Sermons to the People 67.1–69.4

When the holy Gospel was read, we heard that the Lord Jesus exulted in the Spirit and said: “I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them to little ones.” Thus far, for now, the Lord’s words. If we consider them worthily, carefully, and, what comes first, devoutly, we find first of all that we ought not always to understand the voice of a sinner when we read “confession” in the Scriptures. This especially had to be said, and your Charity reminded of it here, because as soon as this word sounded in the mouth of the reader, the sound of your beating your breasts followed, when you heard, that is, the Lord say, “I confess to you, Father.” At the very sound of “I confess” you beat your breasts. And what is beating the breast but rebuking what lies hidden in the breast, and chastising hidden sin with a visible blow? Why did you do this, except that you heard, “I confess to you, Father”? You heard “I confess”; you did not notice who was confessing. Now, then, pay attention. If Christ said “I confess,” he from whom all sin is far away, confession belongs not only to the sinner but sometimes also to one who praises. So we confess, whether praising God or accusing ourselves. Both kinds of confession are godly: when you reproach yourself, who are not without sin, or when you praise him who cannot have sin.

But if we think rightly, your reproach becomes his praise. For why do you now confess in accusing your sin? In accusing yourself, why do you confess, except that from being dead you have been made alive? For Scripture says: “From the dead, as from one who is not, confession perishes.” If confession perishes from the dead, he who confesses is alive; and if he confesses sin, he has certainly come back to life from death. If the one who confesses sin has come back to life from death, who raised him? No dead man raises himself. He alone could raise himself who, when his flesh was dead, was not dead. For he raised what had been dead. He raised himself who was alive in himself but was dead in his flesh that was to be raised. For not only did the Father raise the Son, of whom it was said by the Apostle, “Therefore God also exalted him,” but the Lord also raised himself, that is, his body; hence he says, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” But the sinner is dead, above all the one whom the weight of habit presses down, as Lazarus was buried. For it was not enough that he was dead; he was also buried. Whoever, then, is pressed by the weight of bad habit, of a bad life, that is, of earthly desires, so that what is lamentably said in a certain psalm has already come true in him, “The fool has said in his heart, There is no God,” becomes such a one as it is said of: “From the dead, as from one who is not, confession perishes.” Who will raise him, but he who, when the stone was removed, cried out, saying, “Lazarus, come forth”? What is it to come forth, but to bring out what was hidden? He who confesses comes forth. He could not come forth unless he were alive; he could not be alive unless he had been raised. So in confession the accusation of oneself is the praise of God.

So someone says: What use is the Church, if the one who confesses, raised by the Lord’s voice, already comes forth? What use is the Church to the one confessing, the Church to which the Lord says, “Whatever you loose on earth will be loosed also in heaven”? Look at Lazarus himself: he comes forth with his bonds. He was already alive by confessing; but he did not yet walk free, entangled in bonds. What then does the Church do, to which it was said, “Whatever you loose will be loosed,” except what the Lord said at once to the disciples: “Loose him, and let him go”?

Whether, then, we accuse ourselves or praise God, either way we praise God. If we accuse ourselves devoutly, we certainly praise God. When we praise God, we proclaim him as one who is without sin; when we accuse ourselves, we give glory to him through whom we have risen. If you do this, the enemy finds no occasion to entrap you before the judge. For when you yourself are the accuser and the Lord the deliverer, what will he be but a false accuser? Rightly, then, has such a one provided himself with protection against enemies: not visible ones, flesh and blood, which are to be pitied rather than guarded against, but those enemies against whom the Apostle urges us to arm ourselves: “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood”: that is, against men whom you see raging against you. They are vessels; another uses them. They are instruments; another plays them. “The devil,” it says, “put it into the heart of Judas to betray the Lord.” Someone says: “What then did I do?” Hear the Apostle: “Do not give place to the devil.” By a bad will you gave him place: he entered, took possession, and uses you. If you had not given him place, he would not possess you.

