Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 9.1–9.6

“Then Herod, seeing that he had been mocked by the magi, was exceedingly angry.” And yet he ought not to have been angry, but to have feared and drawn back, and seen that he was attempting impossibilities. But he is not restrained. For when the soul is ungrateful and incurable, it yields to none of the remedies given by God. See, at any rate, how this man too vies with his former deeds, joining murders to murder, and rushing everywhere over the precipice. For as if driven wild by some demon of this anger and envy, he takes account of nothing, but rages even against nature itself; and the anger he had against the magi who mocked him he lets loose against the children who had done no wrong, daring in Palestine then a drama akin to what happened in Egypt. “For sending,” it says, “he killed all the children in Bethlehem and in all its borders, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had learned exactly from the magi.”

Here attend to me carefully. For many talk much nonsense about these children, charging injustice in what happened; and some raise the difficulty about them more reasonably, others more boldly and madly. So that we may free the latter from their madness and the former from their difficulty, bear with us a little while we discuss this subject. For if they charge this, that the children were allowed to be killed, they will charge also the slaughter of the soldiers who guarded Peter. For as here, when the child fled, other children are slaughtered in place of the one sought, so then too, when the angel had freed Peter from the prison and the chains, someone of the same name and character as this tyrant, having sought him and not found him, killed the soldiers who guarded him in his place. “And what of it?” someone says. “This is not a solution, but an addition to the question.” I know it too, and that is why I bring all such things into the midst, so as to bring one solution to all. What then is their solution? And what plausible account could we give? That it was not Christ who was the cause of their slaughter, but the cruelty of the king; as neither was Peter the cause for those men, but the folly of Herod. For if he had seen a wall dug through or doors broken down, he might perhaps have been able to charge the guards with carelessness; but as it was, when the guards remained in their posts, the doors were shut, and the chains were attached to the hands of the guards (for they were bound to him), he could have reasoned from these things, had he judged the events rightly, that what happened was not the work of human power nor of wrongdoing, but of some divine and wonder-working power, and could have worshiped the one who did these things instead of making war on the guards. For God did all he did in such a way as not only not to betray the guards, but also to lead their king by the hand to the truth. And if he proved ungrateful, what has the disorder of the patient to do with the wise physician who does everything for his benefit? The same can be said here too. Why were you angry, Herod, at being mocked by the magi? Did you not know that the birth was divine? Did you not call the chief priests? Did you not gather the scribes? Did they not, when called, bring the prophet with them into your court, foretelling these things long ago? Did you not see the old agreeing with the new? Did you not hear that a star too served these things? Did you not respect the zeal of the barbarians? Did you not marvel at their boldness? Did you not shudder at the truth of the prophet? Did you not understand the last things from the first? Why did you not reason with yourself from all these things that what happened was not the deceit of the magi, but the work of a divine power arranging everything as it should be? And even if you were deceived by the magi, what had that to do with the children who had done no wrong?

“Yes,” someone says, “you have rightly deprived Herod of defense and shown him a murderer; but you have not yet resolved the question of the injustice of what happened. For even if he acted unjustly, why did God allow it?” What then shall we say to this? What I never cease saying always, in church, in the marketplace, and everywhere; and I wish you to keep it carefully; for it is a rule fitting every such difficulty for us. What then is the rule, and what is the saying? That those who do wrong are many, but the one wronged is no one. And so that the riddle may not trouble you longer, I bring the solution quickly too. For whatever we suffer unjustly from anyone, God reckons that injustice to us either for the remission of sins or for the recompense of rewards. And so that what is said may become clearer, let us bring the discourse to an example. Let us suppose a servant who owes his master much money; then that this servant is abused by unjust men and robbed of some of his goods. If, then, the master, who could have prevented the robber and the grasping man, does not restore that money, but reckons what was taken against what the slave owes him, has the servant been wronged? Not at all. And what if he gives back even more? Has he not gained even more? It is clear to everyone. Let us reckon this, then, in what we suffer too. For that for whatever we suffer badly we either have our sins remitted or receive brighter crowns, if we do not have so many sins, hear Paul saying of the man who had committed sexual immorality: “Deliver such a one to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that the spirit may be saved.” “And what of this?” someone says. “For the discussion was about those wronged by others, not about those corrected by their teachers.” Above all there is no difference; for the question was whether suffering badly is not an injury to the one who suffers. But so as to bring the discourse closer to the question, remember David, who, seeing Shimei then pressing on him and trampling on his misfortune and washing him with countless reproaches, when his generals wished to kill him, prevented them, saying: “Let him curse, so that the Lord may see my humiliation and repay me good for this cursing on this day.” And in the psalms he sang: “See my enemies, how they have multiplied, and hated me with unjust hatred; and forgive all my sins.” And Lazarus too enjoyed refreshment for this reason, because he suffered countless evils in this life. Those who are wronged, then, are not wronged, if they bear nobly all that they suffer; but they gain even more, whether they are struck by God or scourged by the devil.

