“And as they left, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind? But what did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft clothing? Look, those who wear soft clothing are in kings’ houses. But what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.” The matter of John’s disciples had been handled well, and they had gone away reassured by the miracles just performed. But afterward, the people needed help. Although the disciples could not suspect anything of the kind about their own master, the common people might draw many strange suspicions from the disciples’ question, since they did not know why John had sent them. It was natural for them to reason among themselves and say, “Has the man who gave such abundant testimony now changed his conviction? Does he doubt whether this is He who is to come, or someone else? Could he be saying this because he has fallen out with Jesus? Has prison made him more timid? Were his earlier words empty and careless?” Since it was natural for them to suspect many such things, see how He corrects their weakness and removes these suspicions. For “as they left, He began to speak to the crowds.” Why “as they left”? So that He would not seem to be flattering the man. In correcting the people, He does not announce their suspicion. He simply resolves the thoughts troubling their minds, showing that He knew everyone’s secrets. He does not say, as He did to the Jews, “Why are you thinking evil?” For if they had these thoughts, they were reasoning this way out of ignorance about what had been said, not out of wickedness. So He does not speak to rebuke them. He simply corrects their understanding, defends John, and makes clear that John has not abandoned his former conviction or changed. He is no easily swayed, fickle man, but steady and dependable, far from betraying what has been entrusted to him. To establish this, He does not begin with His own judgment, but with their earlier testimony, pointing out how they had testified to John’s firmness through their actions as well as their words. So He says, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?” It is as though He had said, Why did you leave your cities and houses and all gather in the wilderness? To see some pathetic, pliable person? No, that would make no sense. That is not what your eagerness and everyone’s gathering in the wilderness indicate. So many people and so many cities would not have poured out with such enthusiasm toward the wilderness and the Jordan River at that time unless you had expected to see someone great and wonderful, someone firmer than any rock. Surely you did not go out to see “a reed shaken by the wind.” That image best fits people who bend easily and are readily turned around, who say one thing now and another later, and stand firm in nothing. Notice how He leaves out any mention of wickedness and speaks about what was especially troubling them at the time, removing their suspicion that John was fickle. “But what did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft clothing? Look, those who wear soft clothing are in kings’ houses.” His meaning is this: John was not naturally wavering, and you yourselves showed that by your eagerness. Still less could anyone say that he had been firm but later grew weak by becoming a slave to luxury. For some people are the way they are by nature, while others become that way. For example, one man is naturally hot-tempered, while another develops this weakness after a long illness. Again, some people are naturally pliable and fickle, while others become that way by being slaves to luxury and living effeminately. “But John,” He says, “was neither like this by nature—for you did not go out to see a reed—nor did he lose the strength he possessed by giving himself over to luxury.” His clothing, the wilderness, and his prison show that he did not become a slave to luxury. If he had wanted to wear soft clothing, he would have lived in the king’s courts, rather than in the wilderness or prison. He could have enjoyed unlimited honor simply by keeping silent. For if Herod respected him so much even after John had rebuked him and was in chains, how much more would Herod have courted his favor if he had kept quiet? You see, he had indeed proved his firmness and courage. How could suspicions of that kind justly fall on him? 2. So, after portraying John’s character through the place, his clothing, and their gathering around Him, He goes on to introduce the prophet. After saying, “Why did you go out? To see a prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet,” He continues, “For this is the one about whom it is written, Look, I send my messenger ahead of You, who will prepare Your way before You.” After first presenting the Jews’ testimony, He then applies that of the prophets. Or rather, He places first the Jews’ judgment, which must have been very strong proof, since his enemies were giving the testimony; second, the man’s life; third, His own judgment; and fourth, the prophet. In every way He shuts their mouths. Then, so that they would not say, “But what if he was indeed like that then, but has changed now?” He also added what follows: his clothing, his prison, and, along with these, the prophecy. Then, after saying that he is greater than a prophet, He also explains in what way he is