So, admonishing us, he says: “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers.” Someone might think: against the kings of the earth, against the powers of this world. Why? Are they not flesh and blood? It has been said once for all: not against flesh and blood. Turn away from every human being. What enemies remain, then? “Against the principalities and powers of spiritual wickedness, the rulers of the world.” It seems as though he gave more to the devil and his angels. He did give more: he called them rulers of the world. But lest you understand it wrongly, he explains what the world is of which they are rulers: “Rulers of the world of this darkness.” What is “of the world of this darkness”? The world is full of those whose ruler he is, his lovers and the unbelieving. These the Apostle calls darkness. Their rulers are the devil and his angels. This darkness is not darkness by nature, not unchangeable: they are changed and become light; they believe, and by believing are enlightened. When this has happened in them, they will hear: “For you were once darkness, but now light in the Lord.” For when you were darkness, you were not in the Lord; again, when you are light, you are light not in yourself but in the Lord. “For what do you have that you did not receive?” Since, then, the enemies are invisible, they must be overcome invisibly. You conquer a visible enemy by striking; you conquer an invisible one by believing. A man is a visible enemy, and striking is visible too; the devil is an invisible enemy, and believing is invisible too. So there is an invisible fight against invisible enemies.

How does a certain man say that he is safe from these enemies? For I had begun to speak of this, and I had to treat these enemies at some length. Now that the enemies are known, let us see the protection. “Praising, I will call upon the Lord, and I shall be safe from my enemies.” You have what you must do. Call upon him praising; but call upon the Lord praising. For if you praise yourself, you will not be safe from your enemies. Praising, call upon the Lord, and you will be safe from your enemies. For what does the Lord himself say? “The sacrifice of praise will glorify me; and there is the way where I will show him my salvation.” Where is the way? In the sacrifice of praise. Do not set your foot outside this way. Be on the way; do not withdraw from the way; from the praise of the Lord not a nail’s breadth, let alone a foot. For if you want to stray from this way and praise yourself instead of the Lord, you will not be safe from those enemies; for of them it is said, “Beside the path they have set stumbling blocks for me.” Whatever good, then, you have thought you have from yourself, you have strayed from the praise of God. Why are you surprised now if the enemy leads you astray, when you are your own seducer? Hear the Apostle: “For whoever thinks himself something, when he is nothing, deceives himself.”

Pay attention, then, to the Lord confessing: “I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth.” I confess to you: I praise you. I praise you; I do not accuse myself. But as regards the taking up of the man himself, it is all grace, singular grace, perfect grace. What did that man who is Christ deserve, if you take away grace, and such great grace, by which there had to be one Christ, and he the one we know? Take away this grace: what is Christ but a man? What but what you are? He took up a soul, he took up a body, he took up a complete man; he joins him to himself; the Lord makes one person with the servant. How great is this grace! Christ in heaven, Christ on earth; Christ at once in heaven and on earth; not two Christs, but the same Christ in heaven and on earth. Christ with the Father, Christ in the Virgin’s womb; Christ on the cross, Christ among those below, coming to the aid of some; and on that same day Christ in paradise with the confessing thief. And what did the thief deserve there, except that he held to that way where he showed his salvation? From that way let your foot not go out. For in accusing himself he praised God and made his own life blessed. He did indeed presume on the Lord and said to him, “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” For he was considering his crimes, and he counted it a great thing if he were spared even at the end. But the Lord at once, when he said, “Remember me”—but when? “when you come into your kingdom”—said, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Mercy offered what misery had put off.

Hear, then, the Lord confessing: “I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth.” What do I confess? In what do I praise you? For this confession, as I said, contains praise. “Because you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them to little ones.” What is this, brothers? Understand it from its opposite. “You have hidden these things,” he says, “from the wise and prudent”; and he did not say, “You have revealed them to the foolish and imprudent,” but, “You have hidden them indeed from the wise and prudent, and revealed them to little ones.” To the wise and prudent, who are to be laughed at, the arrogant, falsely great but truly swollen, he opposed not the unwise, not the imprudent, but little ones. Who are the little ones? The humble. So, “You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent.” He himself explained that by the name of the wise and prudent the proud are to be understood, when he said, “You have revealed them to little ones.” So “you have hidden them” from those who are not little ones. What is “not little ones”? Not humble. What is “not humble” but proud? O way of the Lord! Either it did not exist, or it lay hidden, so that it might be revealed to us. Why did the Lord exult? Because it was revealed to little ones. We must be little ones; for if we want to be great, as if wise and prudent, it is not revealed to us. Who are the great? The wise and prudent. “Claiming to be wise, they became fools.” You have the remedy from the opposite. If by calling yourself wise you have become a fool, call yourself a fool, and you will be wise. But say it; say it, and say it inwardly, because it is as you say. If you say it, do not say it before men and fail to say it before God. Truly, as far as concerns yourself, as far as concerns what is yours, you are darkness. For what else is it to be foolish than to be darkened in heart? Finally, of them he says this: “Claiming to be wise, they became fools.” Before they said this, what came first? “And their foolish heart was darkened.” Say that you are not a light to yourself. At most you are an eye; you are not the light. What use is an open and healthy eye, if light is lacking? So say that you are not a light to yourself from yourself, and cry out what is written: “You will light my lamp, O Lord; with your light, Lord, you will enlighten my darkness.” For of mine I have nothing but darkness; but you are the light that puts darkness to flight and enlightens me: I am not a light to myself from myself, but I share in light only in you.

