Sermons 126–131

[On the same.] How advantageous, how profitable it is to loosen the knots of debtors and relax the chains of bonds, the example of the present steward teaches and instructs us: by prudently reducing the heaps of bonds with his consent, he not only escaped the narrowest straits of examination but also won the praise of his examiner, which will endure for ages. And you, brothers, temper with most kindly hearing what the promise I made about the present reading has made me owe you, so that a severe examination may not burden me and you together, whom understanding can kindly relieve. So let us now follow what remains of the reading and hear what plan the steward found. “He said,” it says, “within himself: What shall I do, since my master is taking the stewardship from me? I am not able to dig, I am ashamed to beg. I know what I will do… So, calling each of his master's debtors, he said to the first: How much do you owe my master? And he said: A hundred jars of oil. And he said to him: Take your bond, and sit down quickly and write fifty. Then he said to another: And how much do you owe? He said: A hundred measures of wheat. And he said to him: Take your bill and write eighty. And the master praised the steward of iniquity, because he had acted prudently” (Luke 16). Now at least it is clear that in the Gospel readings very many questions are contained, obscured by divine mysteries and veiled in heavenly meanings, and that what is brought forth by the mouth of Christ from heavenly secrets does not easily lie open to human understanding. “And the master,” it says, “praised the steward of iniquity, because he had acted prudently.” I ask, what does a worldly mind grasp in this place? What does ordinary hearing grasp and receive here, where the invention of a cunning fraud between the steward and the master's debtors is praised, where the honesty of the debtor is taken away, shame removed, innocence violated, all modesty buried; where the steward, at the time of rendering account, burns more with fraud than he panted for luxury in the time of his stewardship; where at the moment of examination he rages more to his master's loss than he poured out and squandered in the days of his management; and he who before had emptied the estate by squandering overthrew more of what remained by emptying the bonds; he does not care how he might make up what was lacking, but devises how he might reduce what remained. He said to the debtor: “How much do you owe my master?” He did not say, “How much do you owe me?” By speaking so he appealed to the conscience and called the debtor's mind to witness. And why was it that the steward, without regard for his master, provoked the debtor to so great a fraud? “How much do you owe my master?” He says: “A hundred jars of oil.” “Take your bond and write fifty.” The steward conspired and acted to so great a fraud that he lost all good faith while he contrived the bond. “How much do you owe my master?” Both knew that the creditor above was present everywhere and always and could not be forestalled by fraud; but neither does he who has once begun to steal stop even before his master's eyes. Granted, however, that it is human nature for a debtor to seek fraudulent gains and for a steward to look after himself by stealing like this: why then does the master approve the fraud, praise it, commend falsehood? Does he call wickedness prudence, and judge kindly what offers many the worst example of falsehood? Let it seem so to carnal understanding; to the spiritual, which belongs to the divine light, let it now shine. The parable that was first sketched through the younger son is repeated through the steward. The gentile people is called the steward of iniquity and of the mammon of iniquity: “Make friends for yourselves,” he says, “of the mammon of iniquity”; for, having abandoned the Creator, it had given itself wholly to the service of mammon. Whoever is free from captivity to this mammon and is no longer weighed down by the cruel weight of money, let him stand on the heavenly watchtower and from there look down on mammon ruling the world and worldly people with tyrannical fury. It commands nations, gives orders to kingdoms, orders wars, hires soldiers, sells blood, brings about deaths, betrays homelands, destroys cities, subjects peoples, besieges citadels, harasses citizens, presides over the forum, destroys law, confounds right and wrong, and, going even as far as death, tempts faith, violates truth, carps at reputation, squanders honor, dissolves affection, takes away innocence, buries kindness, tears apart kinship, undermines friendship. What more? This is mammon, the lord of iniquity, who rules iniquitously over human bodies and minds. The