Homilies on John, Homily 16

“And this is John’s testimony, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, Who are you?” [1.] Envy is a terrible thing, beloved, a terrible and destructive thing—for those who envy, not for those they envy. For it harms and consumes them first, like a deadly poison lodged deep in their souls; and if it happens to injure those it targets, the harm it does is small and insignificant, and brings them more gain than loss. Indeed, not only with envy but in every other case, it is the person who does wrong, rather than the person who suffers it, who is injured. If this were not so, Paul would not have instructed the disciples to endure wrong rather than inflict it, when he says, “Why not accept being wronged instead? Why not let yourselves be defrauded instead?” ( 1 Cor. vi. 7.) He knew well that destruction always follows the person who does the injury, not the injured person. I have said all this because of the Jews’ envy. For those who had flocked from the cities to John, condemned their own sins, and had themselves baptized now send to ask him, “Who are you?”—as though regretting their Baptism afterward. They truly were the offspring of vipers, serpents, and, if possible, even worse than that. O evil, adulterous, and perverse generation, after being baptized, do you now indulge in idle curiosity and question the Baptist? What could be more foolish than this behavior of yours? Why did you go out? Why did you confess your sins? Why did you run to the Baptist? Why did you ask him what you must do? In all this you were acting without reason, since you did not know the basis and purpose of his coming. Yet blessed John said nothing about this. He neither accuses nor reproaches them for it, but answers them with complete gentleness. It is worth learning why he did this. It was so that their wickedness would become clear and obvious to everyone. John often testified about Christ to the Jews, and when he baptized them, he continually mentioned Him to those gathered around him, saying, “I indeed baptize you with water, but One is coming after me who is mightier than I; He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” ( Matt. iii. 11.) Their feelings about John were merely human. Anxiously concerned about public opinion and looking at “the outward appearance” ( 2 Cor. x. 7 ), they thought it beneath him to be subject to Christ. For many things marked John out as a distinguished person. First, his prominent and noble ancestry: he was the son of a chief priest. Then his conduct, his austere way of life, and his contempt for all human things: disregarding clothing, fine dining, a house, and even food itself, he had spent his earlier life in the desert. With Christ, everything was the opposite. His family was lowly, (as they often objected to Him, saying, “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son? Isn’t His mother called Mary? And His brothers James and Joses?”) ( Matt. xiii. 55 ); and the place thought to be His hometown had such a bad reputation that even Nathanael said, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” ( c. i. 46.) His way of life was ordinary, and His clothes were no better than most people’s. He did not wear a leather belt or clothing made of hair, nor did He eat honey and locusts. Instead, He ate like everyone else and attended the feasts of wicked people and tax collectors so that He might draw them to Him. The Jews did not understand this and reproached Him for it, as He Himself also says, “The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.” ( Matt. xi. 19.) So when John continually directed them away from himself to Jesus, who seemed to them a person of lower standing, they felt ashamed and annoyed. They preferred to have John as their teacher, but did not dare say so openly. Instead, they sent to him, hoping their flattery would induce him to declare that he was the Christ. That is why they did not send people of low standing to him, as they did with Christ. When they wanted to seize Him, they sent servants, and later Herodians and others like them. But in this case they sent “priests and Levites,” and not merely “priests,” but those “from Jerusalem,” that is, the more highly honored ones. The Evangelist did not mention this without a reason. They sent to ask, “Who are you?” Yet the circumstances of his birth were well known to everyone, so that everyone said, “What kind of child will this be?” ( Luke i. 66 ); and the report had spread throughout the hill country. Later, when he came to the Jordan, all the cities took flight and came to him from Jerusalem and all Judea to be baptized. Why, then, do they ask now? Not because they did not know him, (how could that be, when he had become known in so many ways?) but because they wanted to get him to do what I have described. [2.] Listen, then, to how this blessed man answered the intention behind their question, rather than the question itself. When they said, “Who are you?” he did not immediately give the direct answer, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness.” What did he do instead? He cleared away the idea they had formed. For the Evangelist says that when he was asked, “Who are you?” Ver. 20. “He confessed, and did not deny it; but confessed, I am not the Christ.” Notice the Evangelist’s wisdom. He mentions this a third time to show the Baptist’s excellence and their wickedness and folly. Luke also says that when the crowds supposed John to be the Christ, he again cleared away their suspicion. This is what an honest servant does: he not only refuses to claim his master’s honor, but also rejects it when the crowds offer it to him. The crowds, however, reached this conclusion out of simplicity and ignorance. These men questioned him with the evil intention I have mentioned, expecting, as I said, to win him over to their purpose through flattery. If they had not expected this, they would not have immediately moved on to another question. They would have been angry with him for giving an answer unrelated to their inquiry and would have said, “Why, did we suppose that? Did we come to ask you that?” But now, caught in the act and exposed, they move on to another question and say, Ver. 21. “What then? Are you Elijah? And he says, I am not.” For they expected Elijah to come as well, as Christ declares. When His disciples asked, “Why, then, do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” ( Matt. xvii. 10 ) He replied, “Elijah truly will come first and restore all things.” Then they ask, “Are you that prophet? And he answered, No.” ( John i. 21.) Yet he certainly was a prophet. Why, then, does he deny it? Because here again he considers his questioners’ intention. They expected a particular prophet to come, because Moses said, “The Lord your God will raise up for you a Prophet from among your brothers, like me; you must listen to Him.” ( Deut. xviii. 