Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 37.7–38.4

For the sorcerers, tell me, where do they come from? Is it not from there, so that they may excite a people idly at leisure, and make the dancers enjoy much applause, and set up the prostituted women as a fortress against the chaste, coming to such a pitch of magic arts as not even to shrink from disturbing the bones of the departed? Is it not from there, when they are compelled to spend countless sums on that evil chorus of the devil? And licentiousness, where does it come from, and the countless evils? Do you see that it is you who overturn life by dragging men to these things, while I hold it together by doing away with them? “Let us pull down the stage, then,” someone says. Would that it were possible to pull it down! Or rather, if you are willing, as far as our part goes it is pulled down and razed. But I command none of these things. Make what stands of no effect, which is a greater praise than pulling it down. If no others, at least imitate the barbarians; for they are pure of every such spectacle. What defense then shall we have any longer, when we, the citizens of heaven, who join the dance of the Cherubim and share with the angels, become worse even than the barbarians in this, and that when it is possible to find countless other delights better than these? For if you wish to be entertained, go to the gardens, to a river flowing by and lakes (…) of the martyrs, where there is health of body and profit of soul, and no harm, nor regret after the pleasure, as there is here. You have a wife, you have children: what equals this pleasure? You have a house, you have friends: these are the delightful things, which together with chastity bring great gain as well. For what is sweeter than children, tell me? And what than a wife, to one who wishes to be chaste? The barbarians, at any rate, are said once to have spoken a saying full of wisdom. For hearing about these lawless theaters and their unseasonable delight, they said, “The Romans devised such pleasures as though they had no children and wives,” showing that nothing is sweeter than children and a wife, if you wish to live honorably. “What then,” someone says, “if I show people who have suffered no harm from spending time there?” Indeed, this itself is a harm, to spend the time idly and in vain, and to become a stumbling block to others. For even if you are not harmed, you make another more eager for this. And how will you yourself not be harmed, furnishing occasions for what goes on? For the sorcerer, and the prostituted boy, and the prostituted woman, and all those devilish choruses bring the blame for what is done upon your head. For as, if there were no spectators, there would be none who pursue these things, so, since there are, they too share in the fire of what is done. So even if you were harmed in nothing as regards chastity, which is impossible, yet you will give a grievous account for the destruction of others, both of the spectators and of those who bring them together. And as regards chastity too you would have gained more if you had not gone there. For even if you are chaste now, you would have become more chaste by fleeing such spectacles. Let us not then contend about superfluous things, nor devise useless defenses. For there is one defense: to flee the Babylonian furnace, to get far from the Egyptian harlot, even if one must escape her hands naked. For so we shall both enjoy much pleasure, our conscience not accusing us, and live the present life with chastity, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.

“At that time Jesus answered and said, ‘I confess to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent, and have revealed them to babes. Yes, Father, for so it was well-pleasing before you.’” See by how many means he leads them to faith. First, by the praises of John. For having shown him great and wonderful, he made all his words trustworthy too, by which he was drawing them to the knowledge of himself. Second, by saying, “The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent seize it”; for this is the language of one urging and pressing. Third, by showing that all the prophets had been completed; for this too showed that he was the one foretold through them. Fourth, by showing that all that needed to be done by him had been done, when he also recalled the parable of the children. Fifth, by reproaching those who did not believe, and making them afraid and threatening great things. Sixth, by giving thanks for those who believed. For “I confess to you” here is “I give thanks”: “I give thanks,” he says, “that you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent.” What then? Does he rejoice at destruction, and at their not learning these things? By no means; but this is the best way of salvation, not to force those who spurn and are unwilling to receive what is said; so that, since by being called they did not become better, but fell back and despised it, by being cast out they might fall into a desire for these things. For so those who paid attention were also going to become more earnest. For that these things were revealed to these is worthy of joy; but that they were hidden from those is no longer worthy of joy, but of tears. This at any rate he does, weeping over the city. He does not then rejoice for this, but because what the wise did not know, these knew; as when Paul says, “I give thanks to God that you were slaves of sin, but you obeyed from the heart the form of teaching to which you were delivered.” So neither does Paul rejoice for this, that they were slaves of sin, but that, being such, they enjoyed such things. And by “the wise” he here means the scribes and the