steward of this mammon, then, that is, the gentile people, guilty of having so squandered the estate, is summoned by the Lord through the Gospel to give an account of his stewardship, that is, of natural good. To him it is then said: “You can no longer be steward,” when the end of the age is also announced. He believes, in short, according to the Apostle, that “the form of the world is passing away” (1 Cor 7), that the times of human stewardship are passing; and within himself, coming back to himself, he asks what he ought to do. “He said within himself: What shall I do?” His heart groaned, his mind grieved, faith answered and gave him saving counsel: that the steward should now return to the true master, and that, as victor, by questioning mammon, he should subject that savage master to his own service, so that what had been the instrument of perdition might become the occasion of salvation. So the steward, once a gentile and now a Christian, goes to his master's first debtor. Whom? The Jewish debtor, whom he asks what and how much he owes his master, as if he did not know the amount of the debt. The bearer of the bond already knew it through the Gospel, but by asking he sought a confession in this way; and so the debtor confesses both the kind and the amount of the debt, saying: “A hundred jars of oil.” Why not a weight of silver or gold? Why not a hundred and ten, or ninety, but a hundred? So that a heavenly mystery may shine both from the debt and from the number. The Jew owed oil, which by the bond of the law he had received for anointing kings, prophets and priests, as a figure of the Christian chrism, until it should come to the very prince of kings, prophets and priests, to whom the whole hundredfold fullness of chrism was to be rendered and poured out. But because the debtor, against the good faith of the bond, impiously killed his creditor so as not to pay the debt, the legal bond itself, that is, the law, came to the gentiles, so that the Jew, convicted by the gentile because he turned his debt into a crime, might pay the interest of repentance. You see, then, that the steward urges not fraud but repentance; he invites to obtaining mercy, he does not drive to falsehood, when he says: “Take your bond, sit down quickly, and write fifty.” That the number fifty belongs to mercy David shows when he sings the fiftieth psalm, crying: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your great mercy” (Ps 51:1 [LXX 50:3]). The number fifty revealed mercy when the law prescribes that the fiftieth year, which is the jubilee, should blot out all debts and loose the bonds of all contracts (Lev 25). This steward therefore acts so that through the mercy of Christ the Jew may be made able to pay, who by the bond of the law was held confounded by unpayable debts. The Jew owes oil, who, according to the Apostle (Rom 11), had dried up in himself the richness of the fruitful olive tree by the barrenness of unbelief. Hence by the warmth of the Gospel faith it now returns wholly into the Christian branches and revives wholly into grace. “Then he said to another: And how much do you owe? He said: A hundred measures of wheat.” After the grain of wheat, which is Christ, was sown in the earth of our flesh and was made fruitful for heavenly abundance by the Lord's burial, it came about that man now owes his Maker fruit a hundredfold. “Unless,” he says, “a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone” (John 12). The steward, seeing this, provides well when he says: “Take your bond and write eighty.” For as fifty confers mercy, so eighty prefigures all faith and grace. This is the number in which a reader well versed in the law and devoted to the Gospel understands the Decalogue of the law and the eight of grace. So the steward, when he says “Write eighty,” acts so that the debtor may pay through grace what he could not pay through nature. Rightly, therefore, did this steward earn his master's praise, since in the bonds he contrived not fraud but salvation. And his saying, “They are more prudent than the children of light in their generation,” is to be understood thus: those who were once children of the world, that is, the gentiles, are now God's elect; and those who were children of God, that is, the Jews, are now left among the children of the world. “In their generation”: the one by which they were reborn, not the one by which they were born. “Let these things be written,” it says, “for another generation” (Ps 102:18 [LXX 101:19]). This other generation is “the generation of those who seek the Lord” (Ps 24:6 [LXX 23:6]). May the God of knowledge and illumination illumine your hearts and pour the whole fullness of his knowledge into the secret place of your minds.

