Sermons 106–109

[On the fig tree that bore no fruit.] As a skilled teacher stirs the minds of his pupils, who are untrained in listening and slow to understand, by various kinds of teaching, and rouses and kindles their wits, so the Lord by various likenesses and diverse comparisons calls and invites the lazy and slow minds of the peoples to hear the gospel; for today he began thus: “A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. And he said to the vinedresser: See, for three years now I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree and have found none. Cut it down; why should it even use up the ground? But he answered him: Lord, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure; and if it bears fruit, well; but if not, you will cut it down in future” (Luke 13:6–9). “A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard.” I ask, what is so plain, so clear, so common, so homely to country people and yet so proper to the learned as the form of the comparison set before us? Drawn from general experience, it instructs all by its word and converts them by its example. A fruitless tree chokes the turf, wastes space, exhausts the strength of the soil, brings loss on the cultivator and wearies the owner; and so to cut it down is gain, and not to have it is profit. So a man who by sterile and empty actions overturns, takes up and sinks the gift of nature, the endowment of the soul, the benefit of reason, the excellence of sense, the judgment of the mind, the industry of skill and the good of cultivation, and denies fruit to his author and gratitude to his cultivator, deserves to be cut off from life as the tree from the earth. And as a barren tree in a vineyard, while it pours deadly shade on the plants beneath, becomes an enemy not only to itself but also to the fruitful vine-branches, so a sluggish, lazy man, if he presides over peoples, becomes harmful not to himself alone but to many, since he corrupts and ruins those who follow him by his example. But let us hear why the Lord spoke this comparison. The fig tree, when winter has passed, brings out its early unripe figs in blossom and feigns its fruit with its flowers, and so deceives the incautious and mocks the ignorant. For soon it casts off the unripe figs, advances slowly and breaks out into new shoots; and the tree that seemed to have gone ahead of the others becomes later than the others in fruit. Rightly, then, the Lord compares the synagogue to a fig tree, which, warmed by the season of the law, blossomed for a time in a figure of the church's fruit. For, made firm by the root of the patriarchs, raised high by the priestly summit, spread wide by the prophetic branches, filled with the unripe figs of Jewish observance, it was blossoming, then to give fruit through Christ in hope alone, or rather to give Christ himself after the fruit, as the Psalmist says: “Of the fruit of your womb I will set upon your throne” (Ps 132:11). Hence the saints, knowing this, took hope of fruit from the blossom and consoled the present with the future, seeing now, now eternal things succeeding mortal ones, perpetual things perishable ones, grace the law, the church the synagogue, heavenly things earthly ones, divine things human ones, Christ all; and since they awaited his coming with long patience, they rejoiced with faithful joy that he had come. Among these was that Simeon to whom it had been promised that he would not see death until he saw the Lord's Christ, and who, holding him in his arms, burst out with this cry: “Now, Lord, you let your servant depart in peace according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation” (Luke 2:29–30). But the ignorant, while they placed their whole confidence in the law, were neither eager in expectation of Christ nor found worthy to receive or recognize Christ; and they were deceived by the little flowers of the law just as the fig tree deceives the ignorant with its unripe figs. That is why the Lord sends those who wish to know the times of his coming to the fig tree, saying: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; when they already put forth fruit, you know that summer is near; so you too, when you see these things happening, know that the kingdom of God is near” (Luke 21:29–31). You see that the fig tree does not signify present things but indicates future ones in this way. But now let us follow out the example set before us in order. “A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard.” The fig tree is the synagogue; the owner of the tree is Christ; the vineyard in which this tree is said to be planted is the people of Israel, as the prophet Isaiah says: “The vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel” (Isa 5:7). “He came,” it says, “seeking fruit on it and found none.” Christ came and found no fruit of faith in the synagogue, because it was wholly overshadowed by the deceits of faithlessness. Christ came to the fig tree to which Adam is read to have fled naked after his fault, as the book of Genesis says: “And they knew that they were naked, and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves aprons” (Gen 3:7). So Christ came to the fig tree to find Adam, to cover the naked man with the loving garment of his body, Adam whose shame the fig tree did not veil but provoked, and whose shameful part of the body this fig tree, that is, the synagogue, laid bare by its circumcisions instead of covering it. “He came,” it says, “seeking fruit and found none. And he said to the vinedresser: See, for three years now I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree and have found none; cut it down.” The vinedresser who is ordered to cut down the fruitless fig tree is the angel who presides over the synagogue, who, since he cannot excuse its barrenness, obtains a delay by entreaty. But we must not pass over his saying, “See, for three years.” The three years are three times in which Christ came to seek fruit from the synagogue: through the law, through the prophets, through his own bodily presence; so that the fruitless fig tree, which was already denying fruits to the Godhead as though they were not needed, might not deny necessary food to the man, the hungry man, Christ who was about to eat. But now let us hear what the vinedresser answered. “Lord, let it alone this year also.” The vinedresser prays that the year of the gospel time be still granted, of which Isaiah says: “To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord and the day of retribution” (Isa 61:2). For what purpose? “Until I dig around it.” He wants to dig it through with the apostolic ploughshare, because it could not feel the cultivation of the pruning knife of the law. “And put on manure.” So much is needed at the root of a tree which, warmed by such richness of holy soil and by the rain from heaven, did not deserve to be fruitful. The barren fig tree, the wretched synagogue, is manured by the mercy shown to the Gentiles, so that, helped by the most worthless fertilizers, it may return to fruit, it which fell away from fruit amid such great and precious richness; and if after this it remains in the same barrenness, it will be cut down as hopeless and useless, no longer by the cultivator's pruning hook but by the axe of the master himself. And so he did not say, “In future I will cut it down,” but, “You will cut it down,” according to John's word: “Already the axe is laid at the root of the trees; every tree, therefore, that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matt 3:10). For after the cultivation of the gospel time the axe of judgment will cut down the fruitless trees, and the last fire will take them and burn them.

[On blessed Peter, bishop of Ravenna.] Although the barrenness of my speech seems to impose silence on me, yet the urgency and the holiness of the one who commands compel me to speak. It is better to put forth unskilled eloquence than to refuse a sermon that duty requires. Who, then, would refuse the exhortation of so great a man, on whom there has fallen from heaven both the name of the apostle and the privilege of the highest priesthood? For it must not be believed to have been without divine judgment that in the first untutored infancy of his life he obtained the dignity of so great a name. Who do we think was present then, if not God himself, when his parents, unaware of it, were judging of his future merits? For in others to be called Peter is the bearing of a name; in him it is the privilege of virtue. Truly blessed Peter, the immovable foundation of salvation, shows himself in the priesthood such as those who covet the priesthood wish to appear. How, then, does he, steeped in monastic disciplines, practise the rule of holiness? His face is pale with fasting, leanness wastes his body, almsgiving pleads for offences, tears baptize sins. But lest the crowd of devout people should perhaps wonder at this: Peter is accustomed to weep when Christ looks on him (Matt 26:75). Let no one find fault with the shower of watering grief in an apostle. Pleasant are the tears which have bought the joy of immortality. He, then, is the guardian of faith, the rock of the church and the doorkeeper of heaven. He is the chosen apostolic fisherman, who draws to himself with the hook of holiness the crowds sunk in the waves of errors, and encloses for faith in the net of his teaching a great multitude of people (Luke 5). He is also the most blessed and apostolic fowler, who reaches with the reed of the divine word the souls of the young flying through the air. Rightly, then, God's venerable priest, who once obtained the name of the apostle and has now gained his merit as well, sows the precepts of righteousness among the peoples and with clear light unlocks the mystical questions of the sacred books; and so great is his mastery in the heavenly disciplines that whoever is converted owes his absolution to him, and whoever is not corrected owes his guilt to himself. From every side, from various parts of the regions, a whole crowd runs together to him, eager to see him. Those who were living in trackless solitudes or the hidden retreats of the desert come to see the wonderful Peter rather than the world. It has been given them at last to learn, more difficult indeed but more glorious, to struggle with the world present, and to draw up a battle line of holiness against the arrayed crowds of offenders. For how great a palm awaits after the combat those who are placed in the world, if crowns are owed to those placed in solitude without a struggle? Therefore, brothers, since most blessed Peter instructs you by the preaching of his teaching and equally teaches you by his example in all things that belong to divine virtue, let us pray the Lord our God that he may gladden you for a very long age with the discourse of heavenly teaching.