greater. And in what way is he greater? In being close to Him who had come. For He says, “I send my messenger ahead of You,” meaning, near You. Just as those who ride near a king’s chariot are more distinguished than the rest, so John also appears running his course close to Christ’s coming itself. See how He showed John’s excellence through this as well. And He does not even stop here, but afterward adds His own endorsement too, saying, “Truly I tell you, among those born of women, no one greater than John the Baptist has arisen.” What He said means this: “No woman has given birth to anyone greater than this man.” His judgment alone is enough. But if you want to learn from the facts as well, consider John’s food, his way of life, and his lofty spirit. He lived as though he were in heaven. Rising above the necessities of nature, he traveled what was, so to speak, a new path, spending all his time in hymns and prayers, continually keeping company with God alone and with no human being. He did not even see any of his fellow servants, nor was he seen by any of them. He did not feed on milk or enjoy the comfort of a bed, a roof, a marketplace, or any other human amenities. Yet he was both gentle and zealous. Listen, for example, to how considerately he reasons with his own disciples, how courageously with the Jewish people, and how openly with the king. For this reason He also said, “Among those born of women, no one greater than John the Baptist has arisen.” 3. But so that His exceptionally great praise would not lead to an excessive response, with the Jews honoring John above Christ, notice how He corrects this too. Just as the things that built up His own disciples harmed the crowds, who took Him for an easygoing sort of person, so the remedies used for the crowds might have caused still greater harm if Christ’s words had led them to regard John with greater reverence than Himself. So He also corrects this, without arousing suspicion, by saying, “He who is lesser is greater than he in the kingdom of Heaven.” Lesser in age and in the crowd’s opinion, since they even called Him “a glutton and a drunkard,” and said, “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?” At every opportunity they would belittle Him. “What then?” someone may say. “Is He greater than John by comparison?” Far from it. When John says, “He is mightier than I,” he is not comparing them; nor is Paul writing by way of comparison when he recalls Moses and says, “For this man was considered worthy of more glory than Moses.” And He Himself, when He says, “Look, someone greater than Solomon is here,” is not making a comparison. Even if we were to grant that He said this by way of comparison, He did so by accommodating Himself to His hearers’ weakness. These people really had their attention fixed on John, and his imprisonment and his frank speech to the king made him still more distinguished. For the moment, it was a great achievement to get the crowd to accept even this much. In the same way, the Old Testament corrects the souls of those who go astray by setting side by side, as a comparison, things that cannot be compared. For example, it says, “Among the gods there is none like You, O Lord,” and again, “There is no god like our God.” Now some claim that Christ said this about the apostles, and others, about angels. This is how people tend to wander in many directions once they have turned away from the truth. For what connection would there be in speaking about either angels or apostles? Besides, if He were speaking about the apostles, what prevented Him from naming them? But when He speaks about Himself, He naturally conceals His identity because suspicion still prevails, and so that He will not seem to be saying anything great about Himself. Indeed, we often find Him doing this. But what does “in the kingdom of heaven” mean? Among spiritual beings and all those in heaven. Moreover, His saying, “Among those born of women, no one greater than John has arisen,” suited someone who was contrasting John with Himself and thus silently making an exception for Himself. For although He too was born of a woman, He was not born as John was. He was not a mere man, nor was He born in the same way as a man, but by a strange and wondrous kind of birth. 4. “And from the days of John the Baptist,” He says, “until now, the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.” And what connection can this have with what was said before? A great deal, certainly, and it fits perfectly. Through this point too He urges and presses them to have faith in Himself. At the same time, He also speaks in agreement with what John had said before. “For if everything is fulfilled down to John, I am ‘He who is to come.’” “For all the prophets,” He says, “and the law prophesied until John.” For the prophets would not have ceased unless I had come. So expect nothing further, and wait for no one else. That I am He is clear both from the prophets’ ceasing and from those who every day “take by force” faith in me. For it is so clear and certain that many even take it by force. Why, who has taken it this way? Tell me. Everyone who approaches it with an eager mind. Then He gives another unmistakable sign, saying, “If you are willing to receive it, he is Elijah, who was to come.” For it is said, “I will send you Elijah the