Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 52.1–52.5

“And Jesus went out from there and withdrew into the region of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman came out from those borders and cried out to him, saying, ‘Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is badly possessed by a demon.’” But Mark says that he could not be hidden when he had come into the house. And why did he go into those parts at all? When he had freed them from the observance of foods, then he also opens a door to the Gentiles, advancing step by step; just as Peter too, after first being commanded to set aside this law, is sent to Cornelius. But if someone should say, “How then, after saying to the disciples, ‘Do not go into the way of the Gentiles,’ does he accept this woman?” first we would say this: that what he commanded the disciples, he himself was not bound by; and second, that he did not go there to preach either; which Mark also hinted at when he said that he both hid himself and was not hidden. For just as not running to them first belonged to the due order of things, so to drive away those who came to him was unworthy of his love for mankind. For if he ought to pursue those who fled, much more ought he not to flee those who pursued him. See, then, how the woman is worthy of every benefaction. For she did not dare to come to Jerusalem, being afraid and counting herself unworthy. For that she would have gone there were it not for this is plain both from her present earnestness and from her coming out of her own borders. Some, interpreting allegorically, say that when Christ came out of Judea, then the church dared to approach him, she too coming out of her own borders. “For forget,” it says, “your people and your father’s house.” For Christ came out of his borders, and the woman out of hers, and so they were able to meet one another. “For behold,” it says, “a Canaanite woman came out of her borders.” The evangelist accuses the woman, to show the wonder and to proclaim her the more. For when you hear “Canaanite,” remember those lawless nations, who overturned even the laws of nature from their foundations. And having remembered them, consider also the power of Christ’s coming. For those who were cast out so that they might not pervert the Jews, these appeared so much more fit than the Jews that they came out of their borders and approached Christ, while those drove him away even when he came to them. Having come to him, then, she says nothing else but, “Have mercy on me,” and by her crying she gathers a great crowd of spectators around. For it was a pitiable sight to see a woman crying out with so much feeling, and a woman who was a mother, and pleading for her daughter, and a daughter in so bad a state. For she did not dare to bring the possessed girl into the teacher’s sight, but leaving her lying at home, she herself makes the supplication. And she states only the affliction, and adds nothing more; nor does she drag the physician to her house, as that royal official did, saying, “Come and lay your hand on her,” and, “Come down before my child dies.” But having described the calamity and the severity of the disease, she puts forward the Master’s mercy, and cries aloud; and she does not say, “Have mercy on my daughter,” but, “Have mercy on me.” “For she is without feeling of the disease, but I am the one who suffers countless terrors, I who am sick with full awareness, who am mad with full knowledge.” “But he did not answer her a word.” What is this new and strange thing? The Jews, even when ungrateful, he leads on, and when blaspheming he exhorts, and when tempting him he does not let them go; but this woman, who runs to him and entreats and begs, who was brought up neither in the law nor in the prophets, and who shows such reverence, he does not even think worthy of an answer. Whom would this not have offended, seeing things happen contrary to his fame? For they had heard that he went about the villages healing; but this woman who has come he beats off. And whom would not the affliction have bent, and the supplication she made for a daughter in so bad a state? For she did not come as one who was worthy, nor as one demanding a debt, but she begged for mercy, and only lamented her own calamity, and is not even thought worthy of an answer. Perhaps many of those who heard were offended; but she was not offended. And why do I say “of those who heard”? For I think that the disciples themselves were moved at the woman’s calamity, and were troubled and disheartened. But nevertheless, even though troubled, they did not dare to say, “Grant her the favor”; but “the disciples came and asked him, saying, ‘Send her away, for she is crying out after us.’” For we too … But Christ says, “I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