[On the beheading of St John the Baptist.] Today, as the virtue of John and the savagery of Herod were read to us, our inmost parts were shaken, our hearts trembled, our sight grew dark, our understanding was dulled, our hearing fled. Or what holds firm in human senses when the greatness of crimes has destroyed the greatness of virtues? “Herod,” it says, “seized John and bound him and put him in prison” (Matt 14). John, the school of virtues, the teaching of life, the pattern of holiness, the rule of justice, the mirror of virginity, the title of modesty, the example of chastity, the way of repentance, the pardon of sinners, the discipline of faith; John, greater than a man, equal to the angels, the summit of the law, the sanction of the Gospel, the voice of the apostles, the silence of the prophets, the lamp of the world, the herald of the judge, the forerunner of Christ, the messenger of the Lord, the witness of God, the go-between of the whole Trinity, is given over to incest, handed over to an adulteress, delivered to a dancing girl. Rightly then were our inmost parts shaken and our hearts trembled. But Herod is the one who profaned the temple, took away the priesthood, confounded order, violated the kingdom, corrupted whatever there was of religion; whatever there was of life, of law, of morals, of faith, of discipline, he destroyed and confounded. Herod, assassin of citizens, robber of nobles, ravager of allies, plunderer of his household, slayer of the people, killer of his sons, murderer of strangers, parricide of his own, making the earth drunk with gore, remained thirsty for blood. Hence it was that he drank down the holy blood of John in a huge cup of cruelty. But let the reading itself now speak. “Herod,” it says, “seized John and bound him.” He who had loosed the bonds of sins is bound with the bonds of a sinner, so that pardon, once bound, might leave no room for pardon. “He bound him and put him in prison.” Herod, you commit adultery, and John goes to prison? Do you, the guilty, sitting in the judge's place, judge like this; in the avenger's place do you persecute innocence? I ask, where is the face of things? Where is reputation? Where is shame? Where is the regard due to a public judge? Indeed, where is God? Where is man? Where is right? Where is law? Where are the rights of nature itself? All things are confounded together, Herod, by your acting, your judging, your commanding. “He seized John,” it says, “and bound him and put him in prison.” Herod, the case is against you, the chains convict you, the prison accuses you, the wrong done to John, brought out in public, makes you known: the case that inquires into the cause of the custody finds in you what to punish and in John what to grieve over. John, known to the world, renowned for his virtue, most famous for his holiness, by drawing to himself people inquiring about his wrong, makes your incest known to all; he brings it about that public shame holds you, whom private correction could not correct. John struck at Herod with warnings, not with accusation; he wanted to correct him, not to destroy him; but Herod, burning with the torches of lust, preferred to perish rather than return, and to possess his brother's wife unlawfully. To captives of crime, to enemies of innocence, freedom is always hateful; virtue is opposed to the vicious, holiness is detested by the sacrilegious, chastity is the enemy of the unchaste, integrity is a punishment to the corrupt, frugality is adverse to the luxurious, mercy to the cruel, kindness to the impious, justice is unbearable to the unjust. The evangelist proves this when he says: “For John said to him: It is not lawful for you to have the wife of Philip your brother.” See how John gave offense, see why Herod rages: whoever warns the wicked offends; whoever rebukes criminals incurs hatred. John said what belonged to the law, to justice, to salvation; certainly what belonged not to hatred but to love: see what reward he received from the impious man for his kindness. “Wishing,” it says, “to kill him, he feared the people.” He easily strays from justice who in his affairs fears not God but men. This fear can put off the opportunity to sin; it cannot take away the will; so it makes those it holds back from crime more eager for crime, and the mind seethes until it accomplishes the evil it plans. Only the fear of God corrects minds, puts crimes to flight, keeps innocence, and grants lasting power. But let us hear the passion itself of most blessed John. “On Herod's birthday the daughter of Herodias danced in the middle of the dining room and pleased Herod; so he promised with an oath to give her whatever she asked of him. But she, prompted by her mother, said: Give me here on a dish the head of John the Baptist.” This is the ancient malice of woman, which cast Adam out of the delights of paradise (Gen 3); this made heavenly men earthly, this sent the human race to hell, this took life from the world for the fruit of one tree. This evil that leads men to death, this evil Elijah the prophet fled (1 Kgs 19 [3 Kgdms 19]); and he whose tongue had been made the key of heaven fled like a guilty man from the face of a woman. This found true labor and distress; this now kills John the Baptist, casts down boyhood, destroys youth, and unlawfully and restlessly kills old age. “Prompted by her mother, she said: Give me on a dish the