Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 90.1–90.4

“While they were going, behold, some of the guard came into the city and reported to the chief priests all that had happened. And when they had assembled with the elders and taken counsel, they gave a large sum of money to the soldiers, saying, Say that his disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep. And if this comes to the governor’s hearing, we will persuade him and keep you free from trouble.”

It was because of these soldiers that that earthquake happened, to astonish them, and so that the testimony might come from them; which is in fact what happened. For the report, coming from the guards, was thus beyond suspicion. For of the signs, some were displayed to the whole world in common, others privately to those who were present there: to the whole world in common the darkness, privately the angel and the earthquake. When, then, they came and reported (for the truth shines out when it is proclaimed by its opponents), they gave money again, so that they might say, it says, that “his disciples came and stole him.” How did they steal him, O most foolish of all men? For because of the brightness and clearness of the truth they could not even make up a lie. Indeed what was said was utterly unconvincing, and the lie had not even a show of plausibility. For how, tell me, would the disciples have stolen him, poor and uneducated men, who did not even dare to show themselves? Was there not a seal lying on the tomb? Were there not so many guards sitting by, both soldiers and Jews? Did those men not suspect this very thing, and were they not anxious and wakeful and on their guard? And for what reason would the disciples have stolen him? To invent the doctrine of the resurrection? And how would it have occurred to them to invent such a thing, men who were content if they could live in hiding? And how would they have taken away the stone that had been secured? How would they have escaped the notice of so many? Even if they had despised death, they would not have tried to venture it idly and in vain with so many guards there. And that they were also cowardly, what happened before made plain; when, at any rate, they saw him seized, they all sprang away. If, then, at that time they did not dare even to stand their ground when they saw him alive, how would they not have feared so great a host of soldiers when he was dead? Was it a door to break open? Was it one man to elude? A great stone lay on the tomb, needing many hands.

Rightly did they say, “And the last deception will be worse than the first,” pronouncing this against themselves: that after such madness, when they ought to have repented, they even outdo their former deeds, fabricating ridiculous fictions—buying his blood while he was alive, and, when he had been crucified and had risen, again undermining with money the account of the resurrection. But consider, I pray, how they are caught everywhere by what they do. For if they had not gone to Pilate nor asked for the guard, they could have been more shameless in such things; but as it is, no longer. For they did everything as if eager to sew up their own mouths. For if the disciples could not keep awake with him, and that while being reproached by him, how would they have dared this? And why did they not steal him before this, but only when you came? For if they had wished to do it, they would have done it while the tomb was not yet guarded, on the first night, when it was both without danger and safe. For it was on the Sabbath that these men came and asked Pilate for the guard and kept watch; but on the first night none of them was present at the tomb.

And what do the cloths stuck fast to the myrrh mean? For Peter saw these lying there. For if they had wished to steal him, they would not have stolen the body naked—not only so as not to dishonor it, but so as not to delay and lose time in stripping it, and give those who wished the chance to get up and seize them. Especially since it was myrrh, a drug that sticks so to the body and was fastened to the clothes; so that it was not easy to pull the clothes off the body, and those doing it would have needed much time. So from this too the theft is unconvincing. Did they not know the fury of the Jews, and that they would let their anger loose on them? And what gain at all would they have had, if he had not risen?

Knowing all these things, then, and that they had invented the story, these men gave money and say, “You say these things, and we will persuade the governor.” For they wished the report to be published, boxing in vain against the truth; and through the very things by which they tried to overshadow it, they made it shine out, even against their will. For this too confirms the resurrection, that they themselves said, “The disciples stole him”; for this is the language of men who admit that the body was not there. When, then, they themselves admit that the body is not there, and their own watch and the seals and the disciples’ timidity show the theft to be false and unconvincing, from this too the proof of the resurrection appears beyond dispute. But nevertheless these shameless men, ready to dare anything, though so many things stopped their mouths, say, “Say it, and we will persuade him, and keep you free from trouble.” Do you see them all corrupted? Pilate, for he was persuaded; the soldiers; the Jewish people? But do not marvel if money got the better of soldiers. For if it showed such strength in the case of the disciple, much more with these. “And this story has been spread abroad,” it says, “until this day.” Do you see again the disciples’ love of truth? How they are not ashamed even to say this, that such a report prevailed against them?

