Homilies on John, Homily 18

“Again the next day John was standing with two of his disciples; and looking at Jesus as He walked, he said, Look, the Lamb of God. And the two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus.” [1.] Human nature is somehow sluggish and easily slides toward destruction, not because of the way that nature itself is made, but because of laziness deliberately chosen. So it needs many reminders. This is why Paul, writing to the Philippians, said, “Writing the same things to you is no trouble to me, and it keeps you safe.” ( Philip. iii. 1 .) Once the earth has received seed, it immediately produces its fruit and needs no second sowing. But our souls are different: we must be content if, after sowing many times and taking great care, we manage to receive fruit even once. In the first place, what is said takes hold in the mind with difficulty, because the ground is very hard and tangled with countless thorns, and many plot against it and carry off the seed. Then, when it has taken hold and put down roots, it still needs the same attention so that it can mature and, once mature, remain undamaged and suffer no harm from anyone. With seeds, once the head of grain is fully formed and has gained its proper strength, it can easily withstand rust, drought, and everything else. But teachings are different: even after all the work is finished, a single storm and flood often comes and destroys them, whether through the onslaught of painful circumstances, the schemes of people skilled in deception, or various other temptations brought against them. I have said this for a reason: when you hear John repeating the same words, you should not condemn him for empty talk or think him intrusive or tiresome. He wanted to be heard after speaking once, but because many were deep asleep and paid no attention to what he first said, he rouses them again with this second call. Now notice: he had said, “He who comes after me ranks ahead of me”; and, “I am not worthy to untie the strap of His sandal”; and, “He baptizes with the Holy Spirit and with fire”; and that he “saw the Spirit descending like a dove, and it remained on Him,” and he “testified that this is the Son of God.” No one paid attention or asked or said, “Why are you saying these things? On whose behalf? For what reason?” Again he had said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world”; yet even this did not break through their insensitivity. So after this he is forced to repeat the same words again, as though softening hard, stubborn soil by cultivating it, and breaking up with his words, as with a plow, a mind hardened into clods, so he can plant the seed deep. This is also why he does not make his speech long: he wanted only one thing, to bring them over to Christ and unite them to Him. He knew that once they had accepted this saying and been persuaded, they would no longer need anyone to testify about Him. And that is what happened. For if the Samaritans could say to the woman after hearing Him, “Now we believe, not because of what you said, for we know that this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world,” the disciples would be won over much more quickly, as they were. After coming and hearing Him for just one evening, they never returned to John, but were so firmly nailed to Him that they took up John's ministry and proclaimed Him themselves. For the Evangelist says, “He finds his own brother Simon and says to him, We have found the Messiah, which means the Christ.” And please notice this: when he said, “He who comes after me ranks ahead of me,” and, “I am not worthy to untie the strap of His sandal,” he caught no one; but when he spoke of the Dispensation and brought his speech down to a humbler level, then the disciples followed Him. We can observe this not only in the disciples: people in general are less attracted when something great and exalted is said about God than when they hear of some act of grace and loving kindness, something concerning the hearers' salvation. They heard that “He takes away the sin of the world,” and immediately ran to Him. For they said, “If the charges against us can be washed away, why are we waiting? Here is Someone who will deliver us without any labor on our part. Isn't it utterly foolish to put off accepting the Gift?” Let those who are Catechumens and are putting off their salvation until their last breath listen. “Again,” says the Evangelist, “John was standing and said, Look, the Lamb of God.” Christ says nothing; His messenger says everything. It is the same with a bridegroom. For a while he says nothing to the bride, but stands there in silence while some point him out to her and others give her into his hands. She simply appears, and he leaves, having received her from someone else who gives her to him, rather than having taken her himself. Once he has received her in this way, he wins her affection so completely that she no longer remembers those who arranged the betrothal. So it was with Christ. He came to unite the Church to Himself; He said nothing, but simply came. His friend John placed the bride's right hand in His when, through his preaching, he entrusted human