[On man, that he may be a victim and a priest to God; on the words of the Apostle: “I beseech you by the mercy of God,” etc.] Wonderful love, which begs in order to give! For today the blessed Apostle, seeking not human things but conferring divine ones, prays thus: “I beseech you by the mercy of God” (Rom 12:1). When a physician persuades the sick to take harsh remedies, he acts by entreaties, not by the compulsion of command, knowing that it comes from infirmity, not from will, that the sick man rejects what is healthful whenever he refuses what will benefit him. And a father draws his son to the rigour of discipline not by power but by love, knowing how harsh discipline is to immature minds. And if bodily infirmity is moved to accept treatment by entreaties in this way, and if a boy's mind is scarcely led to prudence by coaxing, what wonder if the Apostle, who is always both physician and father, prays thus to lift human minds wounded by fleshly diseases to divine remedies: “I beseech you by the mercy of God.” He introduces a new kind of entreaty. Why not by the power, why not by the majesty, not by the glory of God, but by the mercy of God? Because through it alone Paul both escaped the crime of a persecutor and obtained the dignity of so great an apostleship, as he himself confesses, saying: “I who was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor and insolent, but I obtained the mercy of God” (1 Tim 1:13). And again: “The saying is faithful and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ came into this world to save sinners, of whom I am the first; but I obtained mercy, as an example for all who would believe in him for eternal life” (1 Tim 1:15–16). “I beseech you,” he says, “by the mercy of God.” Paul begs; rather, God begs through Paul, because he wishes to be loved more than feared. God begs, because he wishes not so much to be Lord as Father. God begs by mercy so as not to punish by rigour. Hear the Lord begging: “All day long,” he says, “I have stretched out my hands” (Isa 65:2). Does not one who stretches out his hands beg by that very posture? “I have stretched out my hands.” To whom? To a people. And to what people? One that not only did not believe but contradicted. “I have stretched out my hands.” He stretches his limbs, opens wide his heart, holds out his breast, offers his bosom, spreads his lap, so as to show himself a father by the feeling of so great an entreaty. Hear God begging in another way too: “My people, what have I done to you, or how have I grieved you?” (Mic 6:3). Does he not say: If the Godhead is unknown, at least let the flesh be known? See, see in me your body, your limbs, your heart, your bones, your blood. And if you fear what is God's, why do you not at least love what is yours? If you flee from the Lord, why do you not run back to your parent? But perhaps the greatness of my passion, which you inflicted, confounds you. Do not fear. This cross is not my sting but the sting of death. These nails do not fix pain in me but fix your love more deeply in me. These wounds do not draw out my groans but rather draw you into my heart. The stretching out of my body opens a lap for you; it does not increase my punishment. My blood is not lost to me but is paid out as your price. Come, then, return, and so at least prove me your father, whom you see returning good for evil, love for injuries, such great charity for such great wounds. But now let us hear what the Apostle beseeches: “I beseech you,” he says, “to present your bodies.” By begging thus the Apostle has raised all people to the summit of the priesthood. “To present your bodies as a living victim.” O unheard-of office of the Christian priesthood, when a man is himself both victim and priest for himself; when a man does not seek outside himself what he is to sacrifice to God; when a man brings with himself and in himself and for himself what he will sacrifice to God; when the same victim remains and the same priest abides; when the victim is slain and lives, and the priest who will offer does not know how to kill. A wonderful sacrifice, where a body is offered without a body and blood without blood! “I beseech you,” he says, “by the mercy of God, to present your bodies as a living victim.” Brothers, this sacrifice comes down from the pattern of Christ, who sacrificed his body for the life of the world in a living way; and truly he made his body a living victim, because, though slain, he lives. In such a victim, then, death is paid out, the victim remains, the victim lives, and death is punished. Hence martyrs are born by death, begin by their end, live by being killed, and shine in heaven who were thought extinguished on earth. “I beseech you, brothers,” he says, “by the mercy of God, to present your bodies as a living, holy victim.” This