Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 49.1–49.6

“[When Jesus heard it,] he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place apart; and when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from all the cities.” See how everywhere he withdraws: both when John was delivered up, and when he was slain, and when the Jews heard that he was making more disciples. For he wishes to manage most things in a more human way, since the time did not yet call for him to lay bare his Godhead plainly. That is why he also told the disciples to tell no one that he is the Christ; for he wished this to become better known after the resurrection. Hence toward those of the Jews who for the time disbelieved he was not very severe, but even ready to pardon. And having withdrawn, he does not go off to a city but into the desert, and in a boat, so that no one might follow. But consider, I pray you, how John’s disciples were from then on more closely attached to Jesus. For it is they who reported to him what had happened; for indeed, leaving everyone, they take refuge with him from now on. Thus, along with the calamity, he also brought to success, in no small measure, what he had already arranged through that answer of his. But why did he not withdraw before they reported it, although he knew what had happened even before they reported it? To show through all things the truth of the incarnation. For he wished this to be confirmed not only by what was seen but also by deeds, because he knew the devil’s malice, and that he would do anything to destroy this belief. He then withdraws for this reason; but the crowds do not leave him even so, but follow, fastened to him, and not even the deed done to John frightened them. So great a thing is longing, so great a thing is love; thus it conquers all things and beats back dangers. That is why they also received their reward at once. “For when he went out,” it says, “Jesus saw a great crowd, and had compassion on them, and healed their sick.” For although their attendance on him was great, yet what he did surpassed every recompense for their zeal. That is why he gives mercy as the cause of such healing, an intense mercy; and he heals them all. And he does not demand faith here. For by coming to him, and by leaving the cities, and by seeking him diligently, and by staying with him even when hunger pressed them, they show their faith. And he is about to feed them too. And he does not do this of himself, but waits to be asked, as I said, keeping this rule everywhere: not to rush first upon miracles, but to be called. And why did none of the crowds come forward and dare to ask on their behalf? They revered him exceedingly, and did not even feel their hunger, for longing to stay near him. But neither did his disciples come and say, “Feed them”; for they were still rather imperfect. But what? “When it was evening,” it says, “his disciples came to him, saying, ‘The place is deserted, and the hour is already past; send the crowds away, so that they may go and buy themselves food.’” For if even after the miracle they forgot what had happened, and after the baskets thought he was speaking of loaves when he called the teaching of the Pharisees leaven, much more, having had as yet no experience of such a sign, would they not have expected any such thing to happen. And yet he had just before healed many sick; but nevertheless not even from this did they expect the matter of the loaves: so imperfect were they still. But consider, I pray you, the wisdom of the teacher, how he calls them on clearly to believe. For he did not say at once, “I feed them”; for it would not have been readily received. But what? “But Jesus,” it says, “said to them, ‘They have no need to go away; you give them something to eat.’” He did not say, “I give them,” but, “you give.” For they still regarded him as a man. But they were not roused even so, but still speak with him as with a man, saying, “We have nothing but five loaves and two fish.” That is why Mark too says that they did not understand what was said, for their heart was hardened. Since then they were still crawling on the ground, he then brings in his own part, and says, “Bring them here to me.” For even if the place is deserted, yet he who feeds the world is present; and even if the hour is past, yet he who is not subject to the hour is speaking with you. And John also says that they were barley loaves, not telling this in passing, but teaching us to trample on the pride of extravagance. Such also was the table of the prophets. “Taking then the five loaves and the two fish, and having commanded the crowds,” it says, “to sit down on the grass, he looked up to heaven and blessed, and broke and gave to his disciples, and the disciples to the crowds; and they all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the fragments, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.”

