Homilies of Maximus of Turin (Bruni's collection) 97.1–102.1

Divine Scripture says: "As water quenches fire, so almsgiving quenches sin." A great saying indeed, and one to be sought by all, which promises a kind of life-restoring benefit to men already almost dead and dried up by the fire of their sins: that through almsgiving, as sap into things half-dead, refreshment may be poured into what is drying up; that is, that wretched men who had withered in sins may come back to life by almsgiving; that mercy may be a spring of salvation to those for whom avarice had been the fire of death; that they may put out by giving the flames they had kindled for themselves by sinning; and that by a more profitable trade one who once gave money to commit adultery may now spend money so as to stop being an adulterer, and in a way buy innocence for himself who once had bought sin for himself. For the Lord says to his disciples: "Give alms, and behold, all things are clean for you." However polluted, then, however hemmed in by many crimes, if you give alms you have begun to be innocent; for almsgiving wipes away what avarice was polluting, and the stain you had contracted by plundering others' goods you purify by giving away your own. See, then, what the grace of mercy is, which, one and alone, is the redemption of all sins. Let us look at the interpretation of the divine saying itself, so that we may understand to what almsgiving is compared; for it says: "As water quenches fire, so almsgiving quenches sin." Water, then, is compared to mercy; but I find water from the spring of mercy; I must seek the spring of mercy. I find it plainly, the spring of which the prophet says: "For with you is the spring of life, and in your light we shall see light." He, I say, is the spring who in the Gospel, as we heard read lately, asks the Samaritan woman for water, but forgives sins; he rejects the water of the well, but grants the spring of everlasting life; for he says: "Everyone who drinks of this water will thirst again; but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never thirst." The Saviour, then, asks the woman for water and pretends to thirst, so that he may bestow eternal grace on those who thirst. For the spring could not thirst, nor could he in whom is living water draw a wave of earthly dregs. Was Christ thirsty, then? He was indeed thirsty: he thirsted not for drink but for the salvation of men; not for the water of the world but for the redemption of the human race. In a marvellous way, then, the spring of mercy sitting on the well brings forth streams in that very place, and purifies with the wave of a living current the woman who was now committing fornication with a sixth man, not a husband but an adulterer; and by a new kind of marvel the woman who had come to the well of Samaria a harlot goes back chaste from the spring of Christ, and she who had come to seek water carried back purity. At once too, as the Lord pointed them out, recognizing her sins, she confesses Christ and announces the Saviour; and leaving her water vessel, she does not carry a jar to the city but carries back grace; she seems to return empty of a burden, but she returns full of holiness. Full, I say, she returns; because she who had come as a sinner returns as a preacher; and she who had lost the vessel of the jar was bringing back the fullness of Christ, bringing no loss on her fellow citizens; for though she did not bring water to the citizens, she brought in the spring of salvation. Sanctified, then, through faith in Christ, the woman returned home. Of her, then, I think the prophet spoke: "Such is the wicked way of an adulterous woman, who when she has washed herself says she has done nothing wrong." Plainly it was said of her who, after she had been washed in the spring of the Saviour, does not remember the vices of her sins but takes up the virtue of preaching; and wiping away her stains with living water, she is not held back from proclaiming the gospel by consciousness of sin, but driven on by the warmth of faith. For she says she has done nothing wrong, as she becomes the messenger of truth; and she denies her immodesty by forgetting it, as she preaches chastity by her devotion. For this is the power of Christ the Lord: that however much a sinner, whoever has washed himself in his water, restored again as a virgin, does not remember what he did before, and by a life-restoring birth shows the innocence of infancy and does not acknowledge the crimes of youth; and he is a virgin by faith in Christ who had been an adulterer by the corruption of sin.