is what the prophet sang: “Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but a body you have prepared for me” (Ps 40:6). Be, O man, be both God's sacrifice and his priest; do not lose what divine authority has given and granted you; put on the robe of holiness, gird on the belt of chastity; let Christ be the covering of your head; let the cross remain as the defence of your forehead; place on your breast the sacrament of divine knowledge; always kindle the incense of prayer as a sweet odour; take up the sword of the Spirit; set up your heart as an altar; and so, without fear, bring your body to God as a victim. God seeks faith, not death; he thirsts for a vow, not for blood; he is appeased by the will, not by slaughter. God proved this when he asked for holy Abraham's son as a victim (Gen 22). For what else did Abraham sacrifice in his son but his own body? What else did God seek in the father but faith, he who, as he commanded the son to be offered, so did not allow him to be killed? Strengthened by such an example, then, O man, offer your body, and not only slay it but also cut it up into all the members of the virtues. For as often do the arts of the vices die in you as you sacrifice the inward parts of the virtues to God. Offer faith, so that faithlessness may be punished; sacrifice fasting, so that gluttony may cease; sacrifice chastity, so that lust may die; lay on piety, so that impiety may be laid aside; bring in mercy, so that avarice may be destroyed; and so that folly may be consumed, it is fitting always to sacrifice holiness. So your body will become your victim, if it has been wounded by no dart of sin. Your body lives, O man, it lives as often as the life of the virtues is sacrificed by you to God through the deaths of the vices. He cannot die who is worthy to be slain by a life-giving sword. May our God himself, who is the way, the truth and the life, free us from death and lead us to life.

[On the sacrifice of body and soul to be offered to God reasonably; on the same words of the Apostle.] Since the previous sermon touched only on the beginning of the apostolic reading, let us now hear what the Lord inspires about what follows; for he began thus: “I beseech you,” he says, “by the mercy of God, to present your bodies as a living victim” (Rom 12:1). Does the Apostle, by saying this, approve only bodies as worthy of divine sacrifices, and pass over souls in silence, or omit them or leave them aside as rejected? Is not the soul from heaven and the body from earth? This is ruled, that rules; that is master, this serves; this lives, that gives life; that remains, this fails; this passes through the ages of life, that does not know them; and finally death, which rules so greatly over the body, does not touch it while the soul is present. Why, then, is the soul passed over in silence and the body alone called to be God's victim? Brothers, here the Apostle honours the body; he does not lessen the soul. For the body, which sins seize, offences bind, crimes press down, vices corrupt and passions cast down, the Apostle wishes to release, strives to free, labours to lift up, contends to cleanse, so that the body may climb up to the origin of the soul, and the soul not descend to the nature of the body; so that the body may accompany the soul to heaven, and the soul not follow the body to earth. Hear Scripture telling with what great torments of the body the soul is weighed down: “The body that is corrupted weighs down the soul, and earthly thought presses down the mind that thinks many things” (Wis 9:15). So the Apostle does not want the soul set down but the body raised up; he wants both soul and body, that is, the whole man, to come to be a holy victim, a sacrifice pleasing to God. That the soul too is God's sacrifice the Psalmist declares, saying: “A sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit” (Ps 51:17). “To present your bodies as a living victim, holy, pleasing to God.” For a man pleases not because he lives but because he lives well; and a man becomes a victim not if he offers himself to God, but if he offers himself to God in holiness. For as much as an unblemished victim appeases God, so much does a blemished victim provoke God. Hear God saying: “Do not offer me one that is lame, or one-eyed, or polluted by the thought of death, but full-grown and without blemish” (Lev 22:22). That is why the Apostle asks for a living victim for God. So, brothers, if we … the incense of propitiation itself … Cain proves this, who, as an ungrateful priest, so divided a little with God, from whom he had received everything, that he burned on the altar what was worst and kept for himself what was best, to his own offence; and so, while he wrongly divides his goods with his author, he cut himself and his descendants off from