souls to Him. After receiving them, He won their affection so completely that they never returned to John, who had entrusted them to Him. [2.] Here we can observe something else as well. At a marriage, the young woman does not go to the bridegroom; he hurries to her, even if he is a king's son and is about to marry someone poor and lowly, or even a servant. So it was here. Human nature did not go up to Him; contemptible and poor as it was, He came to it. And once the marriage had taken place, He no longer allowed it to stay here, but took it to Himself and carried it to His Father's house. “Why, then, doesn't John take his disciples aside, talk with them about these matters, and so hand them over to Christ, instead of saying to them publicly, along with everyone else, ‘Look, the Lamb of God’?” So that it would not seem prearranged. If they had left him for Christ after he had instructed them privately, as though they were doing him a favor, they might soon have left again. But as it was, they undertook to follow Him because of teaching addressed to everyone, and afterward remained His steadfast disciples, since they had followed Him purely for their own benefit, rather than to please their teacher. The Prophets and Apostles all preached Him in His absence: the Prophets before His coming in the flesh, and the Apostles after He was taken up. John alone proclaimed Him while He was present. That is why he calls himself the “friend of the Bridegroom” ( c. iii. 29 ), since he alone was present at the marriage. He was the one who did everything and brought it about; he began the work. And “looking at Jesus as He walked, he said, Look, the Lamb of God.” He testified to Christ and expressed his admiration for Him not only with his voice but also with his eyes, rejoicing and glorying in Him. For the time being, he addresses no appeal to his followers, but simply shows wonder and amazement at Him who is present, and declares to everyone the Gift He came to give and the way purification takes place. For “the Lamb” expresses both these things. And he did not say, “Who will take away,” or, “Who has taken away,” but, “Who takes away the sins of the world,” because He always does this. He did not take them away only then, when He suffered; from that time to the present He continues to take them away, without being crucified repeatedly (for He offered One Sacrifice for sins), but continually cleansing them through that One Sacrifice. Just as The Word shows us His preeminence, and The Son His superiority to others, so “The Lamb, The Christ, that Prophet, the True Light, the Good Shepherd,” and all the other names applied to Him with the definite article mark a great distinction. For there were many “Lambs,” “Prophets,” “Christs,” and “sons,” but John sets Him far apart from all of them. And he established this not only by the article, but also by adding “Only-Begotten”; for He had nothing in common with creation. If anyone thinks it was an unsuitable time to speak of these things, at “the tenth hour” (that was the time of day, for he says, “It was about the tenth hour”—( v. 39 )), I think that person is badly mistaken. For most people, those who serve the flesh, the time after a feast is certainly not very suitable for urgent matters, because their hearts are weighed down with food. But here was a man who did not even eat ordinary food and who was as clearheaded in the evening as we are in the morning (or rather, much more so: the remains of our evening meal left inside us often fill our souls with imagined scenes, but he loaded his vessel with none of these things). He had good reason to speak of these matters late in the evening. Besides, he was staying in the wilderness by the Jordan, where everyone came to his baptism with great fear and little concern at that moment for the things of this life; just as they also stayed with Christ for three days and had nothing to eat. ( Matt. xv. 32.) For a zealous herald and a careful farmer keep working until they see that the seed they planted has firmly taken root. “Why, then, didn't he go around every part of Judea preaching Christ, instead of standing by the river waiting for Him to come, so that he could point Him out when He arrived?” Because he wanted Christ's works to accomplish this. His own purpose in the meantime was simply to make Him known and persuade some people to hear about eternal life. But he leaves the greater testimony, that of works, to Him, just as He also says, “I do not receive testimony from men. The works My Father has given Me bear witness about Me.” ( c. v. 34, 36.) Notice how much more effective this was: once he had thrown in a little spark, the flame immediately rose high. For those who had previously paid no attention even to his words later said, “Everything John said was true.” ( c. x. 41.) [3.] Besides, if he had gone around saying these things, his actions would have seemed driven by some human motive, and his preaching would have aroused suspicion. “And the two disciples heard him and followed Jesus.” Yet John had other disciples, who not only did not “follow Jesus,” but were even jealous of Him. “Rabbi,” one says, “He who was with you beyond the