15.) This was Christ. That is why they do not say, “Are you a prophet?” meaning one of the ordinary prophets. Instead, the expression “Are you the prophet?” with the definite article added, means, “Are you that Prophet whom Moses foretold?” So he did not deny that he was a prophet, but that he was “that Prophet.” Ver. 22. “Then they said to him, Who are you? Tell us so that we can give an answer to those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” Notice how they press him more intensely, urging him, repeating their questions, and refusing to stop, while he first gently clears away false opinions about himself and then gives them the true one. For he says, Ver. 23. “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, Make the way of the Lord straight, as the prophet Isaiah said.” After speaking in such exalted terms about Christ, as if (replying) to what they thought, he immediately turned to the Prophet to find support there for his statement. Ver. 24, 25. “And [saith the Evangelist] those who were sent were Pharisees. And they asked him and said to him, Why, then, do you baptize, if you are not that Christ, or Elijah, or that Prophet?” Do you see that I had good reason to say they wanted to lead him to this? They did not say so at first because they did not want everyone to see through them. Then, when he said, “I am not the Christ,” they moved on to “Elijah” and “that Prophet,” wanting to conceal their hidden plot. But when he said he was neither of these either, they were at a loss, threw off the mask, and openly revealed their treacherous intention, saying, “Why, then, do you baptize, if you are not that Christ?” Then again, wanting to cloud the matter somewhat, they added the others too, “Elijah” and “that Prophet.” Since they could not trip him up with flattery, they thought an accusation could force him to say what was untrue. What folly, what insolence, what meddling at the wrong time! You were sent to learn who he was and where he came from, not to lay down laws for him as well. This too was the behavior of men trying to force him to declare himself the Christ. Still, even now he does not get angry or say anything like what might have been expected: “Are you giving me orders and making laws for me?” Instead, he again shows them great gentleness. Ver. 26, 27. “I,” he says, “baptize with water: but One stands among you whom you do not know; He is the One who comes after me and ranks before me, whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” [3.] What could the Jews have left to say to this? Even on this evidence, they cannot escape the accusation against them; the judgment against them leaves no room for pardon. They have passed sentence on themselves. How? In what way? They considered John credible and so truthful that they could believe him not only when he testified about others, but also when he spoke about himself. If they had not thought so, they would not have sent to learn from him about himself. For you know that the only people we believe, especially when they speak about themselves, are those we consider more truthful than anyone else. Nor is this the only thing that silences them. There is also the attitude with which they approached him: at first they went out to him with great eagerness, even though they later changed. Christ made both points when He said, “He was a burning (and a shining) light, and for a time you were willing to rejoice in his light.” Moreover, his answer made him even more credible. For (Christ) says, “He who does not seek His own glory is true, and there is no unrighteousness in Him.” Now John did not seek his own glory, but directed the Jews to another. And those sent were among their most trustworthy and highest-ranking men, so that they could have no defense or excuse at all for their unbelief toward Christ. Why did you not accept what John said about Him? You sent men of the highest rank among you; you made inquiries through them; you heard the Baptist’s answer. They showed every possible eagerness to interfere, investigated every point, and named all the people you suspected him to be. Yet he declared, as publicly and plainly as possible, that he was neither “Christ,” nor “Elijah,” nor “that Prophet.” He did not even stop there. He also told them who he was and explained the nature of his own baptism: it was only a small and humble thing, nothing more than some water. He told them, too, of the superiority of the Baptism Christ gives. He also cited Isaiah the prophet, who testified long, long ago, calling Christ “Lord” ( Isa. xl. 3 ), but calling John “minister and servant.” What should they have done after this? Should they not have believed in Him to whom this testimony pointed, worshiped Him, and confessed Him to be God? For the witness’s character and heavenly wisdom showed that his testimony came from truth, not flattery. This is also clear from the fact that no one places his neighbor above himself or, when he may rightfully claim honor for himself, gives it up to another—especially when the honor is as great as the one we are discussing. So John would not have yielded this testimony (as belonging) to Christ if He had not been God. For although he might have rejected it for himself as too great for his own nature, he would not have assigned it to another nature that was beneath that honor. “But One stands among you whom you do not know.” It made sense for Christ to mingle with the people as one of the crowd, because everywhere He taught people not to be conceited and boastful. Here, by “knowledge,” the Baptist means a full understanding of Him—who He was and where He came from. Immediately after this he adds, “Who comes after me,” practically saying, “Do not think that my baptism contains everything. If it had been perfect, Another would not have come after me to offer you a different One. Mine prepares and clears the way for that other. Mine is only a shadow and an image, but One must come who will add the reality to it. So His very coming ‘after me’ especially reveals His dignity: if the first had been perfect, there would have been no need for a second.” “Is before me” means more honorable, more glorious. Then, so that they will not imagine His superiority is merely a matter of comparison, he wants to establish that He is beyond comparison and says, “Whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” That is, He is not simply “before me,” but so far before me that I am not worthy to be counted among the lowest of His servants. For untying a sandal is the humblest form of service. Now if John was not worthy to “untie the strap” ( Matt. xi. 11 )—John, of whom it is said, “among those born of women no one greater than he has arisen”—where should we rank ourselves? If he who was equal to, or rather greater than, the whole world, (for Paul says, “the world was not worthy” of them— Heb. xi. 38 ,) declares himself unworthy to be counted even among the lowest of those who would serve Him, what should we say, full as we are of ten thousand sins, and as far from John’s excellence as earth is from heaven? [4.] He says, then, that he himself is not “worthy even to untie the strap of His sandal,” while the enemies of the truth are so mad that they claim they are worthy to know Him just as He knows Himself. What is worse than such insanity? What is more frenzied than such arrogance? A wise man rightly said, “The beginning of pride is not to know the Lord.” The devil would not have been brought down and become a devil—he was not a devil before—if he had not suffered from this disease. This drove him out of that position of confidence; this sent him to the pit of fire; this caused all his suffering. For pride alone is enough to destroy every virtue in the soul, whether it finds giving to the poor, prayer, fasting, or anything else there. For the Evangelist says, “What is highly esteemed among people is impure before the Lord.” ( Luke xvi. 15 —not quoted exactly.) So it is not only sexual immorality or adultery that defiles those who practice it. Pride does too, and far more than those vices. Why? Because although sexual immorality is an unpardonable sin, a person can still point to desire as an excuse. But pride cannot possibly find any cause or pretext at all to gain even a shadow of an excuse. It is nothing but a distortion and an extremely serious disease of the soul, arising from nothing but foolishness. For no one is more foolish than a proud person, even if he is surrounded by wealth, possesses much of this world’s wisdom, holds royal office, and carries with him everything people consider desirable. For if someone who is proud of things that really are good is wretched and miserable, and loses the reward for all those things, must not someone who becomes conceited over worthless things and swells with pride over a shadow or the flower of the grass, (for that is what this world’s glory is,) be more ridiculous than anyone? He behaves just like a poor, needy man who spends all his time wasting away from hunger, yet becomes full of himself if one night he happens to dream of good fortune. You wretched and miserable man! When your soul is perishing from an extremely serious disease, when you are utterly poor, are you proud because you have so many talents of gold? Because you have a multitude of slaves and cattle? Yet these things are not yours. If you do not believe my words, learn from the experience of those who have gone before you. And if you are so drunk that you cannot learn even from what has happened to others, wait a little. You will learn from what happens to you that these things do you no good, when you are gasping for life and have no control over a single hour, or even a brief moment, and must unwillingly leave them to those around you—perhaps to people you would not have chosen. For many have not even been allowed to leave instructions about them. They have died suddenly, wanting to enjoy them but not allowed to, dragged away from them and forced to surrender them to others, compelled to give way to people they would not have chosen. So that this does not happen to us, let us send our riches ahead from here to our own city while we are still strong and healthy. Only in this way, and in no other, will we be able to enjoy them. In this way we will store them somewhere secure and safe. For there is nothing, there is nothing there that can take them from us: no death, no legally witnessed wills, no heirs, no false accusations, no plots against us. Instead, whoever leaves here carrying great wealth with him can enjoy it there forever. Who, then, is so wretched that he does not want to delight in riches that are entirely his own? Let us transfer our wealth, then, and move it there. We will not need donkeys, camels, carriages, or ships for such a move, (God has spared even us this difficulty,) but only the poor, the lame, the crippled, and the sick. They are entrusted with this transfer; they carry our riches to heaven; they bring the owners of wealth like this into the inheritance of everlasting good things. May we all receive these 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, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.