So John too, the friend of the bridegroom, was thought to be the Christ, was thought to be the light. He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light. What was the light? It was the true light. What is “true”? That which enlightens every man. If the true light is that which enlightens every man, then it enlightened John too, who rightly said, rightly confessed, “We have received from his fullness.” See whether he said anything other than, “You will light my lamp, O Lord.” Then, once enlightened, he bore witness. For the sake of the blind, the lamp bore witness to the day. See that he is a lamp: “You,” he says, “sent to John, and you were willing to rejoice for an hour in his light: he was a burning and shining lamp.” He was a lamp, that is, a thing enlightened, lit so that it might shine. What can be lit can also be put out. But that it may not be put out, let it not expose itself to the wind of pride. So: “I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent,” who thought themselves light and were darkness; and because they were darkness and thought themselves light, they could not be enlightened. But those who were darkness and confessed that they were darkness were little ones, not great; humble, not proud. Rightly, then, did they say, “You will light my lamp, O Lord.” They recognized themselves, they praised the Lord, they did not withdraw from the way of salvation. Praising, they called upon the Lord, and they were safe from their enemies.

Turning to the Lord God, the Father almighty, with a pure heart, let us give him, as far as our littleness is able, the greatest and most abundant thanks; praying with all our soul to his singular kindness that he may deign to hear our prayers in his good pleasure, drive out the enemy from our actions and thoughts by his power, increase our faith, govern our mind, grant us spiritual thoughts, and bring us to his blessedness, through Jesus Christ his Son. Amen.

We have heard the Son of God saying, “I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth.” What does he confess to him? In what does he praise him? “Because,” he says, “you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them to little ones.” Who are the wise and prudent? Who are the little ones? What did he hide from the wise and prudent and reveal to little ones? By the wise and prudent he means those of whom Paul says: “Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?” Perhaps you still ask who these are. Perhaps they are those who, disputing much about God, said false things; puffed up by their own teachings, they were quite unable to find and know God, and in place of God, whose substance is incomprehensible and invisible, they thought that God was the air, the ether; that God was the sun; that God was something that stands out on high in creation. For attending to the greatness and beauty and strength of creatures, they stopped there; they did not find the Creator.

The book of Wisdom refutes them, where it is said: “For if they were able to know so much that they could assess the world, how did they not more easily find its Lord?” They are accused who spend their time and the labor of their disputations searching out and in a way measuring creation: they investigated the courses of the constellations, the intervals of the stars, the paths of the heavenly bodies, so that by certain calculations they came to such knowledge that they predicted eclipses of the sun and of the moon; and what they predicted came to pass, on that day and at that hour, as much and in as large a part as they had predicted. Great industry, great skill. But there they searched for the Creator, who is placed not far from them, and did not find him. Had they found him, they would have had him with them. Very well, then, and very rightly are they accused who were able to investigate the numbers of the stars and the intervals of times, to know and predict the eclipses of the lights: rightly accused, because they did not find him by whom these things were made and ordered, because they neglected to seek him. But you, do not worry much if you do not know the circuits of the stars and the numbers of heavenly or earthly bodies. See the beauty of the world, and praise the Creator’s design. See what he made; love him who made it: hold to this above all. Love him who made it, because he also made you, his lover, in his own image.