Pharisees. And he says these things to make the disciples more eager, and to show of what the fishermen were counted worthy, from which all those had fallen. And in saying “wise,” he does not mean the true and praiseworthy wisdom, but that which they thought they had from cleverness (for this reason he did not say, “You have revealed them to fools,” but “to babes,” that is, unaffected and simple); and he shows that not only did those men not enjoy these things undeservedly, but also reasonably; and he teaches us through all things to be rid of senseless pride and to emulate simplicity. For this reason Paul too said it with greater intensity, writing thus: “If anyone among you thinks he is wise in this age, let him become a fool, that he may become wise.” For so the grace of God is shown. And why does he give thanks to the Father, though he himself did it? As he prays and makes intercession with God, showing the great love he has for us, so he does this too; for this too is a mark of great love. And he shows that they fell away not only from him but also from the Father. For what he said to the disciples, saying, “Do not cast holy things to the dogs,” this he himself did first. Then he shows from these things both his own primary will and that of the Father: his own by giving thanks and rejoicing at what had happened; and the Father’s by showing that he too did not do this on being entreated, but moved of himself: “For so,” he says, “it was well-pleasing before you,” that is, so it pleased you. And why was it hidden from them? Hear Paul saying, “Seeking to establish their own righteousness, they did not submit to the righteousness of God.” Consider then what the disciples were likely to feel on hearing these things: that what the wise did not know, these knew, and knew while remaining babes, and knew because God revealed it. And Luke says that in that very hour, when the seventy came reporting about the demons, he then rejoiced and said these things, which, besides making them more earnest, also prepared them to be modest. For since it was likely that they would think highly of themselves for driving out the demons, by this too he restrains them. For what took place was a revelation, not their own achievement.

Therefore the scribes and the wise, thinking themselves prudent in their own eyes, fell away through their own pride. If then it was hidden from them for this reason, “Fear,” he says, “you too, and remain babes. For this made you enjoy the revelation, just as the contrary made them be deprived of it.” For when he says, “You have hidden,” he does not say that the whole is God’s doing; but as when Paul says that he “gave them up to a reprobate mind,” and “blinded their thoughts,” he says this not bringing God in as the agent of these things, but those who furnish the cause; so here too he says, “You have hidden.” For since he said, “I confess to you that you have hidden, and have revealed them to babes,” so that you might not think that he gives thanks in this way as though he himself were deprived of this power and unable to accomplish it, he says, “All things have been delivered to me by my Father.” And to those who rejoiced that the demons obey them, “Why do you wonder,” he says, “that demons yield to you? All things are mine; all things have been delivered to me.” And when you hear “have been delivered,” suspect nothing human; for it is so that you may not think there are two unbegotten Gods that he sets down this word. For that he was at once begotten and Master of all, he shows from many places elsewhere. Then he says something greater still, setting your mind right: “And no one knows the Son except the Father; nor does anyone know the Father except the Son.” And to those who do not understand it seems to be detached from what went before, but it has much agreement with it. For since he had said, “All things have been delivered to me by my Father,” he adds, “And what wonder is it,” he says, “if I am Master of all, when I have something else greater too, to know the Father, and to be of the same essence?” For this too he shows covertly, from his alone knowing him so. For when he says, “No one knows the Father except the Son,” this is what he means. And see when he says these things: when they had received the proof of his power through his works, not only seeing him working wonders, but also being able to do so much in his name. Then, since he had said, “You have revealed them to babes,” he shows that this too is his own: “For no one knows the Father,” he says, “except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son wills to reveal him”; not to whom he is ordered, nor to whom he is commanded. And if he reveals him, he reveals himself too. But this he left as agreed, while that he set down. And everywhere he says this, as when he says, “No one can come to the Father except through me.” And by these things he establishes another point too, that he is in harmony and of one mind with him. “For I am so far,” he says, “from fighting and warring against him, that it is not even possible for anyone to come to him except through me.” For since this above all offended them, that he seemed to be opposed to God, he removes this by every means, and was no less earnest about this than about the signs, but even much more. And when he says, “Nor does anyone know the Father except the Son,” he does not say this, that all were ignorant of him, but that with the knowledge with which he knows him no one knows him; which may be said about the Son too. For he was not saying these things about some unknown God who had become known to no one, as Marcion says, but hinting here at exact knowledge; since we do not know even the Son as one ought to know