What then did the woman do, when she heard this? Did she fall silent and withdraw? Or did she slacken her eagerness? Not at all; rather she pressed on the more. But we do not do so; when we do not obtain, we withdraw, when for that very reason we ought to press on the more. And yet whom would not what was then said have thrown into perplexity? His silence was enough to cast her into despair, but his answer did so much more. For to see her advocates too at a loss along with her, and to hear that the thing was even impossible, threw her into unspeakable perplexity. But nevertheless the woman was not at a loss; but when she saw that her patrons had no power, she became shameless with a good shamelessness. For before this she did not even dare to come into his sight (“for she is crying out,” it says, “behind us”); but when it was likely that she would go farther away, being at a loss, then she even comes nearer, and worships him, saying, “Lord, help me.” What is this, woman? Have you more confidence than the apostles? More strength? “Confidence and strength,” she says, “not at all; I am even full of shame; but nevertheless I put forward my very shamelessness in place of supplication; he will respect my boldness.” And what is this? Did you not hear him say, “I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”? “I heard,” she says, “but he himself is Lord.” That is why she did not say, “Entreat and beg,” but, “Help me.” What then does Christ do? Not even with this was he content, but he heightens her perplexity again, saying, “It is not good to take the children’s bread and give it to the little dogs.” And when he counted her worthy of a word, then he struck her more heavily than by his silence. And he no longer puts the cause on another, nor says, “I was not sent”; but the more she intensified her supplication, the more he too intensifies his refusal. And he no longer calls them sheep, but children, and her a little dog. What then does the woman do? From his very words she weaves her defense. “For if I am a little dog,” she says, “I am not a stranger.” Rightly did Christ say, “For judgment I came.” The woman shows wisdom and displays all endurance and faith, and that while being insulted; but they, though healed and honored, repay him with the opposite. “For that food is necessary for the children,” she says, “I too know; yet neither am I excluded, being a little dog. For if it is not lawful to take, neither is it lawful to share the crumbs; but if one must share even a little, then neither am I excluded, even if I am a little dog; rather, in this way above all I have a share, if I am a little dog.” For this reason Christ put her off; for he knew that she would say this. For this reason he refused the gift, to show her wisdom. For if he had not been going to give, neither would he have given afterward, nor would he have stopped her mouth again. But as he does with the centurion, saying, “I will come and heal him,” so that we may learn that man’s reverence and hear him say, “I am not worthy that you should come under my roof”; and as he does with the woman with the flow of blood, saying, “I know that power has gone out from me,” to make her faith manifest; and as with the Samaritan woman, to show how not even when reproved does she withdraw: so too here. For he did not wish so great a virtue of a woman to be hidden. So what he said did not belong to one who insults, but to one who calls her forth and uncovers the treasure stored within. But consider, I pray you, along with her faith, her humility too. For he called the Jews children; but she was not content with this, but even named them masters: so far was she from being pained at the praises of others. “For even the little dogs,” she says, “eat of the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Do you see the woman’s understanding, how she did not even dare to contradict, nor was she stung by the praises of others, nor indignant at the insult? Do you see her vigor? He said, “It is not good”; but she said, “Yes, Lord.” He called them children; but she, masters. He named her a little dog; but she added also the dog’s work. Do you see her humility? Hear the boasting of the Jews: “We are the seed of Abraham, and have never been in bondage to anyone”; and, “We were born of God.” But not so this woman; she calls herself a little dog, and those masters; and for this very reason she became a child. What then does Christ say? “O woman, great is your faith.” For this is why he put her off, so that he might proclaim this word, so that he might crown the woman. “Let it be done for you as you wish.” What he says is something like this: “Your faith can accomplish even greater things than these; but let it be done for you as you wish.” This is akin to that voice which said, “Let the heaven be made,” and it was made. “And her daughter was healed from that hour.” Do you see how she too contributed not a little to the healing of her daughter? For this is why Christ did not say, “Let your little daughter be healed,” but, “Great is your faith; let it be done for you as you wish,” so that you may learn that the words were not said idly or in flattery, but that the power of faith was great. At any rate, he committed the exact test and proof of it to the outcome of the events. For her little daughter was healed at once.