Tishbite, who will turn the heart of the father to the children.” So this man is Elijah, He says, if you pay close attention. For He says, “I will send my messenger ahead of You.” He rightly said, “If you are willing to receive it,” to show that there is no compulsion. For I do not force you, He says. He said this because He required an open mind, and to show that John is Elijah, and Elijah John. Both received one ministry, and both became forerunners. So He did not simply say, “This is Elijah,” but, “If you are willing to receive it, this is he.” That is, if you pay attention to what is happening with an open mind. He did not even stop there. To the words, “This is Elijah, who was to come,” He added, to show that understanding is needed, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” He used so many obscure sayings to stir them to ask questions. And if even this did not wake them up, how much less would they have been awakened if everything had been plain and clear? Surely no one could say that they did not dare ask Him or that He was hard to approach. Those who asked Him questions and tested Him about ordinary matters did not withdraw from Him even after their mouths had been shut a thousand times. How, then, could they have failed to question Him and ask Him about essential matters if they had really wanted to learn? For if they asked about matters of the law, “Which is the first commandment?” and all such questions, even though of course they did not need Him to tell them that, how could they fail to ask the meaning of what He Himself said, which He was also bound to explain in His answers? Especially when He Himself was encouraging and drawing them to do this. By saying, “The violent take it by force,” He stirs them to eagerness of mind; and by saying, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear,” He does exactly the same thing. 5. “But what shall I compare this generation to?” He says. “It is like children sitting in the marketplace and saying, We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we mourned for you, and you did not lament.” This again seems disconnected from what came before, but it follows most naturally from it. He still keeps to the same point: showing that John acts in harmony with Himself, although the results were opposite, as was also the case with John’s question. And He implies that nothing that ought to have been done for their salvation was left undone. This is what the prophet says about the vineyard: “What should I have done to this vineyard that I have not done?” “For what,” He says, “shall I compare this generation to? It is like children sitting in the marketplace and saying, We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we mourned for you, and you did not lament. For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, He has a demon. The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.” What He says means this: John and I have each come by opposite paths. We have acted like hunters pursuing a wild beast that is hard to catch and could be driven into a trap by either of two routes. Each hunter blocks his own route and drives the beast, standing opposite the other, so that it must fall into one of the two snares. Notice, for example, how the whole human race marvels at people’s fasting and at this hard, self-denying life. That is why it had been arranged for John to be brought up this way from his earliest youth, so that through this, among other things, his words would gain credibility. But why, someone may ask, did He not choose that path Himself? First, He did follow it Himself when He fasted for forty days and went around teaching without a place to lay His head. Yet He also achieved this same purpose in another way and secured the benefit that came from it. For receiving testimony from the man who came by this path was the same thing, or even a much greater thing, than coming by this path Himself. Besides, John displayed only his life and conduct, for it is said, “John did no sign.” But He Himself also had testimony from signs and miracles. So, leaving John to be distinguished by his fasting, He Himself came by the opposite path, coming to tax collectors’ tables and eating and drinking. Let us ask the Jews, then, “Is fasting good and admirable? Then you should have obeyed John, welcomed him, and believed his words. Those words would have led you toward Jesus. Is fasting, on the other hand, distressing and burdensome? Then you should have obeyed Jesus and believed in Him who came by the opposite path. Either way, you would have found yourselves in the kingdom.” But like an unmanageable wild beast, they spoke evil of both. So the fault does not lie with those who were not believed. Those who did not believe deserve the blame. For no one would ever choose to speak evil of opposite things, any more than he would praise them both. I mean this: someone who approves of a cheerful, free manner will not approve of someone sad and solemn; someone who praises a man with a sad expression will not praise a cheerful man. It is impossible to vote both ways at once. That is why He also says, “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance,” meaning, “I displayed the freer way of life, and you did not obey”; and, “We mourned, and you did not lament,” meaning, “John followed the hard and