Homilies on Matthew, Homily 50

“And when He had sent the crowds away, He went up the mountain by Himself to pray; and when evening came, He was there alone. But the boat was now in the middle of the sea, battered by waves, because the wind was against them.” Why does He go up the mountain? To teach us that solitude and seclusion are good when we are going to pray to God. With this purpose, you see, He continually withdraws into the wilderness and often spends the whole night there in prayer, teaching us to seek earnestly whatever quiet the time and place can give our prayers. For the wilderness is the mother of quiet; it is a calm and a harbor, freeing us from every turmoil. He Himself went up there for this purpose, but the disciples are again battered by waves and face a storm as severe as the earlier one. But while before they had Him in the boat when this happened, now they were all alone. In this way, gently and gradually, He encourages them and urges them toward improvement, even to bearing everything nobly. Accordingly, we see that when they first faced that danger, He was present, though asleep, ready to bring them relief. But now, leading them to greater endurance, He does not even do this. Instead, He leaves and allows the storm to arise in the middle of the sea, so that they could not look anywhere for even a hope of rescue. And He lets them be tossed by the storm all night to awaken fully, I suppose, their hardened heart. For this is the kind of fear that the hour and the rough weather combine to produce. And along with this piercing distress, He also brought them to a greater longing for Himself and a constant remembrance of Him. Accordingly, He did not appear to them at once either. For “in the fourth watch of the night,” it says, “He went to them, walking on the sea,” teaching them not to seek immediate deliverance from their pressing dangers, but to bear everything that happens courageously. In any case, just when they expected deliverance, their fear increased again. For, “When the disciples,” it says, “saw Him walking on the sea, they were alarmed, saying, ‘It is a ghost,’ and they cried out in fear.” Yes, and He constantly does this: when He is about to remove our terrors, He brings other, worse and more alarming things upon us. We see that happening then as well. For besides the storm, the sight also alarmed them, just as much as the storm itself. So He neither removed the darkness nor immediately revealed Himself, training them, as I said, by allowing these fears to continue and teaching them to be ready to endure. He did this in Job’s case as well. For when He was about to remove the terror and the trial, He allowed its end to become more painful. I mean not because of his children’s death or his wife’s words, but because of the reproaches of both his servants and his friends. And when He was about to rescue Jacob from his affliction in a foreign land, He allowed his trouble to flare up and grow worse: first his father-in-law overtook him and threatened him with death, and then his brother, coming immediately afterward, held the gravest danger over him. For since a person cannot be tried both for a long time and severely, when the righteous are about to reach the end of their struggles, He intensifies their contests because He wants them to gain more. He did this in Abraham’s case too, making the trial concerning his child his final contest. For in this way even unbearable things will become bearable, when they come upon us with their removal close at hand, right at the door. Christ did this then as well and did not reveal Himself before they cried out. For the more intense their alarm, the more eagerly they welcomed His coming. Then, when they had cried out, it says, “Jesus immediately spoke to them, saying, ‘Take courage; it is I. Do not be afraid.’” These words removed their fear and gave them confidence. For since they did not recognize Him by sight because of His extraordinary way of moving and because of the hour, He reveals Himself by His voice. 2. What, then, does Peter say, always fervent and always stepping forward ahead of the others? “Lord, if it is You,” he says, “command me to come to You on the water.” He did not say, “Pray and plead,” but “command.” Do you see how great his fervor is, how great his faith? Yet this very thing often puts him in danger, because he seeks things beyond his capacity. Here too, he asked for something exceedingly great, solely out of love, not to show off. For he did not say, “Command me to walk on the water.” What did he say? “Command me to come to You.” For no one loved Jesus as he did. He did this after the resurrection too: he could not bear to come with the others, but leaped ahead. And he displays not only love but faith as well. For he believed not only that He Himself could walk on the sea, but that He could lead others onto it too; and he longs to be near Him quickly. “And He said, ‘Come.’ And when Peter had climbed out of the boat, he walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the strong wind, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried out, saying, ‘Lord, save me.’ And immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and caught him, and said to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’” This is more wonderful than the earlier miracle. That is why it happens afterward. For when He had shown that He rules the sea, He extends the sign to something still more marvelous. Then He only rebuked the winds; but now He both walks on the water Himself and allows another to do so. If He had required this at the beginning, Peter would not have accepted it so readily, because he had not yet acquired such great faith. Why, then, did Christ allow him? Because if He had said, “You cannot,” Peter, in his fervor, would have contradicted Him again. So He convinces him through what happens, so that he may be more restrained in the future. But even so he cannot hold out. Once he has climbed down, he becomes dizzy, for he was afraid. The surf caused his dizziness, but the wind brought on his fear. But John, relating this same incident, says that “they willingly received Him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land they were going to.” So He entered the boat just as they were about to reach land. Peter, then, climbed out of the boat and went to Him, rejoicing less in walking on the water than in coming to Him. And