Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 50.1–50.4

“And having sent the crowds away, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. And when evening came, he was there alone. But the boat was already in the middle of the sea, tormented by the waves; for the wind was against them.” Why does he go up on the mountain? Teaching us that the desert and solitude are good when we must converse with God. That is why he constantly goes off into deserted places, and there often spends the whole night in prayer, teaching us to seek in our prayers the undisturbed quiet that comes both from the time and from the place. For the desert is the mother of stillness, and a calm, and a harbor, freeing us from all tumults. He, then, went up there for this reason; but the disciples are buffeted by the waves again, and endure a storm like the earlier one. But then they suffered this having him in the boat; now they are by themselves, alone. For gently and little by little he leads them on to greater things and trains them to bear all things nobly. That is why, when they were first about to be in danger, he was present, though asleep, so as to give them comfort readily; but now, leading them on to greater endurance, he does not even do this, but goes away, and lets the storm be roused in the middle of the sea, so that they might not expect hope of safety from anywhere; and he leaves them buffeted the whole night, rousing, as I think, their hardened heart. For such is the fear which the storm and the hour together produce. And along with compunction he cast them into a greater longing for himself and into continual remembrance of him. That is why he did not come to them at once; “for in the fourth watch of the night,” it says, “he came to them walking on the sea,” teaching them not to seek quickly a release from the dangers that press on them, but to bear nobly what befalls them. At any rate, just when they expected to be delivered, their fear was heightened again. “For when the disciples saw him,” it says, “walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, ‘It is a ghost’; and they cried out for fear.” For he always does this: when he is about to end dangers, he brings on others harder and more fearful; which is what happened then too. For besides the storm, the sight also troubled them no less than the storm. That is why he neither dispelled the darkness nor made himself plain at once, anointing them, as I said, by the continuance of these terrors, and training them to be steadfast. This he did also with Job: for when he was about to end [the fear and] the trial, he then let the end become harder—I mean not because of the death of his children and the words of his wife, but because of the reproaches of his servants and those of his friends. And when he was about to snatch Jacob from his hardships in a foreign land, he let the turmoil be stirred up and grow greater. For his father-in-law overtook him and threatened death, and after him his brother, coming next, hung over him the danger of the utmost extremity. For since it is not possible to be tried both for a long time and severely, when the righteous are about to come out of their contests, he, wishing them to gain more, intensifies the exercises. This he did with Abraham too, setting as the last contest that of his son. For so even unbearable things will be bearable, when they are brought on at the very door, with deliverance close at hand. This, then, he did on that occasion too, and Christ did not reveal himself before they cried out. For the more their agony was intensified, the more gladly they welcomed his presence. Then, when they cried out, it says, “Jesus at once spoke to them, saying, ‘Take heart; it is I; do not be afraid.’” This word dissolved their fear and made them take courage. For since they did not recognize him by sight, both because of the strangeness of his walking and because of the hour, he makes himself known by his voice. What then does Peter do, he who is everywhere fervent and always leaps ahead of the others? “Lord, if it is you,” he says, “command me to come to you on the waters.” He did not say, “Pray and entreat,” but, “Command.” Do you see how great his fervor is? How great his faith? And yet from this he often runs into danger, from seeking what is beyond his measure. For here too he sought something very great, from love alone, not for display. For he did not say, “Command me to walk on the waters,” but what? “Command me to come to you.” For no one loved Jesus so much. This he did after the resurrection too: he could not bear to come with the others, but leapt ahead. And he shows not only his love but also his faith. For he believed not only that Jesus himself can walk on the sea, but that he can also lead others on it; and he longs to be near him quickly. “And he said, ‘Come.’ And Peter got down out of the boat and walked on the waters and came to Jesus. But seeing the wind strong, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, saying, ‘Lord, save me.’ And Jesus at once stretched out his hand and caught hold of him, and says to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’” This is more wondrous than the former. That is why it comes after that. For when he had shown that he rules the sea, he then advances the sign to something more marvellous. For then he only rebuked the winds; but now he both walks himself and grants to another to do this; which, had he bidden it at the beginning, Peter would not have accepted in the same way, because he did not yet possess so much faith.