Your love remembers that some days ago, when we were giving you a sermon on almsgiving, we wished first of all to seek the origin of mercies; and having found the spring of these virtues, we showed that the water of Christ washed away the Samaritan woman's filth better than the water of Samaria cleansed it, and that mercy wiped away sins more cleanly than the well. Mercy plainly wipes away stains more cleanly than the well, because the well's water washes only the skin of the body, but the goodness of mercy purifies the inward parts of the soul. We showed also that that harlot of the prophet fits this woman of the Gospel, who after she washed herself with living water, taken over by forgetfulness of wickedness, rejoices in the brightness of purity. For the prophet would not speak such a sentence about a harlot of this world, whose pollution is not only not washed away by water but who even pollutes what she touches, as the Apostle says: "Whoever joins himself to a harlot is one body." But if by her touch she makes one body and pours her shame into the members of the one who clings to her, how can she purify when she pollutes? Let us inquire more carefully, then, who this harlot is, who this Samaritan woman, whose filth of adultery the spring of Christ wiped away. I think this woman is the Church gathered from the Gentiles, which, when five thousand years had passed and in the six thousandth year she lay subject to the fornications of idols, cleansed all her shame at the spring of Christ when he came, wiped away by faith in the Saviour the stains she had contracted by adulterous sacrileges, and, leaving, like an empty jar, her former ancestral course, announced the coming of the Lord to the whole world. She, I say, is that harlot who, after she is washed, says she has done nothing wrong; for after the Church was cleansed by the brightness of baptism, she does not remember the devilish impiety but rejoices in the religion of truth, and made a virgin from a harlot she does not recall her former things but glories in her integrity. The prophet, then, says: "As water quenches fire, so almsgiving quenches sin." We often see this happen, that poured water puts out the burning of flames; but on the contrary we sometimes see huge balls of fire consume streams of water and, as if receiving food from the water, grow stronger with renewed heat, so that the water seems not to have put out the burning but to have increased it. What is that water which consumes flames and is not itself consumed? It is, I think, that which, flowing from the spring of Christ in the font, is not consumed by sinners but consumes the fires of Gehenna. While it is poured in through baptism, it both lives in men and puts out the heat of Tartarus; it lives plainly in men, as the Lord says: "But the water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water leaping up," and so on. In a marvellous way, then, the water of Christ by one and the same working both gives life and quenches: it gives life to souls and puts out sins; the former it restores by the refreshment of its washing, the latter it consumes with the wave of its flood. And, which belongs to the greater grace of baptism, the mystery is celebrated among those above and Gehenna is quenched among those below: here waters flow, and there the fire cools; here a man is plunged in the font, and there he is freed from Tartarus. Nor is it any wonder if in the sacrament of baptism hell is opened, since then heaven too is unbarred; for these elements are opened so that freedom and grace may meet at the washing of Christ. For freedom is given to those who are to rise, grace to those who are to reign. The former are rescued from punishment, the latter are taken up into glory; the former, who were slaves of sin, become free for justice; the latter, who were held in the straits of the world, receive the delights of paradise. In the baptism of Christ, then, the heavens are opened, and Tartarus is opened too: there so that the Holy Spirit may come, here so that the mercy of the Saviour may draw near; life is brought down from heaven, death is destroyed from Tartarus. So, then, almsgiving quenches sins as the water of baptism quenches the fire of Gehenna: almsgiving, then, is in a way another washing of souls, so that if anyone by human frailty has perhaps sinned after baptism, there remains for him to be cleansed again by almsgiving, as the Lord says: "Give alms, and behold, all things are clean for you"; except that, saving the faith, I would say that almsgiving is more indulgent than the washing. For the washing is given once and promises pardon once; but as often as you give alms, so often do you earn pardon. These, then, are the two springs of mercies, which both give life and forgive sins: whoever keeps both will be enriched with the honour of the heavenly kingdom; and whoever, having stained the living spring, betakes himself to the streams of mercy, will himself obtain mercy.

