Homilies on Matthew, Homily 49

“But when Jesus heard about it, He left there by boat for a deserted place by Himself; and when the crowds heard about it, they followed Him on foot from all the cities.” See how He “withdraws” on every occasion: when John was handed over, when he was killed, and when the Jews heard that He was making more disciples. For He ordinarily chooses to conduct things in a human way, since the time has not yet come for Him to reveal His Godhead plainly. That is also why He told His disciples to “tell no one that He is the Christ”; He wanted this to be better known after His resurrection. So He was not very severe with those Jews who remained stubborn in their unbelief for a time, but was even inclined to be lenient with them. And when He withdraws, He goes into a wilderness rather than a city, and travels by boat so that no one will follow. But notice, please, how John’s disciples have now become more attached to Jesus. They were the ones who told Him what had happened; indeed, they have left everything and now take refuge in Him. Thus, besides their tragedy, the provision He had already made in His answer did them a great deal of good. But why did He not withdraw before they brought Him the news, since He knew what had happened before they reported it? To show in every way the reality of His incarnation and humanity. He wanted to confirm this through His actions as well as His appearance, because He knew the devil’s cunning and that he would leave nothing undone to destroy this doctrine. He withdraws for this purpose; but even then the crowds do not leave Him. They follow, clinging to Him, and not even John’s tragic end frightens them. Earnest desire is so powerful, love is so powerful: this is how it overcomes and drives away every danger. So they immediately received their reward as well. For “Jesus,” it says, “went out, saw a great crowd, and was moved with compassion for them, and He healed their sick.” For great as their persistence was, what He did still went beyond anything their diligence could earn. That is why the text also states His motive for healing them this way: His mercy, His intense mercy. And He heals them all. And He does not require faith here. For by coming to Him, leaving their cities, seeking Him diligently, and staying with Him even when hunger pressed them, they show their faith. But He is also about to feed them. And He does not do this on His own initiative, but waits to be asked, following on every occasion, as I have said, this rule: He does not rush ahead with His miracles before anyone asks, but responds to a request. And why did no one in the crowd come forward and speak for them? They held Him in such reverence, and their longing to stay with Him was so great, that they did not even feel their hunger. Indeed, even His disciples, when they came to Him, did not say, “Feed them,” for they were still rather immature. What did they say instead? “And when evening came,” it says, “His disciples came to Him, saying, This is a deserted place, and the hour is already late; send the crowd away so they can go and buy themselves food.” For even after the miracle they forgot what had happened, and after the baskets they supposed He was speaking about loaves when He called the teaching of the Pharisees “leaven.” How much less would they have expected anything like this before they had ever experienced such a miracle? And yet He had already made a start by healing many sick people. Nevertheless, even this did not lead them to expect the miracle of the loaves; they were still so immature. But notice, please, the Teacher’s skill, how clearly He leads them toward faith. He did not immediately say, “I feed them,” which would not have been easy for them to accept. What did He say instead? “But Jesus,” it is written, “said to them, They do not need to leave; you give them something to eat.” He did not say, “I give them,” but, “You give them,” for they still regarded Him as a man. But even this does not awaken them; they still reason with Him as with a man, saying, “We have only five loaves and two fish.” That is why Mark also says, “They did not understand the saying, for their heart was hardened.” Since they still crawl along the ground, He finally takes action Himself and says, “Bring them here to Me.” For although the place is deserted, He who feeds the world is here; and although the hour is already late, He who is not subject to time is speaking with you. But John also says that they were “barley loaves.” He does not mention this without a purpose, but teaches us to trample underfoot the pride of expensive living. This was also the prophets’ diet. 2. “So He took the five loaves and the two fish, and commanded the crowd,” it says, “to sit down on the grass, and looking up to Heaven, He blessed and broke them, and gave them to His disciples, and the disciples to the crowd. And they all ate and were filled, and they gathered twelve baskets full of the fragments that remained. And those who had eaten were about five thousand men, besides women and children.” Why did He look up to Heaven and bless? People needed to believe both that He is from the Father and that He is equal to Him. But the proofs of these things seemed to oppose one another. His equality was shown by His doing everything with authority, while they could be persuaded of His origin from the Father