him; and Paul too, making this very thing clear, said, “We know in part, and we prophesy in part.” Then, having brought them through what had been said into a desire for him, and having shown his unspeakable power, he then calls them, saying, “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Not this one and that one, but all who are in cares, who are in griefs, who are in sins. “Come, not that I may demand an account, but that I may loose your sins; come, not because I need your glory, but because I desire your salvation. For I,” he says, “will give you rest.” He did not say, “I will save you” only, but, what was far more, “I will set you in complete security.” “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is kind, and my burden is light.” “For do not be afraid,” he says, “on hearing ‘yoke,’ for it is kind; do not fear because I said ‘burden,’ for it is light.” And how did he say before, “Narrow is the gate and constricted the way”? When you are careless, when you are lax; whereas if you accomplish what has been said, the burden will be light; therefore now too he called it such. And how is it accomplished? If you become lowly and meek and gentle. For this virtue is the mother of all philosophy. Therefore too, when beginning those divine laws, he began from here. And here again he does this same thing, and sets down the greatest prize. “For you do not become useful to another only, but you give rest to yourself before all,” he says. “For you will find rest for your souls.” And before the things to come he gives you the recompense from here, and already bestows the prize; and by this, and by setting himself forward as an example, he makes his word easy to receive. “For what do you fear?” he says. “That you will be diminished by being lowly? Look at me and all that is mine; learn from me, and then you will know clearly how great the good is.” Do you see how by every means he leads them to humility? By what he himself did: “For learn from me, for I am meek”; by what they themselves were going to gain: “For you will find,” he says, “rest for your souls”; by what he bestows on them: “For I too,” he says, “will give you rest”; by having made it light: “For my yoke is kind, and my burden is light.” So Paul too does, saying, “For the momentary lightness of our affliction works for us beyond all measure an eternal weight of glory.” “And how is the burden light,” someone says, “when he says, ‘Unless one hates father and mother,’ and, ‘He who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me,’ and, ‘He who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple,’ when he commands us to give up even life itself?” Let Paul teach you, saying, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” and that “the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Let those teach you who returned from the council of the Jews after countless stripes, and rejoiced that they had been counted worthy to be dishonored for the name of Christ. And if you still fear and shudder on hearing of the yoke and the burden, the fear comes not from the nature of the thing but from your own carelessness; since if you are prepared and have eagerness, all things will be easy and light for you. For this reason Christ too, showing that we ourselves must also toil, did not mention the kind things only and keep silence about the others, nor the burdensome things only, but set down both. For he said “yoke,” and called it kind; and he named a “burden,” and added “light”; so that you might neither flee them as laborious nor despise them as too easy. And if after all these things virtue still seems difficult to you, consider that vice is more difficult. And hinting at this very thing, he did not say first, “Take my yoke,” but first, “Come, you who labor and are heavy laden,” showing that sin too has labor, and a heavy and hard-to-bear burden. For he did not say only “you who labor,” but also “heavy laden.” This the prophet too said, describing its nature: “Like a heavy burden they have weighed heavy upon me.” And Zechariah, describing it, says that it is a talent of lead. And experience itself shows this. For nothing so weighs down the soul [nothing so maims the mind] and presses it down as a conscience of sin; nothing so gives it wings and lifts it on high as the possession of righteousness and virtue. And consider. What is more burdensome, tell me, than to possess nothing? Than to turn the cheek, and when struck not to strike back? Than to die a violent death? But nevertheless, if we live wisely, all these things are light and easy and productive of pleasure. But do not be disturbed; rather let us take each of them in hand and examine it with exactness, and, if you wish, first the one that seems to many to be laborious. Which is heavy and burdensome, tell me: to care for one belly, or to take thought for countless things? To be clothed in one garment and seek nothing more, or, having many things within, to be distressed every day and night, fearing, trembling over their safekeeping, grieving and choked over their loss, lest it become moth-eaten, lest a servant steal it and go away? But whatever I say, the word will not set the matter forth as experience of the facts does. Therefore I could wish that one of those who have reached that summit of philosophy were present with us; and then you would see clearly the pleasure of the thing, and how none of those lovers of having nothing would accept it, though countless people offered to make them rich. “But would these rich,” someone says, “ever have consented to become poor and to throw off the cares they have?” And what of this? This is a sign of their folly and of their grievous disease, not of the thing’s being most pleasant.

