Homilies on Matthew, Homily 56

“Truly, truly, I say to you, some of those standing here will not taste death until they see the Son of Man coming in His kingdom.” He had spoken at length about dangers and death, His own passion, and the slaughter of the disciples, and had given them those severe commands. These things belonged to their present life and were close at hand, while the good things remained a matter of hope and expectation—for example, “Those who lose their life save it”; “He is coming in the glory of His Father”; “He gives His rewards.” So, wishing to give them assurance through their own eyes and show them what kind of glory He would come in, as far as they could understand it, He shows and reveals this even during their present life. He does this so that they will no longer grieve over their own death or their Lord’s, and especially to comfort Peter in his sorrow. And see what He does. He had spoken of hell and the kingdom—for both by saying, “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses it for my sake will find it,” and by saying, “He will reward everyone according to his works,” He had made both clear. Having spoken of both, as I said, He shows the kingdom in the vision, but does not yet show hell. Why? Because if they had been a different kind of people, more coarse in their understanding, this too would have been necessary. But since they have proved themselves and are thoughtful, He leads them along the gentler path. Yet this is not His only reason for revealing it; doing so was also far more fitting for Him. Still, He does not pass over the other subject either. In some places He almost brings the very realities of hell before our eyes, as when He presents the picture of Lazarus, mentions the man who demanded the hundred denarii and the man dressed in filthy clothes, and gives quite a few other examples. 2. “And after six days He takes Peter and James and John with Him.” Now another says, “after eight,” agreeing completely with this writer rather than contradicting him. For one included both the day on which He spoke and the day on which He led them up, while the other counted only the days between. But please notice Matthew’s uncompromising goodness: he does not conceal who was preferred over him. John also often does this, recording the special praises given to Peter with complete sincerity. For this choir of holy men was everywhere free from envy and conceit. So, taking the leaders with Him, “He brought them up a high mountain by themselves and was transfigured before them; and His face shone like the sun, and His clothing was white as the light. And Moses and Elijah appeared to them, talking with Him.” Why does He take only these men with Him? Because they were superior to the rest. Peter showed his superiority by loving Him so deeply, John by being so deeply loved by Him, and James by the answer he gave with his brother: “We are able to drink the cup.” Nor was it only his answer, but also his deeds—both his other actions and his fulfillment of what he said. For he was so zealous and so troublesome to the Jews that Herod himself thought he had done the Jews a very great favor by killing him. But why does He not lead them up immediately? To spare the other disciples any feeling of human weakness. For the same reason, He also leaves out the names of those who are to go up. The others would have wanted very much to follow, since they were going to see a preview of that glory, and would have felt hurt at being overlooked. For although His revelation took a somewhat bodily form, it was still something greatly to be desired. Why, then, does He announce it at all beforehand? So that His announcement might make them more ready to grasp its profound meaning, and so that, as their desire grew more intense over those intervening days, they might be present with their minds fully awake and attentive. 3. But why does He also bring Moses and Elijah forward? Many reasons could be given. First of all, because some in the crowds said He was Elijah, others Jeremiah, and others one of the ancient prophets, He brings the leaders of His choir so that even through this they might see the difference between the servants and the Lord, and see that Peter was rightly praised for confessing Him to be the Son of God. Besides this, another reason can be given. People were constantly accusing Him of breaking the law and regarding Him as a blasphemer on the grounds that He claimed for Himself a glory that did not belong to Him—the Father’s glory. They were saying, “This Man is not from God, because He does not keep the Sabbath day,” and again, “We are not stoning You for a good work, but for blasphemy, and because You, being a man, make Yourself God.” So, to show that both charges arose from envy and prove that He was guilty of neither—that His conduct did not break the law, and that calling Himself equal to the Father did not claim a glory that was not His own—He brings forward men who had been outstanding in each of these respects. Moses gave the