only by His doing everything with great humility, referring it to Him, and calling on Him in His works. That is why we see Him doing neither one kind of action exclusively nor the other, so that both truths might be confirmed. Sometimes He works miracles with authority, and sometimes with prayer. Then again, so that His actions might not seem inconsistent, He looks up to Heaven in lesser matters, but does everything with authority in greater ones. This teaches you that even in the lesser matters He acts this way to honor Him who begot Him, rather than because He receives power from elsewhere. For example, when He forgave sins, opened paradise and brought the thief in, completely set aside the old law, raised countless dead people, reined in the sea, rebuked people’s unspoken thoughts, and created an eye—achievements that belong to God alone and no one else—we never see Him praying. But when He arranged for the loaves to multiply, something far less than all these, He looked up to Heaven. In this way He both established the truths I have mentioned and taught us not to begin a meal until we have given thanks to Him who gives us this food. And why does He not make it out of things that do not exist? To silence Marcion and the Manichaeans, who separate His creation from Him, and to teach by His very works that all visible things are His works and creatures. He also shows that He Himself is the one who gives the fruits, who said at the beginning, “Let the earth produce grass,” and, “Let the waters produce moving things with living souls.” For this is no less a work than the other. Although those things were made from things that did not exist, they were nevertheless made from water; and it was no greater thing to produce fruits from the earth and moving things with life from the water than to make so many loaves from five, and likewise to multiply fish. This was a sign that He ruled both the earth and the sea. Thus, since the sick were constantly the subjects of His miracles, He also provides a benefit for everyone, so that the many might not merely watch what happened to others, but share in the gift themselves. And what seemed astonishing to the Jews in the wilderness (at least they said, “Can He give bread too? Or prepare a table in the wilderness?”), He demonstrates in His works. This is also why He leads them into the wilderness: so that the miracle might be entirely beyond suspicion, and no one might think that a nearby village contributed anything to the meal. For this reason the text mentions the hour as well as the place. We also learn something else: how the disciples practiced self-restraint even with necessities, and how little importance they attached to food. Although there were twelve of them, they had only five loaves and two fish. Bodily things were so secondary to them; they clung so closely to spiritual things alone. And they did not even cling to that little, but gave it up when asked. This should teach us that even if we have only a little, we ought to give that up too for those in need. Thus, when commanded to bring the five loaves, they do not say, “And where will we get food? How will we satisfy our own hunger?” They obey at once. And besides what I have mentioned, I think He makes it from the materials they had for this purpose: to lead them to faith, since they were still rather weak. That is also why “He looks up to Heaven.” They had many examples of the other miracles, but none of this one. 3. So “He took the loaves and broke them, and gave them through His disciples,” to honor them. And this was not only to honor them, but also so that they would not disbelieve the miracle once it had happened, or forget it afterward, since their own hands bore witness to it. That is also why He lets the crowds first feel their hunger, waits for the disciples to come to Him first and ask Him, has them seat the people, and distributes the food through them. He intends to convince every one of them in advance through their own admissions and actions. That is also why He receives the loaves from them: so that there might be many witnesses to what was happening, and they might have reminders of the miracle. For if they forgot even after all these things, what would have happened to them if He had omitted these precautions? And He commands them to sit on the trampled grass, teaching the crowds self-denial. He wanted not only to feed their bodies but also to instruct their souls. Through the place, through giving them nothing more than loaves and fish, through setting the same food before everyone and sharing it among them, and through giving no one more than anyone else, He taught them humility, self-control, love, harmony with one another, and to regard everything as shared. “And He broke them and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples to the crowd.” He broke and gave the five loaves, and the five multiplied in the disciples’ hands. And He does not stop the miracle even here, but makes them more than enough—more than enough as fragments, rather than whole loaves—to show that these were the remains of those loaves, and so that those who were absent might learn what had happened. Indeed, this is why He let the crowds grow hungry: so that no one might suppose that what happened was an illusion. This is also why He caused exactly twelve baskets to remain, so that Judas too might