head of John the Baptist.” A new beast, giving out a roar from her mother's breast, scorns the body as prey and goes for the very head, to cut it off. “And the king was saddened, yet because of the oath and those reclining at table he ordered it to be given, and he sent and had John beheaded, and his head was brought on a dish and given to the girl, and the girl gave it to her mother.” You have heard, brothers, how great a cruelty is born of pleasure, how great an impiety of lust. “And his head was brought on a dish.” The house is turned into an arena, the table moves into the cage, the diners become spectators, the banquet is changed by fury: slaughter becomes food, wine passes into blood, a funeral is served up at a birthday, a setting is displayed at a rising, the banquet is changed into homicide, the instruments sound a worldly tragedy; a beast comes in, not a girl; she seeks to cut, not to dance; a wild animal, not a woman, runs about; she tosses a mane, not hair, over her neck; she stretches her limbs in contortions, grows with the increase of her savagery, becomes great in cruelty, not in body; and, a singular beast, until she seizes her prey she roars and gnashes her teeth; she does not receive the sword but brings it out. But lest anyone think that we wish to declaim about such things, we wish not to declaim but to cry out, so that the joys of your festivals may be cautious, and the celebration of your birthdays may keep measure in its rejoicing; that Christ may be present at our feasts, that we may dine in the presence of the Maker; that nature itself, which brought you forth, may be honored by the decency of the banquet; that the gladness of your table may reach the poor; that your household may rejoice in the discipline of innocence; that luxury may stay away and extravagance be put to flight; that the plague of dancing girls, the seductions of singers, the kindlings of pleasures, the burdens of the belly, the shipwrecks of minds may be cut off along with the banquets of Herodias; so that your present joy may come to everlasting gladness. Today, brothers, we have spoken not only against Herod but also against Herodias; for the hearer understands well enough how great the happiness of the martyr is when he hears the misery of the persecutor. Yet it is fitting for us to know that John was born from his death, and Herod died from his birthday.

[On St Apollinaris, bishop and martyr.] Blessed Apollinaris, first in the priesthood, alone adorned this Church of Ravenna with the native and renowned honor of martyrdom. Rightly Apollinaris, because, according to the command of his God, he lost his life here so as to find it unto eternal life. Blessed is he who so finished his course and kept the faith that he was truly found first by the believers in his place. And let no one think him, under the name of confessor, less than a martyr, whom you see, by God's will, returning daily and many times to the contest. Hear Paul saying: “I die daily” (1 Cor 15). To die once is too little for one who can often bring back to his king a glorious victory over the enemy. Not death so much as faith and devotion make a martyr; and as it is a mark of virtue to fall in the battle line, in the conflict, for love of the king, so it is a mark of perfect virtue to wage and finish contests for a long time. So the enemy did not persecute him into martyrdom, since he did not at once inflict death; but he proved him a martyr, because he did not wrest away his faith. The cunning enemy hurled what darts he could and spent every kind of his weapons; yet he could not move the mind of the bravest of leaders or violate his constancy. It is the highest thing, brothers, to despise the present life for the Lord, if necessary; but it is glorious also, while living, to despise the world and trample it with its prince. Christ hastened to the martyr, the martyr hastened to his king. We said “hastened” well, according to the prophet's word: “Rise up to meet me, and see” (Ps 59:4 [LXX 58:5]). But that holy Church might keep its champion, it ran hard to meet Christ, so that it might keep the crown for the victor's justice, and grant itself, in time of war, the presence of its warrior. The confessor often shed his blood, and by his wounds, by the faith of his mind, bore witness to his Maker. Looking up to heaven, he looked down on the flesh and the earth. Yet the still tender infancy of the Church prevailed, held him, and obtained that the martyr be held back from his desire. I say infancy, brothers, which always obtains everything, which contends more with tears than by strength. For the face and sweat of the strong cannot do as much as the tears of little ones, because there bodies are broken, here hearts; there the judgments of the mind are scarcely moved, here all kindness bends and comes down. What more, brothers? Holy mother Church acted, acted so that she should never be separated from her bishop. See, he lives; see, like a good shepherd he stands in the midst of his flock, and his spirit is never separated, though in body he went before for a time; I say went before in outward form, for he rests among us in the very dwelling of his body. The devil is extinguished, the persecutor has fallen; see, he reigns and lives who desired to be killed for his king, who lives and reigns with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for all ages of ages.