life and from the human race (Gen 4). So let us follow Abel to the reward, not accompany Cain to punishment. Abel, carrying a lamb for God's sacrifice, is himself taken up like a lamb; Cain, carrying stubble for himself, found fuel by which he would be burned. “To present your bodies as a living victim, holy, pleasing to God, your reasonable service.” As much as service supported by reason appeases, so much does service without reason provoke. Reasonable service is that which is not disturbed by presumption, not confused by rashness, not violated by unlawful things, not painted over by pretence. A military post trembles in the service of a king; human lordship demands anxious servitude; the fear of the one who obeys keeps watch on the will of the one who commands; careful devotion gains the reward of just recompense, and presumptuous service does not escape the penalty of rashness. Who rushes uncalled into service at the royal court? Who without a title has dared to profess himself a soldier? Who without the insignia of rank seizes the name of rank? And if these things are anxious and careful among men, if they stand by reason, grow strong by order and are kept by trembling, how much more careful must devotion be with God, more fearful the servitude, more anxious the worship, so that it may render divine service with reason? “Your reasonable service,” he says. Service warm with reason is fervour; what is not bridled by reason is fury. Hence the Jewish people, while they sought for themselves a god contrary to reason, lost God, who was served with reason (Exod 32). Hence the sons of Aaron, while they forgot reason and presumed to bring earthly fire to the divine fires, changed the flame of the saving sacrifice into a penal burning for themselves (Lev 10). Hence Saul, swelling with royal height, while he thought that something of the priesthood was permitted him, lost the kingdom he had received, as a violator of the altar (1 Sam 15). Hence the Jew, while he cultivates the law without the reason of the law, has killed the author of the law. Hence the Gentile, while, ignorant of reason, he obeys the crowds of gods and the monsters of gods, has not deserved to come to the service of God, who is one and true. Hence Arius thinks he serves the Father by blaspheming the Son; and while he gives the Son a beginning, the wretch imposes an end on the Father. Hence Photinus, while he denies that the Son is co-eternal with the Father, labours to show that the Father was not always Father. Hence all heresies, while they are carried along to insult the Godhead and falsify the Trinity in their words, serve with blasphemies. But we, brothers, let us fit our bodies to be a living victim for God, let us take care that our service is reasonable, so that there may be true faith, a pure conscience, a sober mind, firm hope, a clean heart, chaste flesh, holy perception, a devout spirit, safe reason, chaste charity, generous mercy, a holy life, modest bearing, and that humility may always accompany our steps in every service of Christ. [Sermon 110. On salvation laid up in faith, on justification from God through Christ, and on undergoing death for Christ. On the words of the same: “But it was not written for Abraham's sake only,” etc.] The blessed Apostle always raises for salvation, for the first and for the last, that is, for Jews and Greeks, the one and only standard of faith: whoever does not deserve to have and to hold it will not be able to possess the glory of the heavenly triumphs. It alone, brothers, directs the battle line of those fighting against faithlessness, points out the king, joins the allies and terrifies the impious enemy by the mere sight of it. For today he began thus: “But it was not written for Abraham's sake only that it was reckoned to him as righteousness, but also for ours, who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead” (Rom 4:23–24). You see, brothers, that while those before believe future things and those after believe past things, both reach salvation by the one road of faith: they confessed that Christ would come, we that he has come; they marvelled and believed that he would go down to death in the manner of a man, we glory that he has died and risen. And what more, brothers? This salvation was denied to the eyes both of those who went before and of those who came after, so that it might be wholly in faith. As for his saying, “who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead,” let no one believe that he was raised by another: he himself is the maker and the raiser of his own body, who said: “I have power to lay down my life, and I have power to take it again” (John 10:18); for the resurrection could not be raised by another, nor life be made alive by another, nor could he deny himself what he was to confer on