Jordan, about whom you testified, look, He is baptizing, and everyone is coming to Him.” ( c. iii. 26.) And again they appear making an accusation against Him: “Why do we fast, but Your disciples do not fast?” ( Matt. ix. 14.) But those who were better than the rest had no such feelings. They heard and immediately followed; they followed because they were thoroughly persuaded by their teacher, rather than because they despised him, and gave the strongest proof that they acted from a sound understanding of his arguments. For they did not do this at his urging, which might have looked suspicious. Instead, when he simply foretold what would happen, that “He would baptize with the Holy Spirit, [and with fire,]” they followed. So they did not desert their teacher; rather, they wanted to learn what Christ brought beyond what John offered. And notice their zeal combined with modesty. They did not immediately approach Jesus and question Him about essential and supremely important matters, nor did they want to speak with Him publicly, with everyone present, abruptly and casually. They wanted to speak privately, for they knew that their teacher's words came from truth, rather than humility. Ver. 40. “One of the two who heard and followed Him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother.” Why, then, has he not also given the other's name? Some say it was because the writer himself was the one who followed. Others say that was not the case, but that the other man was not one of the prominent disciples, so there was no need to say more than necessary. For what would we have gained by learning his name, when the writer does not even mention the names of the seventy-two? St. Paul did the same. “We have sent,” he says, “with him the brother” (who has often taken the lead in many things), “whose praise is in the Gospel.” ( 2 Cor. viii. 18.) He also mentions Andrew for another reason. What is it? So that when you learn that Simon, after hearing with him, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men” ( Matt. iv. 19 ), was not bewildered by such a strange promise, you may understand that his brother had already planted the beginnings of faith within him. Ver. 38. “Then Jesus turned, saw them following, and said to them, What are you looking for?” From this we learn that God does not give His gifts before we are willing. Rather, when we begin, when we supply the willingness, He gives us many opportunities for salvation. “What are you looking for?” How can this be? Does He who knows human hearts, who dwells in our thoughts, ask a question? He does, not to find out anything—how could that be?—but to put them more at ease through His question, give them greater confidence, and show them that they are worthy to hear Him. For they were likely to feel embarrassed and afraid, since they were strangers to Him and had heard such things about Him from their teacher's testimony. So, to remove all this embarrassment and fear, He questions them and will not let them come all the way to the house in silence. Yet the outcome would have been the same if He had not questioned them: they would have kept following Him and, walking in His footsteps, would have reached His dwelling. Why, then, did He ask? To do what I said: to calm their minds, still troubled by embarrassment and anxiety, and give them confidence. They showed their earnest desire not only by following Him, but also by their question. Before they had learned or even heard anything from Him, they called Him “Teacher,” placing themselves, so to speak, among His disciples and declaring why they were following Him: to hear something beneficial. Notice their wisdom too. They did not say, “Teach us Your doctrines, or something else we need to know.” What did they say? “Where are You staying?” Because, as I said before, they wanted to speak with Him quietly, hear something from Him, and learn. So they did not put it off or say, “We will certainly come tomorrow and hear You speak in public.” Instead, they showed how eager they were to hear Him by refusing to turn back even because of the hour, for the sun was already close to setting (“it was,” John says, “about the tenth hour”). So Christ does not describe His lodging or tell them where it is, but encourages them to follow Him by showing that He has welcomed them. This is why He said nothing like, “This is an unsuitable time for you to come into the house; tomorrow you can listen if you wish; go home now.” Instead, He speaks with them as He would with friends and people who have been with Him a long time. How, then, does He say elsewhere, “But the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head” ( Luke ix. 58 ), while here He says, “Come and see” ( v. 39 ) where I am staying? Because “has nowhere to lay His head” means that He had no dwelling of His own, not that He never stayed in a house. This is also the point of the comparison. The Evangelist mentions that “they stayed with Him that day,” but does not add why, because the reason was clear. Their only motive for following Christ, and His for drawing them to Himself, was that they might receive instruction. And they received it so abundantly and eagerly, even in