Sermons of Maximus of Turin (Bruni's collection) 1.1–6.1

I believe I said quite enough last Sunday about how we ought to receive the birthday of the Lord, adorned and shining, and, when his feast arrives, hold on to it with eagerness. Hold on to it, I say, so that even if the day of the feast passes, the blessedness of its sanctification remains with us. For this is the grace of the birthday of the Lord and Saviour: that it passes on into the future to those predestined, and remains in the past for the devout. We ought, then, to be pure in holiness, clean in chastity, shining in honesty, so that the nearer we see the feast approaching, the more carefully we walk. For if little women, when they are about to keep some holiday, are accustomed to wash the stains of their clothes with water, why should we not rather, when we are about to receive the Lord's birthday, wash away the stains of our souls? And if their clothes are so dyed and darkened with dirt that water does not cleanse the stains, they add the softness of oil and also the sharpness of soap. We too, if we have a sin so grave that it is in no way washed away by tears alone, let us add the oil of mercy and the sharpness of fasting. For no offence is so grave that it is not cleansed by abstinence and extinguished by almsgiving; for the holy prophet says: “As water extinguishes fire, so almsgiving extinguishes sin.” Great, then, is almsgiving, which cools the burning masses of crimes with the spring of its kindness, and with a kind of irrigation of generosity overwhelms the fires of offences; so that God, however offended, however provoked by crimes, is compelled by almsgiving to set free the one he had determined to punish for his sins. For he is in a manner compelled by us, when he is driven to change his sentence in response to our actions, and toward one and the same man to be moved now by the severity of a judge, now to be gentle with the tenderness of a father. For God is our Father when we act well; he is our judge when we sin. The Lord, then, is compelled by our works to bestow his mercy on us; and that is why he himself says in the holy Gospel: “From the days of John the Baptist the kingdom of heaven is compelled.” Let us see what meaning this saying has. The kingdom of heaven is nothing other than Christ the Lord, who reigns in heaven. The word “compel” (cogi) is used when something rather thin is thickened by continuous working. From the time, then, when John the Baptist announced the coming of the Saviour, the kingdom of heaven, which lay loose and slack among the Jews, began to be thickened by the persistence of believing peoples, and all that thinness of the kingdom to be made solid by frequent preaching. For the kingdom was so thin among the Jews that it passed over to the Gentiles; so loose that it remained for the peoples. But now it is compelled by so great a density of believers that it remains solid without end, as Scripture says: “And of his kingdom there will be no end.” For we compel the kingdom of heaven and in a manner do it violence, as the reading from the Gospel says: “And those who do violence plunder it.” We do violence to the Lord, I say, not by compelling but by weeping; not by provoking him with injuries but by entreating him with tears; not by blaspheming through pride but by mourning through humility. O blessed violence, which is not struck down in indignation but pardoned in mercy! Blessed, I say, is the violence that draws out goodness from the one who suffers it and brings benefit to the one who inflicts it. An evil thing is committed, and no one complains of the injury; violence is committed, and religion is spread. For whoever is more violent toward Christ will be held more religious by Christ. Let us, then, attack the Lord on the road, since he himself is the way, and like robbers let us strive to strip him of his garments. We desire to take from him his kingdom, his treasures, and his life; but he is so rich and generous that he does not refuse, does not resist; and when he has given all things, he nonetheless still possesses all things himself. We attack him, I say, not with iron, not with a club, not with a stone, but with gentleness, good works, chastity. These indeed are the weapons of our faith, with which we fight in the encounter. But so that we may use these weapons in doing violence, let us first in a manner do violence to our own bodies, and overcome the vices of our members, so that we may attain the rewards of the virtues; for we must first reign in ourselves, so that we may be able to plunder the kingdom of the Saviour. The Gospel says, then: “And those who do violence plunder it.” We are robbers, then; and robbers plunder only what belongs to others. I recognize that the saying is true: for the Church snatched Christ from the synagogue, and by doing violence took possession of the kingdom of another nation. For the Saviour, sent under the law, born in the law, brought up according to the law, while he is neglected by the Jews is seized by the Gentiles; and while he is lost by the priests he is found by sinners, as he himself says: “Tax collectors and sinners will go before you into the kingdom of heaven.” We are