all. For the spring does not thirst, nor the bread hunger, nor the sun lack light, nor rest itself grow weary. “Who was handed over,” he says, “for our offences, and rose for our justification” (Rom 4:25). Handed over for offences, not so that life, which could not die, might be punished, but so that the offences alone, which had exiled us from life, might be destroyed. “And rose for our justification.” While the condemnation remains, the condemned cannot be justified; so Christ, the heavenly and true parent, having dissolved the condemnation of death through his own death, justifies through his resurrection us, whom the guilt of the first parent had so bound over that death held us liable to itself by right; so that not the guilty man but the guilt perishes, and the penalty itself, that is, death, which had been ordered to strike down the guilty, rightly fails and loses the insignia of its power. Why did it dare, cruel and impious, to touch the innocent, the judge himself? And so he added: “Therefore, being justified by faith, let us have peace with God” (Rom 5:1). That is to say: let it cease, let it cease, contention, the mother of dissensions, the enemy of quiet, the foe of peace; let not the Jew be exalted by the law, let not the Gentile be proud by nature, let the philosopher subside from his foamy and empty opinions; let no one boast of merits, no one of works; because the life which the first transgression had taken away, and furious contention had removed far from us, divine peace has restored and given back. “Let us have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Let earth not rebel against heaven, let flesh not rise against spirit; but let it, in humility, be joined to the perpetual glory of the peace on high. “Through whom we have access”: because he himself has become our way, “by faith into this grace.” Faith, brothers, is the leader of this life. “In which we stand, and we glory in the hope of the glory of the sons of God.” We stand, certainly, by faith, not by the body; and we glory in hope, not in a reality already received. “And not only so, but we glory also in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces patience, and patience proof, and proof hope; and hope does not put to shame” (Rom 5:2–5). See through what ages the righteous man is strengthened into the perfect man: in tribulation, patience, proof, hope. Tribulation, brothers, shakes and disturbs, as it were, the infancy of the righteous man; but when it has found him patient, it then trains him, now a youth of good character, for greater things. “Tribulation produces patience.” It is patience, brothers, which proves Christ's young man fit for the virtues. “And hope does not put to shame.” It is hope that perfects the man and brings him, unwearied, to the measure of the fullness of Christ. It belongs to perfect virtue to possess by the strength of hope what you do not hold in reality. “Because the charity of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” And to show the quality of the divine charity poured into us, he added: “For why did Christ, while we were still weak, at the appointed time die for the ungodly? For one will scarcely die for a righteous man; for a good man perhaps someone might dare to die. But God commends his charity toward us, because while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:6–8). If Christ so loved the human race as to give his death for the ungodly and for sinners, what else do we believe that he will bestow on the righteous but his life, his kingdom, his glory? From you he took the death which he would spend for the ungodly on earth; he keeps for you what he possesses always in himself and through himself, and possesses in heaven. So let us say with the prophet: “What shall I render to the Lord for all that he has rendered to me? I will take the cup of salvation” (Ps 116:12–13). That is: I too will die for him. And what likeness is there? He died freely for the ungodly and the sinner; I scarcely for the righteous and the good; scarcely, because not so much will as necessity leads me to death. Hear him saying to Peter: “But when you are old, another will gird you and lead you where you do not wish” (John 21:18). In adversity, brothers, necessity cannot be compared with will; to acquiesce is necessity, to will is virtue. Death itself is subject to the one who wills, as death has always ruled over the unwilling. And yet, brothers, since man can give back nothing like the divine charity, let him give what he can, because he is accepted according to what he has. Let him fail unto glory, die unto life, perish unto salvation. Let us glory, brothers, in the new terms of this exchange: because death, which among men was the whole repayment of love, has through Christ become the commendation of divine charity.