“And the eleven disciples went to Galilee,” “and some worshiped, but some, when they saw him, doubted.” This seems to me to be the last appearance, the one in Galilee, when he sent them out to baptize. And if some doubted, here again admire their truthfulness, how they do not hide even their failings up to the last day. Nevertheless these too were made firm by the sight. What, then, does he say when he sees them? “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth.” Again he speaks to them in a more human way; for they had not yet received the Spirit, who was able to make them lofty. “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you,” giving them a charge about doctrines on the one hand and about commandments on the other. And of the Jews he makes no mention, nor does he bring up what had happened, nor reproach Peter for his denial, nor any of the others for their flight; but he bids them pour out into the whole world, entrusting them with a concise teaching, the one by baptism. Then, since he had laid great things on them, raising their spirits, he says, “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Do you see his authority again? Do you see how those other words too were said in condescension? And he said he would be not with them only, but also with all who believed after them. For the apostles were not going to remain until the end of the age; but he speaks to the faithful as to one body. “Do not tell me,” he says, “of the difficulty of the task; for I am with you, who make all things easy.” This he said continually to the prophets too in the Old Testament: to Jeremiah when he pleaded his youth, and to Moses and to Ezekiel when they shrank back: “I am with you.” This he says here too, to these. But consider here also the difference between them. Those, sent to one nation, often begged to be excused; these said nothing of the kind, though sent to the whole world. And he reminds them also of the consummation, so as to draw them on the more, and so that they might look not only at the present dangers but also at the endless good things to come. “For the painful things,” he says, “which you will undergo end with the present life, since this age itself will come to its consummation; but the good things which you will enjoy remain immortal,” as I have often said before. Thus, having anointed them and raised their spirits by the memory of that day too, he sent them out. For that day is longed for by those who live in good deeds, just as it is fearful to those who live in sins, as it is to the condemned.

But let us not only fear and shudder, but also change while there is time, and recover from wickedness; for we can, if we will. For if many did this before grace, much more after grace. [3] For what burdensome thing have we been commanded? To cut through mountains? Or to fly into the air? Or to cross the Tyrrhenian Sea? Not at all; but a way of life so easy that it needs no instruments, only a soul and a will. For what instruments did the apostles have, who achieved so much? Did they not go about with a single tunic and barefoot, and prevail over all? For what is difficult in the commands? Have no one as an enemy; hate no one; speak ill of no one. Rather, the opposite of these is the more difficult. “But he said,” someone says, “throw away your money.” Is this, then, the burdensome thing? In the first place, he did not command it but counseled it. Yet even if it were a command, what is heavy in not carrying burdens and untimely cares? But oh, the love of money! Everything has become money; because of this everything has been turned upside down. If someone calls another blessed, he mentions these things; if he calls him wretched, the wretchedness comes from this. And all conversations are about these things: how so-and-so is rich, how so-and-so is poor. Whether someone takes up military service or marriage or a trade or anything else, he does not lay hand to the matter before him until he sees these things flowing in to him abundantly. Then shall we not come together and take counsel how we shall drive away this disease? Shall we not be ashamed at the achievements of our fathers, the three thousand, the five thousand, who had all things in common? What is the gain of the present life, if we do not use it for trading for the life to come? How long will you not make a slave of mammon, which has made slaves of you? How long will you be slaves of money? How long will you not love freedom and tear up the bills of sale of avarice? If you become slaves of men, you do everything if someone promises you freedom; but being captives of avarice, you do not even think how to be freed from this bitter slavery. And yet the one is nothing terrible, but the other is the bitterest tyranny. Consider what a price Christ paid down for us. He poured out his own blood, he gave himself up. But you, even after all this, have fallen back; and what is harder, you even rejoice in the slavery, you take delight in the dishonor, and what should be fled has become desirable.

But since one must not only lament and accuse, but also correct, let us see how this passion and evil has become desirable to us. How, how has it become desirable? “Because,” someone says, “it puts one in glory and security.” What security? Tell me. “In being confident of not going hungry, not being cold, not being harmed, not being despised.” Then if we promise you this security, will you give up being rich? For if wealth is desirable for this reason, and if it is possible to have security without it, what further need have you of it? “And how is it possible,” someone says, “for one who is not rich to obtain these things?” How, rather, is it possible (for I will say the opposite) for one who is rich? For he must flatter many, both rulers and subjects, and be in need of countless people, and be a slave ignobly, and be afraid and tremble, and be wary of the eyes of the envious, and fear the mouths of slanderers and the desires of other lovers of money. But poverty is not like this, but the very opposite. It is a place of refuge and safety, a calm harbor, a wrestling school and training ground of self-command, an imitation of the angelic life. Hear these things, you who are poor, or rather also you who desire to be rich. It is not being poor that is terrible, but not wishing to be poor. Consider poverty nothing terrible, and it will not be terrible to you. For this fear lies not in the nature of the thing but in the judgment of soft-souled men. Or rather I am ashamed if I should have only so much to say on behalf of poverty, that it is nothing terrible; for if you practice self-command, it will be for you a fountain of countless good things. And if someone set before you rule and civic power and wealth and luxury, and then, setting poverty against them, gave you the choice to take whichever you wished, you would at once snatch at this, if you knew its beauty.

