Homilies on Matthew, Homily 31

“While He was saying these things to them, look, a ruler came in and worshiped Him, saying, My daughter has just died; but come and lay Your hand on her, and she will live.” The deed caught up with the words, silencing the Pharisees all the more. For the man who came was a ruler of the synagogue, and his suffering was terrible. The young girl was his only child and twelve years old, in the very bloom of her youth. This was a particular reason why He raised her again, and did so immediately. And if Luke says that men came saying, “Do not trouble the Master, for she is dead,” we will answer that the words “she has just died” came from someone either guessing from the time his journey had taken or exaggerating his suffering. For people in need commonly make their troubles sound worse when describing them, and say more than is really true to draw greater attention from those they are pleading with. But see how slow he is to understand: he requires two things from Christ, both His physical presence and the laying on of His hand. This, incidentally, is a sign that he had left her still breathing. Naaman the Syrian also required this of the prophet. “For I thought,” he says, “he will surely come out and lay on his hand.” For people who are more or less slow to understand require things they can see and perceive with their senses. And while Mark says He took the three disciples, as does Luke, our evangelist simply says “the disciples.” Why, then, did He not take Matthew with Him, even though he had only just come to Him? To make him long for it more earnestly, and because he was still somewhat immature. For He honors those disciples so that the others may become like them. For Matthew, it was enough for the present to see what happened to the woman with the flow of blood, and to have the honor of sharing a table and salt with Him. And when He got up, many followed Him, expecting a great miracle, both because of the person who had come and because most of them were more earthly in their outlook and sought healing for the body more than care for the soul. They streamed together, some driven by their own suffering, others eager to see how other people's troubles were cured. Still, only a few were yet in the habit of coming mainly for His words and teaching. Nevertheless, He did not allow them to enter the house, but only His disciples, and not even all of them. In everything He teaches us to turn away the crowd's applause. 2. “And look,” it says, “a woman who had had a flow of blood for twelve years came up behind Him and touched the hem of His garment. For she said to herself, If I can only touch His garment, I will be healed.” Why did she not approach Him openly? She was ashamed because of her condition, considering herself unclean. For if a menstruating woman was judged unclean, a woman suffering from such a disease would think this all the more, since under the law that condition was considered a great uncleanness. So she stays hidden and conceals herself. For she did not yet have a proper and correct understanding of Him; otherwise, she would not have thought she could remain hidden. And this is the first woman who came to Him in public, having heard, of course, that He also heals women and that He is on His way to the little daughter who had died. And she did not dare invite Him to her house, although she was wealthy. Nor did she approach Him publicly; instead, she secretly touched His garments with faith. For she did not doubt or say to herself, “Will I really be freed from the disease? Will I fail to be freed?” Instead, she approached Him confident that she would be healed. “For she said,” we read, “to herself, If I can only touch His garment, I will be healed.” Yes, for she saw what kind of house He had come from, the house of tax collectors, and who His followers were, sinners and tax collectors; and all these things gave her hope. What, then, does Christ do? He does not let her stay hidden, but brings her into the midst of the crowd and reveals her for many reasons. Some senseless people do indeed say, “He does this out of a love of glory. For why,” they ask, “did He not let her stay hidden?” What are you saying, you ungodly, utterly ungodly person? He who commands silence, He who passes over countless miracles—is He in love with glory? Why, then, does He bring her forward? First, He puts an end to the woman's fear, so that her conscience will not torment her as though she had stolen the gift and leave her in anguish. Second, He corrects her belief that she could stay hidden. Third, He shows her faith to everyone, to stir the others to imitate her. And stopping the fountains of her blood was no greater sign than the one He gives by showing His knowledge of everything. Moreover, through the woman He corrects the ruler of the synagogue, who was on the verge of complete unbelief and therefore utter ruin. For those who came said, “Do not trouble the Master, for the girl is dead,” and those in the house mocked Him when He said, “She is sleeping.” The father, too, was likely to have felt something of the same kind. So, to correct this weakness beforehand, He brings forward the simple woman. For to see that this ruler was quite earthly in his outlook, listen to what He says to him: “Do not be afraid; only believe, and she will be healed.” Thus He also deliberately waited for death to come, so that He would arrive afterward and the proof of the resurrection would be clear. With this purpose He walks more slowly and speaks longer with the woman, giving the girl time to die and the messengers time to arrive and report