And they themselves would bear witness to this for us, those who every day lament over these cares and think life unlivable. But those others are not so; rather they laugh, they leap, and pride themselves on their poverty more than those who wear the diadem. Again, to turn the cheek is lighter than to strike another, for one who pays attention; for in the one case the war takes its beginning, in the other its end; and by the one you kindled the other’s pyre too, by the other you also quenched your own flame. And that not to be burned is pleasanter than to be burned is clear to everyone. And if this is so with bodies, much more with the soul. And which is lighter, to contend or to be crowned? To box, or to have the prize? To endure the waves, or to put into harbor? Therefore to die is better than to live. For the one brings us out of the storms and dangers, while the other adds to them, and makes us liable to countless plots and necessities, because of which you thought life unlivable. And if you disbelieve what is said, hear those who have seen the faces of the martyrs at the time of their contests, how when scourged and torn they were full of joy and radiant, and laid on frying pans they rejoiced and were glad more than those reclining on a bed of roses. Therefore Paul too said, when he was about to depart from here and to end his life by a violent death, “I rejoice and rejoice with you all; and do you likewise rejoice and rejoice with me.” Do you see with what intensity he calls the whole world to share in the gladness? So great a good did he know the departure from here to be; so desirable that death so fearful, and lovely, and worthy of prayer. But that the yoke of virtue is sweet and light is clear from many other places too; and now, if it seems good, let us look also at the burdens of sin. Let us bring forward, then, the covetous, the hucksters and the retailers of shameless contracts. What then could be more burdensome than such business? How many griefs, how many cares, how many collisions, how many dangers, how many plots and wars spring up every day from these gains? How many tumults and troubles? For as it is not possible ever to see the sea without waves, so neither such a soul without care and despondency and fear and trouble; but the second overtake the first, and again others come upon them, and before these have ceased others rise to a crest. But do you wish to see the souls of the revilers and the hot-tempered? And what is worse than this torment? What worse than the wounds they have within? What worse than the furnace that burns continually and the flame that is never quenched? But the souls of the lovers of the body and of those wasting away for the present life? And what is more grievous than this slavery? They live the life of Cain, living with continual trembling and fear, (…) lamenting their own death. And what is more turbulent and more frantic than the puffed up? “For learn from me,” he says, “for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” For forbearance is the mother of all good things. Do not then fear, nor leap away from the yoke that lightens you of all these things, but come under it with all eagerness, and then you will know clearly its pleasure. For it does not chafe your neck, but is laid on you only for good order’s sake, and to persuade you to walk with good rhythm, and to lead you to the royal road, and to deliver you from the precipices on either side, and to make you walk the narrow road with ease. Since then its good things are so great, so great its safety, so great its gladness, with all our soul, with all our zeal let us draw this yoke, so that here too we may find rest for our souls, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.