Homilies on Matthew, Homily 80

“Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, a woman came to Him with an alabaster jar of very expensive ointment and poured it on His head as He reclined at the table.” This woman may seem to be the same in all the evangelists, but she is not. In the three, she does seem to me to be the same woman, but in John she is someone else, a woman greatly to be admired, the sister of Lazarus. The evangelist mentioned Simon’s leprosy for a reason: to show what gave the woman the confidence to come to Him. Leprosy was considered a deeply unclean disease, something to recoil from. Yet she saw that Jesus had both healed the man (otherwise He would not have chosen to stay with a leper) and entered his house. So she became confident that He would also easily wipe away the uncleanness of her soul. He also names the city, Bethany, for a reason: so that you may learn that He comes to His passion of His own will. He who had previously escaped through their midst now comes within about fifteen furlongs of them, just when their envy burns most fiercely. So completely had His earlier withdrawal been part of His divine plan. So the woman saw Him, drew confidence from this, and came to Him. For if the woman with the flow of blood, although conscious of nothing like this in herself, still approached Him trembling and afraid because of the apparent uncleanness of that natural condition, this woman was much more likely to hesitate and draw back because of her guilty conscience. That is also why she comes to Him after many other women—the Samaritan, the Canaanite, the woman with the flow of blood, and others—because she is conscious of so much impurity in herself. And even then she comes in a house, not in public. While all the others came to Him only for bodily healing, she came solely to honor Him and to set her soul right. She had no bodily affliction at all, and this especially gives us reason to admire her. She did not come to Him as a mere man; if she had, she would not have wiped His feet with her hair. She came to Him as someone greater than any man can be. So she laid the most honored part of her whole body at Christ’s feet: her own head. “But when His disciples saw it, they were indignant,” the account says, “saying, Why this waste? This ointment could have been sold for a great deal and the money given to the poor. But when Jesus became aware of it, He said, Why are you troubling the woman? She has done a good work for me. For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me. In pouring this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told in memory of her.” Where did they get this idea? They often heard their Master saying, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice,” and blaming the Jews for neglecting the weightier matters: justice, mercy, and faith. They had also heard Him speak at length on the mount about giving to the poor. From all this they drew their conclusion and reasoned that if He does not accept whole burnt offerings or the ancient worship, He will be even less willing to accept an anointing with oil. But although they thought this way, He knew her intention and allowed her to do it. Her reverence was indeed great, and her devotion beyond words. So, in this extraordinary condescension, He allowed the oil to be poured even on His head. For if He did not refuse to become man, to be carried in the womb, and to be fed at the breast, why are you surprised that He does not reject this outright? Just as the Father accepted the aroma of meat and smoke, so He accepted the prostitute, accepting her intention, as I have already said. Jacob too anointed a pillar to God, oil was offered in sacrifices, and priests were anointed with ointment. But the disciples, unaware of her purpose, criticized her at the wrong time, and their accusations reveal the woman’s generosity. By saying that it could have been sold for three hundred denarii, they showed how much she had spent on the ointment and how generously she had acted. So He also rebuked them, saying, “Why are you troubling the woman?” And He adds a reason, wishing once again to remind them of His passion: “She did it,” He said, “for my burial.” Then another reason: “For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me”; and, “Wherever the gospel is preached, what this woman has done will also be told.” Do you see how He again foretells the gospel’s spread to the Gentiles? In this way too He consoles them about His death, since after the cross His power would shine so brightly that the gospel would spread to every part of the earth. Who, then, is so wretched as to set himself against so much truth? Look! What He said has come true, and wherever on earth you go, you will see her celebrated. Yet the woman who did this was not distinguished, nor were there many witnesses to her deed. It happened in a house, not in a theater, and that house belonged to a leper, with only the disciples present. 