it, saying, “Do not trouble the Master.” Surely the evangelist also hints at this when he says, “While He was still speaking, some people came from the house and said, Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Master.” For He wanted her death to be believed, so that her resurrection would not be doubted. And He does this in every case. So too with Lazarus: He waited a first, a second, and a third day. For all these reasons He brings her forward and says, “Daughter, take courage,” just as He had also said to the paralyzed man, “Son, take courage.” Because the woman was extremely frightened, He says, “Take courage,” and calls her “daughter,” for her faith had made her a daughter. Then comes her praise as well: “Your faith has healed you.” But Luke also tells us more about the woman. When she had approached Him, he says, and had been healed, Christ did not immediately call her, but first said, “Who touched Me?” Then Peter and those with Him said, “Master, the crowd is pressing around You and pushing against You, and You say, Who touched Me?” (This was a very clear sign both that He was clothed in real flesh and that He trampled on all vanity, for they did not follow Him at a distance, but crowded around Him on every side.) He, for His part, kept saying, “Someone touched Me, for I perceive that power has gone out of Me,” speaking in more physical terms to suit His hearers' understanding. But He said these things to lead her to confess of her own accord. This is also why He did not immediately expose her: after showing that He clearly knows everything, He wanted to lead her to make everything public willingly, and move her to announce herself what had happened, so that His own account would not arouse suspicion. Do you see how the woman surpasses the ruler of the synagogue? She did not detain Him or take hold of Him, but only touched Him with her fingertips; and although she came later, she was the first to leave healed. The ruler was bringing the Physician all the way to his house, while for her a mere touch was enough. For although her suffering bound her, her faith had given her wings. And notice how He comforts her, saying, “Your faith has saved you.” Surely, if He had brought her forward for show, He would not have added this. He says it partly to teach the ruler of the synagogue to believe, partly to proclaim the woman's praise, and through these words to give her delight and benefit equal to her bodily healing. That He did this to glorify her and correct others, rather than to display His own glory, is clear from this: He would have been equally admired without it (for miracles were falling around Him more thickly than snowflakes, and He had done, and would do, far greater things than these). But if this had not happened, the woman would have left unnoticed, deprived of that great praise. This is why He brought her forward, proclaimed her praise, and drove out her fear (for “she came,” it says, “trembling”). He gave her courage and, along with bodily health, gave her other provisions for her journey by saying, “Go in peace.” 3. “And when He came into the ruler's house and saw the flute players and the people making a noise, He said to them, Make room, for the girl is not dead, but sleeping. And they mocked Him.” What noble signs, surely, of the rulers of synagogues: pipes and cymbals sounding a funeral song at the moment of her death! What, then, does Christ do? He sends everyone else out, but brings in the parents, leaving no room for anyone to say He healed her in some other way. Even before her resurrection, He raises her through His words, saying, “The girl is not dead, but sleeping.” He does this in many other cases as well. As He did on the sea, He drives turmoil from the minds of those standing by, at the same time showing that it is easy for Him to raise the dead (He did the same with Lazarus, saying, “Our friend Lazarus is sleeping”) and teaching us not to fear death, because it is not death, but has now become sleep. Thus, since He Himself was going to die, He uses the example of others to prepare His disciples to take courage and bear the end calmly. For truly, once He had come, death from that time forward was sleep. Yet they mocked Him. He, however, was not angry that those for whom He would soon work miracles did not believe Him. Nor did He rebuke their laughter, so that it, along with the pipes, the cymbals, and everything else, would provide sure proof of her death. For since people generally disbelieve after miracles have happened, He secures their testimony beforehand through their own answers. This happened with both Lazarus and Moses. For He first says to Moses, “What is that in your hand?” so that when he saw it become a serpent, he would not forget that it had been a rod, but would remember his own words and be amazed at what had happened. And concerning Lazarus He says, “Where have you laid him?” so that those who had said, “Come and see,” and “He stinks, for he has been dead four days,” would no longer be able to disbelieve that He had raised a dead man. Seeing the cymbals and the crowd, then, He sent them all out and worked the miracle in the parents' presence, introducing no other soul, but calling back the same soul that had left and awakening her as though from sleep. And He holds her by the hand, reassuring those watching, so that the sight will prepare them to believe in her resurrection. For while the father said, “Lay Your hand on her,” He does something more: instead of laying a hand on her, He takes hold of her and raises her, showing that all things are at His command. And He not only