after overcoming the greater thing, he was about to suffer harm from the lesser—from the violence of the wind, I mean, not the sea. For this is what human nature is like: often accomplishing great things, it exposes its weakness in lesser ones, as Elijah did with Jezebel, Moses with the Egyptian, and David with Bathsheba. So it was with this man too: while their fear was still at its height, he found the courage to walk on the water, but he could no longer withstand the wind’s assault—and this while he was near Christ. So being near Christ is absolutely no help unless we are near Him by faith. This also showed the difference between the Master and the disciple and calmed the feelings of the others. For if they were indignant in the case of the two brothers, they would have been much more so here, since the Spirit had not yet been given to them. But afterward they were not like this. On every occasion, for example, they yield the foremost honors to Peter and put him forward to address the people, although he was rougher in speech than any of them. And why did He not command the winds to stop, but instead stretch out His own hand and take hold of him? Because faith was required on Peter’s part. For when our part is lacking, God’s part also comes to a standstill. So, showing that it was his lack of faith, rather than the wind’s assault, that had brought him down, He says, “Why did you doubt, you of little faith?” Thus, if his faith had not been weak, he would easily have withstood the wind as well. And for this reason, you see, even after taking hold of him, He allows the wind to blow, showing that it causes no harm when faith is steadfast. And just as a nestling that has left the nest too soon and is about to fall is carried on its mother’s wings and brought back to the nest, so Christ acted. “And when they had come into the boat, the wind stopped.” Before this they had said, “What kind of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey Him!” But now it is different. For “those in the boat,” it says, “came and worshiped Him, saying, ‘Truly You are the Son of God.’” Do you see how He was gradually leading them all higher and higher? For through His walking on the sea, His commanding another to do so, and His preserving him in danger, their faith was now great. Then He had rebuked the sea, but now He does not rebuke it, showing His power more fully in another way. That is why they also said, “Truly You are the Son of God.” What then? Did He rebuke them for speaking this way? No, quite the opposite: He confirmed what they said by healing those who approached Him with greater authority than before. “And when they had crossed over,” it says, “they came to the land of Gennesaret. And when the men of that place recognized Him, they sent word throughout the surrounding country and brought to Him all who were sick. And they begged Him to let them touch the hem of His garment; and all who touched it were made completely well.” For they no longer approached Him as before, dragging Him into their houses and seeking the touch of His hand and spoken instructions from Him. Instead, with a far higher understanding, greater self-denial, and more abundant faith, they sought healing for themselves. For the woman who had suffered from a flow of blood had taught them all to pursue wisdom rigorously. And the evangelist, also indicating that He visited the various neighborhoods at long intervals, says, “The men of that place recognized Him and sent word into the surrounding country and brought to Him those who were sick.” Yet the interval, far from extinguishing their faith, made it even greater and kept it strong. 3. Let us also, then, touch the hem of His garment—or rather, if we are willing, we have Him entirely. For His body is now set before us, not only His garment, but His very body, for us not only to touch, but also to eat and be filled. Let all of us who have an illness now draw near with faith. For if those who touched the hem of His garment drew so much power from Him, how much more will those who possess Him entirely? Now drawing near with faith means not only receiving the offering, but also touching it with a pure heart, with the understanding that we are approaching Christ Himself. For what if you hear no voice? Still, you see Him laid out before you—or rather, you also hear His voice as He speaks through the evangelists. Believe, then, that even now this is that supper at which He Himself sat down. For this differs from that in no respect. It is not that a human being makes this one and He Himself made the other; both this and that are His own work. So when you see the priest giving it to you, do not think that it is the priest doing so, but that it is Christ’s hand stretched out. Just as when he baptizes, it is not he who baptizes you, but God who holds your head with invisible power, and neither angel nor archangel nor anyone else dares to approach and touch you, so it is now as well. For when God begets, the gift is His alone. Do you not see how people here who adopt sons do not entrust the act to slaves, but appear themselves before the judgment seat? In the same way, God has not entrusted His gift to angels, but is Himself present, commanding and saying, “Call no one Father on earth.” He does not mean that you should dishonor those who gave you birth, but that you should put Him who made you and enrolled you among His own children above them all. For He who has given the greater gift—that is, has set Himself before you—will certainly not consider it beneath Him to give you a share of His body. So let us listen, both priests and those under their care, to what we have been granted; let us listen and tremble. He has granted us our fill of His own holy flesh; He has set Himself before us as a sacrifice. What excuse will we have, then, when we commit such sins while feeding on such food? When we eat a lamb and become wolves? When we feed on a sheep and plunder violently like lions? For He commands that this mystery always be kept free not only from violence, but even from mere hostility. Yes, for this mystery is a mystery of peace; it does not allow us to cling to wealth. For if He did not spare Himself for us, what must we deserve when we spare our wealth and squander a soul for whose sake He did not spare Himself? Now God required the Jews to commemorate His special favors to them in their yearly feasts; but for you He does this, I might say, every day through these mysteries. So do not be ashamed of the cross, for these are the things we revere, these are our mysteries; with this gift we adorn ourselves, with this we are made beautiful. And if I say that He stretched out heaven, spread out the earth and the sea, and sent prophets and angels, I say nothing by comparison. For the crowning gift of His goodness is this: that “He did not spare His own Son” in order to save His estranged servants. 