Why did he look up to heaven and bless? He had to be believed both that he is from the Father and that he is equal to him. But the proofs of these seemed to conflict with one another. For his doing everything with authority showed his equality; but that he was from the Father they would not have been persuaded otherwise, unless he acted with great lowliness, referring all things to him and calling on him in what he did. For this reason he neither did these things alone nor those alone, so that both might be confirmed; and now he works wonders with authority, now praying. Then, lest what happened should again seem a contradiction, in the lesser things he looks up to heaven, but in the greater he does everything with authority; so that you may learn that even in the lesser he acts so not as one who is given strength from elsewhere, but as honoring the one who begot him. When, at any rate, he forgave sins, and opened paradise, and brought in the robber, and with great abundance of power set aside the old law, and raised countless dead, and bridled the sea, and exposed the secrets of men, and fashioned an eye—which are achievements of God alone and of no one else—nowhere does he appear praying; but when he caused the loaves to well up, which was far less than all these, then he looks up to heaven: at once establishing what I said, and at once teaching us not to touch a table until we have given thanks to the one who provides us with this food. And why does he not make it out of nothing? To stop the mouth of Marcion and Manichaeus, who make the creation foreign to him, and to teach by his very works that all visible things too are his works and creatures, and to show that he is the one who gives the fruits, who said in the beginning, “Let the earth bring forth the herb of grass,” and, “Let the waters bring forth creeping things with living souls.” For this is no less than that. For even if those things came from nothing, yet still these came from water; and it is no less to bring forth fruit from earth and living creeping things from waters than to make so many loaves from five loaves, and again from fish; and this was a sign that he rules both earth and sea. For since he was always working his miracles on the sick, he works also a common benefaction, so that the many might not only be spectators of what happened to others, but might themselves enjoy the gift. And what seemed wonderful to the Jews in the wilderness (for they said, “Can he give bread also, or prepare a table in the wilderness?”), this he displays by his works. That is why he leads them into the desert, so that the miracle might be entirely beyond suspicion, and no one might think that some village lying near had brought anything to the table. That is why the evangelist mentions the hour too, not only the place. And we learn another thing as well: the disciples’ self-denial in necessities, and how they despised food. For being twelve, they had only five loaves and two fish: so incidental were bodily things to them, and they held fast only to spiritual things. And they did not cling even to the little they had, but when asked they gave it up. From this we must be taught that even if we have little, we must give this too to those in need. At any rate, when commanded to bring the five loaves, they do not say, “And where shall our own food come from? How shall we relieve our own hunger?” but they obey at once. Besides what has been said, as it seems to me, he makes it from what lay at hand for this reason, to lead them to faith; for they were still rather weak. That is also why he looks up to heaven. For of the other signs they had many examples, but of this one none. Taking them, then, he broke them, and gave them out through the disciples, honoring them by this; and not only honoring them, but so that, when the miracle had happened, they might not disbelieve it, nor forget it when it was past, since their own hands bore witness. That is why he lets the crowds first feel their hunger, and waits for these first to come and ask; and through them he makes the people sit down, and through them he distributes, wishing to secure each of them beforehand by their own confession and their own deeds. That is why he also takes the loaves from them, so that the testimonies to what happened might be many, and they might have reminders of the miracle. For if even after these things happened they forgot, what would they not have suffered had he not arranged these things too? And he commands them to sit down on a bed of grass, teaching the crowds self-denial. For he wished not only to feed their bodies but also to instruct their souls. So by the place, and by giving nothing more than loaves and fish, and by setting the same before all and making it common, and providing no more to one than to another, he taught humility, and self-control, and love, and to be equally disposed toward one another, and to regard all things as common. “And having broken, he gave to the disciples, and the disciples to the crowds.” He broke the five loaves and gave them, and the five welled up in the disciples’ hands. And he does not stop the miracle even there, but made it overflow; and overflow not with whole loaves but with fragments, to show that these were the remnants of those loaves, and so that those who were absent might learn what had happened. That is why he let the crowds become hungry, so that no one might think what happened was an illusion. That is why he made twelve baskets remain over, so that Judas too might carry one. For he could indeed have quenched their hunger, but the disciples