solemn life, and you paid no attention.” He does not say, “He did this, and I did that.” Because their purpose was one, although their ways of life were opposite, He speaks of their actions as shared. Indeed, even their coming by opposite paths arose from the closest agreement, which kept looking toward one and the same end. What excuse, then, can you have after all this? So He added, “And wisdom is justified by her children.” That is, even if you are not persuaded, after this you cannot find fault with me. As the prophet says about the Father, “So that You may be justified in Your words.” For even if God accomplishes nothing more through His care for us, He does everything required of Him, leaving those determined to be shameless not even the shadow of an excuse for dishonest doubt. And if the comparisons are lowly and sound unworthy, do not be surprised. He was speaking with His hearers’ weakness in view. Ezekiel too mentions many comparisons like these that are unworthy of God’s majesty. Yet this too is especially fitting for His tender care. Notice how, in another respect too, they are tossed back and forth between contradictory opinions. After saying about John, “He has a demon,” they did not stop there, but said exactly the same thing about Him, though He followed the opposite course. So they were forever being carried into conflicting opinions. But along with this, Luke also records another, more serious charge against them, saying, “For the tax collectors justified God, having received John’s baptism.” 6. Then He goes on to rebuke the cities, now that wisdom has been justified and He has shown that everything has been fully done. That is, after failing to persuade them, He now simply mourns over them, which is more powerful than frightening them. He had displayed both His teaching through His words and His miracle-working power through His signs. But since they persisted in their unbelief, He now simply rebukes them. For it says, “Then Jesus began to rebuke the cities in which most of His mighty works had been done, because they did not repent, saying, Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!” Then, to show you that they are not like this by nature, He also names the city from which five apostles came. For Philip and those two pairs of the leading apostles were from there. “For if,” He says, “the mighty works done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented in sackcloth and ashes. But I tell you, it will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, who are exalted to heaven, will be brought down to hell. For if the mighty works done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I tell you, it will be more bearable for the land of Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.” He does not add Sodom to the others for no reason, but to make the charge against them more serious. For it is very strong proof of wickedness when no one is found as bad as they are, not only among those alive now, but even among all the wicked people who ever lived. Elsewhere too He makes a comparison, condemning them by the Ninevites and the Queen of the South. There, however, He does so through people who acted rightly; here, even through people who sinned, which is far more serious. Ezekiel too knew this principle of condemnation. That is why he said to Jerusalem, “You have justified your sisters in all your sins.” So He repeatedly lingers in the Old Testament as in a favorite place. He does not even end His words here, but intensifies their fears still further by saying that they will suffer worse things than the Sodomites and Tyrians, so that He may gather them in by every means, both by mourning over them and by alarming them. 7. Let us listen to these same things as well. For He has appointed a punishment more severe than that of the Sodomites not only for unbelievers, but also for us if we refuse to welcome the strangers who come to us. I mean His command to shake off even the dust, and it was entirely fitting. For although the Sodomites committed a great sin, it was before the law and grace. But after so much care has been shown to us, what mercy should we deserve when we show such inhospitality, shutting our doors against those in need, and shutting our ears even before our doors? Or rather, we do this not only to the poor, but to the apostles themselves. For we do it to the poor because we do it even to the apostles. When Paul is read and you pay no attention, when John preaches and you do not listen, when will you welcome a poor man, if you will not welcome an apostle? So, to keep our houses continually open to the poor and our ears to the apostles, let us clear the filth out of our soul’s ears. Just as filth and mud block the ears of our flesh, so a prostitute’s songs, worldly news, debts, and the business of usury and loans block the mind’s ear worse than any filth. Indeed, they do not merely block it; they also make it unclean. Those who tell you about these things are putting dung in your ears. These men make you actually undergo what the barbarian threatened in words when he said, “You will eat your own dung,” and what follows—or rather, they make you undergo something much worse. For those songs really are more disgusting than all this. And worse still, instead of being distressed when you hear them, you laugh, when