Homilies on Matthew, Homily 52

“And Jesus went from there and withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And look, a woman of Canaan came out of that same region and cried out to Him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is terribly tormented by a demon.” But Mark says that “He could not remain hidden,” even though He had entered the house. And why did He go to these parts at all? After freeing them from the rules about food, He goes on to open a door to the Gentiles too, taking each step in its proper order, just as Peter, after first being instructed to set aside this law, is sent to Cornelius. But if someone asks, “How, then, does He Himself welcome her, when He tells His disciples, ‘Do not go among the Gentiles’?” our first reply would be that He Himself was not bound by the instructions He gave His disciples; second, that He did not leave to preach. Mark also indicates this when he says that He even hid Himself, yet could not remain concealed. For just as not rushing to them first was part of the proper order of His work, driving them away when they came to Him would have been unworthy of His love for humanity. For if those who run away should be pursued, how much more should those who pursue Him not be avoided? In any case, see how worthy this woman is of every blessing. She did not even dare come to Jerusalem, because she was afraid and considered herself unworthy. Otherwise she would have come there, as is clear both from her present eagerness and from her leaving her own region. Some also interpret this as an allegory and say that when Christ came out of Judea, the church then dared to approach Him, coming out of her own region too. For it says, “Forget your own people and your father’s house.” Both Christ went beyond His borders and the woman beyond hers, and so it became possible for them to meet. Thus he says, “Look, a woman of Canaan coming out of her own region.” The evangelist speaks against the woman to bring out her remarkable deed and praise her all the more. For when you hear of a Canaanite woman, you should remember those wicked nations that overturned the very laws of nature from their foundations. And as you remember them, consider also the power of Christ’s coming. Those who were driven out so that they would not corrupt any Jews proved so much more receptive than the Jews that they even left their own region and approached Christ, while the Jews drove Him away even when He came to them. 2. Once she comes to Him, she says nothing else but “Have mercy on me,” and her cries gather many spectators around them. It was indeed a pitiful sight: a woman crying aloud in such distress, a mother pleading for her daughter, and for a daughter in such a terrible condition. She did not even dare bring the possessed girl into the Master’s presence, but left her lying at home and made the plea herself. She simply tells Him about her suffering and adds nothing more. Nor does she drag the physician to her house, like that nobleman, saying, “Come and lay Your hand on her,” and, “Come down before my child dies.” But after describing both her calamity and the severity of the disease, she appeals to the Lord’s mercy and cries aloud. She does not say, “Have mercy on my daughter,” but, “Have mercy on me.” For, as she says, “She is unaware of her disease, but I am the one who suffers her countless miseries; I am conscious of my sickness, aware of my madness.” 2. “But He did not say a word in reply to her.” What is this new and strange thing? He draws the Jews forward despite their perversity, pleads with them when they blaspheme, and does not dismiss them when they test Him. But to this woman, who runs to Him, pleading and begging Him, who has been taught neither the law nor the prophets and shows such great reverence—to her He does not grant even an answer. Who would not have taken offense at seeing His actions so different from what people reported? They had heard that He went around the villages healing people, yet when she comes to Him, He rejects her completely. And who would not have been moved by her suffering and her plea for her daughter in such a terrible condition? She did not approach Him as someone worthy or demand something owed to her. She begged to receive mercy and simply gave a sorrowful account of her own suffering; yet she is not considered worthy even of an answer. Perhaps many of those listening took offense, but she did not. And why do I speak only of those listening? I imagine that even the disciples themselves must have been affected to some degree by the woman’s suffering, and must have been deeply troubled and discouraged. Yet even in their distress they did not dare say, “Grant her this favor.” Instead, “His disciples came and pleaded with Him, saying, Send her away, because she keeps crying out after us.” For we too, when we want to persuade someone, often say the opposite of what we mean. But Christ says, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” What, then, did the woman do when she heard this? Did she fall silent and give up? Did she become less earnest? Not at all; she pressed Him even more urgently. But that is not how we behave. When we fail to receive what we ask for, we give up, though this should make us all the more persistent. And yet who would not have been thrown into confusion by what He said then? His silence alone was enough to drive her to despair, but His answer was even more likely to do so. To see those pleading alongside her utterly at a loss too, and to hear that the thing could not even be done, was enough to plunge her into indescribable confusion. Yet the woman was not at a loss. When she saw that her advocates were accomplishing nothing, she became shameless with a noble shamelessness. Before this she had not dared even to come into His sight (for it says, “she keeps crying out after us”). But just when one might expect her to retreat still farther in complete despair, she comes closer and worships Him, saying, “Lord, help