raises her, but also orders them to give her food, so that what happened will not seem an illusion. He does not give it Himself, but commands them to do so, just as He said about Lazarus, “Untie him and let him go,” and afterward has him share His table. For this is how He always establishes both points, proving both the death and the resurrection as fully as possible. But notice, I ask you, not only her resurrection, but also His command “to tell no one.” From all this, learn especially how free He is from arrogance and vanity. And learn this as well: He sent those who were beating themselves in mourning out of the house and declared them unworthy of such a sight. So do not go out with the flute players, but stay with Peter, John, and James. For if He sent them out then, He will do so all the more now. For then it was not yet clear that death had become sleep, but now this is clearer than the sun itself. But is your objection that He has not raised your daughter now? Surely He will raise her, and with greater glory. For that girl died again after she had risen; but your child, once she rises again, will live forever in immortality. 4. So let no one beat themselves in mourning or wail anymore, or belittle Christ's achievement. For He has indeed conquered death. Why, then, do you wail for no reason? It has become sleep. Why lament and weep? Even if Greeks did this, they should be mocked; but when a believer behaves shamefully in these matters, what defense does he have? What excuse will there be for those guilty of such foolishness, after so much time and such clear proof of the resurrection? But as though you were trying to add to the charge against you, you also bring in pagan women to sing funeral songs, to inflame your feelings and stoke the furnace thoroughly. And you do not listen to Paul, who says, “What harmony does Christ have with Belial? Or what share does a believer have with an unbeliever?” And while the children of pagans, who know nothing of resurrection, still find words of comfort, saying, “Bear it bravely, for what has happened cannot be undone or set right by lamenting,” are you not ashamed to behave more shamefully than they do, when you hear words wiser and better than these? For we do not say, “Bear it bravely because what has happened cannot be undone,” but, “Bear it bravely because he will certainly rise again.” The child is sleeping, not dead; he is at rest and has not perished. For his final lot will be resurrection, eternal life, immortality, and an angel's portion. Do you not hear the Psalm that says, “Return to your rest, O my soul, for the Lord has dealt generously with you”? God calls it “generous dealing,” and you lament? And what more could you have done if you were a foe and enemy of the dead? If there must be mourning, the devil is the one who ought to mourn. Let him beat himself and wail at our journey to greater blessings. This lamentation suits his wickedness, not you, who are going to receive a crown and rest. Yes, for death is a beautiful harbor. Consider, at least, how many evils fill our present life; reflect on how often you yourself have cursed this life. For things do indeed go from bad to worse, and from the very beginning you were under severe condemnation. For He says, “In pain you will bear children,” and, “By the sweat of your face you will eat your bread,” and, “In the world you will have trouble.” But nothing like this is said about our condition there. Everything is just the opposite: “Grief and sorrow and sighing have fled away.” And “people will come from the east and from the west and will recline in the bosoms of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.” And that realm is a spiritual bridal chamber, bright lamps, and a passage to Heaven. 5. Why, then, disgrace the departed? Why make the rest fear and tremble at death? Why cause many to accuse God, as though He had done something terrible? Or rather, why afterward invite poor people and ask priests to pray? “So that,” he says, “the dead may depart into rest, and find the Judge favorable.” Is this, then, what you mourn and wail about? You are fighting and waging war against yourself, stirring up a storm against yourself because he has entered the harbor. “But what can I do?” he says. “It is natural.” Nature is not to blame, nor is this a necessary consequence of what has happened. We are the ones turning everything upside down, giving in to weakness, abandoning our rightful nobility, and making unbelievers worse. For how will we reason with someone else about immortality? How will we persuade a pagan when we fear death and shudder at it more than he does? Many among the Greeks, for example, although of course they knew nothing about immortality, have crowned themselves at their children's death and appeared in white clothes to win glory in this life. But even for the sake of future glory, you will not stop behaving like a woman and wailing. But do you have no heirs, no one to inherit your goods? Which would you prefer: that he inherit your possessions or Heaven? Which did you want: that he inherit things that perish, which he would soon have had to let go, or things that last and cannot be shaken? You did not have him as your heir, but God had him instead of you. He did not become a joint heir with his own brothers, but became a “joint heir with Christ.” “But to whom,” he says, “are we to leave our clothes, to whom our houses, to whom our slaves and our lands?” To him again, and more securely than if he were alive; for nothing prevents this. For if barbarians burn the possessions of the departed along with them, it would be