4. So let no Judas approach this table, no Simon, for both of them perished through greed. Let us flee from this abyss, and let us not think it enough for our salvation if, after stripping widows and orphans of their possessions, we offer a gold cup set with jewels for this table. No, if you want to honor the sacrifice, offer your soul, for whose sake it too was slain; make your soul golden. But if it remains worse than lead or potter’s clay while the vessel is gold, what good is that? So let our aim be not only to offer golden vessels, but also to offer them from honest earnings. For offerings that harm no one are of a kind more precious even than gold. For the church is not a gold foundry or a silver workshop, but an assembly of angels. That is why we need souls, since God in fact accepts these offerings for the sake of souls. The table at that time was not silver, nor was the cup from which Christ gave His disciples His own blood made of gold. But everything there was precious and awe-inspiring, because they were full of the Spirit. Do you want to honor Christ’s body? Do not neglect Him when He is naked. Do not honor Him here with silk garments while neglecting Him outside as He perishes from cold and nakedness. For He who said, “This is my body,” and established the fact by His word, is the very same who said, “You saw me hungry and did not feed me,” and, “Insofar as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” For this body here needs no coverings, but a pure soul; that body needs great care. So let us learn to live uprightly and to honor Christ as He Himself desires. For the honor most pleasing to the one honored is what He Himself wishes to receive, not what we consider best. Peter too thought he was honoring Him by refusing to let Him wash his feet, but what he did was no honor; it was the opposite. In the same way, honor Him with the honor He commanded, by spending your wealth on poor people. For God has no need at all of golden vessels, but of golden souls. I say these things not to forbid such offerings, but to require you to give to the poor along with them, and before them. For He does accept the former, but much more the latter. In the one case, only the giver benefits; in the other, the recipient does too. Here the act even seems to offer an occasion for showing off; there it is all mercy and love for humanity. For what good is it if His table is full of golden cups while He perishes from hunger? First feed Him when He is hungry, and then lavishly adorn His table as well. Do you make Him a gold cup while giving Him no cup of cold water? And what good is that? Do you furnish His table with cloths embroidered with gold while failing to give Him even the covering He needs? And what good comes of it? For tell me, if you saw someone lacking necessary food and failed to satisfy his hunger, but first covered his table with silver, would he thank you? Would he not be indignant instead? Again, if you saw someone wrapped in rags and stiff with cold, and neglected to give him clothing but built golden columns, saying that you were doing it to honor him, would he not say that you were mocking him and consider it an insult of the worst kind? Think of Christ in this way too, when He goes about as a wanderer and a stranger, needing a roof over His head, while you neglect to welcome Him and instead adorn a floor, walls, and column capitals, and hang up silver chains for lamps, yet will not even look at Him bound in prison. 5. I say these things not to forbid generous spending on these matters, but to urge you to do those other works along with these, or rather even before these. For no one was ever blamed for failing to provide these adornments, but for neglecting those other works we are threatened with hell, unquenchable fire, and punishment with evil spirits. So while adorning His house, do not overlook your brother in distress, for he is more truly a temple than the building. And while these treasures of yours can be taken away by unbelieving kings, tyrants, and robbers, whatever you do for your brother when he is hungry, a stranger, or naked, not even the devil will be able to steal. It will be kept in a treasury that no one can break into. Why, then, does He Himself say, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me”? This is above all a reason to give to the poor, because we do not always have Him hungry, but only in this present life. But if you also want to learn the full meaning of the saying, understand that it was spoken with regard to the woman’s weakness, not with His disciples in view, although it seems so. That is, her disposition was still rather imperfect, and they had doubts about her; He said these things to restore her courage. As proof that He said it to comfort her, He added, “Why do you trouble the woman?” And concerning our truly having Him always with us, He says, “Look, I am with you always, even to the end of the world.” All this makes it clear that He said this for no other purpose than to keep the disciples’ rebuke from withering the woman’s newly budding faith. So let us not now appeal to these things, which were said as an accommodation to particular circumstances. Instead, let us read all the laws about giving to the poor set down in both the New and the Old Testament, and let us be very earnest about this matter. For this cleanses us from sin. For “give to the poor, and all things will be clean for you.” This is greater than sacrifice. “For I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.” This opens the heavens. For “your prayers and your gifts to the poor have risen as a memorial before God.” This is more indispensable than virginity: for this is why those virgins were cast out of the bridal chamber, and why the others were brought in. Let us consider all these things and sow generously, so that we may reap in still greater abundance and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever. Amen.