carry one. He could indeed have satisfied their hunger, but the disciples would not have known His power, since this also happened in Elijah’s case. At any rate, the Jews were so amazed at Him because of this that they even wanted to make Him a king, although they had never done so in response to any of the other miracles. What reasoning can explain how the loaves multiplied, how they flowed together in the wilderness, how they were enough for so many (for there were “five thousand men besides women and children,” which speaks very well of the people, since both women and men followed Him), how the leftovers came into being (for this again is no less than the former miracle), and how they became so abundant that the baskets equaled the disciples in number, neither more nor less? After gathering the fragments, He gave them to the disciples rather than the crowds, because the crowds were less mature than the disciples. And after performing the miracle, “He immediately made His disciples get into a boat and go ahead of Him to the other side, while He sent the crowds away.” For even if, while He was present, He had seemed to be presenting an illusion rather than doing something real, surely this could not continue in His absence as well. For this reason, submitting His actions to a precise test, He commanded those who had received the reminders and the proof of the miracles to leave Him. Besides this, when He does great works, He sends the crowds and the disciples elsewhere, teaching us never to pursue the glory that comes from people or gather a crowd around ourselves. Now the words “He made them” show how closely the disciples stayed with Him. The crowd was His stated reason for sending them away, but He Himself intended to go up the mountain. He did this to teach us neither to be always among crowds nor always to flee them, but to do each as appropriate, giving each its proper turn. 4. So let us too learn to stay close to Jesus, but not for His generosity in material things, so that we will not be rebuked like the Jews. For He says, “You seek Me, not because you saw the miracles, but because you ate the loaves and were filled.” That is why He does not perform this miracle continually, but only a second time, to teach them not to be slaves to their stomachs, but to cling constantly to the things of the Spirit. Let us cling to these too, and seek the heavenly bread; and once we have received it, let us throw off every worldly care. For if those people left houses, cities, relatives, and everything else, stayed in the wilderness, and did not leave even when hunger pressed them, how much more should we, as we approach such a table, show greater self-control, set our love on the things of the Spirit, and seek material things as secondary to these? For even they were blamed not because they sought Him for bread, but because this was the only reason they sought Him, and their chief concern. If someone despises the great gifts but clings to the small ones, the very things the giver wants him to despise, he loses these lesser gifts too. On the other hand, if we love the greater gifts, He adds these as well. For these are only an addition to the others; compared with those, they are so worthless and trivial, although they are great. So let us not devote our efforts to them, but regard gaining and losing them with equal indifference, just as Job neither clung to them when he had them nor sought them when they were gone. For this is why they are called χρματα: so that we should use them properly, rather than bury them in the earth. And just as every craftsman has his particular skill, so let the rich man, who does not know how to work in bronze, build ships, weave, build houses, or do anything of the kind, learn to use his wealth properly and have compassion on the poor. Then he will know a better craft than all of these. For this is indeed above all those crafts. Its workshop is built in Heaven. Its tools are made of goodness and an upright will, rather than iron and bronze. Christ is the Teacher of this craft, and so is His Father. For He says, “Be merciful, as your Father who is in Heaven.” And what is truly astonishing is that, although it is so much better than the rest, it needs no labor or time to perfect it. All it takes is the decision, and the whole thing is accomplished. But let us also see what its outcome is. What, then, is its outcome? Heaven, the good things in the heavens, that indescribable glory, the spiritual bridal chambers, the bright lamps, living with the Bridegroom, and the other things that no words or even understanding can express. So in this respect too it differs greatly from all the others. Most crafts benefit us in the present life, but this one benefits us in the life to come as well. 5. But if it so far surpasses the crafts we need for the present life, such as medicine, housebuilding, and all others like them, how much more does it surpass the rest? If anyone examined these closely, he would not even allow them to be called crafts. So I, at least, would not call those others crafts at all, since they are unnecessary. For how do elaborate cooking and sauce-making benefit us? In no way. Indeed, they are very unhelpful and harmful, damaging both body and soul by bringing on luxury, the parent of all diseases and sufferings, along with great extravagance. And I, for one, would