you ought to loathe them and flee. But if they are not disgusting, go down onto the stage and imitate what you praise. Or rather, simply take a walk with the man who is making you laugh. No, you could not bear it. Why, then, do you give him such great honor? While the laws enacted by the Gentiles require that these people be dishonored, you welcome them with your whole city like ambassadors and generals, and gather everyone together to receive dung in their ears. If your servant says anything filthy in your hearing, he will receive a thorough beating. If a son, a wife, or anyone else does what I have described, you call the act an insult. But if worthless fellows who deserve a whipping invite you to hear filthy words, you are not merely unoffended: you even rejoice and applaud. What could equal this foolishness? But do you never utter these vile words yourself? What good does that do? Or rather, what evidence is there for that very claim? For if you did not say these things, you would not laugh at hearing them or run so eagerly toward the voice that makes you ashamed. Tell me, do you enjoy hearing people blaspheme? Don’t you instead shudder and stop your ears? Surely I think you do. Why? Because you do not blaspheme yourself. Act in exactly the same way toward filthy talk. If you want to show us clearly that you take no pleasure in filthy speech, do not tolerate even hearing it. For when will you be able to become good, brought up as you are with such sounds in your ears? When will you dare undertake the efforts chastity requires, now that you are gradually falling away through this laughter, these songs, and filthy words? It is a great achievement for a soul that keeps itself pure from all this to become serious and chaste. How much harder is it for one nourished on such things? Don’t you know that we are more inclined toward evil than toward good? When we even make an art and a business of it, when will we escape that furnace? 8. Haven’t you heard what Paul says: “Rejoice in the Lord”? He did not say, “in the devil.” When, then, will you be able to hear Paul? When will you become aware of your wrong actions, constantly and endlessly drunk as you are on the spectacle I was describing? Your coming here is nothing remarkable or great—or rather, it is remarkable. For you come here carelessly, just to ease your conscience, but you go there diligently, quickly, and with great eagerness. And this is clear from what you bring home when you return from there. For all the mud poured out for you there through the speeches, songs, and laughter, each of you gathers up and takes home—or rather, not only into his home, but even into his own mind. You turn away from things that do not deserve disgust, while you actually seek out things you should find disgusting instead of hating them. Many people, for example, habitually wash themselves after returning from tombs, but after returning from theaters they have never groaned or poured out fountains of tears. Yet surely a dead person is not an unclean thing, while sin leaves such a stain that not even ten thousand fountains could wash it away, but only tears and confessions. Yet no one has any awareness of this stain. So, because we do not fear what we should, we shrink from what we should not. And then, what about the applause? What about the uproar, the satanic cries, and the devilish gestures? First, one performer, a young man, wears his hair long in back and, changing his nature into a woman’s, strives in appearance, gestures, clothing, and every other way to take on the likeness of a delicate young girl. Then another, an old man, does the opposite: with his hair shaved and his waist belted, having shed his shame before shedding his hair, he stands ready to be struck with a rod, prepared to say and do anything. The women, in turn, stand with their heads uncovered, speaking to an entire crowd without a blush, so thoroughly practiced are they in shamelessness. In this way they pour every kind of brazenness and impurity into their hearers’ souls. Their one concern is to uproot all chastity from its foundations, disgrace our nature, and satisfy the wicked demon’s desire. There are foul sayings and still fouler gestures. The hairstyles tend in that direction, and so do the walk, clothing, voice, and bending of the limbs. There are rolling eyes, flutes, pipes, dramas, and plots—in short, everything full of the most extreme impurity. When, I ask you, will you become sober again, now that the devil is pouring out so much strong wine of sexual immorality for you and mixing so many cups of unchastity? For there are adulteries and stolen marriages there, women acting as prostitutes, men prostituting themselves, and youths corrupting themselves. Everything there is utter wickedness, everything sorcery, everything shame. So those who sit watching should not laugh at these things, but weep and groan bitterly. “What then? Are we to close the theater?” someone will say. “Is everything to be turned upside down at your word?” No, everything is turned upside down as it is. Tell me, where do those who plot against our marriages come from? Isn’t it from this theater? Where do those who break through walls into bedrooms come from? Isn’t it from that stage? Isn’t this why husbands become unbearable to their wives, why wives become contemptible