all the more righteous for you to send his belongings with the dead, not to turn them to ashes as they do, but to clothe him in greater glory, so that if he departed a sinner, it may wipe away his sins, and if he was righteous, it may increase his reward and compensation. But do you long to see him? Then live the same life as he did, and you will soon have that sacred vision. Along with this, consider also that even if you do not listen to us, you will certainly yield to time. But then there will be no reward for you, because the comfort comes from the passing days. If, however, you are willing to control yourself now, you will gain two very great things: first, you will free yourself from the suffering in between; next, you will receive a brighter crown from God. For neither almsgiving nor anything else is nearly as great as bearing suffering calmly. Remember that even the Son of God died: He for you, but you for yourself. And when He said, “If it is possible, let the cup pass from Me,” and suffered pain and anguish, He still did not avoid the end, but underwent it, with its whole course of terrible suffering. That is, He did not merely endure death, but the most shameful death; and before His death, lashes; and before the lashes, reproaches, jeers, and insults, teaching you to bear everything bravely. And although He died and put off His body, He took it up again in greater glory, giving you good hopes in this too. If these things are not a fable, do not lament. If you consider these things certain, do not weep. But if you do weep, how will you persuade the Greek that you believe? 6. But does what happened still seem unbearable to you? Well then, for this very reason you should not lament for him, because he has been freed from many such calamities. So do not begrudge him this or envy him. For to ask for death yourself because of his early end, and to lament for him because he did not live to endure many such things, is the behavior of someone who begrudges and envies. And do not think about how he will no longer come home, but about how you too will go to him a little later. Do not focus on how he no longer returns here, but on how the things we see do not remain as they are either: they too are being transformed. Yes, for heaven, earth, sea, and everything are being made anew, and then you will receive your child back in greater glory. And if he departed a sinner, his wickedness has been stopped. For certainly, if God had known he was turning toward repentance, He would not have snatched him away before he repented. But if he ended his life righteous, he now possesses every good thing securely. This makes it clear that your tears come from unreasoning passion rather than loving affection. For if you loved the departed, you would rejoice and be glad that he has been delivered from the waves of this present life. For what more is there, I ask you? What is fresh and new? Do we not see the same things circling around every day? Day and night, night and day, winter and summer, summer and winter, and nothing more. These things are always the same, but our evils are fresh and ever newer. Would you, then, want him to keep drawing up more of these troubles every day, staying here, growing sick, mourning, living in fear and trembling, enduring some of life's troubles, and dreading that he might someday suffer others? For surely you cannot say that someone sailing across this great sea could possibly be free from discouragement, worries, and all such things. And also take this into account: you did not give birth to him immortal, and if he had not died now, he would have had to face death soon afterward. But is your objection that you had not had enough time with him? You will certainly enjoy his company there. But do you long to see him here as well? What is there to stop you? Even here you are allowed to do so, if you are watchful, for the hope of things to come is clearer than sight. But if he were in some king's court, you would not keep seeking to see him, as long as you heard good reports of him. And now that he has departed to far better things, do you lose heart over a little time, even when you have someone to live with you in his place? But do you have no husband? You still have a comforter, the Father of orphans and Judge of widows. Hear Paul himself call this widowhood blessed, saying, “Now she who is truly a widow and left alone trusts in the Lord.” For such a woman will receive greater approval by showing greater patience. So do not mourn over what is your crown, the very thing for which you ask a reward. For you have also returned His deposit, if you have presented the very thing entrusted to you. Do not worry anymore, since you have stored the possession in a treasury no one can break into. But if you really understood both our present existence and our life to come, and understood that the one is a spider's web and a shadow, while everything there is unshakable and immortal, you would need no further arguments. For now your child has been delivered from all change; if he were here, perhaps he would remain good, and perhaps he would not. Do you not see how many people publicly disown their own children? How many are forced to keep them at home, even though they are worse than those openly cast out? Let us consider all these things and practice self-control. In this way we will show regard for the deceased, receive much praise from others, receive from God the great rewards of patience, and attain eternal blessings. May we all attain them through the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might forever and ever. Amen.