[On St Cyprian, martyr.] Since today we have gathered before God on the birthday of the holy martyr Cyprian, on which he triumphed over the devil in a wonderful contest, and since he left us a glorious example of his virtues, it is therefore fitting for us to exult and rejoice. So when you hear of the birthday of the saints, dearly beloved, do not think that the day is meant on which they are born from the flesh into the world, but the day on which they are born from earth into heaven, from labor to rest, from temptations to quiet, from torments to delights, not fleeting but strong, stable and eternal, from worldly laughter to a crown and glory. Such birthdays of the martyrs are worthily celebrated. When, then, a festival of this kind is kept, do not suppose, dearly beloved, that the birthdays of the martyrs are celebrated only with meals and more lavish banquets; rather, what you celebrate in the martyr's memory is set before you to imitate. Look, then, dearly beloved, at the eagerness of the people standing around. For on this day once a crowd of the impious stood by when holy Cyprian was struck down by order of the tyrant; there were crowds of the wicked, throngs of onlookers; now a multitude of the faithful has devoutly flocked together to rejoice together: then a crowd of the raging, now of the rejoicing; then of the hopeless, now of the hopeful. For this reason the birthdays of the martyrs are celebrated with yearly gladness, so that what was done once may remain through every age in the memory of the devout. The event took place, dearly beloved, so that you could not say you did not know it; it is celebrated yearly so that you could not say, “I have forgotten.” Rouse yourselves, then, dearly beloved, to imitate these things; desire this grace of greatness of soul; ask that what he deserved to obtain may be given to you. For all who desire heavenly things cannot be entangled in the snares of earthly goods, because they have set their way of life in heaven, as the holy Apostle says: “But our citizenship is in heaven” (Phil 3). Let the desire of our heart, then, be directed to the heavenly dwelling, where, when your treasure has been distributed to the poor, your heart will be also. And the treasure of all good things is Christ, who with the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit may deign to heap and fill you with heavenly gifts, both now and forever.