2. Who, then, proclaimed it and spread it everywhere? The power of Him who speaks these words. The noble achievements of countless kings and generals, even those whose memorials survive, have fallen into silence. They overthrew cities, surrounded them with walls, erected trophies, conquered in wars, and enslaved many nations, yet they are not known even by hearsay or by name, though they also erected statues and established laws. But that a woman who was a prostitute poured out oil in a leper’s house, in the presence of ten men, is celebrated by everyone throughout the world. So much time has passed, yet the memory of what she did has not faded. Persians and Indians, Scythians and Thracians, Sarmatians, the people of the Moors, and those who live in the British Isles all spread the news of what a woman who had been a prostitute did secretly in a house. The Lord’s faithful love is great. He puts up with a prostitute, a prostitute kissing His feet, moistening them with oil, and wiping them with her hair. He welcomes her and rebukes those who blame her. It would not have been right for a woman showing so much devotion to be driven to despair. But notice this too: how far they had now risen above worldly things, and how eager they were to give to the poor. And why did He not simply say, “She has done a good work,” but first, “Why are you troubling the woman?” So that they would learn not to demand too much at the outset from those who are weaker. That is why He does not judge the act solely on its own, but takes the woman herself into account. Indeed, if He had been laying down a law, He would not have brought the woman into it. He says this so that you may learn that these words were spoken for her sake, so that they would nurture her budding faith instead of damaging it. He teaches us to welcome, encourage, and develop whatever good anyone does, even if it is not quite perfect, and not to demand complete perfection at the beginning. That He Himself would have preferred the money to go to the poor is clear from the fact that He, who had nowhere to lay His head, required a money bag to be carried. But this was a time simply to accept the deed, not to correct it. If someone had asked Him before the woman did it, He would not have approved it. But once she had done it, He looked to one thing alone: that the disciples’ rebuke should not leave her distressed, and that she should leave His care happier and better. Once the oil had been poured out, their rebuke came too late. You should do the same. If you see someone providing sacred vessels and offering them, or eagerly working on some other ornament for the church, on its walls or floor, do not order what has been made to be sold or torn down, or you may destroy his zeal. But if he tells you about it before providing these things, tell him to give the money to the poor. For He too acted as He did to avoid crushing the woman’s spirit, and everything He says is meant to comfort her. Then, because He had said, “She has done it for my burial,” He did not want to distress the woman by mentioning such a thing—I mean His burial and death. See how He reassures her with what follows: “What she has done will be spoken of throughout the whole world.” This both consoled His disciples and comforted and praised her. Everyone, He says, will celebrate her in the future. And now too she has announced my passion in advance by bringing me what was needed for a funeral. So let no one reproach her. Far from condemning her for doing wrong or blaming her for acting improperly, I will not allow her deed to remain hidden. The world will know what was done secretly in a house. For the deed truly came from a reverent mind, fervent faith, and a contrite soul. And why did He promise the woman nothing spiritual, but only lasting remembrance? Through this He also gives her confidence about the other things. For if she has done a good work, it is quite clear that she will receive her proper reward. “Then one of the twelve, the one called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said to them, What will you give me, and I will hand Him over to you?” Then. When? When these words were spoken, when He had said, “It is for my burial.” Not even this stirred him to remorse. Nor was he afraid when he heard that the gospel would be preached everywhere (though these words expressed unspeakable power). Instead, just when women were showing such honor, even women who had been prostitutes, he did the devil’s work. But why do they mention his surname? Because there was another Judas as well. And they do not hesitate to say that he was one of the twelve; they refuse to hide anything at all that seems disgraceful. They could have said simply that he was one of the disciples, since there were others besides the twelve. But instead they add, “of the twelve,” as though saying, “of the first group chosen as the best, of those with Peter and John.” For they cared about one thing alone: the truth, not concealing what had happened. That is why they pass over many of the signs, yet conceal nothing that seems disgraceful. Whether it is a word, a deed, or anything else of this kind, they proclaim it boldly. 