Homilies on John, Homily 10

“He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.” [1.] Beloved, God loves humanity and does good, and He does and arranges everything so that we may shine in virtue and win His approval. To this end He draws no one by force or compulsion. Instead, through persuasion and kindness, He draws all who are willing and wins them to Himself. That is why, when He came, some received Him and others did not. For He wants no unwilling or forced servant, but wants all to serve Him by their own will and choice, grateful to Him for their service. Human beings, because they need servants to work for them, keep many in slavery even against their will, under the law of ownership. But God needs nothing and has no need of anything of ours. He does everything only for our salvation, gives us full control in this matter, and therefore uses neither force nor compulsion on anyone who is unwilling. For He looks only to our benefit, and being drawn unwillingly into service like this is the same as not serving at all. “Why, then,” someone says, “does He punish those who will not listen to Him, and why has He threatened hell for those who will not accept His commands?” Because He is supremely Good, He cares even for those who do not obey Him and does not withdraw from those who recoil and flee from Him. But when we rejected the first way He showed His goodness and refused to come by the path of persuasion and kind treatment, He brought the other way upon us: correction and punishment. It is very bitter indeed, but still necessary when the first way is disregarded. Lawmakers also establish many severe penalties for offenders, yet we feel no aversion to them for this. We honor them all the more for the punishments they have enacted, because, although they need nothing we have and often do not know who will benefit from their written laws, they still took care to put our lives in good order, rewarding those who live virtuously and restraining through punishment both those who lack self-control and those who would disturb the peace of others. And if we admire and love these people, shouldn't we marvel at and love God much more for His great care? For the difference between their care for us and His is infinite. The riches of God's goodness truly are beyond words and beyond every measure. Consider this: “He came to His own,” not because He personally needed anything (for, as I said, the Divinity needs nothing), but to do good to His own people. Yet even so, His own did not receive Him when He came to His own for their benefit. They rejected Him, and not only that: they even threw Him out of the vineyard and killed Him. Yet even for this He did not shut them out from repentance. Even after such wickedness, He allowed them, if they were willing, to wash away all their transgressions through faith in Him and to become equal to those who had done nothing of the kind but are His closest friends. The whole history of the blessed Paul loudly declares that I am not saying this at random or merely to persuade you. For when the man who persecuted Christ after the Cross and stoned His martyr Stephen through those many hands repented, condemned his former sins, and ran to Him whom he had persecuted, He immediately counted him among His friends, and among the foremost of them. He appointed this man, who had been “a blasphemer, a persecutor, and violent,” as a herald and teacher of the whole world. ( 1 Tim. i. 13.) Paul himself, rejoicing in God's loving kindness, has proclaimed this aloud without shame. He recorded in his writings, as on a pillar, the deeds he had once dared to commit and displayed them to everyone. He thought it better to have his former life posted for everyone to see, so that the greatness of God's free gift might appear, than to obscure His inexpressible and indescribable loving kindness by hesitating to display his own wrongdoing before everyone. That is why he constantly discusses his persecution, his plotting, and his wars against the Church, saying at one time, “I am not worthy to be called an Apostle, because I persecuted the Church of God” ( 1 Cor. xv. 9 ); at another, “Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.” ( 1 Tim. i. 15.) And again, “You have heard about my former way of life in the Jewish religion, how I persecuted the church of God beyond measure and devastated it.” ( Gal. i. 13.) [2.] As if making some return to Christ for His patience with him, he showed who it was that He saved—what a hater and enemy—by speaking very openly about the war he had at first waged against Christ with all his zeal. In doing so, he also offers strong hope to those who have despaired of their condition. For he says that Christ accepted him so that in him first He “might show all patience” ( 1 Tim. i. 16 ), and the abundant riches of His goodness, “as a pattern for those who would afterward believe in Him for everlasting life.” For the deeds they had dared to commit were too great for any pardon. Declaring this, the Evangelist said, “He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.” Where did He come from, He who fills all things and is present everywhere? What place did He leave empty of His presence, He who holds and grasps all things in His hand? He did not exchange one place for another. How could He? Rather, He accomplished this by coming down to us. For although He was in the world, He did not seem to be there because He was not yet known. Afterward, however, He revealed Himself by stooping to take on our flesh, and he (St. John) calls this revelation and descent “a coming.” One might marvel at the disciple who is not ashamed of his Teacher's dishonor but even records the insolence shown toward Him. Yet this is no small proof of his love of truth. Besides, anyone who feels shame should feel it for those who offered the insult, not for the person insulted. Indeed, through this very thing He shone all the more brightly, because even after the insult He showed such care for those who had offered it. They, meanwhile, appeared ungrateful and accursed in everyone's eyes because they rejected as hateful to them and as an enemy Him who came to bring them such great blessings. And they were harmed not only in this way, but also by failing to obtain what those who received Him obtained. What did these obtain? Ver. 12. “To all who received Him, He gave power to become the sons of God,” says the Evangelist. “Why, then, blessed one, don't you also tell us the punishment of those who did not receive Him? You have said that they were ‘His own’ and that when ‘He came to His own, they did not receive Him.’ But you have not gone on to add what they will suffer for this or what punishment they will undergo. Yet by doing so you would have frightened them more and softened their hardened madness with threats. Why, then, have you been silent?” “What other punishment,” he would say, “can be greater than this: when they are offered power to become sons of God, they do not become so, but willingly deprive themselves of such nobility and honor?” Yet their punishment will not stop even at gaining no good. The unquenchable fire will also receive them, as he has revealed more plainly later on. For now, however, he speaks of the inexpressible blessings of those who received Him and briefly puts these words before us: “To all who received Him, He gave power to become sons of God.” Whether slaves or free, Greeks or barbarians or Scythians, uneducated or educated, female or male, children or old men, honored or dishonored, rich or poor, rulers or private citizens—all, he says, are considered worthy of the same privilege. For faith and the grace of the Spirit remove the inequality caused by worldly things, mold everyone into one form, and stamp them with one imprint, the King's. What can equal this loving kindness? A king, made of the same clay as we are, will not condescend to enroll his fellow servants in the royal army if they happen to be slaves, although they share his nature and are often better than he is in character. But the Only-Begotten Son of God did not disdain to count among His children tax collectors, sorcerers, and slaves—indeed, people of even lower standing and greater poverty than these, with maimed bodies and suffering from ten thousand afflictions. Such is the power of faith in Him, such the overflowing abundance of His grace. And just as the element of fire, when it meets ore from the mine, immediately makes gold out of earth, so, and much more, Baptism makes those who are washed gold instead of clay. At that moment the Spirit falls like fire into our souls, burning up the “image of the earthly” ( 1 Cor. xv. 49 ) and producing “the image of the heavenly,” freshly minted, bright and glittering, as if from a furnace mold. Why, then, did he say, not that “He made them sons of God,” but that “He gave them power to become sons of God”? To show that we need great zeal to keep the image of sonship, impressed on us at Baptism, spotless and unstained throughout our lives. At the same time, he shows that no one will be able to take this power from us unless we first deprive ourselves of it. For even among human beings, those who receive complete control over some matter have almost as much power as those who put them in charge. Much more, then, will we who have received such honor from God be stronger than all, if we do nothing unworthy of this power, because He who placed this honor in our hands is greater and better than all. At the same time, he also wants to show that grace does not come upon a person indiscriminately, but upon those who desire it and work for it. For it is in their power to become (His) children, since if they do not first make the choice themselves, the gift does not come upon them or have any effect. [3.] Having therefore excluded compulsion everywhere and pointed to (man’s) voluntary choice and freedom to act, he has said the same thing here. For even in these mystical blessings, God's part is to give grace, and man's part is to supply faith. Afterward, much earnest effort is needed for what remains. To preserve our purity, it is not enough merely to have been baptized and to have believed. If we want to keep enjoying this brightness, we must display a life worthy of it. This, then, is God's work in us. Being born through the mystical Birth and being cleansed of all our former sins come from Baptism. But remaining pure in the future, never again allowing any stain after this, depends on our own power and diligence. This is why he reminds us of the manner of this birth and shows its excellence by comparing it with the pains of fleshly childbirth, when he says, Ver. 13. “Who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God.” He has done this so that, as we consider how base and lowly the first birth is, which is “of blood” and “the will of the flesh,” and recognize how exalted and noble the second is, which is by grace, we may value it highly, as befits the gift of Him who has begotten us, and make a great effort from now on. For there is good reason to fear that, after staining that beautiful robe through our subsequent laziness and transgressions, we may be thrown out of the inner room and bridal chamber, like the five foolish virgins or the man who was not wearing a wedding garment. ( Matt. xxv.; Matt. xxii.) He too was one of the guests, for he had been invited. But because, after the invitation and so great an honor, he behaved insolently toward Him who had invited him, hear what punishment he suffers—how pitiful it is, how worthy of many tears. For when he comes to share in that splendid table, he is not only denied even the smallest portion, but is bound hand and foot and carried into outer darkness to endure eternal and endless weeping and gnashing of teeth. Therefore, beloved, let us not expect that faith is enough for our salvation. For if we do not display a pure life, but come dressed in garments unworthy of this blessed calling, nothing prevents us from suffering the same fate as that wretched man. It is strange that He, who is God and King, is not ashamed of people who are contemptible, beggars, and of no standing, but brings even them from the crossroads to that table, while we show so little feeling that even so great an honor does not make us better. Even after the call, we remain in our old wickedness, insolently abusing the inexpressible loving kindness of Him who has called us. For He did not call us to the spiritual and awe-inspiring communion of His mysteries so that we might enter with our former wickedness, but so that we might take off our filthiness and change into clothing suitable for those entertained in palaces. But if we will not act worthily of that calling, the responsibility no longer rests with Him who has honored us, but with us. He does not cast us out of that wonderful company of guests; we cast ourselves out. He has done everything on His part. He has arranged the wedding, provided the table, sent people to call us, received us when we came, and honored us in every other way. But when we insult Him, the company, and the wedding by our filthy garments—that is, our impure actions—we are then rightly cast out. He drives away those brazen and shameless people to honor the marriage and the guests, for if He allowed people dressed in such clothing to stay, He would seem to be insulting the rest. But may none of us, or anyone else, ever experience this at the hands of Him who has called us! For all these things were written before they happen so that, sobered by the threats of the Scriptures, we may keep this disgrace and punishment from becoming a reality and let it remain only in words, and so that each of us may come to that invitation in bright clothing. May we all enjoy it through the grace and loving kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory forever and ever. Amen.