Homilies on Matthew, Homily 55

“Then Jesus said to His disciples, If anyone wants to come after me, let him renounce himself, and take up his cross and follow me.” Then—when? When Peter said, “Far be it from You, this will never happen to You,” and was told, “Get behind me, Satan.” For He was by no means satisfied with simply rebuking him. Wanting to show more fully both how outrageous Peter’s words were and the benefit of His passion, He says, “Your word to me is, ‘Far be it from You, this will never happen to You.’ But my word to you is, ‘Not only does it harm and destroy you to hinder me and be displeased at my Passion, but it will be impossible for you even to be saved unless you yourself are also continually prepared for death.’” So, to keep them from thinking His suffering unworthy of Him, He teaches them its benefit, not only through what He has already said, but also through what is coming. Thus, first in John, He says, “Unless the grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” But here He develops the point more fully, saying that it is fitting to die not only in His own case, but in theirs as well. “For its benefit is so great that in your case too, unwillingness to die is harmful, but readiness for it is good.” He makes this clear in what follows, but for now He develops only one side of the argument. And see how He also makes His teaching impossible to object to. He does not say, “Whether you want to or not, you must suffer this.” What does He say? “If anyone wants to come after me.” “I do not force or compel anyone, but I give each person control over his own choice. That is why I say, ‘If anyone wants to.’ For I am calling you to good things, not to things that are evil or burdensome; not to punishment and vengeance, so that I would need to compel you. Indeed, the nature of the thing itself is enough to attract you.” By speaking this way, He drew them to Him all the more. Someone who uses force often drives people away, while someone who leaves the hearer free to choose attracts him more. For gentle persuasion is stronger than force. That is why He Himself said, “If anyone wants to.” “For the good things I give you,” He says, “are great, and people should run to them of their own accord. Someone giving away gold and offering treasure would not force people to accept his invitation. And if that invitation involves no compulsion, much less does this invitation to the good things in the Heavens. For if the nature of the thing does not persuade you to run toward it, you are not worthy to receive it at all; and even if you did receive it, you would not properly understand what you had received.” That is why Christ urges us without compelling us, out of care for us. For since they seemed to be murmuring a great deal, secretly troubled by what He had said, He says, “There is no need to be disturbed or troubled. If you do not consider what I have mentioned a source of countless blessings, even when it happens to you yourselves, I use no force and compel no one. But if anyone is willing to follow, I call him.” “For do not imagine that what you are doing now, accompanying me, is all that following me means. You will need to face many hardships and dangers if you are to come after me. Peter, just because you have confessed me to be the Son of God, you must not therefore expect only crowns, suppose this is enough for your salvation, and live securely from now on as though you had done everything. For although, as the Son of God, I have the power to keep you from experiencing any of those hardships, that is not my will, for your sake, so that you too may contribute something yourself and prove yourself more fully.” For in the same way, if someone were a judge at the games and had a friend among the contestants, he would want to crown him not merely as a favor, but also for his own efforts—and especially because he loves him. So it is with Christ: those He loves most are the very ones He most wants to prove themselves through their own efforts as well as through His help. But see how at the same time He keeps His words from being oppressive. For He does not surround them alone with this terror, but also offers the teaching to the whole world, saying, “If anyone wants to,” whether woman or man, ruler or subject, let him come this way. 2. And although He seems to have said just one thing, His sayings are three: “Let him renounce himself,” “Let him carry his cross,” and “Let him follow me.” Two of them are joined together, while one stands by itself. But first let us see what it means to deny oneself. Let us first learn what it means to deny someone else, and then we will know what it means to deny ourselves. What, then, does it mean to deny someone else? Someone who denies another person—a brother, for example, or a servant, or anyone you like—does not stand by him or help him if he sees him being beaten, bound, led to execution, or suffering anything else. He is unmoved and feels nothing for him, having broken with him completely. In the same way, He wants us to disregard our own body, so that whether people whip us, banish us, burn us, or do anything else, we do not spare it. For this is how we truly spare it. Fathers too spare their children when they entrust them to teachers and tell the teachers not to spare them. So too with Christ. He did not say, “Let him not spare himself,” but, much more emphatically, “Let him renounce himself.” That is, let him have nothing to do with himself, but surrender himself to every danger and struggle, and feel as though someone else were suffering it all. And He did not say, “Let him deny,” but, “Let him renounce.” Even through this small