Homilies on Matthew, Homily 69

“And Jesus answered and spoke again in parables. The kingdom of Heaven is like a certain king who held a wedding for his son and sent his servants to call those who had been invited to the wedding; and they would not come. Again, he sent other servants, saying, Tell those who have been invited, I have prepared my dinner; my oxen and my fattened cattle have been killed, and everything is ready; come to the wedding. But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business; and the rest seized his servants, mistreated them, and killed them.” Do you see, both in the previous parable and in this one, the difference between the Son and the servants? Do you see at once both the close resemblance between the two parables and their great difference? For this one also shows God’s patience, His great providential care, and the Jews’ ingratitude. But this parable also adds something to the other. For it foretells both the expulsion of the Jews and the calling of the Gentiles; and along with this, it shows how strict a life is required and how great a punishment is appointed for the careless. And it is fittingly placed after the other. For since He had said, “It will be given to a nation producing its fruits,” He next explains what kind of nation. And not only this: He again presents His providential care for the Jews as beyond description. For there He appears inviting them before His crucifixion; but here, even after He is killed, He still urges them, trying to win them over. And when they deserved the most terrible punishment, He instead presses them to come to the wedding and honors them with the highest honor. And notice how, both there and here, He calls the Jews first, before the Gentiles. But just as there, when they would not receive Him and even killed Him when He came, He then gave the vineyard to others, so here too, when they were unwilling to attend the wedding, He called others. What, then, could be more ungrateful than they are, when they rush away after being invited to a wedding? For who would not choose to come to a wedding, especially a King’s wedding, held by a King for a Son? And why is it called a wedding? someone may ask. So that you may learn of God’s tender care, His longing for us, and the joy of that life: there is nothing sorrowful or sad there, but everything is full of spiritual joy. This is also why John calls Him a bridegroom, and why Paul says, “For I have betrothed you to one husband”; and, “This is a great mystery, but I am speaking about Christ and the Church.” Why, then, is the bride said to be betrothed to the Son rather than to Him? Because she who is betrothed to the Son is betrothed to the Father. For Scripture can speak either way without distinction, because Their substance is identical. Through this He also proclaimed the resurrection. For since He had previously spoken of the death, He shows that even after the death comes the wedding, and then the bridegroom. But even this does not make these men better or gentler. What could be worse? For this is a third accusation against them. The first is that they killed the prophets; then, the Son; afterward, that even when they had killed Him and were invited to the wedding of the One they had killed, by the very One they had killed, they did not come, but made excuses about yokes of oxen, plots of land, and wives. And yet the excuses seem reasonable; but from this we learn to value spiritual things above everything else, even when the things that hold us back are necessary. And He invited them a long time in advance, not suddenly. For He says, “Tell those who have been invited”; and again, “Call those who were invited.” This makes the charge against them more serious. And when were they invited? Through all the prophets; again through John, for he would direct everyone to Christ, saying, “He must increase, I must decrease”; again through the Son Himself, “Come to me, all of you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will refresh you”; and again, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.” But He invited them through actions as well as words, after His ascension through Peter and his companions. “For He who worked effectively in Peter,” it says, “for the apostleship to the circumcision, also worked powerfully in me toward the Gentiles.” For since they became angry and killed the Son when they saw Him, He invites them again through His servants. And what does He invite them to? Labor, toil, and sweat? No, pleasure. For He says, “My oxen and my fattened cattle have been killed.” See how complete His banquet is, how great His generosity. And even this did not shame them. Instead, the more patience He showed, the more hardened they became. For they failed to come because they were “making light of it,” not because they were overwhelmed with business. “Why, then, do some bring up marriages, and others yokes of oxen? Surely these things show that they had no time.” Not at all. For when spiritual things call us, no pressure of business can make it necessary to refuse. Moreover, it seems to me that they use these excuses to cover up their negligence. And the terrible thing is not only that they did not come, but also that they did something far more violent and furious: they even beat those who came, mistreated them, and killed them. This is worse than what happened before. For those earlier servants came asking for produce and fruit, and were killed; but these came inviting them to the wedding of the One they had killed, and they too were murdered. What can equal this madness? Paul also charged them with this when he said, “Who killed both the Lord and their own prophets, and have persecuted us.” Moreover, so that they cannot say, “He is an enemy of God, and that is why we do not come,” listen to what those inviting them say: it is the father who is holding the wedding, and He is the one inviting them. What, then, did He do after this? Since they were unwilling to come and even killed those who came to them, He burned their cities and sent His armies and killed them. He says these things to foretell