me.” What is this, woman? Do you have greater confidence than the apostles? Greater strength? “Confidence and strength?” she says. “Not at all; I am actually full of shame. Yet I offer my very shamelessness as my plea; He will respect my confidence.” And how is that? Did you not hear Him say, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”? “I heard,” she says, “but He Himself is Lord.” That is why she did not say, “Plead and beg,” but, “Help me.” 3. What, then, does Christ say? Even all this did not satisfy Him. He makes her difficulty still more intense by saying, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” And when He did speak to her, He struck her more sharply than He had with His silence. He no longer attributes the reason to someone else or says, “I was not sent.” Instead, the more urgently she pleads, the more firmly He refuses. And He no longer calls them “sheep,” but “children,” and her “a dog.” What, then, does the woman say? She builds her plea out of His very words. “Why, although I am a dog,” she says, “I am not an outsider.” Christ rightly said, “I have come for judgment.” The woman exercises great self-control and displays complete endurance and faith, even while being insulted; but they, though sought after and honored, respond with the opposite. “I too know,” she says, “that the children need their food; yet being a dog does not bar me either. For if receiving it were unlawful, eating the crumbs would not be lawful either. But if dogs should have a share, however small, then I am not barred either, although I am a dog. In fact, if I am a dog, that is precisely why I am most certainly entitled to a share.” This was why Christ put her off: He knew she would say this. This was why He refused her request: to display her great self-control. For if He had not intended to give, He would neither have given afterward nor have silenced her again. But just as He does with the centurion, saying, “I will come and heal him,” so that we might learn that man’s reverent fear and hear him say, “I am not worthy for You to come under my roof”; and just as He does with the woman who suffered from bleeding, saying, “I perceive that power has gone out of Me,” to reveal her faith; and just as He does with the Samaritan woman, to show how she does not give up even when rebuked—so here too, He did not want such great virtue in this woman to remain hidden. His words, then, were spoken to draw her out and reveal the treasure stored within her, rather than to insult her. But please notice her humility along with her faith. He had called the Jews “children,” but she was not content with that and even called them “masters.” She was that far from resenting the praise of others. “Why, even the dogs,” she says, “eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Do you see the woman’s wisdom—how she did not dare say even a word against it, was not stung by the praise of others, and did not become indignant at the insult? Do you see her persistence? He said, “It is not right,” and she said, “True, Lord.” He called them “children,” but she called them “masters.” He used the name of a dog, but she added what a dog does as well. Do you see this woman’s humility? Listen to the Jews’ proud words: “We are Abraham’s descendants and have never been enslaved to anyone,” and, “We are born of God.” But this woman does nothing of the sort. Instead, she calls herself a dog and them masters; and for this she became a child. What, then, does Christ say? “Woman, your faith is great.” Yes, this was why He put her off: so that He could proclaim these words aloud and crown the woman. “Let it happen for you just as you wish.” What He says amounts to this: “Your faith can indeed accomplish even greater things than these; nevertheless, let it happen for you just as you wish.” This was like that voice which said, “Let Heaven exist, and it did.” “And her daughter was healed from that very hour.” Do you see how this woman too contributed a great deal to her daughter’s healing? For this reason Christ did not say, “Let your little daughter be healed,” but, “Your faith is great; let it happen for you just as you wish.” He meant to teach you that these words were neither casual nor flattering, but that her faith had great power. Still, He left the outcome to provide the decisive test and proof of this. Accordingly, her daughter was healed immediately. But please notice how this woman succeeded when the apostles had failed and accomplished nothing. Persistence in prayer is that powerful. Indeed, He would even prefer that we, guilty as we are, petition Him for those who belong to us than that others petition Him on our behalf. And although they had greater freedom to speak, she showed great endurance. By the outcome He also justified His delay to His disciples and showed that He had good reason for not granting their request. 4. “And Jesus left there and came near the Sea of Galilee; and He went up the mountain and sat down there. And great crowds came to Him, bringing with them people who were lame, blind, maimed, and unable to speak; and they cast them down at His feet, and He healed them. So the crowds were amazed when they saw those who had been unable to speak speaking, the maimed restored, the lame walking, and the blind seeing, and they glorified the God of Israel.” At one time He goes around Himself; at another He sits waiting for the sick and has the lame brought up the mountain. They no longer so much as touch His clothing, but go a step further by being cast down at His feet. They showed their faith in two ways: first, by going up the mountain despite being lame; then, by wanting nothing more than simply to be cast down at His feet. It was a great and extraordinary wonder to see those who had been carried now walking, and the blind no longer needing anyone to lead them by the hand. Both the number of those healed and the ease of their cure amazed the people. Do you see how He healed the woman only after such a