not recognize painting or embroidery as crafts either, since they only lead people into useless expense. Crafts should be concerned with providing and preparing the things necessary and important to our lives. This is why God gave us skill at all: so that we might devise ways to provide for our lives. But what use, please tell me, are figures on walls or clothes? For this same reason, sandal-makers and weavers should also cut back greatly on their crafts. They have turned most of their work into vulgar display, corrupting its necessary use and mixing an evil practice into an honest craft. This has happened in building too. But just as I call building a craft as long as it builds houses rather than theaters, and works on necessities rather than luxuries, so I call weaving a craft as long as it makes clothes and bedcovers, without imitating spiders and overwhelming people with great absurdity and unspeakable effeminacy. And as long as the sandal-maker’s trade makes sandals, I will not deny it the name of a craft. But when it corrupts men into adopting women’s mannerisms, and makes them sensual and delicate through their sandals, we will place it among harmful and unnecessary things, and will not even call it a craft. And I know very well that many people think I am being too particular by concerning myself with these things. But I will not stop because of that. For this is the cause of all our evils: faults like these are considered trivial in the first place, and so are ignored. And what sin, you say, could matter less than this—having a decorated, glittering sandal that fits the foot—if it is even right to call it a sin? Do you want me, then, to unleash my tongue on it and show how shameful it is? And will you keep from getting angry? Or rather, even if you do get angry, I do not care much. After all, you yourselves are to blame for this folly, since you do not even think it is a sin, and so force us to rebuke this extravagance. Come, then, let us examine it and see what kind of evil it is. When you sew into your shoes silk threads that it would not be proper even to weave into your clothes, what reproach, what ridicule do these things deserve? And if you despise our judgments, hear Paul’s voice forbidding these things with great earnestness, and then you will recognize their absurdity. What does he say? “Not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly clothing.” What favor can you deserve, then, when Paul forbids a married woman to wear costly clothing, yet you extend this effeminacy even to your shoes, and devise endless ways to bring this ridicule and reproach on yourself? Yes, first a ship is built, then rowers are assembled, along with a man for the bow and a helmsman; a sail is spread, an ocean crossed, and the merchant leaves his wife, children, and country, entrusts his very life to the waves, reaches the land of the barbarians, and undergoes countless dangers for these threads. After all that, you take them and sew them into your shoes to decorate the leather. And what could be worse than this folly? But the old ways are not like these; they are appropriate for men. So I, for my part, expect that in time the young men among us will even wear women’s shoes without shame. And what is more distressing, their fathers see these things without much displeasure, and even regard them as a matter of indifference. Do you want me to add something still more distressing—that these things happen even when there are many poor people? Do you want me to bring Christ before you, hungry, naked, wandering everywhere, in chains? How many thunderbolts must you deserve, when you overlook Him as He lacks necessary food, and take such care to decorate these pieces of leather? And when He gave His disciples their rule, He would not even allow them to have shoes at all; but we cannot bear even to walk in proper shoes, let alone barefoot. 7. What, then, could be worse than this shamefulness, this absurdity? For it marks a soul that is first effeminate, then unfeeling and cruel, then fussy and occupied with pointless things. For when will someone absorbed in these unnecessary things be able to attend to anything necessary? When will such a young man be willing to care for his soul, or even consider that he has a soul? Yes, someone who cannot help admiring such things will surely be frivolous; someone who neglects the poor for their sake will be cruel; someone who devotes all his efforts to them will be without virtue. For someone absorbed in the beauty of threads, the brilliance of colors, and the tendrils made from such weaving—when will he be able to look at Heaven? When will someone excited about the beauty of pieces of leather, bent toward the earth, admire the beauty there? God has stretched out Heaven and lit the sun to draw your gaze upward, yet you force yourself to look downward at the earth like pigs, and obey the devil. For this wicked demon devised this shamefulness to draw you away from that beauty. This is why he has drawn you in this direction; and God, showing you Heaven, is outdone by a devil showing you some skins—or rather, not even skins (for these too are God’s works), but effeminacy and a corrupt kind of skill. And the young man who is required to seek wisdom about the things in Heaven goes around bent toward the earth. He prides himself on these trifles more than if he had accomplished