Homilies on John, Homily 42

“After these things Jesus crossed the Sea of Galilee, into the region of Tiberias. And a great crowd followed Him because they saw the miracles He performed on those who were sick. And Jesus went up a mountain and sat there with His disciples. And the Passover of the Jews was near.” [1.] Beloved, let us not fight with violent people, but learn to give way to their evil schemes whenever doing so does no harm to our virtue; this checks all their boldness. Just as darts that strike a firm, hard, resistant surface rebound violently on those who throw them, while a throw that meets no resistance soon loses its force and stops, so it is with insolent people. When we fight with them, they grow fiercer; when we yield and give ground, we easily calm all their madness. That is why the Lord, when He knew the Pharisees had heard “that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John,” went into Galilee: to quench their envy and, by withdrawing, soften the anger these reports were likely to produce. And when He went into Galilee a second time, He did not go to the same places as before. He did not go to Cana, but to “the other side of the sea,” and great crowds followed Him, seeing “the miracles He performed.” What miracles? Why does he not mention them specifically? Because this Evangelist, more than the others, wanted to devote most of his book to the discourses and sermons [of Christ]. Notice, for example, how throughout an entire year—or rather, even now, at the feast of the Passover—he has told us no more about miracles than that He healed the paralyzed man and the nobleman’s son. He was not concerned with listing them all (that would have been impossible), but with recording a few out of many great miracles. Ver. 2. “A great crowd followed Him, seeing the miracles He performed.” What we are told here does not show a very wise frame of mind. Even after receiving such teaching, they were still more attracted by the miracles, which showed their more earthly outlook. For “miracles,” it says, “are not for believers, but for unbelievers.” The people Matthew describes did not act this way. How did they act? They all, he says, “were amazed at His teaching, because He taught as someone with authority.” ( Matt. vii. 28, 29.) “And why does He now go up the mountain and sit there with His disciples?” Because of the miracle that was about to take place. And the fact that only the disciples went up with Him was an accusation against the crowd, who did not follow Him. Yet this was not His only reason for going up the mountain. He also wanted to teach us always to take breaks from the uproar and confusion of everyday life. Solitude is well suited to the study of wisdom. And He often goes up a mountain alone, spends the night there, and prays, to teach us that anyone who wants to come closest to God must be free from all disturbance and seek times and places free from confusion. Ver. 4. “And the Passover, a feast of the Jews, was near.” “Why, then,” someone says, “does He not go up to the feast? Why, when everyone is hurrying to Jerusalem, does He Himself go into Galilee, taking His disciples with Him rather than going alone, and then go on from there to Capernaum?” Because from this point on He was quietly setting aside the Law, taking the wickedness of the Jews as an opportunity to do so. Ver. 5. “And as He looked up, He saw a great crowd.” This shows that He never sat idly with the disciples, but was perhaps speaking earnestly with them, drawing their attention and turning them toward Him. This especially shows His tender care and His humble willingness to come down to their level in His dealings with them. For they were sitting with Him, perhaps looking at one another; then He looked up and saw the crowds coming toward Him. Now the other Evangelists say that the disciples came and asked and begged Him not to send them away hungry, while St. John says that Christ put the question to Philip. Both events seem to me to be reported truthfully, but they did not happen at the same time: the first account came before the other, so the two are entirely distinct. Why, then, does He ask “Philip”? He knew which of His disciples needed the most instruction. This is the one who later said, “Show us the Father, and that is enough for us” ( c. xiv. 8 ), and for this reason Jesus was preparing him beforehand. If the miracle had simply happened, the wonder would not have seemed so great. But now He first makes him acknowledge the existing shortage, so that, knowing the situation, he might understand more precisely the greatness of the miracle about to take place. That is why He says, “Where will we get enough loaves for these people to eat?” In the same way, in the Old [Testament] He spoke to Moses, for He did not perform the sign until He had asked him, “What is that in your hand?” Things that happen unexpectedly and all at once tend to make us forget what came before. So He first led him to acknowledge the present circumstances, so that when amazement came over