[On the consecration of a bishop.] As the long awaiting of a great promise kindles the soul and wearies the mind, so the longed-for fulfilment of the promise rouses all the senses and the very inmost parts. Hence today, as Isaiah said (Isa 52), holy mother Church has come forth festive, all rejoicing and adorned; she has put on the tunic of her gladness, and like a bride she has set a headdress on herself and arrayed and adorned herself with varied ornament; as the sky shines with the lights of the stars and the earth blooms with its flowers, and as a garden brings forth its shoots, so she has brought forth gladness in the sight of all her sons. For, according to David's promise, “Today in place of the father a son is born to her” (Ps 45:16 [LXX 44:17]), who will not bow her down with weight, not frighten her with authority, not disturb her with agitation, not trouble her with harshness, but will support her with faithful service; who with watchful care will make her complete, with anxious labor provide what she needs, order the household with gentle instruction, go out to meet guests, serve parents, obey kings, work together with the authorities, give reverence to the old, kindness to children, love to brothers, affection to little ones, and show to all a free service through Christ. David said: “Hear, O daughter, and see” (Ps 45:10 [LXX 44:11]). I will say: Hear, O mother, and see: in place of your fathers sons are born to you. Let them be old men in prudence, fathers in gravity, sons in love, young men in strength, offspring in sweetness, infants in innocence, little ones in malice, as those who do not know the world, possessing the whole presence of the kingdom of God, as the Lord attests when he says: “Let the little ones come to me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 19). Such sons are begotten by the union of perpetual virginity, such by the joining of heavenly life, which knows no sex, is conscious of conception, acquainted with childbirth, ignorant of corruption, whole in modesty, closed in integrity, chaste in her offspring, spread wide in fruitfulness. This so devoted mother, while she celebrates today the birthday feast of one of her offspring, opens her bosom, stretches out her embrace, lifts her voice, sings divine songs, so as to call all, take in all, enclose all in the lap of love to rejoice with her. Present too is the very mother of the everlasting and faithful Christian empire, who, while by faith, by works of mercy, by holiness in honor of the Trinity she follows and imitates the blessed Church, has deserved to bring forth, embrace and possess an august Trinity. So the Trinity rewards those who burn with love and ardor for it: she deserved to give it honor, and to rejoice that God's grace has made for her a religion like her own. She deserved that the dignity of a mother should overflow through the mother to her descendants. Pray, brothers, that the Christian princes, since with holy devotion they deign to come to meet our joys and take part in our solemnities, may likewise be commended by the devout prayer of all the bishops for a long time with equal grace.

[On God, how he is seen; on the envy and obstinacy of the Jews; and on the death of man.] We have often said that God is not seen with bodily eyes, that the Godhead is not enclosed by a carnal mind, that human reason does not grasp the Creator of things, but that faith alone reaches God, belief alone perceives him, and that man's gaze, however great it is, beholds not how great he is but that he is. In short, Moses, who is promoted from servant to friend, from man to god, seeks God's face but does not find it; he asks, but does not receive; and he is told to see only God's back (Exod 33), so that man may seek to follow God, not to go before him, and may not presume to ask what was before God, but as a worshiper may acknowledge that all things exist through God. Often God shows men the form of a man, and gathers his great greatness into the small figure of our making, so that our weak eye can behold the divine things present and our narrow sight can receive them. So God came to Abraham in the form of a man, came in the figure of a guest, and like a traveler weary to death received water on his feet (Gen 18); and invited to table, he is filled with the serving of a calf and bread; and he so entrusts and commits himself entirely to human service that by touch and sight he seems to fulfil the part of a true man, and this at the time when, being true God, he came to open the womb of the hopeless old woman's extreme barrenness and to grant offspring for birth. So he met Jacob as a fellow traveler on the road (Gen 32), and so offered himself as a companion in human fellowship that God entered wholly into the wrestling when man challenged him; and he seemed to be conquered by sinews and arms just when, as victor, he gave heavenly gifts, gave divine rewards. So Isaiah saw God seated in royal attire (Isa 6), so that he might recognize that unless kings are ruled by God the King, rulers, being men, can rule nothing. So Daniel sees God the Father, with snowy hair, in venerable old age, awesome in antiquity, surrounded by angels, seated on a fiery throne for judgment (Dan 7). So he beholds the Son of God himself coming in a son of man with the clouds of heaven, so that one might know that Christ, unknown before to so many faithless people, was always known to the faithful. If God is so often seen by men in the form of a man, why