Your holiness has noticed, brothers, in the gospel reading, how the Lord, among the other virtues to be practised, also prescribed to his disciples the laws of hospitality; for he says: "Into whatever city you enter, ask who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave," and so on. A holy and divine saying indeed, which first gave the disciples the option of choosing and then cut off fickleness altogether. For by setting a measure he provided that a holy man should be neither hasty in judging nor light in changing his host. For just as he allowed you the choice, so he also wished you to keep constancy. For how blameworthy it is that a man who announces the Gospel and teaches that one must not wander should himself begin to wander about among various people, desert the house to which he had spoken peace, and grieve the host on whom he had brought a blessing! For great is the grace of hospitality, and not to be lightly violated: it is open to all, ready for all; it receives the saints gladly and bears sinners patiently. But let us go over that holy and divine saying again; for if it pleases in the letter, perhaps it will please more in the mystery. He says, then, that when we enter a city we should ask who in it is either a worthy host or a suitable house, and stay there until the day of departure comes. This saying gives us a higher understanding; for he does not seem to me to have given orders, or to have us inquire so carefully, about a host or house of this world, but rather about the one who can keep us as guests unoffended and unharmed until the day of our departure. For we quickly hurt, quickly offend a host of this world; sometimes we displease him even after three days. A faithful house, then, and a worthy host are what we are ordered to seek. What house is more faithful than the Church? What host more worthy than the Saviour? He receives strangers as sons; she cherishes those received as infants. He is eager, as we have experienced, to wash the feet of his guests; she hastens to prepare the table; for those whom the Saviour refreshes with living water, the Church restores with heavenly food. This host, then, the evangelist ordered to be sought, and commanded us to live with him until the day of our departure, lest by some fickleness we perhaps go off elsewhere in the meantime; that is, that we who have once believed in Christ should not run back to idols like transgressors; for it is written: "No one can serve two masters"; for while he is eager to please one, he finds the other angry. We ought not, then, to desert Christ our host, just as the apostle Peter too, with those like him, did not leave the Lord when others deserted him; but let us say what he said to the Saviour: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we believe." Behold a doer of the heavenly commands, who, because he did not change Christ's lodging, earned to have fellowship with Christ in the heavenly kingdom.

You yourselves see, brothers, that my lowliness does not cease to labour with every care for you and to turn you with all haste to good fruit; but the more I labour with you, the more I am put to shame in you. For when I see that after so many admonitions of mine you make no progress, my labour is no longer a matter of rejoicing but of blushing. For the Apostle says: "Who plants a vineyard and does not eat of its fruit? Who feeds a flock and does not get the milk of the flock?" See, I feed the flock of Christ, and I cannot extract the fruit of the flock; I feed the Lord's flock, and receive from it no nourishment of devoutness. For no sweetness of it gladdens me, but whatever flows from it is harsh and bitter; for the shepherd of the Christian flock is refreshed with milk when he rejoices in the whiteness of its good works. For who among you, brothers, would not take it hard (I do not, however, speak of all, for there are among you some whom you ought to have as an example for the practice of religion), who, I say, would not be grieved that you are so forgetful of your salvation as to sin even with heaven as witness? For some days ago, when I had struck at many of you about the greed of your avarice, that very day toward evening there arose such a shouting of the people that its irreligion reached to heaven. When I asked what this clamour meant, they told me that your shouting was helping the moon in its labour and assisting its eclipse with their cries. I laughed indeed, and marvelled at the vanity, that as though you were devout Christians you were bringing help to God. For you were shouting lest, if you were silent, he should lose an element: as though, weak and feeble, unless he were helped by your voices, he could not defend the lights he created. You do well, then, to offer comfort to the Godhead, so that with your help he can rule heaven! But if you wish to do this more fully, you ought to keep watch all night every night: for how often, do you think, has the moon suffered violence while you were asleep, and yet it has not fallen from heaven? Or does it always suffer eclipse toward evening, and not sometimes labour toward dawn as well? But with you it usually labours only at the evening hours, when the belly is stretched with an abundant supper, when the head is shaken with larger cups. Then, then, the moon labours with you, when the wine is labouring too; then, I say, the globe of the moon is disturbed by spells among you, when your eyes too are disturbed by cups. How, then, being drunk, can you see what is happening in heaven around the moon, when you do not see what is happening on earth around yourself? This is plainly what Solomon says: "The fool changes like the moon." For you change like the moon when, foolish and senseless at its movement, you who had been a Christian begin to be sacrilegious. For sacrilege is committed against the Creator when weakness is ascribed to the creature. You change, then, like the moon, so that you who a little before shone with devotion afterward fail through the weakness of unbelief; you change like the moon when your brain is emptied of wisdom as the moon of light, and the foulest darkness of mind invades you. And would, fool, that you changed like the moon! For it quickly returns to its fullness; you do not turn to wisdom even late; it swiftly gathers the light it had lost, you do not even slowly recover the faith you denied. Your change, then, is heavier than the moon's: the moon suffers a failure of light, you of salvation. How well it is written of the wise man: "And he will remain with the sun"; for the wise man remains with the sun when with constancy of faith he remains with the Saviour. But someone will say: 'Does the moon not labour, then?' It does labour, plainly, we cannot deny it; but it labours with the other creatures, as the Apostle says: "For every creature groans and is in labour until now"; and below: "Because the creature itself also will be set free from the slavery of corruption," and so on. It will be set free, he says, from slavery. You see, then, that the moon does not labour under spells but labours in services; it does not labour in dangers but labours in duties; it does not labour so as to perish but labours so as to serve. "For the creature was made subject to vanity not willingly," and so on. The moon, then, is changed from its state not willingly; you change from your sense willingly; it is brought to its waning by its condition, you are dragged to your harm by your will. I do not wish you, then, brother, to be like the moon when it wanes, but be as when it is full and complete; for it is written of the just man: "Like the moon for ever, and a faithful witness in heaven."