robbers, then. It is no wonder, since we are descended from such an ancestor. For it is written of our patriarch Benjamin: “A ravening wolf”; for he seizes what is not his own. So we too, like sons of a ravening wolf, snatch away with our zeal the shepherd of other men's sheep, as he himself says: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Christ, then, is seized when he is sent away by the Jews and preached by others. Christ is seized when he is killed by the Jews and buried by us. Christ is seized by watchful disciples and lost by sleeping Pharisees, as they themselves confessed in their lie when they had set guards at the tomb, saying after the Lord's resurrection: “His disciples came by night and stole him while we were asleep.” From this we understand spiritually that all who sleep lose Christ, and those who keep watch find him; and that is why the Apostle says: “Rise, you who sleep, and Christ will give you light.” You see, then, that the one who sleeps so that he does not guard the Saviour is dead; and so those Pharisees, as dead men, could not keep the living one. Therefore, brothers, let us not sleep, but let us keep watch around our Lord and Saviour himself, so that, with guards continually posted, no one may take him from the tomb of our heart—“They came and stole him while we were asleep.” For we have enemies who strive to take Christ from our hearts if we fall asleep. Let us, then, with wakeful care keep him in the tomb of our souls; there let him rest, there let him sleep, there, when he wills, let him also rise. Therefore, brothers, as we are about to receive the Lord's birthday, let us cleanse our consciences from all dregs; let us adorn ourselves not with silk garments but with precious works. For shining clothes can cover the limbs; they cannot adorn the conscience—except that it is the greater shame to walk out with shining limbs and polluted thoughts. Let us first, then, adorn the disposition of the inner man, so that the clothing of the outer man may also be an adornment; let us wash away spiritual stains, so that our bodily garments may shine on us. For where the conscience is dark, the whole body is darkened. But we have the means to wash away the stains of conscience, as it is written: “Give alms, and all things are clean for you.” Good is the commandment of almsgiving, by which we work with our hands and are cleansed in heart; by the gift of our Lord Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns for ages of ages. Amen.

Who are the two in one bed on that night, and the two women grinding together, and the two in the field, of whom in each pair one will be taken and one left? Three kinds of people seem to be signified here. One is of those who love leisure and quiet and are occupied neither with worldly business nor with church business; their quiet is signified by the word “bed.” Another is of those placed among the people, who are governed by teachers while they do the things of this world; he signified them also by the word “women,” because, as I said, it is good for them to be governed by the counsels of the experienced. And he said “grinding” because of the round and cycle of temporal business. Yet he said they grind “together,” inasmuch as from those very affairs and dealings of theirs they supply the needs of the Church. The third is of those who work in the ministry of the Church, as in the field of God, of which husbandry the Apostle speaks. In these three occupations, then, there are again two kinds of people in each, and they are distinguished by the strength of their powers. For though all seem to belong to the members of the Church, yet when the trial of tribulation comes, both of those who are at leisure, and of those who are in the business of the world, and of those who minister to God, some remain in the Church and some fall. Those who remain are taken; those who fall are left. So “one will be taken and one left” is not said as of two individual persons, but of two kinds of disposition within each of the three kinds. “On that night,” then, he said: that is, in that tribulation. To these three kinds that are taken I think the three names of holy men also belong, whom alone the prophet Ezekiel declares will be delivered: Noah, Daniel, and Job. For Noah seems to belong to those by whom the Church is governed, just as through him the ark, which bore the figure of the Church, was steered on the waters. Daniel, because he chose the celibate life, that is, he despised earthly marriage, so that, as the Apostle says, he might live without anxiety, thinking of the things of God, signifies the kind of those who are at leisure, yet are very strong in storms, so that they may be taken. Job, because he had a wife and sons and abundant earthly possessions, belongs to that kind to which the mill is assigned, yet only so that they are very strong in storms, as he was. Otherwise they cannot be taken. Nor do I think there are other kinds of people of which the Church consists than these three, each having its two differences because of being taken and being left; although within each many differences of pursuits and wishes may be found, all running together into harmony and unity.