addition, He again indicates how far it goes. For the latter means more than the former. “And let him take up his cross.” This follows from the other command. For to keep you from supposing that words, insults, and reproaches are to be the limits of our self-renunciation, He also says how far we must renounce ourselves: to the point of death, and a disgraceful death at that. That is why He did not say, “Let him renounce himself to the point of death,” but, “Let him take up his cross,” pointing to a disgraceful death. And we must do this not once or twice, but throughout our whole life. “Yes,” He says, “carry this death with you continually, and be ready for slaughter every day. For many have scorned riches, pleasure, and glory, but have not despised death; instead, they have feared dangers. I want my champion,” He says, “to wrestle even to the point of shedding blood, and to continue his course all the way to slaughter. So even if we must undergo death—a disgraceful death, the accursed death, and on suspicion of wrongdoing—we must endure everything nobly, and even rejoice in being suspected.” “And let him follow me.” That is, since someone can suffer without following Him, when he does not suffer for Him (for robbers, tomb robbers, and sorcerers often suffer terribly in this way), He adds the reason for these sufferings, to keep you from supposing that the mere nature of your calamities is enough. And what is that reason? That in acting and suffering this way, you may follow Him; that you may endure everything for Him; and that you may possess the other virtues as well. For this too is expressed by “Let him follow me”: to show not only courage, as exercised in our calamities, but also temperance, moderation, and every kind of self-restraint. For this is what “following” properly means: paying attention to the other virtues too, and suffering everything for His sake. For some follow the devil even to the point of enduring all this, and give up their own lives for his sake. But we do it for Christ—or rather, for our own sakes. They do it to their own harm both in this life and in the next; we do it to gain both lives. How, then, is it not extreme stupidity to fail to show even the same courage as those who perish, when we stand to gain so many crowns from it? And surely Christ Himself is present to help us, while no one is there to help them. He had already given this very command when He sent them out, saying, “Do not go toward the Gentiles” (for He says, “I send you as sheep among wolves,” and, “you will be brought before kings and governors”), but now He gives it with greater force and severity. For then He spoke only of death, but here He has also mentioned a cross, and a continual cross. For He says, “Let him take up his cross”—that is, “Let him carry it continually and bear it.” This is what He regularly does in everything: He introduces the greater commandments gently and gradually, rather than at the outset or from the beginning, so that His hearers will not find them strange. 3. Then, because the saying seemed harsh, see how He softens it by what follows and offers rewards that surpass our hardships—and not only rewards, but also the penalties for vice. Indeed, He dwells more on the latter than on the former, since His threats of severe punishment usually bring ordinary people to their senses more effectively than His gifts of blessings. Just see how He both begins and ends here with this. “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it,” He says, “but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what does a man gain if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?” What He says amounts to this: “I command these things not because I have no concern for you, but because I care for you deeply. For someone who spares his child ruins him, while someone who does not spare him preserves him.” A certain wise man also spoke to this effect: “If you beat your son with a rod, he will not die, but you will save his soul from death.” And again, “He who pampers his son will bind up his wounds.” This happens in an army camp too. For if the general, out of concern for his soldiers, orders them always to stay inside the fortified place, he will destroy the inhabitants along with them. “So that this does not happen to you too,” He says, “you must be drawn up for battle against continual death. For even now a terrible war is about to break out. So do not stay inside, but go out and fight; and if you fall at your post, then you have gained life.” For in visible wars, someone who meets slaughter at his post is more distinguished than the others, more invincible, and more fearsome to the enemy, even though we know that after his death the king for whom he stands guard cannot raise him up again. Much more, then, in these wars, where there are also such hopes of resurrection, will someone who exposes his own life to death find it: in one sense, because he will not be quickly taken; in another, because even if he falls, his life will be led into a higher life. 4. Then, because He had said, “He who wants to save it will lose it, but whoever loses it will save it,” and had placed salvation and destruction on one side, and salvation and destruction on the other, He draws an inference from the opposites as well, to establish these points once and for all. He does this to keep anyone from imagining that the destruction and salvation on one side are the same as those on the other, and to teach you clearly that the difference between this salvation and that is as great as the difference between destruction and salvation. “For what does a man gain,” He says, “if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul?” Do