Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 53.1–53.3

“But Jesus called his disciples to him and said, ‘I have compassion on the crowd, because they have already stayed with me three days and have nothing to eat; and I do not wish to send them away fasting, lest they faint on the way.’” Above, too, when he was about to work this sign, he first healed those maimed in body; and here he does the same thing: from the healing of the blind and the lame he enters again upon this. But why did the disciples say then, “Send the crowds away,” and not say it now, and that though three days had passed? Either because they themselves had now become better, or because they saw that the people did not much feel their hunger; for they were glorifying God for what was being done. But see how now too he does not come straight to the miracle, but calls them forth to it. For the crowds, who had come for healing, did not dare to ask for the loaves; but he, the lover of mankind and the provident one, gives even to those who do not ask, and says to the disciples, “I have compassion, and I do not wish to send them away fasting.” For lest they should say that they came with provisions, he says, “They have already stayed with me three days,” so that even if they came with something, it has been used up. For this reason he himself did not do it on the first and second day, but when everything had been used up by them, so that, having first been in need, they might receive what was done with greater eagerness. That is why he says, “lest they faint on the way,” showing both that they had come from far away and that nothing was left them. “And if you do not wish to send them away fasting, why do you not work the sign?” So that by this question and the answer he might make the disciples more attentive, and they might show their faith by coming to him and saying, “Make loaves.” But not even so did they understand the reason of the question; hence afterward he says to them, as Mark says, “Are your hearts so hardened? Having eyes, do you not see, and having ears, do you not hear?” For if this were not so, why does he speak to the disciples, and show that the crowds deserve to be benefited, and add also the mercy he himself feels? And Matthew says that after this he also rebuked them, saying, “You of little faith, do you not yet perceive, nor remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets you took up? Nor the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many hampers you took up?” So well do the evangelists agree with one another. What then do the disciples do? They still crawl on the ground, although he had done countless things so that that miracle might be remembered, both by the question, and by the answer, and by making them servers, and by distributing the baskets; but they were still rather imperfect. That is why they say to him, “Where are we to get so many loaves in the wilderness?” Both before this and now they mention the wilderness, saying this themselves from weak reasoning, but by this too making the sign free from suspicion. For lest anyone should say, as I have already said, that they got them from some village nearby, the place is acknowledged, so that the miracle may be believed. That is why he works both the former sign and this one in a wilderness, far from the villages. Understanding none of this, the disciples said, “Where are we to get so many loaves in the wilderness?” For they thought he had said this as one about to command them to feed the people—very foolishly. For it was for this reason that he said the other day too, “You give them something to eat,” so as to bring them to the point of entreating him. But now he does not even say this, “You give them something to eat,” but what? “I have compassion, and I do not wish to send them away fasting,” bringing them nearer and stirring them up more, and granting them to see clearly so as to ask these things of him. For the words were those of one showing that he is able not to send them away fasting, and displaying his authority; for the words “I do not wish” are those of one who shows this. But since they spoke of the multitude, and the place, and the wilderness (“for where,” they say, “are we to get so many loaves in the wilderness as to fill so great a crowd?”), and not even so understood what was said, he then brings in his own part, and says to them, “How many loaves have you?” And they say, “Seven, and a few small fish.” And they no longer say, “But what are these among so many?” as they had said before. So, even if they did not grasp the whole, nevertheless they were rising little by little. For he too, rousing their minds by this, asks in the same way as before, so that by the manner of the question he might remind them of what had already happened. But as you have seen their imperfection from this, so learn also the wisdom of their mind, and admire their love of truth, how they, writing themselves, do not hide their own shortcomings, and those great ones. For it was no ordinary fault, when this sign had just happened, to forget it so quickly; that is why they are also rebuked.