True is what Saint John the Baptist says about the Lord and Saviour: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” This is proved first of all even by the seasons themselves. For see: at the birth of Christ the day grows, and at the birth of John it shrinks. When the one rises, the light advances; when the other is born, it lessens. For the very seasons in a manner serve their parts: when they make loss, the servant is born; but when the Lord is born, they gain increase. The days plainly make progress when the Saviour of the world rises; they suffer loss when the last prophet is begotten. For it is written: “The law and the prophets were until John.” And so it was necessary that the observance of the law should be darkened when the grace of the Gospel shone out, and that the prophecy of the Old Testament should cease when the glory of the New Testament succeeded. So at the birth of the Lord the day advances. No wonder if the day advances on which the new Sun of righteousness flashes out. No wonder if the day advances which the most brilliant light of truth illumines. For the evangelist says of Christ the Lord: “He was the true light, which enlightens every man.” If, then, he was the true light which enlightens every man, why would he not enlighten the world? And so the day which bore the light for the human race first itself shone with the brightness of that light, and by the splendour of the Lord's light scattered its own spaces, already shut in by the darkness of the nights. For the length of the nights would have taken over the whole day, had not the coming of him shone out in the very shortness of the day who by his rising scatters the darkness of the sins of the human race; so also he cut away the gloom of darkness from the day of his birth, and by one and the same rising brought light both to men and to days. It is no wonder, then, if the day grows that is clothed with a twofold splendour of brightness. But let us see further how the Lord and Saviour increases and John the Baptist decreases. We said earlier that John bore the figure of the law and the prophets; it was necessary, then, that the law should fail as the Gospel shone, and that the Jewish people should be diminished as the Christian people rose. For who doubts that since the birth of the Lord the assemblies of the synagogue have been emptied and the peoples of the Church multiplied, and that in a wonderful way Christ grows daily through his Christians and John is diminished through the Jews; that we shine with the splendour of the Lord's day, while they labour in the darkness of the nights? For a greater night in a manner lay upon the Jews from the time they said of the Saviour's death: “His blood be on us and on our children.” They have plainly been darkened by greater darkness of night since they tried to kill the day of truth. But so that we can prove what we say more truly, let us briefly set out the birth of each. See: when Christ is born, angels rejoice, shepherds keep watch, magi arrive, a star goes before, and all that is most beautiful in heaven and on earth is brought to the Lord himself. For glory is brought to him by the angels, brightness by the star, worship by the magi, simplicity by the [shepherds]; and because all these things were to be found in him alone, therefore all things serve him at his birth. But when John is conceived, Zechariah is struck dumb, the priest at the solemn rite falls silent, Elizabeth his mother is hidden; signifying after his rise the silence of the law, the loss of the priesthood, the hiding of the synagogue. There is no doubt that John at his birth took away from the Pharisees the righteousness of the law, just as at his conception he took from his father the service of his voice. The Lord, then, always increases; John the Baptist is diminished. He is not diminished because anything is taken from his merits, but because the Saviour's glories are heaped up daily, his glory seems to become less. John, after all, is called a lamp, as the Lord says: “He was a burning lamp.” The light of a lamp is darkened when the ray of the sun shines out; and it suffers a kind of failing of its flame when it is surpassed by the splendour of a brighter light. For what wise man looks for a lamp in sunlight? It is not extinguished, but it is not held necessary; that is, who would come to John's baptism of repentance when he can be saved by the baptism of the Saviour? That is not blamed; but this seems more useful and necessary, because in it the forgiveness of sins is granted.