3. And this is true not only of these evangelists, but even of John himself, who expresses the higher doctrines. For he, more than anyone, tells us about the insults and disgraceful things done to Him. And see how great Judas’s wickedness is: he comes to them on his own initiative, he does it for money, and for such a sum of money. But Luke says that he conferred with the chief captains. For after the Jews became rebellious, the Romans appointed men over them to maintain order. Their government had now undergone a change in accordance with the prophecy. So he went to these men and said, “What will you give me, and I will hand him over to you? And they agreed with him on thirty pieces of silver. And from that time on he looked for an opportunity to betray Him.” For he was afraid of the crowd and wanted to seize him when he was alone. What madness! How completely greed blinded him! He had often seen Him pass through their midst without being seized, and had seen Him give many demonstrations of His Godhead and power, yet he expected to capture Him. And this while He was using so many words, both fearsome and gentle, like a charm to free him from this evil thought. Even at the supper He did not stop caring for him, but spoke to him about these things until the last day. Yet Judas gained nothing from it. Still, the Lord did not stop doing His part. Knowing this, let us too never stop doing everything we can for those who sin and grow careless: warning, teaching, encouraging, admonishing, and advising them, even if we accomplish nothing. Christ knew beforehand that the traitor was beyond correction, yet He never stopped doing everything He could, admonishing him, threatening him, and grieving over him, always indirectly, never plainly or openly. At the very moment of the betrayal, He even allowed him to kiss Him, but this did him no good. Greed is so great an evil: it made him both a traitor and a sacrilegious thief. Listen, all you who are greedy, you who have Judas’s disease. Listen, and beware of this disaster. For if a man who was with Christ, performed signs, and benefited from so much instruction sank into such an abyss because he was not freed from this disease, how much more easily will you fall prey to this disaster, unless you receive constant care—you who do not even listen to Scripture, who are constantly fastened to the things of this present life? Every day that man was with Him who had nowhere to lay His head, and every day he was taught by deeds and words to have neither gold nor silver nor two coats. Yet he did not learn self-restraint. How, then, do you expect to escape the disease without serious attention and great diligence? For the monster is terrible, terrible; yet if you are willing, you will easily overcome it. This desire is not natural, as those who are free from it make clear. For natural things are common to everyone, but this desire comes only from carelessness. That is where it begins and how it grows, and once it takes hold of those who greedily pursue it, it makes them live contrary to nature. For when they disregard their fellow citizens, their friends, their brothers, their relatives—in a word, everyone—and even themselves along with them, this is living against nature. Clearly, then, the vice and disease of greed, which entangled Judas and made him a traitor, is contrary to nature. And how, you may ask, did he become such a man after being called by Christ? Because God’s call is not compulsory. It does not force the will of those who are unwilling to choose virtue. It does admonish and advise, and does and arranges everything to persuade people to become good; but if some will not persevere, it does not compel them. If you want to learn what made him what he was, you will find that greed ruined him. And how, someone may ask, did this disaster overtake him? Because he grew careless. Such changes come from carelessness, just as changes for the better come from diligence. How many people who were violent are now gentler than lambs? How many who were lustful later became chaste? How many who were once greedy have now given away even their own possessions? And carelessness has produced the opposite changes. Gehazi too lived with a holy man, and he too became corrupt through the same disease. For this disaster is the most grievous of all. From it come grave robbers, murderers, wars and battles; whatever evil you may name comes from it. Such a person is useless in every respect, whether he is needed to lead an army or govern a people—or rather, not only in public affairs but in private life too. If he is to marry, he will choose the vilest woman of all instead of a virtuous one. If he must buy a house, he will choose one that brings in a great deal of rent instead of one suitable for a free man. If he is buying slaves, or anything else, he will choose the worst. And why do I speak of leading an army, governing a people, and managing a household? Even if he is a king, he is the most wretched person of all, a plague on the world, and the poorest of all. For he will feel like an ordinary person, counting himself as just one among everyone else