what happened under Vespasian and Titus, and to show that by refusing to believe in Him they also provoked the father. At any rate, it is the father who took vengeance. And for this reason, let me add, the capture did not take place immediately after Christ was killed, but forty years later, so that He might show His patience, even after they had killed Stephen, put James to death, and mistreated the apostles. Do you see how truly and how quickly the event fulfilled His words? For these things happened while John was still alive, along with many others who had been with Christ, and those who had heard these words witnessed the events. See, then, His indescribable care. He had planted a vineyard; He had done everything and completed it. When His servants were put to death, He sent other servants; when those were killed, He sent the Son; and when He was put to death, He invited them to the wedding. They would not come. After this He sent other servants, and they killed these too. Then He killed them, since their disease was incurable. For their incurable disease was proved not only by their actions, but also by the fact that they did these things even when prostitutes and tax collectors had believed. So these men are condemned not only by their own crimes, but also by what others were able to do right. But someone may say that those from among the Gentiles were not called at that point, when the apostles had been beaten and suffered countless things, but immediately after the resurrection (for then He said to them, “Go and make disciples of all nations”). We would answer that both before and after the crucifixion, they approached the Jews first. For before the crucifixion He says to them, “Go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”; and after the crucifixion, far from forbidding it, He even commanded them to approach the Jews. For although He said, “Make disciples of all nations,” when He was about to ascend into Heaven, He made clear that they were to approach the Jews first. For He says, “You will receive power after the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be witnesses to me both in Jerusalem and in all Judea, and to the farthest part of the earth”; and Paul again says, “He who worked effectively in Peter for the apostleship to the circumcision also worked powerfully in me toward the Gentiles.” So the apostles also went first to the Jews, and after staying a long time in Jerusalem and then being driven away by them, they were scattered among the Gentiles. 2. And see His generosity even here. “Invite as many as you find,” He says, “to the wedding.” For before this, as I said, they approached both Jews and Greeks, staying mostly in Judea. But since the Jews continued plotting against them, listen to Paul interpreting this parable and saying, “It was necessary that the word of God should first be spoken to you, but since you judge yourselves unworthy, look, we turn to the Gentiles.” That is why Christ also says, “The wedding is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy.” He knew this beforehand, of course. But to leave them no pretext for shameless contradiction, although He knew it, He both came to them first and sent messengers to them first, both silencing them and teaching us to do everything required of us, even if no one benefits. Since, then, they were not worthy, He says, go into the highways and invite as many as you find, both ordinary people and outcasts. For because He had said in every way, “The prostitutes and tax collectors will inherit heaven”; and, “The first will be last, and the last first,” He shows that these things happen justly. This stung the Jews more than anything else and hurt them far more deeply than their downfall: seeing people from among the Gentiles brought into their privileges, and into far greater privileges than theirs. Then, so that even these people should not put their confidence in faith alone, He also speaks to them about the judgment to be passed on wicked actions. To those who have not yet believed, He speaks of coming to Him through faith; to those who have believed, of taking care over the way they live. For the garment is their life and conduct. And yet the calling came through grace. Why, then, does He demand such a strict account? Because although being called and being cleansed came through grace, once they have been called and clothed in clean garments, keeping them clean depends on the diligence of those who are called. Their calling came through grace, not merit. So they should have given something back in return for that grace, rather than displaying such great wickedness after receiving the honor. “But I have not enjoyed,” someone may say, “as much advantage as the Jews.” On the contrary, you have enjoyed far greater benefits. For what was being prepared for them throughout their whole history, you received all at once, although you were unworthy. That is why Paul also says, “And that the Gentiles might glorify God for His mercy.” For you have received the things that were due to them. That is also why a great punishment is appointed for those who have been negligent. For just as they insulted Him by not coming, so you insult Him by taking your place with a corrupt life. For this is what coming in with filthy garments means: departing this life with your life impure. That is also why the man was speechless. Do you see how, even though the offense was so obvious, He does not punish him immediately, until the sinner himself has passed sentence? For by having nothing to say in reply, he condemned himself, and so he is taken away to indescribable torments. For when you hear of darkness, do not suppose that his punishment consists only of being sent to a place without light. It is also a place where “there is” “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” He says this to indicate the unbearable pain. Listen, all of you who have shared in the mysteries and attended the wedding, yet clothe your souls with filthy deeds. Listen to where you were called from. From the highway. In what condition? Lame and crippled in soul, which is far