you see how preserving it wrongly is destruction, and worse than any other destruction, since it is beyond remedy for lack of anything else with which to redeem it? “For do not tell me,” He says, “that someone who has escaped such dangers has saved his life. Add the whole world to his life, and still, what has he gained if his soul perishes?” For tell me, if you saw your servants living in luxury while you yourself were in terrible distress, would being their master do you any good? None at all. Apply this reasoning to your soul too, when the flesh lives in luxury and wealth while she awaits the destruction to come. “What will a man give in exchange for his soul?” Again, He dwells on the same point. “What? Do you have another soul to give in exchange for this one?” He says. If you lose money, you can give money in exchange; so too with a house, slaves, or any other possession. But if you lose your soul, you will have no other soul to give. Yes, even if you possessed the world and were king of the whole earth, you could not redeem even one soul by paying out all earthly goods, along with the earth itself. And why be surprised that this is true of the soul? You can see the same thing happen even with the body. Though you wear ten thousand crowns, if your body is sickly by nature and incurable, you will not be able to restore it by giving your entire kingdom—not even if you add countless people, cities, and possessions. Now I urge you to reason this way about your soul too—or rather, much more so about your soul—and to set everything else aside and devote all your care to it. So do not concern yourself with other people's affairs while neglecting yourself and your own, as everyone now does, resembling those who work in the mines. For the miners gain no benefit from either their labor or the wealth, but instead suffer great harm, both because they face danger fruitlessly and because they face it for others, gaining nothing from their hardships and deaths. Even now, many imitate them by digging up wealth for others. Or rather, we are even more miserable than they are, since hell itself awaits us after these labors of ours. For death releases them from those hardships, but for us death becomes the beginning of countless evils. But if you say that in your wealth you have the fruit of your labors, show me your soul rejoicing, and then I will be persuaded. For the soul is the most important part of us. And if the body is well fed while she wastes away, this prosperity does you no good (just as, when a maidservant is happy, her happiness does nothing for her dying mistress, and a beautiful robe means nothing beside sickly flesh). Instead, Christ will say to you again, “What will a man give in exchange for his soul?” In every way He commands you to concern yourself with her and make her alone your concern. 5. Having alarmed them in this way, He also comforts them with His good things. “For the Son of Man will come,” He says, “in the glory of His Father with His holy angels, and then He will reward everyone according to his works.” Do you see how the glory of the Father and the Son is one and the same? But if the glory is one, it is quite clear that the substance is also one. For if there is a difference of glory within one substance (“for there is one glory of the sun, another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differs from another star in glory,” although the substance is one), how can the substance differ where the glory is one? For He did not say, “In glory like the Father’s,” which might lead you to suppose some difference again. Instead, indicating complete perfection, He says, “In that same glory He will come,” so that it may be understood as one and the same. “Now, Peter, why are you afraid” (this is how He speaks) “when you hear about death? For then you will see me in the glory of the Father. And if I am in glory, so are you. Your prospects are by no means limited to the present life; a different and better destiny awaits you.” Nevertheless, after speaking of the good things, He did not stop there, but mixed in fearful things as well, bringing before them that judgment seat, the account from which there is no escape, the unyielding sentence, and the judgment that cannot be deceived. Yet He did not let His teaching seem entirely grim, but tempered it with good hopes too. For He did not say, “Then He will punish those who sinned,” but, “He will reward everyone according to his deeds.” He said this to remind sinners of punishment, and also those who have done well of prizes and crowns. 6. He said this partly to encourage the good, but I always shudder when I hear it, for I am not among those who are crowned, and I suppose others share our fear and anxiety. For who, after examining his own conscience, would not be startled by this saying, shudder at it, and be convinced that we need sackcloth and prolonged fasting more than the people of Nineveh? For our concern is not the destruction of a city and the shared death of its people, but eternal punishment and the fire that is never quenched. That is why, among other reasons, I praise and admire the monks who have settled in deserted places: because of this saying. For after they have had lunch—or rather, dinner (for they never have lunch, knowing that the present time is a time of mourning and fasting)—after dinner, then, as they sing certain hymns of thanksgiving to God, they mention this expression too. And if you want to hear the hymns themselves, so that you too can say them continually, I will recite the whole of that sacred song for you. Its words are as follows: “Blessed God, who feed me from my youth