would not have known his power, since this had happened also in the time of Elijah. So greatly, at any rate, were the Jews amazed at him because of this that they even wished to make him king, though at the other signs they nowhere did this. What word, then, could set forth how the loaves welled up? how they streamed out in the desert? how they sufficed for so many? (for they were five thousand, besides women and children, which was the greatest praise of the people, that both women and men attended on him); how the remnants came about? (for this too was no less than the former); and that they were so many as to make baskets equal in number to the disciples, and that there was an overflow, not of loaves only but of fragments, and neither more nor less? Taking, then, the fragments, he gave them not to the crowds but to the disciples; for the crowds were in a more imperfect state than the disciples. And having worked the sign, he at once compelled the disciples to get into the boat and go before him to the other side, while he sent the crowds away. For even if, while present, he might seem to have produced an illusion and not to have done it in truth, surely he could not seem so when absent. That is why, committing what had happened to a strict test, he bade those who had received the reminders and the proof of the signs to separate from him. And besides, when he does great things he sends away both the crowds and the disciples, teaching us nowhere to pursue the glory that comes from the many, and not to drag a multitude after us. And when it says, “he compelled,” it shows the disciples’ great attachment to him. And he sent them away, ostensibly on account of the crowds, but in fact because he himself wished to go up the mountain. And he did this, again teaching us neither to mingle with crowds continually nor always to flee the multitude, but to do each usefully, and to change from one to the other as need requires. Let us too, then, learn to attend on Jesus, but not for the giving of things of sense, so that we may not be reproached as the Jews were. For, “You seek me,” he says, “not because you saw signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled.” That is why he does not work this sign continually, but only twice, so that they might be taught not to be slaves to the belly, but to hold fast continually to spiritual things. To these, then, let us too hold fast, and let us seek the heavenly bread, and having received it, let us cast away all worldly care. For if they left houses and cities and kinsmen and everything, and stayed in the desert, and did not withdraw though hunger pressed them, much more ought we, who approach such a table, to show greater self-denial, and to love spiritual things, and to seek things of sense after these. For they too were blamed, not because they sought him for the bread, but because they sought him for this alone, and for this above all. For if one despises the great gifts and clings to the small, he falls from those as well, which the giver wishes him to despise; just as, if we love the former, he adds these besides. For these are an addition to those: so cheap and small are these when compared with those, even if they are great. Let us not, then, be eager about these, but let us regard both the gaining and the losing of them as indifferent; as Job too neither clung to them when he had them nor sought them when they were gone. For money is called chrēmata for this reason, not that we may bury it, but that we may use it as we ought. And as each craftsman has his own skill, so also the rich man. He does not know how to work bronze, nor to build ships, nor to weave, nor to build houses, nor anything else of the kind; let him then learn to use his wealth as he ought, and to show mercy to those in need, and he will know a craft better than all those. For this is higher than all those crafts. Its workshop is built in heaven. It has its tools not of iron and bronze, but of goodness and of the will. Of this craft Christ is the teacher, and his Father. For, “Be merciful,” he says, “as your Father who is in heaven.” And what is wonderful is that, though it is so much better than the others, it needs neither labor nor time to be mastered: it is enough to will it, and the whole is accomplished. But let us see also what its end is. What, then, is its end? Heaven, the good things in heaven, that unspeakable glory, the spiritual bridal chambers, the bright lamps, the life with the Bridegroom, and the other things which no word nor mind can set forth. So here too there is great difference between it and the others. For most of the crafts serve us for the present life, but this one also for the life to come. If it surpasses so far the crafts that are necessary to us for the present—medicine, I mean, and building, and others of the kind—much more does it surpass the others, which, if one examined them closely, one would say are not even crafts. Hence I for my part would not even call the other, superfluous ones crafts. For where are cookery and sauce-making useful to us? Nowhere; rather they are utterly useless and harmful, ruining body and soul, by bringing in with great ostentation luxury, the mother of all diseases and passions. And not only these: I would not even call painting or embroidery a craft, for they only throw us into superfluous expense. For the crafts ought to supply and produce what is necessary and what holds our life together. For this is why God gave us wisdom too, that we might find the means by which we can sustain our life. But having figures made, whether on walls or