Why, then, did Christ permit him? For if he had said, “You cannot,” Peter, being fervent, would have contradicted him again. That is why he convinces him by the facts, so that for the future he may be sober. But not even so does he hold out. Having come down, then, he is tossed about; for he was afraid. And the surge caused this, but the wind produced the fear. But John says that they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going, showing this very thing; so that when they were about to reach the land, he went up into the boat. Having come down from the boat, then, Peter went toward him, rejoicing not so much in walking on the waters as in coming to him. And having prevailed over the greater, he was about to suffer harm from the lesser, from the force of the wind, I mean, not of the sea. For such is human nature: often achieving great things, it is put to shame in lesser ones; as Elijah suffered over Jezebel, as Moses over the Egyptian, as David over Bathsheba. So too this man: while his fear was still at its height he dared to step on the waters, but against the onset of the wind he could no longer stand, and that though he was near Christ. So nothing is gained by being near Christ, if one is not near him by faith. And this showed also the difference between the teacher and the disciple, and it consoled the others. For if they were indignant over the two brothers, much more would they have been here; for they had not yet been granted the Spirit. But afterward they were not such. At any rate, everywhere they yield the first place to Peter, and in the public speeches they put him forward, although he was more unlettered than the others. And why did he not command the winds to cease, but himself stretched out his hand and caught hold of him? Because his faith was needed. For when our part fails, God’s part also stops. Showing, then, that it was not the onset of the wind but that man’s little faith which caused his overturning, he says, “Why did you doubt, you of little faith?” So that, had his faith not grown weak, he would easily have stood even against the wind. That is why, even after catching hold of him, he lets the wind blow, showing that it does no harm when faith is firmly fixed. And as when a nestling has left the nest before its time and is about to fall, its mother carries it on her wings and brings it back to the nest, so too Christ did. “And when they had got into the boat, then the wind ceased.” Before this they said, “What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?” But now not so. “For those in the boat,” it says, “came and worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’” Do you see how little by little he was leading them all to what is higher? For from his walking on the sea, and from his bidding another do this, and from his saving him when in danger, their faith was now great. For then he rebuked the sea, but now he does not rebuke it, showing his power in another and a greater way. That is why they also said, “Truly you are the Son of God.” What then? Did he rebuke them for saying this? Quite the contrary: he even confirmed what was said, healing those who came to him with greater authority, and not as before. “And when they had crossed over,” it says, “they came to the land of Gennesaret. And when the men of that place recognized him, they sent into all that surrounding region, and brought to him all who were sick, and begged him that they might only touch the fringe of his garment; and as many as touched it were made well.” For they did not come to him as before, drawing him into their houses and seeking the touch of his hand and commands given by words; but in a far loftier and more spiritual manner, and with greater faith, they drew down healing. For the woman with the flow of blood had taught them all this wisdom. And the evangelist, showing that he had come to those parts after a long time, says that the men of the place, recognizing him, sent into the surrounding region and brought to him those who were sick. But nevertheless the time not only did not weaken their faith, but even made it greater and kept it in its prime. Let us too, then, touch the fringe of his garment; or rather, if we wish, we have him whole. For indeed his body too is set before us now; not his garment only, but his body: not only to touch, but also to eat and to be filled. Let us, then, approach with faith, each of us having some infirmity. For if those who touched the fringe of his garment drew out so much power, how much more those who hold him whole? But to approach with faith is not only to receive what is set before us, but also to touch it with a pure heart, to be so disposed as approaching Christ himself. For what if you do not hear a voice? Yet you see him lying there; or rather you hear his voice also, as he speaks through the evangelists.

Believe, then, that even now it is that supper at which he himself reclined. For that one differs in nothing from this. For it is not that a man performs this one, and he himself that one; but he himself performs both this and that. When, then, you see the priest handing it to you, do not think it is the priest who does this, but that it is Christ’s hand that is stretched out. For just as when he baptizes, it is not he who baptizes you, but it is God who holds your head with invisible power, and neither angel nor archangel nor anyone else dares to approach and touch it, so it is now also. For when God begets, the gift is his alone. Do you not see those who adopt sons here, how they do not entrust the matter to servants, but are present themselves at the court? So God too did not entrust his gift to angels, but is present himself, commanding and saying, “Call no one father on earth”; not that you may dishonor those who begot you, but that you may set before all of them the one who made you and enrolled you among his own children. For he who gave the greater thing, that is, set himself before you, will much more not disdain to distribute his body to you. Let us hear, then, both priests and people, of what we have been counted worthy; let us hear, and shudder. He has given us to be filled with his holy flesh; he has set himself before us sacrificed. What defense, then, shall we have, when, eating such food, we commit such sins? when, eating a lamb, we become wolves? when, feeding on a sheep, we seize by force like the lions? For this mystery commands us to be clean always not only from robbery but even from mere enmity. For this mystery is a mystery of peace; it