him, he could not afterward dismiss the memory of what he had acknowledged. In this way he could learn the greatness of the miracle by comparison. This is precisely what happens here, for when Philip was asked, he replied, Ver. 7, 6. “Two hundred denarii worth of bread is not enough for each of them to have a little. And He said this to test him, for He Himself knew what He would do.” [2.] What does “to test him” mean? Did He not know what Philip would say? We cannot claim that. What, then, does the expression mean? We can discover this from the Old [Testament]. There too it says, “And after these things God tested Abraham and said to him, Take your beloved son, whom you love” ( Gen. xxii. 1, 2 ). Yet there too, when He says this, it does not mean that He waited to see the trial’s outcome, whether Abraham would obey or not (how could He, who knows all things before they come into existence?). Rather, the words in both cases use a human way of speaking. For when (the Psalmist) says that He “searches human hearts,” he does not mean a search arising from ignorance, but exact knowledge. In just the same way, when the Evangelist says that He tested (Philip), he means only that He knew exactly. And perhaps another point could be made: just as He once made Abraham stand the test more fully, so He did with this man, bringing him through this question to an exact understanding of the miracle. So the Evangelist, to keep you from dwelling on the limitations of the expression and forming a mistaken opinion of what was said, adds, “He Himself knew what He would do.” We must also notice this: whenever there is a mistaken suspicion, the writer immediately corrects it with great care. Here, to keep his listeners from forming any such suspicion, he adds the correction, saying, “For He Himself knew what He would do.” So too in that other passage, when he says that “the Jews persecuted Him, because He had not only broken the Sabbath, but also said that God was His Father, making Himself equal with God,” he would have added a correction there as well, if Christ Himself had not made this assertion and confirmed it by His works. For if the Evangelist is careful to prevent suspicions even about words Christ speaks, he would have examined matters much more closely when others were speaking about Him, if he had noticed a mistaken opinion about Him gaining ground. But he did not do so, because he knew that this was His meaning and His unchangeable decision. So after saying, “making Himself equal with God,” he added no such correction. What was said was not their mistaken fancy, but His own assertion, confirmed by His works. So, after Philip had been questioned, Ver. 8, 9. “Andrew, Simon’s brother, said, There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two small fish, but what are they among so many?” Andrew’s thoughts reach higher than Philip’s, yet he had not understood everything either. Still, I do not think he spoke without a purpose. He had heard of the Prophets’ miracles, and how Elisha performed a sign with the loaves ( 2 Kings iv. 43 ). Because of this he rose to a certain height, but could not reach the very top. Let those of us who give ourselves over to luxury learn what those great and admirable men ate. In both the quality and quantity of their food, let us observe and imitate the simplicity of their table. What follows also expresses great weakness. After saying, “has five barley loaves,” he adds, “but what are they among so many?” He supposed that the Worker of the miracle would make less out of less, and more out of more. But that was not the case. It was equally easy for Him to make bread spring forth from a larger or a smaller amount, since He needed no material to work with. But to keep creation from seeming foreign to His Wisdom, as slanderers and those infected with Marcion’s disease later claimed, He used creation itself as the basis for His wonders. When both disciples had admitted that they were at a loss, He performed the miracle. They benefited more in this way, having first acknowledged the difficulty of the situation, so that when it happened they could understand the power of God. And because He was about to perform a miracle that the Prophets had also performed, though not to the same degree, and because He would do it after first giving thanks, notice how the very way He works completely elevates their understanding of it and shows them the difference (between Himself and others), so that they will not suspect any weakness in Him. Before the loaves had appeared, He immediately commanded them to sit down as though the table were prepared and ready, awakening His disciples’ minds. He did this so that you might learn that things that do not exist are to Him as though they do (as Paul says, “who calls things that do not exist as though they do”— Rom. iv. 17 ). And because they had benefited from the questioning, they immediately obeyed. They were not bewildered, nor did they say, “How can this be? Why do You tell us to sit down when there is nothing in front