Some days ago, brothers, we spoke against those who thought that the moon could be brought down from heaven by the spells of magicians, and we beat back the vanity of those who suffer a failure of mind no less than the moon suffers a failure of light. We also urged them to give up the error of the Gentiles and return to wisdom as quickly as the moon returns to its fullness; and as swiftly as it gathers the light it had lost, so quickly might they recover the faith they denied; and, laying aside the cloud of folly, might begin to judge the light no longer with the eye of the body but of the mind; and understand that its rising and waning stand by design rather than by weakness; for it would never give so great a change to all things unless this design had been conferred on it by the Creator. See, the element of the sea is drawn back when the moon wanes and heaped up when it waxes, so that at its movement the waves either return within themselves or the streams cannot contain them; so that as often as the moon changes in light, so often the seas change in their waves. Indeed, the very swimming creatures of the sea are said to be fuller in their flesh when the moon is full, and drained and diminished when it is diminished. Great, then, is the design of the moon, and great its excellence, which by its vigour so diminishes the elements as to fill them again, and so fills them that they are diminished once more; namely, so that by certain various turns the change may be pleasing, while the restoration is made complete. And how much increase it bestows on the lands is known to all: with how much dew it refreshes the woodlands which the heat of the sun had scorched in the daytime hours, and, wonderfully, provides moisture to things burning with heat in clear weather. For in a new way, when the moon shines, a clear sky makes the earth wet. Great, then, is the design of the moon, or rather a great mystery. It empties itself of light so as to refresh all things with moisture and rain. So too Christ the Lord emptied himself of his divinity so as to fill men with immortality. Hence the blessed Apostle says: "Who, though he was in the form of God, did not think it robbery to be equal with God, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant." Christ, then, emptied himself so as to give life to men; he made himself empty so as to grant growth to the elements. But we read of the Saviour that he is rather the Sun of justice. How, then, do we compare him with the movements of the moon? These lights agree with each other without great difference. For the moon, by a kind of brotherhood of partnership, borrows its light from the sun, and, struck by the rays of its light, receives the splendour of its brightness. Hence if Christ the Lord is more rightly compared to the sun, we shall compare the moon to nothing but the Church. For she, like the moon, in order to shine among the nations, borrows light from the Sun of justice and from the rays of Christ; that is, struck by the preaching of the apostles, she acquires from him the splendour of immortality. For the Church shines not with her own light but with the Saviour's, and beams not with her own brightness but with the Father's, as the Apostle says: "Yet I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me"; and again: "That he might be the firstborn among many brothers." The Church is plainly rightly compared to the moon, since she too sprinkles us with the dew of the washing and gives life to the earth of our body with the dew of baptism. The Church is rightly compared to the moon, because she too gains increase and suffers waning. For she is often diminished and frequently increased: diminished by persecutions, enlarged by preaching. She decreases when she is diminished in children; she increases when she is crowned with martyrs; and the very cause that brings her waning provides her increase. For often she receives as confessors the very ones she grieves over as persecutors. How often do you think she, like the moon, has laboured under the spells of magicians? How often have evil arts wished to bring her down from the kingdom of heaven? For first of all the magicians Jannes and Mambres, when they resisted Moses with signs and wonders, desired to overthrow the Church; but the spell of the sorcerers could not harm the sacred voices. For incantations avail nothing where the song of Christ is sung. Then when, before the proconsul Sergius Paulus, Simon the magician opposed the apostle Paul, he was certainly trying the vessel of the Church and desired to shake him with sorcerous arts; but he was refuted by him with such power that he blinded him not only by the weakness of his art but also by the loss of his eyes, and took from him at once both spell and sight. For he did not deserve to have the eyes of the body who did not have the eyes of the mind. And what shall we say of the apostle Peter? That again, when Simon was disturbing the foundations of the Church in the city of Rome, he laid him low by the solidity of his prayers. For when Simon had been raised up by magic arts so that he even flew through the spaces of the air, Peter cast him down by power, so that he fell the further the higher he had flown. For truly Peter, so solid a rock, crushed him by the collision of the stone, so that he who promised himself the heavenly kingdom perished by the hardness of an earthly death.