long delay, but healed these people immediately? This was because she had more faith than they did, rather than because they were better than she was. So in her case He postpones and delays to reveal her persistence, while to these people He gives the gift immediately, silencing the unbelieving Jews and taking away every excuse. For the more favors someone has received, the more punishment he deserves if he remains unresponsive and the very honor shown him makes him no better. That is why, as you see, the rich who prove wicked are punished more severely than the poor: even their prosperity has not softened them. Do not tell me that they gave to the poor. If they did not give in proportion to their wealth, even that will not let them escape, since our almsgiving is judged by the generosity of our hearts, rather than by the size of our gifts. But if these people are punished, how much more will those be punished who eagerly pursue unnecessary things, who build houses two and three stories high but despise the hungry, who devote themselves to greed but neglect almsgiving? 5. But since the discussion has turned to almsgiving, come, let us return today to the argument about kindness that I began three days ago and left unfinished. You remember that when I recently spoke about your vanity over shoes, that pointless trouble, and the luxury of the young, our discussion had moved from almsgiving to those charges against you. What points did we raise then? That almsgiving is a kind of art, with its workshop in Heaven and God, rather than a human being, as its teacher. Then, as we examined what is an art and what is not, we came across fruitless labors and wicked inventions, among which we also mentioned this art of making men’s shoes. Do you remember it now? Come, let us return today to what we said then and show how almsgiving is an art, and better than all other arts. For if the defining feature of an art is that it produces something useful, and nothing is more useful than almsgiving, then clearly it is both an art and better than all other arts. It does not make shoes for us, weave clothing, or build houses of clay. Instead, it secures everlasting life, snatches us from the hands of death, makes us glorious in both lives, and builds the mansions in Heaven and those eternal tents. It keeps our lamps from going out and keeps us from appearing at the wedding in filthy clothes; instead, it washes them and makes them purer than snow. “For though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them white as snow.” It keeps us from falling where that rich man fell or hearing those fearful words, and leads us into Abraham’s bosom. Each of the arts of this life takes on and confines itself to one useful task: agriculture feeds us, weaving clothes us—or rather, not even that much, since no art can perform even its own part entirely on its own. If you like, let us examine agriculture first. Without the blacksmith’s art to supply a spade, plowshare, sickle, ax, and other tools; the carpenter’s to construct a plow and prepare a yoke and a cart for threshing the ears of grain; the leatherworker’s to make the leather harness; the builder’s to build a stable for the oxen that plow and houses for the farmers who sow; the woodcutter’s to cut wood; and, after all these, the baker’s—without these, agriculture cannot function. Likewise, when weaving produces anything, it calls on many other arts to help with the work before it. If they are not there to lend a hand, it too is left helpless, just like agriculture. Indeed, every art needs the others. But to give alms, we need nothing else; only the willingness is required. And if you say that money is needed, and houses, clothes, and shoes, read what Christ said about the widow and stop worrying about this. For even if you are extremely poor and are yourself a beggar, if you put in two mites, you have accomplished everything. Even if you give only a barley cake, when that is all you have, you have reached the goal of the art. Let us therefore learn this discipline and master it. For knowing this is truly better than being a king and wearing a crown. Needing nothing else is not its only advantage; it can also accomplish many different things of every kind. It builds houses that last forever in Heaven; teaches those who have perfected it how to escape the death that never dies; and gives you treasures that are never used up and are safe from every injury, whether from robbers, worms, moths, or time. And yet, if someone had taught you this merely for preserving wheat, what would you not have given to be able to keep your grain from being consumed for many years? But look: this teaches you the same thing about everything, not just wheat, and shows how your possessions, your soul, and your body can all be kept from being consumed. And why should we list every benefit of this art individually? It teaches you how to become like God, which is the sum of every good thing. Do you see how it does many things, rather than just one? Without needing any other art, it builds houses, it weaves clothes, it stores up treasures that cannot be taken from us, it enables us to overcome death and defeat the devil, and it makes us like God. What art, then, can be more beneficial than this? The other arts, besides what I have already mentioned, end with our present life and cannot function when their practitioners are sick. Their works cannot last, and they require much labor, time, and countless other things. But this art becomes more visible than ever when the world has passed away. When we are dead, it shines more brightly than ever and displays the works it has accomplished. It needs neither time nor labor nor any such toil. It works even in your sickness and old age, goes with you into the life to come, and never leaves you. It makes you more capable than sophists and orators. Those who excel in those arts have many people who envy them, but those who shine in this one have thousands praying for