And along with this consider also their other wisdom, how they were superior to the belly, how they were trained not to make much account of the table. For being in the wilderness and staying there three days, they had seven loaves. The rest, then, he does in the same way as before: for he makes them sit down on the ground, and makes the loaves well up in the disciples’ hands. “For he commanded,” it says, “the crowds to sit down on the ground. And taking the seven loaves and the fish, having given thanks he broke them and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples to the crowd.” But the end is no longer the same. “For they all ate,” it says, “and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the fragments, seven hampers full. And those who ate were four thousand men, besides women and children.” But why then, when there were five thousand, were twelve baskets left over, but here, with four thousand, seven hampers? For what reason, why were the remnants fewer, though those fed were not so many? We may say, then, either that the hampers were larger than the baskets; or, if not that, that so the sameness of the sign might not cast them into forgetfulness again, he rouses their memory by the difference, so that from the variation they might remember both that one and this. That is why then he makes the baskets of remnants equal in number to the disciples, but now the hampers equal to the loaves, by this too displaying his unspeakable power and the ease of his authority, that it is possible for him to work such wonders both in this way and in another. For it was no small power to keep the number both then and now, when there were five thousand then and four thousand now, and to allow the remnants to be neither fewer nor more, then than the baskets and now than the hampers, though the number of those fed was different. And the end, too, is like the former. For then too he sent the crowds away and departed in a boat, and now; and John too says this. For since no sign made them follow him so much as the miracle of the loaves, and they wished not only to follow but even to make him king, fleeing the suspicion of seizing power he springs away after this wonder; and he does not even go off on foot, so that they may not follow, but embarks in the boat. “And having sent away the crowds,” it says, “he got into the boat and came to the region of Magdala. And the Pharisees and Sadducees came and asked him to show them a sign from heaven. But he says, ‘When it is evening, you say, “Fair weather, for the sky is red”; and in the morning, “Stormy today, for the sky is red and lowering.” You know how to discern the face of the sky, but you cannot discern the signs of the times. An evil and adulterous generation seeks a sign, and no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah the prophet.’ And he left them and went away.” But Mark says that when they came and argued with him, he sighed deeply in his spirit and says, “Why does this generation seek a sign?” And yet the question deserved anger and indignation; but nevertheless the lover of mankind, the provident one, is not angry, but pities and laments them as being incurably sick, and tempting him after so great a proof of his power. For they did not ask in order to believe, but in order to catch him. For if they had come as people who would believe, he would have given it. For he who said to the woman, “It is not good,” and afterward gave, would much more have granted it to these. But since they did not ask in order to believe, that is why elsewhere he also calls them hypocrites, because they said one thing and thought another. For if they had believed, they would not even have asked. And it is plain from another point too that they did not believe: when rebuked and refuted they did not stay, nor say, “We do not know, and we seek to learn.” And what sign from heaven were they asking for? To stop the sun, or bridle the moon, or bring down thunderbolts, or change the air, or something else of the kind. What then does he say to this? “You know how to discern the face of the sky, but you cannot discern the signs of the times.” Do you see his meekness and gentleness? For he did not, as before, only refuse and say, “It will not be given to it,” but also gives the reason why he does not give it, although they were not asking in order to learn. What then is the reason? “As in the sky,” he says, “there is one sign of storm and another of fair weather, and no one seeing the sign of storm would look for calm, nor in calm and fair weather for storm, so too you must reason about me. For this time of my coming is one thing, and the one to come another. Now there is need of these signs on earth; but those in heaven are stored up for that time. Now I have come as a physician; then I shall be present as a judge. Now I have come to seek what has strayed; then, to demand an account. That is why I came secretly; but then I shall come with great publicity, rolling up the heaven, hiding the sun, not letting the moon give its light. Then the powers of the heavens will be shaken, and the appearing of my coming will be like lightning, which appears suddenly to all. But now is not the time for these signs; for I have come to die and to suffer the utmost. Have you not heard the prophet saying, ‘He will not strive, nor cry aloud, nor will his voice be heard outside’; and another again, ‘He will come down like rain upon a fleece’?”