on garments, where is that useful? Tell me. For this reason it was needful to cut away much of the craft of shoemakers and of weavers. For they have carried most of it off into vulgarity, corrupting what is necessary in it, mixing bad craft with craft; which building also has suffered. But just as I call this a craft so long as it builds houses and not theaters, and produces what is necessary and not what is superfluous, so too weaving, so long as it makes garments and coverings, but does not imitate spiders’ webs and pour out great laughter and unspeakable silliness, I call a craft. And that of the shoemakers, so long as it makes shoes, I will not deprive of the name of craft; but when it leads men into the fashions of women, and makes them effeminate and soft through their shoes, we rank it with the harmful and superfluous, and will not even call it a craft. And I know that I seem to many to be petty in busying myself with these things; yet I will not on that account desist. For this is the cause of all evils, that these sins too are thought small, and for that reason are neglected. “And what,” someone says, “could be a more trivial sin than to have a shoe that is ornamented and glittering and fitted close to the foot, if indeed it seems right to call this a sin at all?” Do you wish, then, that I let loose my tongue on it, and show how great its indecency is—and you will not be angry? Or rather, even if you are angry, I care little. For you are the cause of this folly, you who do not even consider it a sin, and so compel us to enter upon an accusation of this prodigality.

Come then, let us examine it, and see what sort of evil it is. When you sew into your shoes the silken threads which it is not seemly to weave even into garments, how much insult, how much laughter do these things deserve? But if you despise our verdict, hear the voice of Paul, forbidding these things with great vehemence, and then you will perceive how laughable they are. What then does he say? “Not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly clothing.” What pardon, then, could you deserve, when Paul does not permit the married woman to have costly garments, and you carry this effeminacy even to your shoes, and contrive countless things for the sake of this ridiculous disgrace? For ships are built, and rowers are enlisted, and a bowman and a helmsman, and a sail is spread, and the open sea is sailed; and the merchant, leaving wife and children and country, gives up his very life to the waves, and comes to the land of the barbarians, and endures countless dangers for these threads, so that you, after all that, may take them and sew them onto your shoes and beautify the leather. And what could be worse than this folly? But the old ways were not such; they befitted men. Hence I for my part expect that, as time goes on, the young men among us will wear even women’s shoes, and not be ashamed. And what is more grievous, the fathers see these things and are not indignant, but even think the matter indifferent. Do you want me to tell you what is more grievous still, that these things are done while there are many poor? Do you want me to bring into the midst Christ hungry, naked, wandering everywhere, in chains? And how many thunderbolts would you not deserve, overlooking him when he lacks necessary food, while you beautify hides with so much zeal? And he, when he gave laws to his disciples, did not even permit them to have shoes at all; but we not only cannot bear to walk barefoot, but not even shod as one ought to be shod. What then could be worse than this disorder? What more ridiculous? For the thing belongs to a soul that is effeminate, and hard and cruel, and meddlesome and busy about vanities. For when will he be able to attend to anything necessary, who is occupied with these superfluities? When will such a young man bear to take care of his soul, or even to consider that he has a soul? For he will be petty who is compelled to admire such things, and cruel who neglects the poor because of them, and empty of virtue who spends all his zeal on them. For he who fusses over the quality of threads, and the bloom of colors, and the ivy-tendrils made of such weaving, when will he be able to look up to heaven? When will he admire the beauty there, who is excited by the beauty of hides and stoops to the ground? God stretched out heaven and kindled the sun, drawing your eyes upward; but you force yourself to bend downward and to the earth like the swine, and you obey the devil. For this wicked demon devised this indecency, leading you away from that beauty. That is why he dragged you here; and God, showing heaven, is outdone by the devil showing hides—or rather not even hides, for these too are God’s works, but effeminacy and bad craft. And the young man goes about bending down to the earth, he who was commanded to contemplate the things in the heavens, priding himself on these more than if he had achieved some great thing, and walking on tiptoe in the marketplace, and thereby begetting for himself superfluous griefs and despondency, lest he soil them with mud when it is winter, lest he cover them with dust when summer has come. What are you saying, man? You have thrown your whole soul into the mud through this prodigality, and you overlook it as it is dragged along the ground, and over shoes you are in such an agony? Learn their use, and respect the verdict you yourself pass on them. For shoes were made to tread mud and mire and every stain on the ground. But if you cannot bear this, take them and hang them from your neck, or put them on your head.