In a way the common people rightly call this holy day of the Lord's birth “the new sun,” and they confirm it with such authority of their own that even Jews and pagans agree in this expression. We should gladly embrace this, because when the Saviour rises not only the salvation of the human race but also the brightness of the sun itself is renewed, as the Apostle says: “That through him he might restore all things, whether in heaven or on earth.” For if the sun is darkened when Christ suffers, it must shine more brightly than usual when he is born. And if it poured out darkness when the Jews were bringing about his death, why would it not show its brightness when Mary was bringing forth life? Or do we not believe that at Christ's birth the sun came more brightly to do him service, when a brighter star went before the magi to point him out? And if a star performed the task of a day at a time not its own, why should we not believe that the sun too, by an earlier coming, took away something of the night hours? From this, I think, it came about that the night decreased, while the sun, hastening to serve at the Lord's birth, brought light to the world before the night had completed the course of its time. Indeed, I would rather say that it was not night at all, nor did it have any darkness, that night in which shepherds keep watch, angels rejoice, stars serve. Nor should we wonder that at Christ's birth all things were made new, since this very thing was new, that a virgin gave birth. If, then, the birth was beyond the usual, and the services offered were beyond the usual, then as the Lord rises the shepherds keep watch, the angels rejoice, the sun serves, the star waits upon him. And indeed the angels and shepherds express their joy with voice or words; but these elements, because they could not with a voice, declare their joy by their service. The sun, then, contrary to custom, shone early on this feast; and no wonder: for if at the prayer of Jesus son of Nun it stood fixed in the day, why would it not at the birth of Jesus Christ hasten forward into the night? The common people, then, call this day “the new sun,” and when they say “new” they certainly show that there is an old one too. The old sun I would call the sun of this world, which suffers eclipse, which is shut out by walls, which is darkened by clouds. I would call that sun old which is subject to vanity, which fears correction, which dreads judgment. For it is written: “The sun will be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood.” Old, I say, I would call the sun which is present at the crimes of men, which does not shrink from adulteries, does not turn away from murder, and, though the whole race of men would not have a witness when any crime is committed, it alone stands present at all misdeeds. Since, then, it is plain that this sun is old, whom do we find to be the new one but Christ the Lord, of whom it is written: “The sun of righteousness will rise for you”; of whom also the prophet says, in the person of sinners: “The sun has not risen for us, and the light of righteousness has not shone for us.” For this sun, when the whole world was oppressed by the darkness of the devil, and a gloom filled with crimes possessed the world, deigned in the last time, that is, when night was already settling, to pour out the rising of his birth. First, before the light, that is, before the Sun of righteousness gave light, he sent as a kind of dawn the oracle of the prophets: “I sent my prophets before the light”; afterwards he himself shone out with his rays, that is, with the brilliance of the apostles, and scattered so great a gloom of the world with the light of truth that no one stumbled into the darkness of the devil. This, then, is the new sun, which penetrates locked places, opens the underworld, searches hearts. This is the new sun, which by its spirit gives life to the dead, repairs the corrupt, raises those already departed; or which by its heat purges what is filthy, burns up what is fluid, boils down what is faulty. He it is, I say, who in all our actions sees all our works, and does not so much condemn crimes as correct them. This plainly is the just and wise sun, which does not, without distinction, like the sun of this world, go round upon the good and the bad alike, but shines by the holy judgment of truth and sets for the sinner. This is the difference between the two suns: that one is the servant of corruption, this one is the Lord of eternity; that one is around the earth, this one is its Creator. Yet before the sun of this world rises, while it is still before dawn, a lamp is accustomed to go before it for the necessary uses of men. Christ the sun also has his lamp, which went before his coming, as the prophet says: “I have prepared a lamp for my Christ.” What this lamp is the Lord shows us, saying of John the Baptist: “He was a burning lamp.” John himself, as the small light of the lamp going before, says: “See, one comes after me the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie; he will baptize you in the Holy Spirit and fire.” At the same time, understanding that his light was to be dimmed by the rays of the sun, he foretells him: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” For as the brightness of a lamp is put out by the coming of the sun, so too John's baptism of repentance was made void when the grace of Christ came. Let us see, then, from what source our new sun is born. As is true, he rises with God as his author. He is, then, the Son of the Godhead—of a Godhead, I say, incorrupt, whole, unblemished. I plainly understand the mystery: the birth through the immaculate Mary was fruitful because the former birth through the Godhead had been unblemished; he whose former birth was glorious could not have a second that was shameful. That is, as the virgin Godhead had brought him forth, so the virgin Mary bore him. It is also written that among men he had a father, as we read in the Gospel when the Pharisees say: “Is not this the son of Joseph the carpenter, and his mother Mary?” In this too notice the mystery. Christ's father is called a craftsman. And plainly God the Father is a craftsman, who fashioned the works of the whole world; he is plainly the craftsman who arranged for Noah to build the ark in the flood. He is the craftsman, I say, who ordained the tabernacle for Moses, appointed the ark of the covenant, raised Solomon's temple; I would call him the craftsman who smooths rigid minds, cuts down proud thoughts, raises lowly deeds on high. This craftsman also uses a curved iron tool on trees, as we read in the Gospel, where John says: “Already the axe is laid to the root of the trees; every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire”; so that in the future he may build the useful trees into the heavenly structure, but the fruitless ones, torn up by the roots, he may consume in the burning of flames. The end.

With what thanksgiving or what praises we should proclaim this day of the Lord's birth I simply do not know. For in so great a feast human speech is not enough to magnify God. For if, when Christ was being born, he was praised by the voice of angels, with what human voice is he now to be praised, when he reigns? Our solemnity surpasses the festivity of that time; for then they marvelled only at the Lord being born, while we receive him born, risen, and reigning together. So much more abundant, then, should the praise of this time be, as the miracles are greater. But since human frailty cannot offer a worthy proclamation, let us join ourselves to the heralding of the angels. And since we cannot equal them in merit, let us accompany them in devotion; that is, on this feast let us exult with the same joy as they, and with the same words, saying: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will.” A plainly worthy and just saying, which at the birth of Christ both renders honour to God in heaven and presents peace to men on earth. For before the rising of the Saviour, neither did the heavenly things receive reverence nor did the earthly possess rest. But see what the saying itself says: “Peace to men of good will.” Not among any men whatever, but among men of good will; so that you may understand that the peace of Christ is not owed but merited; for it is not one's condition that merits it but one's will. The shepherds, who on the night when the Lord was born were keeping watch over their flock, heard this first of all. They first, before all men, learned of the Saviour's birth, as the angels made it known. For the angels announced the redemption of the world first not to kings, not to judges, but to country folk. No wonder if innocence knew the grace of Christ before power did, and simple country life recognized the truth before proud renown. For what the shepherds knew, the rulers could not know; and so the blessed Apostle says: “Whom none of the rulers of this age knew,” and so on. So at the Lord's birth the angels rejoiced together with the shepherds, proclaiming lofty glory to God. For in choirs in a manner neighbouring and joined they proclaimed the glory of God. And so I believe that the same angels, on the feast of the same Lord, rejoice with us in a like neighbourliness of joy. For those who were accustomed to address shepherds because of Christ's birth cannot fail to seek out priests because of the joy of the same Christ. Indeed, what they then said to those keeping watch over their flock in the dead of night signified the mystery of this time. For by that event this was certainly shown: that the flock is the people, the night the world, the shepherds the priests, who, keeping watch over the people with constant care for Christ's sake, are never deserted by the angels. On this day, then, the Lord was born according to the flesh, so secretly, so silently, that the world did not know of his birth at all. The world did not