something great and good, and walks on tiptoe in the marketplace, bringing unnecessary worries and distress on himself: fear of staining them with mud in winter, fear of covering them with dust when summer comes. What are you saying, man? Have you thrown your whole soul into the muck through this extravagance, and do you ignore it as it drags along the ground, while you are so anxious about a pair of shoes? Notice their purpose, and respect your own judgment about them. Your shoes were made to walk through mud and muck and over every dirty spot on the pavement. Or if you cannot bear that, take them and hang them around your neck, or put them on your head. And you laugh when you hear this. But I feel like weeping over these men’s madness and their intense concern about these things. For in truth they would rather stain their bodies with mud than those pieces of leather. In this way, then, they become frivolous; and in another way they become lovers of money too. For someone accustomed to being frantically eager about such things also needs to spend a great deal and have a large income for his clothes and everything else. And if he has a generous father, his slavery grows worse and his absurd obsession more intense. But if his father is stingy, he is driven to other shameful behavior to scrape together a little money for such expenses. As a result, many young men have even sold their manhood, become parasites on the rich, and taken on other servile duties, buying the fulfillment of such desires by these means. So this makes it clear that such a man is bound to love money, to be frivolous, to be lazier than anyone when it comes to important things, and to be driven to commit many sins. Nor will anyone deny that he is cruel and vain: cruel because, when he sees a poor man, his love of finery makes him act as if he does not even see him, and while he decorates these things with gold, he ignores that man dying of hunger; vain because even in such small matters he trains himself to chase the admiration of onlookers. For I suppose no general takes as much pride in his legions and trophies as our dissolute young men take in their decorated shoes, trailing clothes, and hairstyles. Yet all these are surely the work of other people practicing their trades. But if people will not stop boasting vainly about others’ work, when will they stop boasting about their own? 8. Shall I mention still other things more distressing than these? Or are even these enough for you? Well, then, I must end my speech here, since I have said even this because of those who argue that the thing is not so very wrong. And although I know that many young people will not even pay attention to what I have said, since they are completely intoxicated with this obsession, I must not keep silent because of that. For fathers who have understanding and are still sound in judgment will be able to force them, even against their will, to behave decently. So do not say, “This does not matter; that does not matter,” for this, this has ruined everything. You should train them even through these things, and through things that seem trivial make them serious, noble in soul, and above concern for outward clothing. Then we will find them proven in great matters too. For what is more ordinary than learning letters? Yet through this people become orators, sophists, and philosophers; and if they do not know their letters, they will never gain that knowledge either. And we have said this not only to young men, but also to women and young girls. For they too are open to the same charges, and much more so, since propriety is especially fitting for a virgin. So consider what has been said to the others as said to you too, so that we do not repeat the same things again. For it is high time now to close our sermon with prayer. So all of you pray with us that the young men of the church may above all be enabled to live orderly lives and reach an old age worthy of them. For those who do not live this way, it would surely be better not to reach old age at all. But for those who have grown old even in youth, I pray that they may also live well into gray-haired old age, become fathers of worthy children, and bring joy to those who gave them birth, and above all to the God who made them. And may they root out every unhealthy obsession—not only those about their shoes or clothes, but every other kind as well. For neglected youth is like uncultivated land, producing many thorns from many directions. So let us send the fire of the Spirit upon them and burn up these wicked desires; let us break up our fields and prepare them to receive the seed; and let us show that the young men among us have more sober minds than old men elsewhere. For this is what is truly remarkable: when self-control shines in youth. Surely someone who is self-controlled in old age cannot have a great reward, since his age gives him complete protection. But what is wonderful is to enjoy calm amid the waves, to be in a furnace without burning, and to be young without giving way to sensuality. With these things in mind, then, let us imitate that blessed Joseph, who shone through all these trials, so that we may receive the same crowns as he did. May we all receive them, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom may glory be given to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.