more terrible than bodily mutilation. Honor the love of Him who called you, and let no one keep wearing filthy garments. Instead, let each of you take care over the clothing of your soul. Listen, women; listen, men. We do not need these garments covered with gold that adorn our bodies, but those other garments that adorn us within. As long as we wear these outward garments, it is difficult to put on the inward ones. It is impossible to adorn both soul and body at the same time. It is impossible both to serve mammon and to obey Christ as we should. So let us throw off this terrible tyranny. For if someone decorated your house by hanging it with golden curtains, but made you sit there naked and in rags, you would not put up with it quietly. Yet look: this is what you now do to yourself, decorating the house of your soul—I mean the body—with countless curtains, while leaving the soul itself sitting in rags. Do you not know that the king should be more richly adorned than the city? So while linen hangings are prepared for the city, the king has a purple robe and a crown. In the same way, wrap your body in much humbler clothing, but clothe your mind in purple, put a crown on it, and set it on a high, prominent chariot. For now you are doing the opposite: decorating the city in all sorts of ways, while allowing the king, the mind, to be dragged along in chains behind the brutish passions. Don’t you remember that you are invited to a wedding, and to God’s wedding? Don’t you consider how the invited soul should enter those rooms, dressed and adorned with fringes of gold? 3. Would you like me to show you those who are dressed this way, those who have a wedding garment on? Think of those holy people I spoke to you about recently, those who wear garments of hair and live in the deserts. They, above all, wear the garments of that wedding. This is clear from the fact that however many purple robes you offered them, they would refuse to accept them. Just as a king would loathe the clothing if someone took a beggar’s rags and urged him to put them on, so these people would loathe his purple robe. They feel this way for no other reason than that they know the beauty of their own clothing. So they scorn even that purple robe as though it were a spider’s web. Their sackcloth has taught them this; for they are far more exalted and glorious than the reigning king himself. And if you could open the doors of their minds and look at their souls and all their inner adornments, you would surely fall to the ground, unable to bear the glory of their beauty, the splendor of those garments, and the lightning brightness of their conscience. For we could also speak of great and admirable men of old. But since visible examples are more effective in guiding people whose souls are less refined, I send you to the tents of these holy people. For they have nothing sorrowful among them. As if they had pitched their tents in heaven, they camp far from the tiresome things of this present life, campaigning against the demons; and they wage war against him as though in choirs. That is why, I say, they have pitched their tents and fled from cities, marketplaces, and houses. For a soldier at war cannot sit in a house; he must live in temporary quarters, ready to move at once. This is how all these people live, unlike us. For we live as though in a city at peace, rather than in a military camp. For who in a military camp ever lays a foundation and builds himself a house that he will soon leave? No one. And if anyone attempts it, he is put to death as a traitor. Who in a military camp buys acres of land and sets up businesses? No one, and with good reason. “For you have come here,” they would say, “to fight, not to trade. Why, then, do you trouble yourself about a place you will leave in a little while? Do these things when we have returned to our own country.” I now say the same to you. Do these things when we have moved to the city above—or rather, you will have no need to work there, since the king will then do everything for you. But here it is enough simply to dig a ditch around the camp and set up a palisade; there is no need to build houses. Listen to how the Scythians lived in their wagons; such, they say, are the customs of the shepherd tribes. Christians should live this way: traveling through the world, waging war against the devil, rescuing the captives he holds in subjection, and remaining free from all worldly things. Why do you build a house, man, to tie yourself down further? Why do you bury treasure and invite the enemy to attack you? Why do you surround yourself with walls and build yourself a prison? But if these things seem hard to you, let us go to these men’s tents, so that their actions may teach us how easy they are. For after setting up huts, if they must leave them, they leave like soldiers breaking camp in peace. For they too live in a camp—or rather, their camp is far more beautiful. For a desert filled with rows of monks’ huts is more pleasant to look at than soldiers stretching canvas in a camp, planting spears, and hanging saffron garments from their tips; a crowd of men with bronze-covered heads; the bosses of shields gleaming brightly; men armed from head to foot in steel; royal quarters hastily built; ground leveled over a wide area; and men dining and playing pipes. For even this spectacle is not as delightful as the one I am describing. For if we go into the wilderness and look at the tents of Christ’s soldiers, we will see no stretched canvas, no spear points, no golden garments forming a royal pavilion. Instead, suppose someone stretched out many heavens over an earth far larger than this earth—indeed, infinite: what a strange and awe-inspiring sight he would display! That is the kind of sight one can see here. For their lodgings are in no way inferior to the heavens: the angels lodge with them, and so does the Lord of the angels. For if they came to Abraham, a man who had a wife and was raising children, because they saw his hospitality, much more will they stay when they find far greater virtue, and a man freed from the body who, while