know, because he was both conceived outside the knowledge of a father and born outside the order of nature. For Joseph received as a son one conceived whom he did not beget; Mary brought forth a child whom she did not make by the custom of her sex. So, then, the Lord was born, that no one suspected his birth would happen, no one believed it, no one perceived it. How would they believe that this would happen, when, after it has happened, they scarcely believe it has happened? For that the Saviour would descend into the Virgin so hiddenly and secretly David the prophet testified long before, saying: “He will come down like rain upon a fleece.” For what happens so silently and without noise as when rain is poured onto a fleece of wool? It strikes no one's ears with sound; it sprinkles no one's body with the moisture of splashing; but without disturbing anyone, it draws into itself through its whole body the whole shower, poured out through many parts, knowing no splitting of a single passage, offering many passages in a solid softness; and what seems closed by its density is open by its fineness. Rightly, then, is Mary compared to a fleece, who so conceived the Lord that she drew him in with her whole body, yet suffered no splitting of her body; but was soft for obedience, solid for holiness. Rightly, I say, is Mary compared to a fleece, from whose fruit saving garments are woven for the peoples. Mary is plainly a fleece, since from her soft bosom came forth the Lamb, who himself, bearing his mother's wool, that is, flesh, covers with his soft fleece the wounds of all sins. For every wound of sin is bathed with the wool of Christ, warmed with the blood of Christ, and, to receive healing, clothed with the garment of Christ.

I have no small complaint, brothers, against many of you. I speak of those who, after celebrating the Lord's birthday with us, gave themselves over to the holidays of the pagans, and after that heavenly banquet prepared for themselves a feast of superstition; so that those who had earlier been gladdened by holiness were afterwards made drunk with vanity, not knowing that whoever wishes to reign with Christ cannot rejoice with the world, and whoever wishes to find righteousness must turn away from luxury. For the reckoning of eternal life is one thing, the despair of temporal wantonness another: to the one we climb by virtue, to the other we go down by ruin. And so whoever wishes to share in divine things ought not to be a companion of idols. For it is the portion of an idol to make the mind drunk with wine, to stretch the belly with food, to twist the limbs in dances, and to be so occupied with depraved acts that you are compelled not to know what God is. That is why the holy Apostle, foreseeing these things, says: “What portion has righteousness with iniquity? Or what fellowship has light with darkness? Or what part has a believer with an unbeliever? And what agreement has the temple of God with idols?” If, then, we are the temple of God, why is the feast of idols kept in the temple of God? Why, where Christ dwells, who is abstinence, temperance, and chastity, are revelry, drunkenness, and wantonness brought in? The Saviour says: “No one can serve two masters,” that is, God and mammon. How, then, can you religiously keep the Lord's Epiphany, you who, as far as lies in you, most devoutly celebrate the kalends of Janus? For Janus was a man, the founder of a city called the Janiculum, in whose honour the pagans named the kalends of January; hence whoever keeps the kalends of January sins, because he gives the homage due to divinity to a dead man. That is why the Apostle says: “You observe days and months and seasons and years; I fear I may have laboured over you in vain.” For he observed the day and the month who on these days either did not fast or did not come to church. He observed the day who yesterday did not come to church but went to the field. Therefore, brothers, let us with all zeal turn away from the festivity and holidays of the pagans, so that when they feast and make merry, we may then be sober and fasting, so that they may understand that their merriment is condemned by our abstinence. But we ought to avoid the company not only of pagans but also of Jews, with whom even conversation is a great pollution. For they insinuate themselves among people by a certain art, they get into houses, they enter the governors' halls, they disturb the ears of judges and of the public; and so they prevail the more, the more shameless they are. This is no new evil in them but an old and original one. For long ago they persecuted the Lord and Saviour within the governor's hall and had him condemned by the governor's judgment. In the governor's hall, then, innocence is crushed by the Jews, the secret betrayed, religion condemned. For when Christ is killed, all truth and righteousness is condemned in him, since he himself is innocence, religion, holiness, and mystery. Amen. The end.