is it that the Jew, now seeing Christ as a man, is so exasperated, unless perhaps the form, the honor, the truth is thought an injury? The evangelist related today that Christ said: “If anyone keeps my word, he will not see death forever” (John 8). To this word the Jews answered: “Now we know that you have a demon. Abraham our father died, and the prophets; and you say: If anyone keeps my word, he will not taste death forever. Are you greater than our father Abraham? Whom do you make yourself?” O how faithlessness received it! O how envy shuts the eyes! How much does prejudiced wickedness confound the judgment of the heart! O how harshly obstinacy cuts off reason! The perverted human mind cannot hear what it has once decided to hate; goodness is hateful to the wicked, justice an enemy to the unjust. Hence lying men cannot recognize the truth; the mind as judge cannot find what is true among the messages of falsehoods. Whoever has resolved to err always hears what he wants, not what is. Christ had said: “If anyone keeps my word, he will not see death forever.” The Jew does not examine what he heard, does not seek to interpret the words to himself, does not require that he who promises should prove what he himself thinks impossible; but at once, from what his mind has conceived, he gives birth to blasphemy, sows insults, pours out curses, and tries to empty the speaker's authority by abuse, so that he who seems so subject to human things may not be believed able to give eternal things to mortals. “Now we know that you have a demon.” A demon, the author of evil, promises evil things, not good; he is accustomed to kill, not to give life; he does not want men to be eternal whom he does not allow even to be temporal. Therefore Christ is not a demon but God, who gives back the life he had given and by his word makes men eternal whom the devil by his persuasion had made temporal. “Abraham,” they say, “died, and the prophets; and you say: If anyone keeps my word, he will not see death forever.” Let the believer hear, so that by the revelation of faith he may know what the unbeliever cannot hear, what one who has sunk himself in the darkness of unbelief cannot see. Christ said: “He will not see death.” Your obstinacy, Jew, rightly seeks to call it a falsehood. Abraham and the prophets, hearing the word, kept it firmly, and yet they died, but not forever. So when he says, “He will not see death,” and adds “forever,” he promises resurrection; he does not deny that they will die in time. Jew, those whom death made not to be in the present age, resurrection restores to everlasting being in the future. Hear him say this more openly: “Everyone who believes will not die forever, but will pass from death to life” (John 5 and 11). How does he not die? Because he passes from death to life. Everyone who is born of the mortal condition dies, then, he dies; but everyone who is reborn of the life-giving generation lives, and lives forever. But I ask: he who could take away death, why did he want man to pass through death? For the physician who anticipates diseases seems more welcome than the one who applies a late and not painless remedy to diseases. Jew, Christ the physician would have done this too, if the sick man had not been ungrateful to the physician. He both gave life and foretold to man that death would come; but he who had not experienced adversity did not know how to keep prosperity. We cannot know how good good things are except by the knowledge of evils. Therefore Christ will be magnified, who both gave life before it was lived in and now gives back the life that was lost; and man, more aware of life, will be more careful of himself and more grateful to his Maker. “Are you greater,” they say, “than our father Abraham?” Plainly greater, and as much greater as the master than the servant, God than man, the maker than the thing made, the one who gives life than the dead, the one who raises than the one raised. “Jesus answered: Abraham rejoiced to see my day; he saw it and was glad.” To show that Abraham lives, he said that he saw his day, that is, the day on which Christ was born to the world. The Maker of days is not held by a day, the Author of time does not know times; but Christ, born a man for man's sake, took on both a day and time. “Abraham rejoiced to see my day.” If Moses and Elijah come on the mountain to see the promised Christ, how would Abraham not come to the Virgin's childbirth, so that, most patient in his waiting, he might look upon the blessing promised among the nations, that is, in his offspring? “Amen, amen, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am.” If “all things were made through him, and without him nothing was made” (John 1), and this is he to whom the Father said, “Let us make man in our image and likeness” (Gen 1), how did Abraham not see him? “Let us make man in our image and likeness.” As the substance of an angel and of God is different, so is the image. Therefore the Father speaks only to the Son when he says, “Let us make man in our image and likeness,” since they have the same image and the same substance. “They took up stones to throw at him.” Like those building the tower so as to fall from a greater height, they provided stones for themselves; and these wretches brought stones not to kill God but with which to kill themselves. “Jesus hid himself.” Not fearing, but forgiving: when God flees the sinner he spares him; when God turns aside he does not want to destroy the rebel.