to their husbands, and why most people are adulterers? So the person who goes to the theater is the one who overturns everything; he is the one who brings in a harsh tyranny. “No,” you will say, “this is established by the orderly rule of law.” Why, tearing men’s wives away, abusing young boys, and destroying households are acts characteristic of those who have seized citadels. “And what adulterer,” you will say, “has been made one by these spectacles?” Rather, who has not been made an adulterer? If only I could name them now, I could point out how many husbands those prostitutes have separated from their wives and how many they have taken captive, drawing some away even from the marriage bed itself and preventing others from ever living a married life at all. “What then? Tell me, are we to overthrow all the laws?” No, we overthrow lawlessness if we do away with these spectacles. For this is where those who devastate our cities come from; this is the source, for example, of uprisings and riots. Those supported by the dancers, who sell their voices to fill their bellies, whose job is to shout and practice every kind of monstrous behavior—these especially are the people who stir up the population and cause riots in our cities. For youth, when it joins hands with idleness and is brought up amid such great evils, becomes fiercer than any wild beast. And tell me, where do the necromancers come from? Isn’t it from here? To excite people who are idling aimlessly, secure abundant loud applause for the male dancers, and strengthen the prostitutes against chaste women, they go so far in sorcery that they do not even shrink from disturbing the bones of the dead. Isn’t this also why men are forced to spend without limit on that wicked chorus of the devil? And where does lewdness come from, with its countless evils? You see, you are the one undermining our life by drawing people to these things, while I am restoring it by putting an end to them. “Then let us tear down the theater,” they say. If only it were possible to tear it down! Or rather, if you are willing, as far as we are concerned it is already torn down and dug up. Still, I command no such thing. While these places remain standing, I tell you to make them powerless. That would deserve greater praise than tearing them down. 9. At least imitate the barbarians, if no one else, for they are entirely free from seeking such spectacles. What excuse can we have after all this, when we, citizens of Heaven, partners in the choirs of the cherubim, and companions of the angels, make ourselves worse in this respect even than the barbarians—and do so when countless other pleasures, better than these, are within our reach? If you want your soul to find delight, go to parks, to a flowing river, and to lakes. Look at gardens, listen to the grasshoppers singing, and spend your time beside the martyrs’ coffins, where there is health for the body and benefit for the soul, with no harm and no remorse after the pleasure, as there is here. You have a wife, you have children. What can equal this pleasure? You have a home, you have friends. These are the true delights. Besides being pure, they bring great benefit. For what, I ask you, is sweeter than children? What is sweeter than a wife, for a man willing to be chaste in mind? On this subject, we are told that the barbarians once made a remark full of wise sternness. Having heard about these wicked spectacles and the improper delight they offer, they said, “Why, the Romans have devised these pleasures as though they had no wives and children.” They meant that nothing is sweeter than children and a wife, if you are willing to live honorably. “What then,” someone may say, “if I point to people who are not harmed at all by their entertainment there?” First, even this is harmful: spending one’s time without purpose or benefit and becoming a stumbling block to others. For even if you are not harmed, you make someone else more eager for these things. And how can you yourself escape harm when you help make what goes on possible? The fortune-teller, the boy prostitute, the female prostitute, and all those choirs of the devil lay the blame for their actions on your head. For just as surely as there would be no one practicing these occupations if there were no spectators, so, because there are spectators, they too have their share of the fire these deeds deserve. So even if your chastity remained entirely unharmed (which is impossible), you would still have to give a dreadful account for the ruin of others, both the spectators and those who bring them together. Your chastity too would benefit more if you refrained from going there. For even if you are chaste now, you would become more chaste by avoiding such sights. So let us not delight in useless arguments or devise worthless defenses. There is only one defense: to flee the Babylonian furnace and stay far from the Egyptian prostitute, even if we must escape her hands naked. For in this way we will both enjoy great delight, with our conscience free from accusation, and live this present life in chastity, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, now and forever, for ages without end. Amen.
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Homilies on Matthew, Homily 37
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