“And what sin did the children have,” someone says, “that they should have it remitted? For one might reasonably say this of those who have come to maturity and offended much; but those who endured so untimely a death, what sins did they put off through their sufferings?” Did you not hear me say that even if there are no sins, there is a recompense of rewards there for those who suffer badly here? What harm, then, did the children suffer, slain on such a ground, and quickly carried away to the harbor without waves? “Because,” someone says, “they would often have achieved many great things, had they lived.” But for this reason no small reward is laid up for them, that they ended their life on such a ground. Otherwise he would not have allowed them to be snatched away beforehand, if the children were going to become great men. For if he bears with such great patience those who are going to live continually in wickedness, much more would he not have allowed these to be carried off so, had he foreknown that they would accomplish great things. These are the reasons we can give; not all of them, though; there are others too, more secret than these, which the one who arranges these things knows exactly. Leaving to him, then, the more exact understanding of this, let us keep to what follows, and be trained by the misfortunes of others to bear everything nobly. For no small tragedy seized Bethlehem then, when the children were snatched from their mothers' breasts and led to this unjust slaughter. And if you are still faint-hearted and too weak for the philosophy needed here, learn the end of the one who dared these things, and breathe again a little. For very quickly the penalty for these things overtook him, and he paid the fitting punishment for this pollution, ending his life by a cruel death, more pitiable than what he had dared now, and suffering countless other evils; which you will know if you go through Josephus's account of them; which, so as not to make the discourse long and break its continuity, we have not thought it necessary to insert in the present.

“Then was fulfilled what was spoken through Jeremiah the prophet, saying: A voice was heard in Ramah, Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be comforted, because they are not.” For since he had filled the hearer with horror by telling these things, the violent, unjust, most cruel, lawless slaughter, he comforts him again, saying that these things happened not because God was unable to prevent them, nor because he did not know, but when the prophet had even foreknown and proclaimed them. Do not, then, be troubled nor cast down, looking to his unspeakable providence, which one can see above all both through what he works and through what he allows; which he hinted at elsewhere too, speaking to the disciples. For since he was proclaiming to them beforehand the courts, the arrests, the wars of the world, and the truceless battle, upholding their soul and comforting them he says: “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father who is in heaven.” He said this, showing that nothing happens without his knowledge, but while he knows all things, he does not work all things. Do not, then, he says, be disturbed or troubled. For he who knows what you suffer and is able to prevent it clearly does not prevent it because he provides for you and cares for you. This we must consider in our own temptations too, and we shall receive sufficient comfort from it. “And what has Rachel,” someone might perhaps say, “to do with Bethlehem? For it says, ‘Rachel weeping for her children’; and what has Ramah to do with Rachel?” Rachel was the mother of Benjamin, and when she died they buried her in the racecourse near this place. Since, then, the tomb was near, and the portion was her child Benjamin's (for Ramah belonged to the tribe of Benjamin), from the head of the tribe and from the place of burial he rightly calls the slaughtered children hers. Then, showing that the wound that came was incurable and cruel, he says: “She would not be comforted, because they are not.” Again we are taught from this what I said before, never to be troubled when what happens is contrary to God's promise. See, at any rate, when he had come for the salvation of the people, or rather for the salvation of the world, what the beginnings were. His mother is in flight, his homeland falls into incurable calamities, a murder most bitter of all murders is dared, and there is lamentation and much wailing and groans everywhere. But do not be troubled; for he is always accustomed to fulfill his dispensations through their opposites, providing us with the greatest proof of his power from this. So he led his own disciples too and prepared them to accomplish everything, arranging opposite things through their opposites, so that the wonder might become greater. At any rate they too, scourged and driven out and suffering countless terrors, so prevailed over those who scourged and drove them out.

“But when Herod died, behold, an angel of the Lord appears in a dream to Joseph, saying: Rise, take the child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel.” He no longer says “flee,” but “go.” Do you see again