Not unfittingly a few days ago we explained that this priestly function holds a kind of place of business, and that this office of the clergy is no small trade. It is indeed no small trade, where gain is acquired not of money but of souls; it is a great business, where the redemption of a man consists not in counting out a price but in announcing a commandment. For the commandment of Christ is a kind of precious talent, by which salvation is bought and life redeemed; and it is a great redemption when a price is paid and no money is seen. The Saviour's commandment, then, is a great talent, which, like a loan, can profit among the capable and can be lost among the negligent; for by some it is returned with manifold grace, from others it is demanded back with the interest of punishments. For Christ must require the talent he entrusts, and repay grace to the one who pays, and subject the one who does not pay to penalties. He subjects him to penalties indeed in the manner of the world: so that the debtor who cannot satisfy by restoring the principal satisfies at least by punishment of the body. This talent, then, brothers, we by our preaching entrust to your breasts, so that we may mark out for the Lord some gain of your salvation. We shall give an account how either our preaching profits or your obedience bears fruit; for not without cause does the Gospel announce, the Apostle cry out, the priests speak: into whosever ears the holy voice comes, he will either be blessed for his devotion or guilty by its testimony. For we speak blessedness to believers, we testify judgment to the guilty. The administration of priests, then, is a trade; hence too the prophet says to the children of Israel: "Your innkeepers mix water with wine." For holy Isaiah is not speaking of those innkeepers who, serving public needs, mix the pure kind of wine with a fraudulent flood of water (for it could not concern the blessed man, as it would a judge of the world, why, the vessels of the taverns being corrupted, the people should use a less intoxicating drink), but he speaks certainly of those innkeepers who are in charge of churches, not taverns; who offer to thirsty peoples not the cup of lust but of virtue, who serve not the cup of drunkenness but the cup of the Saviour. These innkeepers, then, the prophet rebukes and reproaches, and complains that they mix a kind of water with the wine; he reproves this in them, that though they were presidents of divine functions, they became followers of human affairs, as the prophet himself says: "You follow, each one, his own house." For whatever priest, abandoning the office of the pontificate, delights in the pleasures of the world mixes water with wine, that is, mingles cheap and cold things with things holy and fervent. But we can also understand it thus: that the priests of the Jews mixed water with wine when they did not receive the Lord Saviour as God but judged him as a man, and wished to bring something muddy and filthy into his sincere and pure divinity, saying to him: "Because, though you are a man, you make yourself God"; and again: "We were not born of prostitution." For while they excuse themselves of the adultery of prostitution, they try to adulterate him in the divinity of his birth. But let us see still more carefully what it means when it says, "They mix water with wine." We read that wine abounds especially in the Church, as was said in the Gospel: new wine is to be stored in new wineskins; that is, the grace of the Holy Spirit is to be conferred on new men, the newly baptized. If, then, the precious and spiritual grace of wine abounds in the Church, cheap and stinking water must be referred only to the synagogue; for stinking is the water of the synagogue, which by its baptism does not wash away sins but acquires them, which does not purify a man by its washing but pollutes him. Accordingly, as the Church is honoured with wineskins of wine, so the synagogue is cast out with a skin of water. For that Hagar, who bore the type of the synagogue, of whom it is said to Abraham, "Cast out the slave woman and her son": surely, when she was cast out, she was driven from the tents not with a skin of wine but with a skin of water. Certainly Abraham's house was rich, wealthy, abundant; and yet she received not wine, not oil, not bread, which are the firmest foods of life; and the synagogue did not receive the foods of right life, because it does not know the life which is Christ; it is dragged along sick with water alone and sustained in its weakness; for it was fitting that she who did not deserve the nourishment of the living should at least receive the comfort of the dying. The priests of the Jews, then, are rebuked because they wished to mix the water of the synagogue, already cast off and rejected, with the precious wine of the Church; for water is not usually mixed in the Church but changed, as the Lord, invited to the wedding, did not mix the jars full of water with wine but changed them into wine; for lest anything of Jewish cheapness should remain in the holy feast, he preferred to change the nature rather than adulterate the substance.