of us?” The same men who at first disbelieved so much that they said, “Where will we buy bread?” began to believe enough, even before seeing the miracle, that they readily had the crowds sit down. [3.] But why did He not pray when He was about to restore the paralyzed man, or when He was raising the dead or reining in the sea, while He does so here over the loaves? It was to show that we ought to thank God when we begin our meals. Besides, He does this particularly in a lesser matter, so that you may learn that He does it without any need. If He needed to, He would have done so much more in greater things. But since He did those things by His own authority, it is clear that in the lesser matter He acted as He did to accommodate others. Besides, a great crowd was present, and they needed to be convinced that He had come in accordance with God’s will. That is why, when He performs miracles without witnesses, He does nothing of the kind. But when He performs them in front of many people, He removes their suspicion by giving thanks, to convince them that He is no enemy of God, no opponent of Him who has begotten Him. “And He gave to those who were seated, and they ate their fill.” Do you see how great the distance is between the servants and the Master? They had grace in a measured amount and performed their miracles accordingly. But God, who acts with unrestricted power, did everything in the greatest abundance. Ver. 12. “And He said to His disciples, Gather up the pieces that remain—and they gathered them together and filled twelve baskets.” This was not a needless display. It was done so that the event would not be considered a mere illusion, and for the same reason He creates from material already in existence. “But why did He not give the bread to the crowds to carry, but (only) to His disciples?” Because He was especially eager to instruct those who were to become the world’s teachers. The crowd would not yet gain any great benefit from the miracles (at least they immediately forgot this one and asked for another), while the disciples would gain an extraordinary benefit. And what happened was also an extraordinary condemnation of Judas, who carried a basket. That these things were done to instruct them is clear from what He said afterward, when He reminded them, “Do you still not understand—how many baskets you picked up?” ( Matt. xvi. 9.) This was also why the baskets of leftover pieces equaled the disciples in number. Later, when they had been instructed, they did not pick up so many, but only “seven baskets.” ( Matt. xv. 37.) And I marvel not only at the quantity of loaves created, but also at the exact amount left over. He made the surplus neither more nor less than precisely what He wanted, knowing beforehand how much they would eat. This showed indescribable power. The leftover pieces, then, confirmed what had happened, showing both that the event was no illusion and that these pieces came from the loaves with which the people had been fed. As for the fish, on this occasion they were produced from fish already in existence, but later, after the Resurrection, they were not made from existing material. “Why?” So that you may understand that even now He used material neither out of necessity nor because He needed any foundation (to work upon), but to silence the heretics. “And the crowds said that this truly is The Prophet.” Oh, what extreme gluttony! He had done ten thousand things more wonderful than this, but they never made this confession except when they had eaten their fill. Yet this clearly shows that they expected some remarkable prophet. Those others had said (to John), “Are you that Prophet?” while these say, “This is that Prophet.” Ver. 15. “So when Jesus realized that they were about to come and take Him by force to make Him a king, He withdrew again to a mountain.” Amazing! How great is the tyranny of gluttony, and how fickle people’s minds are! They no longer defend the Law, no longer care about the violation of the Sabbath, no longer show zeal for God. All such concerns are thrown aside when their bellies have been filled. He was a prophet in their eyes, and they were about to choose Him as king. But Christ flees. “Why?” To teach us to despise worldly honors and show us that He needed nothing on earth. For He who chose humble circumstances in everything—His mother, house, city, upbringing, and clothing—would not afterward be made illustrious by earthly things. The things (He had) from heaven were glorious and great: angels, a star, His Father speaking loudly, the Spirit bearing witness, and Prophets proclaiming Him from afar. His earthly circumstances were all humble, so that His power might be all the more apparent. He also came to teach us to despise the things of this world, to avoid being amazed or astonished by the splendors of this life, to laugh at and scorn them all, and to desire the things to come. For anyone who admires the things here will not admire those in heaven. That is also why He says to Pilate, “My Kingdom is not of this world” ( c. xviii. 