the respite after the temptation, and then again danger after the respite? For he was released from exile and returned to his own country, and saw the murderer of the children slain; but setting foot in his own land, he again finds remnants of the former dangers: the tyrant's son living and reigning. And how did Archelaus reign over Judea, when Pontius Pilate was governor? Herod's death had just happened, and the kingdom had not yet been divided into many parts; but as he had just died, his son held the rule for the time “in place of his father Herod”; for his brother too had this name; that is why the evangelist added, “in place of his father Herod.” “But if he feared to go into Judea because of Archelaus,” someone says, “he should have feared Galilee too because of Herod.” But by changing the place, the matter was thereafter obscured; for the whole attack had been against Bethlehem and its borders. When the slaughter had taken place, then, the young Archelaus thought that the whole business was finished, and that the one sought had been killed among the many. Besides, seeing his father end his life in that way, he became more cautious about going further and vying in lawlessness. Joseph comes, then, to Nazareth, both fleeing the danger and fond of his home country. So that he might take more courage, he receives a divine instruction from the angel about this too. And yet Luke does not say that he went there by divine instruction, but that when they had fulfilled the purification, they returned to Nazareth. What then is to be said? That Luke says this narrating the time before the going down into Egypt. For he would not have taken them down there before the purification, so that nothing unlawful might happen; but he waited for the purification and went to Nazareth, and then went down into Egypt. Then, after the return, the angel bids them go to Nazareth. Before this they had not been instructed to go there, but did it of their own accord, being fond of their home country. For since they had gone up for nothing other than the census, and had no place to stay, when they had fulfilled what they went up for, they went down to Nazareth. That is why the angel too, giving them rest at last, restores them to their home; and not even this idly, but this too with prophecy: “that it might be fulfilled,” he says, “what was spoken by the prophets, that he shall be called a Nazarene.”

“And which prophet said this?” Do not be overcurious nor busy yourself. For many of the prophetic books have disappeared; and one can see this from the history of the Chronicles. For being careless and continually falling into ungodliness, they let some be lost, and others they themselves burned and cut up. The one Jeremiah relates, the other the compiler of the fourth book of Kingdoms, saying that after a long time Deuteronomy was barely found, buried somewhere and lost. And if, when there was no barbarian, they so betrayed the books, much more when the barbarians came. For that the prophets foretold it, the apostles too often call him a Nazarene. “Did this, then, obscure the prophecy about Bethlehem?” someone says. Not at all; rather this very thing above all stirred them and roused them to search out what was said about him. So, at any rate, Nathanael too comes to the inquiry about him, saying, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” For the place was mean; or rather not the place only, but the whole region of Galilee. That is why the Pharisees said, “Search and see, for no prophet has arisen out of Galilee.” Yet he is not ashamed to be named even from there, showing that he needs nothing human; and he chooses his disciples from Galilee, everywhere cutting off the excuses of those who wish to be careless, and showing that we need nothing outward if we practice virtue. That is why he does not even choose a house; “for the Son of Man,” he says, “has nowhere to lay his head”; and when Herod plots he flees, and born in a manger he is laid there, and he stays in an inn, and takes a poor mother; teaching us to think nothing of this kind shameful, trampling from the start on human pride, and bidding us hold to virtue alone.

For why are you proud of your country, he says, when I bid you be a stranger to the whole world, when you can become such that the whole world is not worthy of you? For these things are so contemptible that not even among the philosophers of the Greeks are they thought worthy of any account, but are called external goods and hold the last place. “And yet Paul admits it,” someone says, speaking thus: “But as regards election, they are beloved for the sake of the fathers.” But tell me when, and about whom, and to whom he was speaking. For it was to those from the Gentiles who were greatly puffed up over their faith and rose up against the Jews, and so broke them off still more; humbling the pride of the former and drawing the latter on, and rousing them to the same zeal. For when he speaks of those noble and great men, hear how he speaks: “For those who say such things make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. And if they had been thinking of that from which they had come out, they would have had opportunity to return; but as it is they desire a better.” And again: “These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them from afar and greeted them.” And John said to those who came to him, “Do not presume to say, We have Abraham as our father.” And Paul again: “For not all who are from Israel are Israel, nor are the children of the flesh children of God.” For what did the sons of Samuel gain, tell me, from their father's nobility, when they did not become heirs of their father's virtue? And what did the sons of Moses gain, not emulating his strictness? Therefore they did not succeed to his office either; but while they inscribed him as their father, the office passed to another, the one who became his son by virtue. And what harm did Timothy suffer, having a Greek father? And what again did Noah's son gain from his father's virtue, becoming a slave instead of free? Do you see how a father's nobility is not enough to protect the children? For wickedness of choice overcame the laws of nature, and cast him out not only of the nobility of his relation to his father but also of freedom. And what of Esau, was he not Isaac's son, and did he not have his father as his protector? For his father was eager and desired that he share in the blessings, and he himself did all that was ordered for this. Yet since he was perverse, none of these benefited him; but though first by nature, and having his father with him doing everything for this, since he did not have God with him, he fell from everything.