in the flesh, disregards the flesh. There they celebrate the choral feast fitting for them. Moreover, their table is free from all greed and full of self-denial. There are no streams of blood among them, no cutting up of flesh, no heavy heads, no elaborate cooking, no unpleasant smells of meat or disagreeable smoke, no rushing around, commotion, disturbances, or tiresome shouting. Instead, there is bread and water: the water from a pure spring, the bread from honest labor. And if they ever wish to feast more lavishly, their luxury consists of fruit, and the pleasure there is greater than at royal tables. There is no fear or trembling there; no ruler brings accusations, no wife provokes, no child brings sorrow, no disorderly merriment distracts them, no crowd of flatterers inflates their pride. Their table is an angel’s table, free from all such turmoil. For a bed they have only grass beneath them, just as Christ did when He provided a meal in the wilderness. And many of them do this without even a shelter: heaven is their roof, and the moon takes the place of candlelight, needing neither oil nor anyone to tend it. On them alone does it shine worthily from above. 4. Even angels looking down from heaven take delight and pleasure in this table. For if they rejoice over one sinner who repents, what won’t they do over so many righteous men imitating them? There is no master and slave there; all are slaves, all are free. And do not think this is an obscure proverb, for they really are one another’s slaves and one another’s masters. When evening comes, they have no reason to feel sad, as many people do while turning over anxious thoughts about the day’s troubles. After supper they have no reason to worry about robbers, shut and bar the doors against them, or dread the other dangers that frighten many people, who extinguish their candles with the greatest care for fear that a stray spark might set the house on fire. Their conversation, too, is full of the same calm. For they do not talk about the things we discuss, which are no concern of ours: this person has become governor, that person has left office; this person has died, and another has inherited his property; and all the rest. Instead, they always speak and seek wisdom about the things to come. As though living in another world, as though they had moved to heaven itself and were living there, all their conversation concerns the things there: Abraham’s bosom, the crowns of the saints, and singing in the choir with Christ. They give no thought or attention to present things. Just as we would not consider it worth talking about what ants do in their holes and crevices, neither do they talk about what we do. Instead, they speak about the King above, the war they are fighting, the devil’s tricks, and the good deeds the saints have accomplished. How, then, are we different from ants, compared with them? For just as ants concern themselves with bodily things, so do we. If only we cared for these alone! But as it is, we care for things far worse. For unlike them, we concern ourselves not only with necessities, but also with excess. Those insects pursue blameless work, while we pursue every kind of greed. We do not even imitate the ways of ants, but the ways of wolves and leopards—or rather, we are even worse than these. For nature has assigned them this way of feeding, but God has honored us with speech and a sense of fairness, and we have become worse than wild beasts. And while we are worse than beasts, those men are equal to the angels, strangers and pilgrims in relation to the things of this world. Everything about them differs from what we have: clothing, food, housing, shoes, and speech. And if anyone heard them talking and then heard us, he would know very well that they are citizens of heaven, while we are not worthy even of the earth. So whenever someone of high rank comes to them, all his inflated pride proves completely empty. For there the laborer and the man with no experience of worldly affairs sit beside the commander of troops who prides himself on his authority, on the grass, on a humble cushion. For there is no one to praise him or inflate his pride. Instead, the result is like someone visiting a goldsmith and a rose garden, receiving some brightness from the gold and the roses. So these visitors too, gaining a little from the splendor of these men, are freed from their former arrogance. And just as someone who goes up to a high place appears tall, however short he may be, so these visitors, coming into the presence of their exalted minds, appear like them as long as they remain there. But when they come down, they are brought low again, descending from that height. A king is nothing among them; a governor is nothing. Just as we laugh when children play at these roles, so they utterly scorn the swollen pride of those who strut about outside. This is clear from the fact that if anyone offered them a kingdom to possess securely, they would never accept it. Yet they would accept it if their thoughts were not fixed on something greater, if they did not regard it as temporary. What, then? Won’t we move toward such great happiness? Won’t we come to these angels? Won’t we receive clean garments and join in the ceremonies of this wedding feast? Will we instead keep begging, in no better condition than the poor in the streets—or rather, in a far worse and more wretched condition? For those who gain their wealth by evil means are much worse than the poor, and it is better to beg than to plunder. The one has an excuse, while the other brings punishment; the beggar does not offend God at all, but the plunderer offends both people and God. And he endures the labor of plundering, while others often reap all the enjoyment of it. Knowing these things, then, let us put aside all greed and eagerly desire the things above, “taking the kingdom by force.” For it is impossible, impossible for anyone who is negligent to enter it. But may God grant that we all become earnest and watchful and attain it, through the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might forever and ever. Amen.