“And if they speak of the signs in Pharaoh’s time, an enemy had to be got rid of then, and rightly those things happened; but for one who has come to friends there is no need of these signs. And how shall I give the great signs, when the small are not believed?” I call them small with regard to display; since in power these were much greater than those. For what could be equal to forgiving sins, and raising a dead man, and driving out demons, and fashioning a body, and setting right all the rest? But see their hardened heart, how, hearing that no sign will be given them except the sign of Jonah the prophet, they do not ask. And yet, knowing the prophet and all that happened to him, and hearing this a second time, they ought to have inquired and learned what in the world was meant; but, as I said, they do not do these things from a desire to learn. That is why he too left them and went away. “And when his disciples,” it says, “came to the other side, they had forgotten to take loaves. And Jesus said to them, ‘Take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.’” And why did he not say plainly, “Beware of the teaching”? He wishes to remind them of what had happened; for he knew they had forgotten. But simply to accuse them did not seem reasonable; whereas taking occasion from them and so rebuking them made the charge acceptable. And why did he not rebuke them then, when they said, “Where are we to get so many loaves in the wilderness?” For it seemed a fitting time to say this then. So as not to seem to rush at the sign. And besides, he did not wish to accuse them before the crowds, nor to win glory before them. And now the accusation is more reasonable, because after the miracle had happened twice they were still such. That is why he rebukes them after working another miracle too; for he brings into the midst what they were reasoning. And what were they reasoning? “Because we did not take loaves,” it says. For they were still excited about the Jewish purifications and the observances of foods. That is why for all these reasons he also attacks them more vehemently, saying, “Why do you reason among yourselves, you of little faith, because you have taken no loaves? Do you not yet perceive or understand? Is your heart hardened? Having eyes, do you not see; having ears, do you not hear? Do you not remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets you took up? Nor the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many hampers you took up?” Do you see intensified indignation? For nowhere else does he appear to have rebuked them so. Why then does he do this? To cast out again the prejudice about foods. That is why then he only said, “Do you not perceive or understand?” but here also, with great rebuke, “You of little faith,” he says. For gentleness is not good everywhere. For as he gave them confidence, so he also rebukes, managing their salvation by this variety. But see both the great rebuke and the gentleness. For as if almost defending himself to them for rebuking them vehemently, he says, “Do you not yet perceive the five loaves, and how many baskets you took up? And the seven loaves, and how many hampers you took up?” That is why he gives the number both of those fed and of the remnants, at once leading them to remember what was past and making them more attentive for the future. And that you may learn how much the rebuke availed, and how it roused their sleeping mind, hear what the evangelist says. For when Jesus had said nothing more, but had rebuked them and added only this, “How is it that you do not perceive that I did not speak to you about loaves, but told you to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees?” he added, saying, “Then they understood that he did not tell them to beware of the leaven of bread, but of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees”; and that though he did not explain it. See how many good things the rebuke worked. For it led them away from the Jewish observances, and, careless as they were, … freed them from their little faith, so that they were not afraid nor trembled if ever they seemed to have few loaves, nor worried about hunger, but disregarded all these things. Let us not, then, flatter those under us everywhere, nor seek to be flattered by those over us. For the human soul needs both these remedies. That is why God so governs the affairs of the whole world, doing now this, now that, and lets neither good things be permanent nor painful things be by themselves. For as there is now night, now day, and now summer, now winter, so too with us: now grief, now pleasure; now sickness, now health. Let us not, then, wonder when we are sick, since we ought to wonder also when we are well; nor be troubled when we are in pain, since we might as well be troubled when we rejoice. For all things happen according to nature and in due sequence. And why do you wonder if these things happen to you? For one may see this happening even with those saints. And that you may learn this, let us bring into the midst the life you think was especially full of pleasure and free from troubles. Do you wish us to examine Abraham’s life from its beginnings? What then did he hear at once? “Go out from your land and from your kindred.” Do you see a painful thing commanded? But see the good thing that follows too: “and come into the land which I will show you, and I will make you a great nation.” What then? When he came into the land and reached the harbor, did his troubles stop? Not at all; but again others harder than the former follow: famine, and removal, and the seizure of his wife; and after these other good things awaited him: the plague on Pharaoh, and his release, and the honor, and those many gifts, and the return home. And all the rest too has such a chain, woven of good and painful things. And such things happened with the apostles too. That is why Paul said, “who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction.” “What is that to me,” someone says, “who am always in grief?” Do not be ungrateful and thankless; for it is impossible for anyone to be continually in pain; for nature does