law, and the Jews could infer that he would not have ignored its being trampled on, as they supposed it was, or shown respect to someone who broke it and was an enemy of its founder. Elijah, for his part, was zealous for God’s glory. If anyone were an enemy of God, calling himself God and making himself equal to the Father when he was not what he claimed and had no right to do so, Elijah was not a man who would stand by and listen to him. Another reason can be added to those already mentioned. What is it? To teach them that He has power over both death and life and rules both above and below. That is why He brings forward both the man who had died and the man who had not yet experienced death. But the fifth reason—for it is a fifth, in addition to those already mentioned—has been revealed by the evangelist himself. What was it? To show the glory of the cross, comfort Peter and the others in their dread of the passion, and lift their spirits. For when they came, they certainly did not remain silent, but “spoke,” it says, “of the glory which He was to accomplish at Jerusalem,” meaning the passion and the cross; for this is what they always call it. He encouraged them not only in this way, but also through the excellence of the men themselves, who were just the kind of men He especially required them to be. I mean that, after saying, “If anyone wants to come after me, let him take up his cross and follow me,” He sets before them men who had died ten thousand times for God’s decrees and the people entrusted to them. For each of these men had lost his life and found it. Each spoke boldly to tyrants, one to the Egyptian, the other to Ahab, on behalf of heartless and disobedient people. They were brought into extreme danger by the very people they saved. Each wanted to turn people away from idolatry, and each was uneducated: one had a “slow tongue” and difficulty speaking, while the other was also somewhat rough in his manner. Both strictly practiced voluntary poverty: Moses had made no profit, and Elijah had nothing more than his sheepskin. And all this was under the old law, when they had not received so great a gift of miracles. What if Moses did split a sea? Peter walked on water, could move mountains, regularly cured every kind of bodily disease and drove away savage demons, worked those great and wonderful miracles through the shadow of his body, and changed the whole world. And even if Elijah raised a dead man, these men raised ten thousand—and this before the spirit had yet been granted to them. He therefore brings them forward for this reason too. He wanted the disciples to imitate their ways of winning people over, their presence of mind and firmness, and to be gentle like Moses, zealous for God like Elijah, and full of tender care, as they were. For one endured a famine of three years for the Jewish people, and the other said, “If You will forgive their sin, forgive; otherwise, blot me too out of the book You have written.” Through the vision He was reminding them of all this. He also brought those men before them in glory so that the disciples would not remain at their present level, but would go beyond the limits those men had reached. For example, when they said, “Should we command fire to come down from heaven,” and mentioned that Elijah had done so, He said, “You do not know what kind of spirit you are of,” training them in patience because their gift was greater. And let no one suppose that we are condemning Elijah as imperfect. We are saying no such thing. He was indeed exceedingly perfect, but in his own time, when people’s minds were somewhat childish and they needed this kind of schooling. Moses too was perfect in this respect, yet more is required of these men than of him. For “unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven.” They entered not Egypt but the whole world, which was more hostile than the Egyptians. They were not to speak with Pharaoh, but to fight hand to hand with the devil, the very prince of wickedness. Yes, and their appointed struggle was both to bind him and to plunder all his goods. They did this by splitting, not the sea, but an abyss of ungodliness through the rod of Jesse—an abyss with far more terrible waves. Just see how many things there were to frighten these men: death, poverty, dishonor, their countless sufferings. They trembled at these things more than the Jews of old trembled at that sea. Nevertheless, He persuaded them to venture boldly against all these things and pass through in complete safety, as on dry ground. So, to train them for all this, He brought forward those who had shone under the old law. 4. What, then, does the passionate Peter say? “It is good for us to be here.” He had heard that Christ was to go to Jerusalem and suffer, and he was still afraid and trembling for Him, even after His rebuke. He did not dare approach Him and say the same thing again, “May this never happen to You,” but out of that fear he indirectly suggests the same thing again in other words. When he saw the