them. Those others stand before human judgment seats, pleading for people who have been wronged, and often for those who do wrong as well. But this virtue stands beside Christ’s judgment seat, pleading and even persuading the Judge Himself to plead for the person on trial and rule in his favor. Though his sins have been very many, almsgiving both crowns him and proclaims his honor. For “give alms, and everything will be clean.” And why do I speak of things to come? Even in our present life, if we asked people which they would prefer—many sophists and orators, or many people who give alms and love their fellow human beings—you would hear them choose the latter, and with good reason. If oratory were taken away, our life would be no worse; indeed, life had gone on for a long time before it existed. But if you take away the showing of mercy, everything is lost and ruined. Just as people could not sail the sea if harbors and anchorages were blocked, so life could not hold together if you took away mercy, compassion, and love for humanity. 6. That is why God has not left these things entirely to reasoning, but has implanted many aspects of them through nature’s own compelling power. This is how fathers feel compassion for their children, and mothers too, and children for their parents—and this happens among all the animals as well as among human beings. This is how brothers feel compassion for brothers, and relatives and those connected with them for one another; this is how one person feels compassion for another. For even by nature we have something that inclines us toward mercy. That is also why we feel indignation on behalf of those who are wronged, are overcome when we see people killed, and weep when we see them mourning. Because God wills that mercy be practiced to the fullest, He commanded nature to contribute greatly to it, showing how deeply He cares about it. With these things in mind, let us bring ourselves, our children, and those who belong to us to the school of mercy. Above all else, let a human being learn this, since this is what it means to be human. “For a human being is a great thing, and a merciful human being a precious thing.” So anyone who lacks this has fallen away even from being human. This makes people wise. And why marvel that this is what it means to be human? This is God. For He says, “Be merciful as your Father.” Let us therefore learn to be merciful for every reason, but chiefly because we too need great mercy. And let us consider ourselves not even alive whenever we are not showing mercy. By mercy, however, I mean mercy free from greed. For if someone who is content with his own possessions but shares with no one is not merciful, how can someone who takes other people’s possessions be merciful, even if he gives without limit? If simply enjoying one’s own possessions is inhuman, how much more is defrauding others? If those who have done no wrong are punished because they did not share, how much more will those be punished who actually take what belongs to others? So do not say, “One person is harmed, another receives mercy.” That is precisely what is so terrible. The person harmed should be the very one who receives the mercy. But as it is, you wound some and heal others whom you have not wounded, when you should heal the same people—or rather, should never wound them in the first place. A humane person does not strike and then heal, but heals those whom others have struck. So heal the harm caused by your own evil acts, rather than someone else’s; or rather, do not strike or knock anyone down at all (for that is how a mocker behaves), but lift up those who have been knocked down. Nor is it possible to repair the harm of greed by giving the same amount in alms. If you have unjustly acquired an obol, you need to give a talent in alms, rather than another obol, to remove the sin arising from your unjust gain. That is why a thief who is caught pays back four times as much, but someone who robs by violence is worse than someone who steals. And if the thief must give back four times what he stole, the extortioner should give ten times as much and far more; even then, it is doubtful whether he can atone for his injustice, for even then he will receive no reward for almsgiving. That is why Zacchaeus says, “I will repay four times what I have taken by false accusation, and I will give half my possessions to the poor.” And if someone must give back four times as much under the law, how much more under grace? If someone who steals must do so, how much more someone who robs by violence? For besides the loss, the insult in this case is also great. So even if you give back a hundred times as much, you have not yet paid everything. Do you see that I had good reason to say that if you take even an obol by violence and pay back a talent, you barely repair the harm even then? But if even doing this barely repairs it, what defense will you have when you reverse the proportions, take whole fortunes by violence, and give only a little—and give it to other people instead of those who have been wronged? What favor can you expect? What hope of salvation? Do you want to learn how wicked your deed is when you give alms this way? Listen to Scripture: “Like someone who kills a son before his father’s eyes is someone who brings a sacrifice from the possessions of the poor.” Before we leave, then, let us write this denunciation in our minds. Let us write it on our walls, write it on our hands, write it in our conscience, write it everywhere, so that at least a strong fear of it in our minds may restrain our hands from daily murders. For extortion is more terrible than murder, consuming the poor person little by little. To keep ourselves free from this pollution, then, let us train ourselves in these thoughts, both on our own and with one another. In this way we will be more eager to show mercy, receive its full reward, and enjoy eternal blessings, through the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.