a single night, that both immediately went on to catch others. [4.] Let us also learn from this to put everything else second to hearing the word of God, and to regard no time as unsuitable. Even if someone has to enter another person's house and, though unknown, introduce himself to important people, whether late in the day or at any other time, let him never neglect this trade. Let food, baths, dinners, and the other things of this life have their appointed times; but let the teaching of heavenly philosophy have no restricted time—let every time belong to it. For Paul says, “Whether the time is convenient or inconvenient, correct, rebuke, encourage” ( 2 Tim. iv. 2 ); and the Prophet also says, “He will meditate on His law day and night” ( Ps. i. 2 ); and Moses commanded the Jews to do this always. For the things of this life—I mean baths and dinners—even if necessary, weaken the body when constantly repeated. But the longer the soul's instruction continues, the stronger it makes the soul that receives it. Yet now we allot all our time to trifles and useless, foolish talk, and sit idly together in the morning and afternoon, at midday and in the evening too, with places set aside for this. But when we hear divine teachings two or three times a week, we grow sick of them and feel completely overfed. Why? Our souls are in bad condition; we have let their ability to desire and reach for these things go completely slack. So the soul is not strong enough to have an appetite for spiritual food. And among other things, this is a great sign of weakness: to feel neither hunger nor thirst, but to have no desire for either food or drink. Now if this, when it happens in our bodies, is a sure sign of serious disease and causes weakness, it is much more so in the soul. “How, then,” someone says, “can we restore its strength, when it has fallen and grown so weak? What should we do? What should we say?” By devoting ourselves to the divine words of the prophets, the Apostles, the Gospels, and all the others. Then we will know that it is far better to feed on these than on unclean food, for that is what we must call our ill-timed idle talk and gatherings. Tell me, which is better: to discuss matters of the marketplace, the law courts, or the military camp, or things in heaven and what will happen after we leave this world? Which is better: to talk about our neighbor and our neighbor's affairs, to meddle in other people's business, or to investigate the things of angels and matters that concern us? For your neighbor's affairs are not yours at all; but heavenly things are yours. “But,” someone says, “a person could finish all these subjects in a single conversation.” Why don't you think this about the matters you discuss so uselessly and idly? Why, although you waste your lives on them, have you never exhausted the subject? And I have not yet named what is far more vile than this. These are the things the better people discuss with one another; but the more indifferent and careless pass around stories about actors, dancers, and charioteers, defiling people's ears, corrupting their souls, and driving their nature into frenzied excess through these accounts, bringing every kind of wickedness into their own imagination through such talk. For as soon as the tongue speaks the dancer's name, the soul immediately pictures his looks, his hair, his delicate clothes, and the man himself, more effeminate than anyone. Someone else fans the flame another way by bringing a prostitute into the conversation, with her words, poses, and glances, her languid looks and curled hair, the smoothness of her cheeks, and her painted eyelids. Weren't you somewhat stirred when I gave this description? Yet do not feel ashamed or blush, for nature itself necessarily produces this response and shapes the soul according to the direction of what is said. But if you were somewhat stirred by hearing me speak, while standing in church and far away from these things, consider the likely state of those who sit in the theater itself, completely free from fear, away from this deeply respected and awe-inspiring assembly, seeing and hearing those things with great shamelessness. “Then why,” one of those who pay no attention may say, “if nature necessarily shapes the soul this way, do you overlook that and blame us?” Because being softened by hearing these things is nature's work; but hearing them is the fault of deliberate choice, rather than nature. In the same way, anyone who plays with fire must be hurt: the weakness of our nature makes this inevitable. Yet nature does not therefore draw us to the fire and the harm it causes; only deliberate perversity can do that. So I beg you to remove and correct this fault, so that you do not willingly throw yourselves over the cliff, thrust yourselves into the pits of wickedness, or run into the blaze on your own, so that we do not put ourselves in danger of the fire prepared for the devil. May we all be delivered from both this fire and that one, and go to the very bosom of Abraham, through the grace and loving kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom, to the Father and Holy Spirit, be glory forever and ever. Amen.