mountain, and such seclusion and solitude, he thought, “He is very safe here simply because of the place, and not only because of the place, but also because He will no longer go away to Jerusalem.” For he wanted Him to stay there always; that is why he also speaks of “tents.” “If this can happen,” he says, “we will not go up to Jerusalem; and if we do not go up, He will not die, for He said that the scribes would attack Him there.” He did not dare say this outright, but because he wanted to arrange things this way, he said confidently, “It is good for us to be here,” where Moses and Elijah are also present—Elijah, who brought down fire on the mountain, and Moses, who entered the thick darkness and spoke with God—and no one will even know where we are. Do you see how passionately he loves Christ? Do not focus now on how poorly considered his advice was, but see how passionate he was, how his affection for Christ burned. To prove that he did not say these things primarily out of fear for himself, listen to what he says when Christ foretells His coming death and the attack on Him: “I will lay down my life for Your sake. Even if I must die with You, I will not deny You.” And see how, even in the midst of actual danger, he acted against his own interests. We know that when so great a crowd surrounded them, far from running away, he drew his sword and cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant. That is how little he cared about his own interests and how much he feared for his Master. Then, because he had spoken as though stating a fact, he checks himself. Thinking that he might be rebuked again, he says, “If You wish, let us make three tents here, one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” What are you saying, Peter? Did you not distinguish Him from the servants just a little while ago? Are you counting Him among the servants again? Do you see how very imperfect they were before the crucifixion? Although the Father had revealed it to him, he did not always hold on to the revelation, but was unsettled by his fear—not only the fear I have mentioned, but another fear too, arising from the sight itself. In fact, to make this clear and show that the confusion of mind in which he spoke arose from that fear, the other evangelists said the following. Notice: “He did not know what to say, for they were terribly afraid.” But Luke, after “Let us make three tents,” added, “not knowing what he said.” Then, to show that both he and the others were gripped by great fear, he says, “They were heavy with sleep, and when they were awake they saw His glory.” By deep sleep here he means the deep stupor that the vision produced in them. Just as excessive brightness darkens the eyes, that was what they experienced then. I suppose it was daytime, not night, and the overwhelming light overpowered their weak eyes. 5. What happens next? He Himself says nothing, nor do Moses or Elijah. Instead, the Father, who is greater than all and more worthy of belief, speaks from the cloud. Why from the cloud? This is how God always appears. “For cloud and darkness surround Him”; and, “He sits on a light cloud”; and again, “Who makes the clouds His chariot”; and, “A cloud received Him out of their sight”; and, “Like the Son of Man coming in the clouds.” So the voice comes from there to make them believe that it comes from God. And the cloud was bright. For “while he was still speaking, look, a bright cloud overshadowed them; and look, a voice from the cloud said, This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; listen to Him.” For when He threatens, He shows a dark cloud, as on Mount Sinai. “Moses,” it says, “entered the cloud and the thick darkness; and the smoke rose like vapor.” And the prophet, speaking of His threatening, said, “Dark water in the clouds of the air.” Here, however, because He wished to teach rather than frighten, the cloud is bright. And since Peter had said, “Let us make three tents,” He showed a tent not made by hands. That is why in the earlier case there was smoke and the vapor of a furnace, but in this case indescribable light and a voice. Then, to make clear that the words referred to Christ alone, rather than just any one of the three, the others were taken away when the voice spoke. For if the words had referred indiscriminately to any one of them, this man would certainly not have remained alone while the other two were separated from Him. Why, then, did the cloud receive them all together instead of Christ alone? If it had received Christ alone, people would have thought that He Himself had spoken the words. That is also why the evangelist, to establish this very point, says that the voice came from the cloud—that is, from God. And what does the voice say? “This is my beloved Son.” Now, if He is beloved, do not be afraid, Peter. You ought already to know His power and be fully assured of His resurrection. But since you do not know, at least take courage from the Father’s voice. For if God is mighty, as surely He is, then the Son