But consider, I pray you, how when the apostles were defeated and did not succeed, she succeeded. So great a thing is perseverance in prayer. For in our own affairs he wishes rather to be asked by us, guilty as we are, than by others on our behalf. And yet those men had more confidence, but she showed great endurance. And by the outcome he also made his defense to the disciples for his delay, and showed that he had good reason not to consent when they asked. “And Jesus went on from there and came beside the sea of Galilee; and he went up on the mountain and sat there. And great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, the maimed, the dumb, and they cast them at his feet; and he healed them, so that the crowds marveled, seeing the dumb speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing; and they glorified the God of Israel.” Sometimes he himself goes about, sometimes he sits waiting for the sick, and brings the lame up onto the mountain. And they no longer touch even his garment, but rise to something higher, casting themselves at his feet; and they showed a double faith, both by climbing the mountain while lame and by needing nothing else but only to be cast at his feet. And the wonder was great and astonishing, to see those who were carried walking, the disabled needing no one to lead them by the hand. For the multitude of those healed and the ease of the cure amazed them. Do you see how he healed the woman with so much delay, but these at once? Not because these were better than she, but because she was more faithful than they. That is why in her case he puts off and delays, displaying her vigor; but to these he gives the gift at once, stopping the mouths of the unbelieving Jews and cutting off every excuse of theirs. For the greater the benefits one receives, the more liable one is to punishment for being ungrateful and not being made better even by the honor. That is why the rich, if they are wicked, are punished more than the poor, because not even in prosperity did they become gentle. For do not tell me that they gave alms. For if they did not give in proportion to their substance, not even so will they escape. For almsgiving is judged not by the measure of what is given, but by the generosity of the will. But if these pay the penalty, much more those who are excited about superfluities, who build houses of three and four stories but despise the hungry, who cultivate avarice but neglect almsgiving. But since the discourse has fallen upon almsgiving, come, let us take up today that discourse on love for mankind which I left unfinished three days ago. Do you remember, when I was speaking the other day about the fussiness over shoes, and that vain labor, and the effeminacy of the young, that our discourse then turned from almsgiving to those charges? What, then, were the things put forward then? That almsgiving is a kind of craft, having its workshop in heaven, and its teacher not a man but God. Then, inquiring what is a craft and what is not, we fell upon vain labors and bad crafts, among which we mentioned also this craft of shoemaking. Do you recall it? Come, then, let us take up today too what was said then, and show how almsgiving is a craft and better than all crafts. For if it is proper to a craft to end in something useful, and nothing is more useful than almsgiving, it is plain that it is both a craft and better than all crafts. For it does not make shoes for us, nor weave garments, nor build houses of clay; but it procures eternal life, and snatches us from the hands of death, and makes us illustrious in both lives, and builds the mansions in heaven and those eternal tents. It does not let our lamps be quenched, nor let us appear at the wedding with soiled garments, but washes them and makes them whiter than snow. “For though your sins be as scarlet, I will make them white as snow.” It does not let us fall where that rich man fell, nor hear those fearful words, but leads us by the hand into Abraham’s bosom. And yet of the crafts of this life each has received one achievement: farming, for instance, to feed; weaving, to clothe; or rather not even this, for it is not enough by itself to supply us with what is its own.

And if you wish, let us examine farming first. For if it does not have smithing, so as to borrow from it mattock and ploughshare and sickle and axe and many other things; and carpentry, so as to fix a plough and make a yoke and a wagon for threshing the ears of grain; and leatherworking, so as to make a strap; and building, so as to build a stall for the ploughing oxen and houses for the farmers who sow; and woodcutting, so as to cut timber; and after all these, baking—it is nowhere. So too weaving, when it makes anything, calls many crafts along with it, so that they may join with it in the work at hand; and if they are not present and do not stretch out a hand, it too stands at a loss like that one. And each of the crafts needs another. But when we must show mercy, we need nothing else; it needs only the will. But if you should say that it needs money, and houses, and garments, and shoes, read those words of Christ which he spoke about the widow, and cease from this anxiety. For even if you are very poor, and one of those who beg, if you put in two mites, you have accomplished the whole; and if you give a barley cake, having only this, you have reached the end of the craft. Let us, then, take up this science and practice it successfully. For it is better to know this than to be a king and to wear a diadem. For this is not its only advantage, that it needs no others, but it also accomplishes varied things, many and of every kind. For it builds houses that remain forever in heaven, and it teaches those who have succeeded in it how they may escape the deathless death; and it gives you treasures that are never spent but escape every harm, that from robbers, that from worms, that from moths, and that from time. And yet if someone had taught you this one thing only about wheat, what would you not have given to be able to keep your grain unspoiled for many years? But behold, this craft teaches you not about wheat only but about all things, and shows how your possessions, your soul, and your body may remain unspoiled. And why must I tell one by one all the achievements of this craft? For it teaches you how you may become like God, which is the sum of all good things. Do you see how its work is not one but many? Needing no other craft, it builds houses, weaves garments, prepares treasures that cannot be spoiled, makes us overcome death and master the devil, makes us like God. What, then, could be more useful than this craft? For the others, besides what has been said, are also dissolved together with the present life, and when the craftsmen are sick they appear nowhere, and they are unable to preserve their works, and they need labor and much time and countless other things; but this one appears most of all when the world has passed away; when we die, then above all it shines forth, and shows the works it has wrought; and it needs neither time nor labor nor any other such toil, but works even when you are sick and old, and goes abroad with you into the life to come, and never leaves you. It makes you more powerful even than sophists and orators. For those who are esteemed in those crafts have many who envy them; but those who shine in this one have countless who pray for them. And those stand before the judgment seat of men, pleading for the wronged, and often for the wrongdoers too; but this stands beside the judgment seat of Christ, not only pleading, but persuading the judge himself to plead for the one on trial and to cast his votes in his favor; and even if he has sinned countless times, it crowns him and proclaims him victor. “For give alms, and all things will be clean.” And why do I speak of things to come? For even in the present life, if we asked men which they want more, that there be many sophists and orators, or merciful and loving men, you will hear them choose the second, and very reasonably. For if eloquence were taken away, life would suffer no harm; for indeed it held together for a long time before eloquence existed; but if you take away showing mercy, all is gone and perishes. And as one cannot sail the sea when harbors and anchorages have been silted up, so neither can this life hold together if you take away mercy and pardon and love for mankind.