If, then, it is a wonder that the things of which Christ said, “You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent,” were hidden from such wise men, busy with creatures, who were willing to seek the Creator only carelessly and could not find him, it is more wonderful that wise and prudent men were found who were even able to know him. “For the wrath of God,” he says, “is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men who hold back the truth in unrighteousness.” Perhaps you ask what truth they hold back in unrighteousness? “Because what is known of God is manifest in them.” How is it manifest? He goes on and says: “For God has manifested it to them.” Do you still ask how he manifested it to those to whom he did not give the law? How, then? “For his invisible things, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood through the things that are made.” There were some, then—not like Moses the servant of God, not like the many prophets who beheld and understood these things, helped by the Spirit of God, the Spirit whom they drew in by faith, drank with the throat of godliness, and poured forth again with the mouth of the inner man. Not men like these, then; but there were others, unlike them, who through this creation were able to come to understand the Creator and to say of the things God made: “See what he made; he governs it and holds it together; he himself who made it fills with his presence the things he made.” They were able to say this. For Paul mentioned them too in the Acts of the Apostles, where, having said of God, “For in him we live and move and are,” since he was speaking among the Athenians, where these very learned men had arisen, he added at once, “As also some of your own have said.” What they said is no small thing: “That in God we live and move and are.”

Why, then, were they unlike the others? Why blamed? Why rightly accused? Hear the words of the Apostle which I had begun to quote: “The wrath of God,” he says, “is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness”—that is, even of those who did not receive the law—“against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men who hold back the truth in unrighteousness.” What truth? “Because what is known of God is manifest in them.” Who made it manifest? “For God manifested it to them.” How did he manifest it? “For his invisible things, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood through the things that are made, his eternal power also and divinity.” Why did he manifest it? “So that they are without excuse.” If he manifested it so that they would be without excuse, why then are they culpable? “Because, knowing God, they did not glorify him as God.”

What is it that you say, “They did not glorify him as God”? “Nor did they give thanks.” Is this, then, to glorify God: to give thanks to God? Certainly. For what is worse than if you, created in his image, having come to know God, are ungrateful? This is exactly it, this: to glorify God is to give thanks to God. The faithful know where and when it is said, “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.” But who gives thanks to God except one who lifts up his heart to the Lord? So they are culpable who are without excuse, because “knowing God, they did not glorify him as God, nor did they give thanks.” But what? “But they became vain in their thoughts.” Why did they become vain, unless because they were proud? Smoke too vanishes by rising high, while fire shines more and grows stronger by taking hold lower down. “They became vain in their thoughts, and their foolish heart was darkened.” Even smoke, though it is higher than the fire, is dark.

Finally, notice what follows, and see on what the whole case hangs: “For claiming to be wise, they became fools.” By claiming for themselves what God had granted, they lost what God had given. So he hid himself from the proud, he who through creation had made himself known only to those who diligently searched for the Creator. Rightly, then, did the Lord say, “You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent”: whether from those who by many disputations and most skillful inquiry arrived at the investigation of creation but did not know the Creator at all, or from those who, knowing God, did not glorify him as God and give thanks, and could not see perfectly or to their salvation, because they were proud. “You have hidden these things,” then, “from the wise and prudent, and revealed them to little ones.” To which little ones? To the humble. Say, upon whom does my Spirit rest? “Upon the humble and quiet one who trembles at my words.” Peter trembled at these words; Plato did not tremble. Let the fisherman hold what the most noble debater lost. “You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them to little ones”: you have hidden them from the proud and revealed them to the humble. What are these things? For when he said this, he was not looking at heaven and earth and, as it were, pointing to them with his hand when he said “these things.” For who does not see these? The good see them, the bad see them; for he makes his sun rise on the good and the bad. What, then, are these things? “All things have been delivered to me by my Father.”

We heard in the Gospel that the Lord, gladdened in spirit, said to God the Father: “I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them to little ones. Yes, Father, for so it was pleasing in your sight. All things have been delivered to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, nor does anyone know the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.” We labor in crying out; you labor in listening. Let us hear, then, him who continues and says: “Come to me, all you who labor.” For why do we all labor, except that we are mortal men, fragile, weak, carrying vessels of clay that cramp one another? But if the vessels of flesh are cramped, let the spaces of love be widened. Why, then, does he say, “Come to me, all you who labor,” except that you may not labor? Finally, his promise is ready to hand: since he called those who labor, they might perhaps ask for what reward they were called: “And I,” he says, “will refresh you.”

“Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me”: not to build the world, not to create all things visible and invisible, not to work miracles in that world and raise the dead; but “that I am meek and humble of heart.” Do you want to be great? Begin from the least. Are you planning to build a great structure of height? Think first of the foundation of humility. However great a mass of building anyone wants and plans to set on top, the greater the building will be, the deeper he digs the foundation. And while the building is being constructed it rises upward; but he who digs the foundation goes down to the depths. So the building is humbled before it rises high, and the summit is raised after the humbling.

What is the summit of the building we are laboring to construct? How far will the top of the building reach? I say it at once: to the sight of God. You see how lofty, how great a thing it is to behold God. Whoever longs for it understands both what I say and what he hears. The sight of God is promised to us, of the true God, the most high God. For this is the good: to see the One who sees. Those who worship false gods see them easily; but they see gods that have eyes and do not see. To us, however, is promised the vision of the living and seeing God, that we may long to see that God of whom Scripture says: “He who planted the ear, will he not hear? He who formed the eye, does he not consider?” Does he who made for you that by which you hear not hear? And does he who created that by which you see not see? Well does he say earlier in the same psalm, “Understand, then, you who are unwise among the people; and you fools, be wise at last.” For many do evil precisely because they think they are not seen by God. It is hard, indeed, for them to believe that he cannot see; but they think he does not wish to. Few are found of such ungodliness that what is written is fulfilled in them: “The fool has said in his heart, There is no God.” That madness belongs to few. For as great godliness belongs to few, so great ungodliness likewise belongs to few. But what I am about to say the crowd says: “Look, is God thinking about this now, to know what I am doing in my house? Does God care what I want to do in my bed?” Who says this? “Understand, you who are unwise among the people; and you fools, be wise at last.” Because you, being a man, would labor to know everything in your house and to have every word and every deed of your servants reach you, do you think that God labors in the same way to attend to you, he who did not labor to create you? Does he not turn his eye upon you, he who made yours? You were not, and he created you so that you might be: does he not care for you now that you are, he who calls the things that are not as though they were? Do not promise yourself this, then. Whether you will or not, he sees you; and there is nowhere you can hide from his eyes. For if you ascend into heaven, he is there; if you descend into hell, he is present. You labor, unwilling to withdraw from evil deeds and wanting not to be seen by God. Great labor! You want to do evil every day, and you suppose you are not seen? Hear Scripture saying: “He who planted the ear, will he not hear? He who formed the eye, does he not consider?” Where do you hide your evil deeds from the eyes of God? If you will not withdraw from them, you labor much.

Hear him saying, “Come to me, all you who labor.” You do not end your labor by fleeing. Do you choose to flee from him, and not to him? Find somewhere to go, and flee. But if you cannot flee from him because he is present everywhere, flee—it is close at hand—to God, who is present where you stand. Flee. See, in fleeing you have gone beyond the heavens: he is there; you have gone down to the underworld: he is there; whatever wildernesses of the earth you choose, he is there who said, “I fill heaven and earth.” If, then, he himself fills heaven and earth, and there is nowhere to flee from him, do not labor: flee to him who is present, lest you feel him coming. Be confident that by living well you will see him by whom you are seen even when living badly. For by living badly you can be seen but cannot see; but by living well you are both seen and see. For how much more familiarly will he who crowns the worthy look upon you, he who mercifully looked upon you in order to call you when you were unworthy? Nathanael said to the Lord, whom he did not yet know: “How do you know me?” The Lord said to him: “When you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” Christ sees you in your shade: will he not see you in his light? For what is “When you were under the fig tree, I saw you”? What does it mean? What does it signify? Remember the original sin of Adam, in whom we all die. When he first sinned, he made himself girdles of fig leaves, signifying by those leaves the itch of lust to which he came by sinning. From there we are born; thus are we born; we are born in the flesh of sin, which only the likeness of the flesh of sin heals. That is why God sent his Son in the likeness of the flesh of sin. He came from there, but he did not come in that way. For the virgin conceived not by lust but by faith. He came into the virgin who was before the virgin. He chose her whom he created; he created her whom he would choose. He brought fruitfulness to the virgin; he did not take away her integrity. So he who came to you without the itch of the fig leaves saw you when you were under the fig tree. Prepare yourself to see on high him by whom you were seen in mercy. But because the summit is great, think of the foundation. “What foundation?” you say. Learn from him, for he is meek and humble of heart. Dig this foundation of humility in yourself, and you will reach the summit of love. Turning to the Lord, etc.