36 ), so that He may not later seem to have used mere human intimidation or power to persuade people. Why, then, does the Prophet say, “Look, your King comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey”? ( Zech. ix. 9.) He spoke of the Kingdom in heaven, not this earthly one. For this reason Christ says, “I do not receive honor from men.” ( c. v. 41.) Let us learn, then, beloved, to despise the honor that comes from people and not desire it. We have been honored with the greatest of honors, compared with which that other honor is truly insult, ridicule, and mockery. Just as this world’s riches are poverty compared with the riches of that world, and this life apart from that life is a state of death (for “let the dead bury their dead”— Matt. viii. 22 ), so this honor is shame and ridicule compared with that honor. Let us not pursue it, then. If those who give it matter less than a shadow or a dream, the honor itself matters far less. “The glory of man is like the flower of the grass” ( 1 Pet. i. 24 ); and what is more insignificant than the flower of the grass? If this glory lasted forever, how could it benefit the soul? In no way. Indeed, it greatly harms us by making us slaves—slaves worse off than those bought with money, slaves who obey not just one master, but two, three, ten thousand, all giving different commands. How much better is it to be free than a slave, to be free from slavery to people and subject only to God’s rule? Simply put, if you desire glory, desire it, but let it be immortal glory, for that is displayed on a more glorious stage and brings greater benefit. People here tell you to spend money to please them, but Christ gives you a hundredfold for what you give Him, and adds eternal life as well. Which, then, is better: to be admired on earth or in heaven? By man or by God? To your loss or to your gain? To wear a crown for a single day or for endless ages? Give to someone in need, but do not give to a dancer, or you will lose your money and destroy his soul. For you are responsible for his (coming to) destruction through your ill-timed generosity. If those on the stage knew their work would bring no profit, they would have stopped practicing it long ago. But when they see you applauding, crowding after them, spending and wasting your wealth on them, the desire for profit keeps them at it, even if they have no desire to continue (their profession). If they knew that no one would praise what they do, they would soon stop their work because it brought no profit. But when they see many people admiring the performance, others’ praise becomes bait for them. Let us stop this useless spending, then, and learn on whom and when we ought to spend. I beg you, let us not provoke God in both ways, collecting money from sources we should not and scattering it where we should not. What anger does your conduct not deserve when you pass by the poor and give to a prostitute? Would paying for sin and bestowing honor where punishment was appropriate not have counted against you even if you had paid from your honest earnings? But when you feed your impurity by stripping orphans of their possessions and wronging widows, consider how great a fire is prepared for those who dare to do such things. Hear what Paul says: “Who not only do these things, but also take pleasure in those who do them.” ( Rom. i. 32.) Perhaps our words have stung you sharply. Yet if we do not sting you, actual punishments await those who sin without changing. What good does it do, then, to please with words those who will be punished in reality? Do you take pleasure in a dancer? Do you praise and admire him? Then you are worse than he is. His poverty gives him an excuse, though not a reasonable one, but you are deprived even of this defense. If I ask him, “Why have you left other trades and taken up this cursed and impure one?” he will reply, “Because I can make great profits with little work.” But if I ask you why you admire someone who spends his time in impurity and lives to harm many people, you cannot fall back on the same excuse. You must lower your face, feel ashamed, and blush. Now if you would have no reply when we call you to give an account, how will we stand when that terrible and unyielding Judgment comes, where we will give an account of our thoughts, our deeds, and everything? How will we look our Judge in the eye? What will we say? What defense will we make? What excuse, reasonable or unreasonable, will we put forward? Will we plead the expense? The pleasure? The destruction of others whom we ruin through his art? We will have nothing to say, but must suffer a punishment that has no end and knows no limit. To keep this from happening, let us guard ourselves in every respect from now on, so that we may depart with good hope and receive everlasting blessings. May we all receive them through the grace and loving kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ. Through Him and with Him, may glory be to the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.