That is why God did not entrust these things to reasoning alone, but sowed many parts of it also in the sovereign power of nature. So fathers have mercy on their children, so mothers, so children on their parents; and not among men only, but among all the irrational creatures too; so brothers on brothers, and kinsmen, and relatives; so man on man. For we have even from nature a certain inclination to mercy. That is why we are indignant on behalf of those who are wronged, and are bent with pity when we see people slaughtered, and weep when we see people mourning. For since God greatly wishes this to be achieved, he bade nature contribute much to it, showing that this is something he earnestly desires. Thinking on these things, then, let us bring ourselves and our children and our relatives into the school of almsgiving, and let a man learn this before all things, since this is what a man is. “For a great thing is man, and a merciful man is precious”; so that if he does not have this, he has fallen even from being a man. This makes men wise. And why do you wonder if this is what a man is? This is what God is: “Be merciful,” he says, “as your Father.” Let us learn, then, to be merciful for all these reasons, but most of all because we ourselves too need much mercy. And let us not count as living that time in which we do not show mercy. But by almsgiving I mean that which is clean of covetousness. For if he who is content with his own and shares with no one is not merciful, how is he merciful who takes what belongs to others, even if he gives countless gifts? For if merely to enjoy one’s own possessions is inhumanity, much more to take away besides. If those who have done no wrong are punished because they did not share, much more those who also take what is others’. Do not, then, say this, that one man is wronged and another is shown mercy. For this is the dreadful thing. For the one wronged ought himself to be the one shown mercy; but as it is, wounding some, you heal those whom you did not wound, when you ought to heal those, or rather not to wound at all. For the lover of mankind is not the one who strikes and heals, but the one who cures those struck by others. Cure, then, your own evils, not those of others; or rather do not strike at all, nor throw down (for this is the act of one who mocks), but raise up those who have been thrown down. For it is not possible to heal the evil that comes from covetousness by the same measure of almsgiving. For if you gain an obol by covetousness, you need not an obol again for almsgiving to take away the wound from covetousness, but a talent. That is why the thief, when caught, pays back fourfold; and the one who robs by violence is worse than the one who steals. But if that one must give four times what he stole, the robber must give ten times and much more; and it is well if even so he can make amends for his injustice; for he will not even then reap the fruit of almsgiving. That is why Zacchaeus says, “I will restore fourfold whatever I have taken by false accusation, and half of my possessions I will give to the poor.” But if under the law one must give fourfold, much more under grace; if the thief, much more the robber. For here along with the loss there is also great insult. So that even if you give a hundredfold, you have not yet given the whole. Do you see that I did not speak in vain when I said that even if you seize an obol and give a talent besides, you hardly heal it even so? But if, doing this, you hardly heal it, when you reverse the order, and seize whole estates and give a little, and not even to those who were wronged but to others in their place, what defense will you have? What pardon? What hope of salvation? Do you wish to learn how much evil you do by showing mercy in this way? Hear the Scripture saying, “As one who kills a son before his father’s eyes, so is he who brings a sacrifice from the goods of the poor.” Having written this threat, then, on our minds, let us depart; let us write it on our walls, on our hands, on our conscience, everywhere, so that this fear, at least, flourishing in our mind, may keep our hands from daily murders. For robbery is worse than murder, wasting the poor man away little by little. So that we may be clean of this pollution, let us meditate on these things with ourselves and with one another. For so we shall be both more eager for mercy and receive pure rewards for it, and enjoy the eternal good things, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.