”; such as was possessed by the one who was such before him and will be such after him, who said to Ahab, “It is not I who trouble Israel, but you and your father’s house”; such as the prophets had, such as all the apostles. But the souls of those who are slaves to wealth are not such; but like those who are under countless tutors and executioners, so they do not even dare to raise their eyes and speak boldly for virtue. For love of money and of glory and of other things, a fearful thing to look upon, makes them servile and flatterers. For nothing so destroys freedom as being entangled in the affairs of this life and clothed with what seems splendid. For such a man has not one master, nor two or three, but countless. And if you wish to count them too, let us bring forward one of those who are esteemed in the palace, and let him have very much money, and great power, and an outstanding country, and illustrious ancestry, and let him be looked up to by all. Let us see, then, whether this man is not the most servile of all; and let us set against him not simply a slave, but a slave of a slave; for many servants too have slaves. This slave of a slave, then, has one master. What then, if he is not free? Still he has one, and looks only to what pleases that one. For even if his master’s master seems to rule him, yet for the time he obeys one alone; and if things are well between him and that one, he will pass his whole life in security. But this man has not one or two only, but many and harsher masters. And first he is anxious about the ruler himself. … And it is not the same to have a cheap master and a king whose ears are filled by many, now becoming theirs, now those others’. This man, even if he is conscious of nothing against himself, suspects all: those who serve with him, those ranked under him, his friends, and his enemies. “But this one too,” someone says, “fears his master.” But how is it the same to have one or many who frighten one? Or rather, if one examined it closely, he will not find even one. How and in what way? That man has no one who wishes to cast him out of this servitude and bring himself in; hence he has no one plotting against him in these things; but these have no other zeal than to shake the one who is more esteemed and more loved by the ruler. That is why he must flatter all, the greater, his equals, his friends. For where there is envy and love of glory, sincere friendship has no strength. For as craftsmen of the same trade cannot love one another exactly and genuinely, so neither can those of equal rank who love the same things in the affairs of this life. Hence there is much war within too. Do you see a swarm of masters, and of harsh masters? Do you want me to show you another, harsher than this? All those after him hasten to get before him; those before him, to prevent him from coming near and passing them.

But O the wonder! I promised to show masters, but our discourse, advancing and contending, has done more than the promise, showing enemies instead of masters, or rather the same people both enemies and masters. For they are courted as masters, but they are fearful as enemies, and plot as foes. When, then, one has the same people as lords and as foes, what could be worse than this misfortune? The slave, even if he is commanded, yet enjoys care and goodwill from those who command him; but these are both commanded and warred against, and stand against one another; and this is so much worse than those in battles, inasmuch as they stab secretly, and under the mask of friends do the work of enemies, and often win esteem from the misfortune of others. But our affairs are not such; but if one fares badly, many grieve with him; if he is esteemed, many rejoice with him. Does not the apostle say this? “For whether one member suffers,” he says, “all the members suffer with it; or one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.” And at one time he who gave this exhortation said, “For what is my hope or joy? Is it not even you?”; at another, “For now we live, if you stand fast in the Lord”; at another, “Out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you”; and, “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?” Why, then, do we still endure the surge, and the waves outside, and do not run to this calm harbor, and, leaving the names of good things, walk toward the realities themselves? For glory and power and wealth and esteem and all such things are names among those people, but among us realities; just as the painful things, death and dishonor and poverty and all such, are names among us, but realities among them. And if you wish, let us bring first into the midst glory, which among them is lovely and longed for by all. And I do not say that it is short-lived, nor that it is quickly quenched; but show it to me when it is in flower. Do not take away the harlot’s paints and pencillings, but bring her into the midst adorned and show her to us, so that then I may expose her ugliness. You will surely mention the pomp, and the throng of rod-bearers, and the herald’s voice, and the obedience of the peoples, and the silence of the many, and the striking of all who meet him, and his being looked at by all. Are not these the splendid things? Come, then, let us examine whether these are not superfluous and a useless opinion only. For in what does that man become better from these, according to the body or the soul? For this is what a man is. Will he be taller from this, or stronger, or healthier, or swifter, or will he acquire sharper and clearer senses? But no one could say this. Let us go, then, to the soul, in case we find there some gain added from this. What then? Will such a man be more self-controlled, gentler, more understanding from this attention? Not at all, but quite the opposite. For what happens with the body does not happen here too. For there the body gains nothing toward its own excellence; but here this is not the only dreadful thing, that it reaps nothing good, but that the soul even receives much wickedness from it. For it is carried off by it into arrogance and vainglory and folly and anger and countless such defects. “But he rejoices,” someone says, “and exults in these things, and is made bright.” You have told me the summit of the evils and the incurability of the disease. For he who rejoices in these things would not easily wish to be freed even from the cause of the evils, but has walled off for himself the road to healing through the pleasure. So this is the most dreadful thing, that he is not even pained, but even rejoices, while his diseases increase. For rejoicing is not good everywhere; since thieves too rejoice in stealing, and the adulterer in corrupting his neighbor’s marriage, and the covetous man in robbing, and the murderer in killing. Let us not, then, look at whether he rejoices, but at whether it is over something useful; and let us consider whether we shall not find his joy to be such as that of the adulterer and the thief. For why, tell me, does he rejoice? Because of the glory from the many, and because he can be puffed up and looked at? And what could be more wicked than this desire and than this absurd love? And if it is not wicked, stop mocking the vainglorious and soaking them with countless jibes; stop cursing the arrogant and the haughty. But you would not endure to. So they themselves too deserve countless accusations, even if they have countless rod-bearers. And I have said these things about the more tolerable rulers; since the majority we shall find sinning more than robbers and murderers and adulterers and grave-robbers, from not using their office well. For they steal more shamelessly than those, and slaughter more recklessly, and are licentious much more lawlessly, and they dig through not one wall, but countless estates and houses, having great ease from their authority. And they serve a most grievous slavery, bowing to their passions and trembling at all who are privy to their deeds. For he alone is free, and he alone a ruler, and more royal than kings, who is freed from the passions. Knowing these things, then, let us pursue true freedom, and free ourselves from the wicked slavery; and let us count blessed neither the swelling of office nor the tyranny of wealth nor anything else of the kind, but virtue alone. For so we shall both enjoy the security here and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, to the ages of ages. Amen.