And I know that many laugh when these things are said; but we are not disturbed, and we ask you too to bear with us, and you will soon vote with us. For to me poverty seems like a modest maiden, beautiful and comely, but avarice like a woman shaped like a beast, a Scylla or a Hydra or some other such monster fashioned by the mythmakers. For do not bring forward to me those who accuse poverty, but those who shone through it. With her Elijah was nourished and was caught up in that blessed rapture; with her Elisha shone; with her John; with her all the apostles; but with that other, Ahab … were condemned. But if you will, let us not look only at those who shone in poverty, but let us examine the very beauty of this maiden. For her eye is pure and clear, having nothing turbid, as the eye of avarice has, now full of wrath, now filled with pleasure, now troubled by incontinence. The eye of poverty is not like that, but gentle, calm, looking sweetly on all, mild, kindly, hating no one, turning from no one. For where money is, there is the occasion of enmity and of countless wars. Again, the mouth of that other is full of insults, of a certain pride, of much arrogance, of cursing, of deceit; but this one’s mouth and tongue are healthy, full of continual thanksgiving, of blessing, of kindly words, affectionate and healing, of praises, of commendations. And if you would see also the proportion of her limbs, she is of fine stature, and much taller than wealth. And if many flee her, do not marvel; for the foolish flee the rest of virtue too.

“But the poor man,” someone says, “is insulted by the rich.” Again you are telling me the praise of poverty. For who, tell me, is blessed, the one who insults or the one who is insulted? Plainly the one who is insulted. So that one, avarice, bids us insult, but this one, poverty, exhorts us to bear it. “But the poor man goes hungry,” someone says. Paul too went hungry, and was in famine. “But he has no rest.” Neither did the Son of Man have anywhere to lay his head. Do you see how far the praises of poverty have gone, and where they set you? To what men they lead you up, and how they make you an imitator of the Master? If it were good to have gold, Christ would have given it to his disciples, he who gave those unspeakable good things. But as it is, not only did he not give it, but he even forbade them to have it. That is why Peter not only is not abashed at his poverty but even prides himself on it, saying, “Silver and gold I have none; but what I have, this I give you.” Which of you would not have wished to utter this saying? “All of us, very much indeed,” someone might say. Then throw away the silver, throw away the gold. “And if I throw it away,” he says, “shall I receive Peter’s power?” For what made Peter blessed, tell me? Raising the lame man? Not at all; it was not having these things that procured heaven for him. For of those who worked such wonders many fell into hell; but those who did the other obtained the kingdom. And learn this from Peter himself. For there were two things he said: “Silver and gold I have none,” and, “In the name of Jesus Christ, rise and walk.” Which, then, made him illustrious and blessed, raising the lame man or throwing away his money? And learn this from the president of the contest himself. What, then, did he say to the rich man who was seeking eternal life? He did not say, “Raise the lame,” but, “Sell your possessions and give to the poor, and come, follow me; and you will have treasure in heaven.” And Peter in turn did not say, “Behold, in your name we cast out demons,” though he did cast them out, but, “Behold, we have left everything and followed you; what then will we have?” And Christ in turn, answering him, did not say, “If anyone raises a lame man,” but, “Whoever has left houses and fields will receive a hundredfold in this age, and will inherit eternal life.” Let us too, then, emulate this, so that we may not be put to shame, but may stand with boldness before the judgment seat of Christ, so that we may draw him to be with us, as he was with the disciples. For he will be with us too, just as he was with them, if we are willing to imitate them and become emulators of their life and conduct. For it is for these things that God crowns and proclaims, not requiring you to raise a dead man or to set right a lame one. For it is not these things that make one like Peter, but throwing away what one has; for this was the apostle’s achievement. “But you cannot throw it away?” It is quite possible; but I do not compel you, if you do not wish it, nor do I force you; but this I exhort you: to spend at least a part of it on those in need, and to seek nothing beyond your need. For so we shall live a life free from trouble and safe here too, and we shall enjoy eternal life; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always and forever and ever. Amen.