does not permit us to lay claim to money. For if he did not spare himself for our sake, what should we deserve if we spare our money and do not spare our soul, for which he did not spare himself? To the Jews, then, God bound a yearly remembrance of his benefits in their feasts; but to you, so to speak, every day through these mysteries. Do not, then, be ashamed of the cross; for these are our solemn things, these are our mysteries; with this gift we are adorned, in this we take pride. Even if I say that he stretched out heaven, spread out the earth and the sea, sent prophets and angels, I shall say nothing equal to it. For the sum of good things is this, that he did not spare his own Son, so as to save the servants who had become estranged. Let no Judas, then, approach this table, no Simon; for both of these perished through love of money. Let us flee, then, this abyss, and let us not think it enough for our salvation if, having stripped widows and orphans, we offer at the table a golden cup set with jewels. For if you wish to honor the sacrifice, offer your soul, for whose sake it was also sacrificed; make this golden. But if it remains worse than lead and potsherd, while the vessel is golden, what is the gain? Let us not, then, consider this only, how we may offer golden vessels, but how we may offer them also from honest labors. For these are more precious even than gold, those that are free of covetousness. For the church is not a goldsmith’s shop or a silversmith’s workshop, but an assembly of angels; that is why we need souls, for indeed God accepts these things for the sake of the souls. That table then was not of silver, nor was the cup golden from which Christ gave his disciples his own blood; but all those things were precious and awesome, because they were full of the Spirit. Do you wish to honor Christ’s body? Do not overlook him naked; and do not honor him here with silken garments while outside you overlook him perishing from cold and nakedness. For he who said, “This is my body,” and confirmed the thing by his word, is the same who said, “You saw me hungry and did not feed me,” and, “Inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these, neither did you do it to me.” For this body needs no coverings, but a pure soul; but that one needs much care. Let us learn, then, to be wise, and to honor Christ as he himself wishes. For to the one honored, the sweetest honor is that which he himself wishes, not that which we think. For Peter too thought to honor him by forbidding him to wash his feet; but what he did was not honor, but the opposite. So you too honor him with this honor which he himself enacted into law, spending your wealth on the poor. For God has no need of golden vessels, but of golden souls.

And I say this not to forbid such offerings being made, but asking that along with these, and before these, you do almsgiving. For he accepts these too, but those much more. For here only the one who offered is benefited, but there also the one who received. Here the thing may seem to be even an occasion of vainglory, but there it is all mercy and love for mankind. For what is the use, when his table is full of golden cups, while he himself perishes of hunger? First fill him when he is hungry, and then out of your abundance adorn his table also. You make a golden cup, and you do not give a cup of cold water? And what is the use? You prepare gold-spangled coverings for the table, and to him you do not provide even necessary shelter? And what is the gain from this? For tell me, if you saw someone lacking necessary food, and, neglecting to relieve his hunger, you only covered his table with silver, would he thank you, or rather be indignant? What again, if, seeing him clothed in rags and freezing with cold, you neglected to give him a garment and built golden columns, saying you did it in his honor, would he not say that you were mocking him, and think it an insult, and the worst of insults? Reckon this to be so with Christ too, when he goes about a wanderer and a stranger, needing a roof; and you, neglecting to receive him, adorn floor and walls and the capitals of columns, and hang up silver chains for lamps, but will not even look at him bound in prison. And I say this not forbidding you to be generous in these things, but urging you to do these along with those, or rather those before these. For no one was ever accused for not doing these; but for those, Gehenna is threatened, and unquenchable fire, and punishment with the demons. Do not, then, while adorning the house, overlook your brother in distress; for he is a more proper temple than that. And these treasures unbelieving kings and tyrants and robbers will be able to take; but whatever you do for your brother when he is hungry and a stranger and naked, not even the devil will be able to plunder, but it will lie in a treasury that cannot be robbed. Why, then, does he himself say, “The poor you have always with you, but me you do not always have”? For this very reason we must show mercy most of all, because we do not always have him hungry, but only in the present life. But if you wish to learn the whole meaning of what was said, listen: this was said not to the disciples, even if it seems so, but on account of the weakness of the woman. For since she was still in a rather imperfect state, and they were perplexing her, he said this to restore her. For that he said this to comfort her, he added, “Why do you trouble the woman?” For that we have him always with us, he says, “Behold, I am with you all the days, to the end of the age.” From all this it is plain that these things were said for no other reason than that the disciples’ rebuke might not wither the woman’s faith, which had just then sprouted. Let us not, then, bring forward now what was said for a particular purpose; but having read all the laws about almsgiving laid down by him in the New and in the Old Testament, let us show great zeal for this thing. For this cleanses sins: “Give alms, and all things will be clean for you.” This is greater than sacrifice: “For I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.” This opens the heavens: “For your prayers and your alms have gone up as a memorial before God.” This is more necessary than virginity; for so those virgins were cast out of the bridal chamber, so the others were brought in. Knowing all these things, let us sow generously, that we may reap with greater abundance and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory to the ages. Amen.