plainly is mighty too. So do not be afraid of those fearful things. But if you still do not accept this, at least consider the other fact: He is both a Son and beloved. For it says, “This is My beloved Son.” Now, if He is beloved, do not be afraid. No one gives up someone he loves. So do not be troubled. Although you love Him beyond measure, you do not love Him as much as He who begot Him does. “In whom I am well pleased.” For He loves Him not only because He begot Him, but also because He is equal to Him in every respect and of one mind with Him. So love’s attraction is twofold, or rather even threefold: because He is the Son, because He is beloved, and because in Him He is well pleased. But what does “In whom I am well pleased” mean? It is as though He said, “In whom I am refreshed, in whom I delight,” because He is perfectly equal to Himself in every respect. There is only one will in Him and in the Father, and although He remains a Son, He is in every respect one with the Father. “Listen to Him.” So even if He chooses to be crucified, you must not oppose Him. 6. “And when they heard it, they fell on their faces and were terribly afraid. And Jesus came and touched them and said, Get up, and do not be afraid. And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus alone.” Why were they terrified when they heard these words? A similar voice had already spoken at the Jordan, with a crowd present, and no one felt anything of the kind. Later, too, when they said, “It thundered,” they experienced nothing like this. Why, then, did they fall down on the mountain? Because of the solitude, the height, the great stillness, the awe-inspiring transfiguration, the pure light, and the cloud spread over them. All these things terrified them. Astonishment overwhelmed them from every side, and they fell down in both fear and worship. But so that prolonged fear would not wipe out their memory, He immediately ends their alarm, appears alone, and commands them to tell no one about this until He has risen from the dead. For “as they came down from the mountain, He commanded them to tell the vision to no one until He had risen from the dead.” The greater the things said about Him, the harder they were for most people to accept at that time, and the more they increased the stumbling block of the cross. That is why He tells them to remain silent. And not only that: He reminds them again of the passion and practically tells them why He requires their silence. For, you see, He did not command them never to tell anyone, but to wait “until He had risen from the dead.” And without mentioning the painful part, He speaks only of the good. What, then? Would people not stumble afterward? Certainly not. What mattered was the period before the crucifixion. Afterward, they had both the Spirit granted to them and the voice of the miracles making their case. From then on, whatever they said was easy to accept, since the course of events proclaimed His power more clearly than a trumpet, and no stumbling block of that kind interrupted their work. 7. No one, then, is more blessed than the apostles, especially the three who were considered worthy to be under the same roof with the Lord even in the cloud. But if we are willing, we too will see Christ, in far greater brightness than they saw Him on the mountain. For He will not come in that way in the future. Then, to spare His disciples, He revealed only as much of His brightness as they could bear. In the future He will come in the very glory of the Father, not only with Moses and Elijah, but with the countless host of angels, the archangels, the cherubim, and those countless tribes. He will have no cloud over His head; instead, heaven itself will be folded up. For just as attendants draw back the curtains and show judges to everyone when they sit in public judgment, so then everyone will see Him seated, and the whole human race will stand before Him. He Himself will answer them. To some He will say, “Come, you blessed of my Father; for I was hungry, and you gave me food”; to others, “Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a few things, and I will put you in charge of many things.” And again, passing the opposite sentence, He will answer some, “Depart into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels,” and others, “You wicked and lazy servants.” Some He will “cut in two” and “hand over to the torturers,” while others He will command to “be bound hand and foot and thrown into outer darkness.” After the ax will come the furnace, and everything discarded from the net will fall into it. “Then the righteous will shine like the sun,” or rather, more brightly than the sun. This is said not because their light will reach that degree and no more, but because we know no other star brighter than the sun. He chose this familiar example to express the future brightness of the saints. For the same reason, in the account of the mountain too, He says, “He shone like the sun.” The apostles showed by falling down that the comparison