And you laugh as you hear this; but I am moved to weep over these people’s madness and their zeal about these things. For they would more gladly soil their body with mud than those hides. Petty, then, they become in this way, and lovers of money again in another. For one accustomed to be mad and zealous about such things needs much expense and much income for garments and for everything else. And if he has a lavish father, he becomes all the more a captive, intensifying this absurd desire; but if a stingy one, he is compelled to disgrace himself in other ways, so as to gather gold for such expenses. Hence many of the young have even sold their youthful bloom, and become parasites of the wealthy, and submitted to other servile ministries, buying in return the means of satisfying such desires. That such a one, then, will be both a lover of money and petty, and slower than all men about necessary things, and will be compelled to commit many sins, is plain from this; and that he is cruel and vainglorious, no one will deny either. Cruel, when on seeing a poor man he seems, out of his longing for finery, not even to have seen him, but adorns these things with gold while he overlooks that man perishing of hunger; vainglorious, when even in small things he is trained to hunt the glory that comes from onlookers. For I do not think a general prides himself so much on his armies and his trophies as dissolute young men do on the adornment of their shoes, on their trailing garments, on the cut of their hair; and yet all these are the works of other craftsmen. But if they do not stop being vainglorious over what belongs to others, when will they stop over what is their own? Shall I speak of other things still more grievous than these, or are even these enough for you? Then I must end the discourse here; for even these things I have said because of the contentious, who say that the matter is nothing out of place. And I know that many of the young will not even attend to what is said, being once for all drunk with the passion; yet I ought not on that account to keep silent. For fathers who have sense and are still sound will be able to bring them, even against their will, to fitting decorum. Do not, then, say, “Nothing comes of this, and nothing of that”; for this, this has ruined everything. For they ought to be trained from this point too, and made dignified by the things that seem small, great-souled, superior to outward show; so we shall find them approved in great things also. For what is cheaper than learning the letters? Yet from these come orators and sophists and philosophers; and if they are ignorant of these, they will never know those either. These things have been said by us not to young men only, but also to women and girls. For they too are liable to such charges, and much more, inasmuch as modesty befits a virgin. Consider, then, what was said to those as said to you also, so that we may not take up the same things again. For it is time now to close the discourse with prayer. All of you, then, pray with us that the young men of the church especially may be able to live in decorum, and to come to an old age that befits them. For those who do not live so, it is not good even to come to old age; but those who even in youth have grown old in character, I pray, may come to a very deep gray age, and become fathers of approved children, and gladden those who begot them, and above all God who made them, and drive out every disease, not only that in shoes or in garments, but every other as well. For as untilled land is, such also is youth neglected, bringing forth many thorns from many sides. Let us, then, apply the fire of the Spirit, and burn up these wicked desires, and plough up the fields, and make them ready to receive the seed, and let us show the young men among us to be more self-controlled than the old men elsewhere. For this is the wonderful thing, when self-control shines out in youth; for one who is self-controlled in old age would not have much reward, since his age gives him complete security. But the marvel is to enjoy a calm amid waves, and not to be burned in a furnace, and not to be licentious in youth. Thinking, then, on these things, let us emulate that blessed Joseph, who shone through all these things, so that we too may attain the same crowns as he; which may we all attain, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.