And why do I speak of men? The Jews became sons of God, and gained nothing from this nobility. And if one who has become a son of God, unless he shows virtue worthy of this nobility, is even punished more, why do you bring forward to me the nobility of ancestors and grandfathers? For one would find this prevailing not only in the Old Testament but in the New as well. “For as many as received him,” it says, “to them he gave authority to become children of God.” Yet Paul said that many of these children gained nothing from the Father: “For if you are circumcised,” he says, “Christ will profit you nothing.” And if Christ profits nothing those who will not attend to themselves, how will a man protect them? Let us not, then, be proud either of noble birth or of wealth, but even despise those so disposed; nor let us be cast down by poverty; but let us seek that wealth which is in good works, and flee that poverty which sets us in wickedness, through which that rich man too was poor; that is why he did not become master even of a drop, though he made much supplication. And yet who among us could become so poor as not to be able to enjoy water to the full? Even those wasting away can enjoy a drop, and not a drop only but much greater comfort. But that rich man was poor even to this point; and what is worse, he could not find consolation for his poverty anywhere. Why then do we gape after money, when it does not bring us into heaven? For tell me, if one of the kings on earth said that it was impossible for the rich man to shine in the palace or enjoy any honor, would you not all have despised money and thrown it away? Then, if it casts us out of honor in the palaces below, it will be contemptible; but when the King of heaven every day cries aloud and says that it is hard to set foot with it on that sacred threshold, shall we not give up everything and stand away from our possessions, so as to enter the kingdom with boldness?

And what pardon do we deserve, surrounding ourselves with great zeal with what walls off the road there, and hiding them not only in chests but even in the earth, when it is possible to hand them over to the keeping of heaven? As it is, you do the same as if a farmer, taking wheat to sow a rich field, should leave the field and bury all the wheat in a pit, so that neither he himself might enjoy it, and the wheat might rot and perish. But what is their great argument when we charge them with this? “It brings no small comfort,” someone says, “to know that everything is stored safely within.” Rather, not to know that it is stored is comfort. For even if you do not fear famine, you must fear other worse things because of this storehouse: deaths, wars, plots. If famine should ever seize the city, the people again, compelled by the belly, arm their right hand against your house. Or rather, when you do this, you bring famine into the cities, and prepare for your house this pit worse than famine. For I do not know of any who have quickly died by the compulsion of famine; for it is possible to devise many things from many sources for comfort in this evil; but I can show many killed for money and wealth and such affairs, some secretly, some publicly. The roads are full of many such examples, and the courts and the marketplaces. And why do I speak of the roads and the courts and the marketplaces? You will see the sea itself filled with blood. For this tyranny did not rule the land only, but reveled into the sea too with great drunken insolence. One sails for gold, and another is slaughtered for this same thing again; and the same tyranny made one a merchant and the other a murderer. What then could be more faithless than mammon, when for its sake men travel abroad and run risks and are slaughtered? “But who will pity a snake charmer bitten by a serpent?” it says. For knowing the cruel tyranny, they ought to flee the slavery and undo the cruel love. “And how is this possible?” someone says. If you bring in another love, the love of heaven. For one who desires the kingdom will laugh at greed; one who has become a slave of Christ is not a slave of mammon, but even its master; for it is accustomed to pursue the one who flees it and to flee the one who pursues it. It does not so honor the one who pursues it as the one who despises it; it laughs at no one so much as at those who desire it; and not only laughs, but surrounds them with countless bonds.

Let us at last, then, loose these cruel chains. Why do you enslave the rational soul to irrational matter, the mother of countless evils? O what absurdity! We make war on it with words, but it makes war on us with deeds, and leads us about and carries us everywhere, dishonoring us like slaves bought with money and fit for the whip. What could be more shameful and dishonorable than this? For if we do not overcome senseless matter, how shall we overcome the bodiless powers? If we do not despise mean earth and stones thrown away, how shall we subdue the principalities and the authorities? How shall we practice chastity? For if silver shining on us amazes us, when shall we be able to pass by beauty of face? For some are so given over to this tyranny that they are affected even by the very sight of the gold, and say in jest that even the eyes are benefited by a gold coin appearing. But do not jest so, man; for nothing so injures the eyes, both those of the body and those of the soul, as the desire for these things. This cruel love, at any rate, quenched the lamps of those virgins and cast them out of the bridal chamber. This sight, which benefits the eyes, as you said, did not let the wretched Judas hear the Master's voice, but led him to the noose, made him burst asunder in the middle, and after all that sent him to hell. What then could be more lawless than this, what more dreadful? I mean not the material of money, but the untimely and mad desire for it. For it drips with human blood, and looks murder, and is harsher than any beast, tearing to pieces those who fall into it; and what is much worse, it does not let them feel these tearings. For those who suffer such things ought to stretch out their hands to those passing by and call them to their aid; but they are even grateful for these lacerations; what could be more wretched than this? Considering all these things, then, let us flee the incurable disease, heal its bites, and depart far from such ruin, so that we may both live a safe and untroubled life here and obtain the treasures to come, which may we all obtain, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.