fell short of His light. For if the brightness had been diluted enough to be comparable to the sun, they would not have fallen, but would easily have borne it. So the righteous will shine like the sun, and more brightly than the sun, at that time, while sinners will suffer every extreme of torment. There will then be no need for records, proofs, or witnesses. He who judges is Himself everything: witness, proof, and judge. For He knows everything exactly: “All things are naked and exposed to His eyes.” No one there will appear rich or poor, powerful or weak, wise or foolish, enslaved or free. These masks will be smashed to pieces, and only their deeds will be examined. For even in our courts, when someone is tried for usurping power or for murder, whoever he may be—governor, consul, or anything else—all these honors disappear, and the person convicted suffers the ultimate penalty. Much more will that be true there. 8. So, to keep this from happening, let us put aside our filthy clothes and put on the armor of light, and God’s glory will wrap around us. For what is burdensome about the commands? What about them is not easy? Listen, for example, to the prophet, and then you will know how easy they are. “Even if you bend your neck like a collar and spread sackcloth and ashes beneath you, you will not even then call your fast acceptable; instead, loosen every bond of wickedness, untie the twisted knots of oppressive agreements.” See the prophet’s wisdom: he first states everything that was troublesome, removes it, and urges them to obtain salvation through duties that are easy, showing that God needs obedience, not exhausting labor. Then, to show that virtue is easy while vice is burdensome and chafing, he proves it by the names alone. For he says that vice is “a bond” and “a twisted knot,” while virtue is freedom and release from all these things. “Tear up every unjust contract.” This is what he calls people’s written claims for the interest owed to them and the sums they have lent. “Set free those who are crushed”—those who are afflicted. For that is what a debtor is like: when he sees his creditor, his spirit breaks, and he fears him more than a wild beast. “Bring the poor who have been cast out into your house; if you see someone naked, clothe him, and do not overlook those of your own flesh and blood.” In our recent address to you, when we described the rewards, we showed the wealth that comes from these deeds. But now let us see whether any of the commands is burdensome or beyond our nature. We will find nothing of the kind, but quite the opposite: these ways are very easy, while the ways of vice are full of labor. For what is more troubling than lending, worrying about interest and agreements, demanding guarantors, and fearing and trembling over collateral, principal, documents, interest, and those who have pledged themselves as security? Such is the nature of worldly things. Indeed, nothing is as unstable and suspect as what is regarded as security and devised for that purpose. But showing mercy is easy and frees us from all anxiety. So let us not profit from other people’s misfortunes or turn our kindness into a business. I know that many are displeased to hear these words, but what good would silence do? Even if I remained silent and did not trouble you with my words, my silence could not save you from punishment. It has exactly the opposite effect: the penalty increases, and such silence brings punishment not only on you but on me too. What use are our pleasant words when in practice they harm us instead of helping? What good is it to delight people with words while hurting them through what we do, bringing pleasure to their ears and punishment to their souls? That is why I must make you sorrowful here, so that we may not suffer punishment there. 9. For a dreadful disease, beloved, a dreadful disease needing much care, has fallen upon the church. Those who are commanded not to store up treasures even through honest work, but to open their houses to the needy, make a profit from other people’s poverty, devising a respectable-looking robbery and a plausible disguise for greed. Do not tell me about secular laws. Even the tax collector fulfills secular law, yet he is punished. The same will happen to us unless we stop oppressing the poor and using their need and distress as an opportunity for shameless business. You have wealth to relieve poverty, not to profit from it. But under the appearance of relief, you make the misfortune worse and sell kindness for money. Sell it—I do not forbid you—but sell it for a heavenly kingdom. Do not accept a small price for so good a deed, your monthly one percent, but accept that immortal life. Why are you so destitute, poor, and petty, selling your great things for so little, for goods that perish, when you should sell them for an everlasting kingdom? Why do you leave God and seek human profits? Why do you pass over the wealthy one and trouble the one who has nothing? Why leave the reliable payer and make your bargain