on, who give food to all flesh, fill our hearts with joy and gladness, so that, always having enough of everything, we may abound in every good work in Christ Jesus our Lord; may glory, honor, and might be Yours forever, together with Him and the Holy Spirit. Amen. Glory to You, O Lord, glory to You, O Holy One, glory to You, O King, because You have given us food to make us glad. Fill us with the Holy Spirit, so that we may be found pleasing before You and not be ashamed when You reward everyone according to his works.” Now this hymn deserves admiration in every part, but especially in the ending just quoted. That is, because meals and food tend to distract us and weigh us down, they place this saying on the soul like a bridle, reminding her of the time of judgment at the moment of enjoyment. For they have learned what happened to Israel through a lavish table. “For my beloved,” He says, “ate, grew fat, and kicked.” That is why Moses also said, “When you have eaten and drunk and are full, remember the Lord your God.” For it was after that feast that they dared to commit those lawless acts. So you too must take care that something similar does not happen to you. For although you do not sacrifice sheep or bulls to stone or gold, take care that you do not sacrifice your own soul to anger, or your own salvation to sexual immorality or other such passions. Yes, you see, it is because they fear these downfalls that, after enjoying their meal—or rather, their fasting, since their meal is in fact fasting—they remind themselves of the terrible judgment seat and that day. And if those who discipline themselves with fasting, nights spent on the ground, vigils, sackcloth, and ten thousand other means still need this reminder too, when will we ever be able to live virtuously, when we spread tables loaded with countless shipwrecks and do not even pray at all, either at the beginning or at the end? 7. So, to put an end to these shipwrecks, let us bring that hymn before us and explain it all, so that, seeing its benefit, we too may chant it constantly at our table and quiet the unruly impulses of the belly, bringing both the habits and the laws of those angels into our homes. You really ought to go there and reap these fruits. But since you are unwilling, at least hear this spiritual melody through our words, and let everyone say these words after his meal, beginning this way. “Blessed God.” For they immediately fulfill the apostolic law, which commands, “Whatever we do in word or deed, let us do it in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, giving thanks to God and the Father through Him.” Next, they give thanks not only for that one day, but for their whole life. For it says, “Who feed me from my youth on.” From this comes a lesson in self-control: when God feeds us, we must not worry. For if a king promised to provide your daily food from his own stores, you would be hopeful about the future. You should be all the more free from anxiety when God gives and everything pours upon you as from fountains. Indeed, this is exactly why they speak this way: to persuade both themselves and those they teach as disciples to put aside all worldly care. Then, so that you will not suppose they offer this thanksgiving only for themselves, they go on to say, “Who give food to all flesh,” giving thanks on behalf of the whole world. Like fathers of the whole earth, they offer their praises for everyone and train themselves in sincere brotherly love. For they cannot possibly hate those on whose behalf they thank God for being fed. Do you see how their thanksgiving brings in love and drives out worldly care, both through the preceding words and through these? For if He feeds all flesh, much more will He feed those devoted to Him; if He feeds those entangled in worldly cares, much more will He feed those freed from them. To establish this, Christ Himself said, “How many sparrows are you worth more than?” He said this to teach them not to place their confidence in wealth, land, and seeds; for it is not these that feed us, but the word of God. By this they silence the Manichaeans, the followers of Valentinus, and all who suffer from the same disease. For surely this Being is not evil, who sets His own provisions before everyone, even those who blaspheme Him. Then comes the petition: “Fill our hearts with joy and gladness.” What kind of joy does it mean? The joy of this world? God forbid. For if they had meant that, they would not have settled on mountaintops and in deserts or wrapped themselves in sackcloth. Instead, they mean that joy which has nothing in common with this present life: the joy of angels, the joy above. And they do not simply ask for it, but ask for it in great abundance. For they do not say, “Give,” but, “Fill”; and they do not say, “Us,” but, “Our hearts.” For this is especially a joy of the heart: “For the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace.” Thus, because sin brought sorrow into the world, they ask that righteousness may be planted in them through joy, for joy could arise in no other way. “So that, always having enough of everything, we may abound in every good work.” See how they fulfill that saying of the gospel, “Give us this day our daily bread,” and how they seek even this for spiritual purposes. For their words are, “So that we may abound in every good work.” They did not say, “So that we may only do our duty,” but, “Even more than we are commanded,” for that is what “that we may abound” means. And while they ask God for enough of the things they need, they themselves are willing to go far beyond merely enough obedience, and to do so in everything. This is the mark of willing servants, of people committed to goodness: to abound always and in everything. Then, reminding themselves again of their own weakness and that nothing noble can be done without help from above, after saying, “So that we may abound in every good work,” they add, “In Christ Jesus our Lord; may glory, honor, and might be Yours forever, together with Him. Amen.” Thus they fashion their ending like their beginning, joining them with a thread of thanksgiving. 