not suffice for it. But since we wish to be always in joy, for that reason we think we are always in grief. And not for this reason only, but because we immediately forget the good and pleasant things but always remember the painful ones, for that reason we say we are in grief. For it is not possible for a human being to be always in grief. And if you wish, let us examine both the life of luxury, soft and dissolute, and the burdensome, wearisome and painful one. For we shall show you that the former too has its griefs and the latter its relief. But do not be troubled. Let there be set in the midst a prisoner, and another, a young king, an orphan who has inherited a great estate; and let there be set also a hired laborer, toiling the whole day, and another living continually in luxury. Do you wish, then, that we first tell the despondencies of the one living in luxury? Consider how his mind is likely to be storm-tossed, when he desires a glory beyond him, when he is despised by his servants, when he is insulted by inferiors, when he has countless accusers and slanderers of his extravagance. And the rest, all that is likely to happen in such wealth, it is not even possible to tell: the enmities, the offenses, the accusations, the losses, the plots of the envious, who, when they cannot transfer his wealth to themselves, drag at the young man and tear him on every side and stir up countless storms against him. Do you wish me to tell also the pleasure of this hired laborer? He is free from all these things; even if someone insults him, he is not pained, for he thinks himself greater than no one; he does not fear for his money; he eats with pleasure, he sleeps with much contentment. Those who drink Thasian wine do not enjoy such luxury as he does, going to the springs and enjoying those streams. But that other man’s state is not such. And if what has been said does not satisfy you, so that I may make the victory greater, come, let us compare the king and the prisoner; and you will often see the latter in pleasure, playing and leaping, but the former in diadem and purple despondent, and having countless cares, and dead with fear. For it is not, it is not possible to find anyone’s life free from grief, nor yet without a share of pleasure; for our nature would not suffice for it, as I said before. And if one rejoices more and another grieves more, this happens through the one who grieves himself, when he is small-souled, not through the nature of things. For if we wished to rejoice continually, we have many occasions. For if we lay hold of virtue, nothing will grieve us any more. For it holds out good hopes to those who possess it, and makes them pleasing to God and esteemed among men, and implants unspeakable pleasure. For even if virtue involves labor in its achievement, yet the conscience fills one with great gladness, and puts within so much pleasure as no word will be able to set forth. For what do you think is sweet in the present life? A costly table, and health of body, and glory and wealth? But if you compare these sweet things with that pleasure, they will be more bitter than anything, unbearable when set beside it. For nothing is sweeter than a good conscience and good hope. And if you wish to learn this, let us examine one who is about to depart from here, or one who has grown old; and reminding him of the costly table he enjoyed, and of glory and honor, and of the good works he once worked and did, let us ask in which he rejoices more; and we shall see him ashamed and covering his face at the former, but soaring and leaping at the latter. So Hezekiah too, when he fell sick, did not remember a costly table, nor glory, nor kingship, but righteousness. “For remember,” he says, “how I walked before you in a straight way.” See Paul too leaping for joy at these things and saying, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith.” “For what else had he to say?” someone says. Many things, and more than these: the honors with which he was honored, the escorts he enjoyed, and the great attention paid him. Or do you not hear him saying, “You received me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus,” and, “If possible, you would have dug out your eyes and given them to me,” and that for his life they laid down their own necks? But he brings none of these into the midst, but the labors and the dangers and the crowns for them; and very reasonably. For these things are left here, but those go abroad with us; and of these we shall give account, but for those we shall demand reward. Do you not know how on the last day sins wring the soul? How they stir the heart from its depths? Then, then, when these things happen, the memory of good works, standing by like fair weather in a storm, consoles the troubled soul. For if we are sober, this fear will always be present to us even while we live; but since we are insensible, it will certainly come upon us when we are cast out of here. For the prisoner too is most in pain when they bring him out to the court; then most of all he trembles, when he is near the tribunal, when he must give account. That is why one may then hear many telling of terrors and fearful sights, the sight of which those departing can no longer bear, and lying there they shake the bed itself with great violence and look fearfully at those present, the soul thrusting itself inward and shrinking from being torn from the body, and not bearing the sight of the angels coming. For if we are frightened when we look at men, when we see threatening angels and stern powers coming, what shall we not suffer, as the soul is dragged from the body and drawn away, lamenting much, idly and in vain? For that rich man too mourned much after he departed, but gained nothing. Picturing all these things to ourselves and turning them over, then, so that we may not suffer the same, let us keep the fear that comes from them in its vigor, so that we may escape the punishment that comes from the facts and attain the eternal good things; 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 and life-giving Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.