with the ungrateful one? The one longs to repay, while the other resents even the act of repaying. The latter barely repays a hundredth part, but the former gives “a hundredfold and eternal life.” The latter repays with insults and abuse, the former with praise and words of blessing. The latter stirs up envy against you, while the former even weaves crowns for you. The latter barely repays here, while the former repays both there and here. Surely it is the height of senselessness not even to know how to make a profit! How many have lost their very principal for the sake of interest? How many have fallen into danger for profits from interest? How many have plunged both themselves and others into extreme poverty through their unspeakable greed! Do not tell me that he is pleased to receive the money and grateful for the loan. That is a result of your cruelty. Abraham too, working out how his plan might succeed among the barbarians, handed over his wife to them, but not willingly: he did it out of fear of Pharaoh. So too the poor man, because you do not consider him worth even that much money, is actually forced to be grateful for cruelty. And it seems to me that if you rescued him from dangers, you would demand payment for that rescue. “Away with that,” he says. “May it never happen.” What are you saying? When you rescue him from the greater evil, you are unwilling to demand money, but for the lesser one you display so much inhumanity? Do you not see how great a punishment is appointed for this deed? Do you not hear that even under the old law it is forbidden? But what excuse do most people give? Someone tells me, “When I have received the interest, I give to the poor.” Speak reverently, man. God does not want such sacrifices. Do not twist the law. It is better not to give to a poor person than to give from that source. For you often make even money earned through honest work unlawful because of that wicked increase, as if someone forced a beautiful womb to give birth to scorpions. And why do I speak of God’s law? Do you not yourselves call it “filth”? But if you who profit from it pronounce that judgment, consider what verdict God will pass on you. And if you ask the Gentile lawgivers too, you will be told that even they consider this a sign of the most complete shamelessness. For example, those who hold honored offices and belong to the great council they call the senate are not legally allowed to disgrace themselves with such profits; they have a law prohibiting it. How, then, is it not horrible if you give the commonwealth of Heaven less honor than the legislators give the Roman council? Heaven is to receive less than earth, and you are not even ashamed of the sheer foolishness of it? For what could be more foolish than this, except for someone to insist on sowing without land, rain, or a plow? So those who have devised this evil farming reap darnel destined for the fire. Why, are there not many honest occupations—in the fields, with flocks and herds, in breeding cattle, in crafts, in managing property? Why rave and act madly, cultivating thorns for no good? What if the earth’s fruits are subject to misfortune—hail, blight, and excessive rain? They are still not subject to it as much as financial dealings are. Whenever such things happen, the damage naturally affects the produce, but the principal remains—I mean the land. In money dealings, however, many have often suffered shipwreck even in their principal, and before the loss they are constantly dejected. For the moneylender never enjoys his possessions or takes pleasure in them. When the interest is brought, he does not rejoice that he has received a profit, but grieves that the interest has not yet equaled the principal. And before this evil offspring has fully come to birth, he forces it too to give birth, turning the interest into principal and forcing it to produce its premature, miscarried brood of vipers. Such are the profits of lending at interest: more than those wild creatures, they devour and tear apart the souls of the wretched. This “is the bond of wickedness”; this is “the twisted knot of oppressive agreements.” Yes, he seems to say, “I give so that you may repay more, not so that you may receive.” And although God commands us not even to take back what we have given—for He says, “Give to those from whom you expect nothing back”—you demand even more than you gave, and force the recipient to pay as a debt what you never gave him. You suppose that this increases your wealth, but instead of wealth you are kindling the unquenchable fire. So, to keep this from happening, let us cut out the evil womb of profits from interest, stop these lawless birth pains, dry up this place of destructive fertility, and pursue only the true and great profits. “But what are these?” Listen to Paul saying, “Godliness with contentment is great gain.” So let us be rich in this wealth alone, so that we may enjoy security here and attain the good things to come, 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.