8. After this they seem to begin afresh, but they are continuing the same line of thought. Paul does this too at the beginning of an epistle: after closing with a doxology, where he says, “According to the will of our God and Father, to whom be glory forever. Amen,” he returns to the subject he was writing about. And elsewhere, after saying, “They worshiped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed forever: Amen,” he did not end his discussion, but began again. So let us not blame these angels of ours for acting in a disorderly way because, after closing with a doxology, they begin the sacred hymns again. For they follow apostolic laws, beginning with a doxology, ending with one, and after that ending making another beginning. That is why they say, “Glory to You, O Lord; glory to You, O Holy One; glory to You, O King; because You have given us food to make us glad.” For we ought to give thanks not only for greater things, but for lesser things too. And they give thanks for these as well, putting to shame the heresy of the Manichaeans and of all who declare our present life evil. For because of their great self-control and disregard for the belly, you might suspect that they abhor food, like those heretics just mentioned, who choke themselves to death. Through their prayer, they teach you that they abstain from most of God's creatures not because they abhor them, but to exercise self-restraint. And see how, after giving thanks for His past gifts, they also persistently ask for greater things. They do not linger over the concerns of this life, but rise above the heavens and say, “Fill us with the Holy Spirit.” For it is impossible to prove ourselves as we ought without being filled with that grace, just as nothing noble or great can be done without Christ's active help. So, just as after saying, “So that we may abound in every good work,” they added, “In Christ Jesus,” here too they say, “Fill us with the Holy Spirit, so that we may be found to have been pleasing before You.” Do you see how, for the things of this life, they do not make requests but only give thanks, while for the things of the Spirit they both give thanks and make requests? For He says, “Seek the kingdom of heaven, and all these things will be added to you.” Notice another form of their rigorous goodness too: their words, “So that we may be found to have been pleasing in Your sight and not be ashamed.” “For we do not care,” they say, “about the shame that comes from the crowd. Whatever people may say about us, laughing or reproaching us, we pay no attention to it. Our whole effort is to avoid being put to shame then.” But in these expressions they also bring before us the river of fire, the prizes, and the rewards. They did not say, “So that we may not be punished,” but, “So that we may not be ashamed.” For to us, appearing to have offended our Lord is far more fearful than hell. But since most people, those with coarser minds, do not fear this, they add, “When You reward everyone according to his works.” Do you see how much these strangers and pilgrims have benefited us, these citizens of the wilderness—or rather, citizens of the Heavens? For while we are strangers to the Heavens and citizens of the earth, they are just the opposite. And after this hymn, filled with deep remorse and many fervent tears, they go to sleep, taking just enough to refresh themselves a little. And again they turn their nights into days, spending them in thanksgiving and the singing of psalms. And not only men, but women too practice this self-denial, overcoming the weakness of their nature by the abundance of their zeal. So let their earnestness put us men to shame. Let us stop clinging to present things, to shadows, dreams, and smoke. For most of our life passes without awareness. For the first period of our life is full of great foolishness, while the period that advances toward old age withers all our capacity to feel. The interval in between, when we can consciously enjoy pleasure, is short. Or rather, even that interval has no unmixed share of pleasure, because of the countless cares and hardships that harass it. So I beg you, let us seek the unshakable and eternal good things, and the life that never grows old. For even someone who lives in a city can imitate the monks' self-denial. Yes, someone with a wife and household responsibilities can pray, fast, and learn deep remorse. For those who were first taught by the apostles, though they lived in cities, displayed the piety of those who live in the deserts. Others did so while managing workshops, like Priscilla and Aquila. And the prophets too all had wives and households—Isaiah, Ezekiel, and the great Moses—and suffered no harm from this in their virtue. So let us imitate them too, continually offering thanksgiving to God and singing hymns to Him. Let us attend to temperance and all the other virtues, and bring into our cities the self-denial practiced in the deserts, so that we may be found pleasing before God and approved before people, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom may glory, honor, and might be the Father's, together with the holy and life-giving Spirit, now and always and forever and ever. Amen.