rather than regarding everyone’s possessions as his own. Even while plundering everyone’s goods, he thinks he has less than anyone. For he measures what he has by his desire for what he does not yet possess, and considers the former nothing compared with the latter. That is why someone says, “Nothing is more wicked than a greedy man.” 4. Such a person puts himself up for sale and goes around as everyone’s enemy. He grieves that the earth produces grain instead of gold, that springs yield streams of water instead of gold, and that mountains yield stone instead of gold. He is annoyed by fruitful seasons and troubled by benefits shared by all. He avoids every pursuit that cannot make money and endures anything that lets him scrape together so much as two obols. He hates everyone, poor and rich alike: the poor because they might come begging, and the rich because he does not have their possessions. He thinks everyone possesses what belongs to him, and resents everyone as though everyone had wronged him. He never knows abundance or experiences satisfaction. He is more wretched than anyone, just as the person who is free from these things and practices self-restraint is the most enviable. For the virtuous person, even if he is a slave or a prisoner, is the happiest of all. No one can harm him, even if everyone in the world gathers together, mobilizes armies and weapons, and makes war on him. But the corrupt and vile person we have described, even if he is a king wearing a thousand crowns, will suffer the worst at the hands of even an ordinary person. Vice is so weak; virtue is so strong. Why, then, do you mourn because you are poor? Why do you wail while keeping a feast? For this really is an occasion for feasting. Why do you weep? Poverty is a festival if you are wise. Why do you lament, little child? For that is what we should call such a person. Did someone strike you? What of it? He made you better able to endure. Did he take away your money? He removed the greater part of your burden. Did he strip you of your honor? Again you tell me of another kind of freedom. Listen even to those outside the faith who teach wisdom about these things and say, “You have suffered no harm if you pay no attention to it.” Has he taken away your great house with its enclosed grounds? Look, the whole earth lies before you, along with the public buildings, whether you want them for enjoyment or for use. And what is more pleasing or more beautiful than the expanse of Heaven? How long will you remain poor and needy? No one can be rich without wealth in his soul, just as no one can be poor without poverty in his mind. For if the soul is nobler than the body, the less noble parts cannot make it conform to themselves. Instead, the noble part draws the less noble parts to itself and changes them. In the same way, when the heart is injured, it affects the whole body accordingly. If its condition is disordered, it harms everything; if it is properly balanced, it benefits everything. And if any of the other parts becomes diseased while the heart remains healthy, it easily drives the evil out of those parts as well. To make what I am saying still clearer, tell me: what use are green branches when the root is withering? And what harm is there in the leaves above withering while the root is healthy? So it is here: money is no use when the soul is poor, and poverty does no harm when the soul is rich. And how, someone may ask, can a soul be rich when it lacks money? That is when it can be rich most of all; that is also when it usually is rich. For as we have often shown, the sure proof of being rich is to despise wealth and need nothing, while the proof of poverty is to be in need. And since someone can more easily despise money in poverty than in wealth, it is quite clear that poverty is more likely to make a person rich. Surely everyone can see that the rich man sets his heart on money more than the poor man, just as the drunk is thirstier than someone who has had enough to drink. His desire is not the kind that excess can quench; on the contrary, excess naturally inflames it. Fire too burns most fiercely when it receives more fuel, and the tyranny of wealth grows strongest when you throw more gold into it. If, then, wanting more is a mark of poverty, and the person who possesses riches is like this, he is especially poor. Do you see that the soul is poorest when it is rich, and rich when it is poor? If you like, let us also test this reasoning with people. Suppose there are two men, one with ten thousand talents and the other with ten, and we take these possessions away from both. Who will grieve more? The one who has lost ten thousand. But he would not grieve more unless he loved it more. If he loves more, he desires more; and if he desires more, he is poorer. For we desire most what we lack most, since desire comes from need. Where there is satisfaction, there can be no desire. We are thirstiest when we most need a drink. I have said all this to show that if we are watchful, no one can harm us, and that the harm comes from ourselves, not from poverty. So I urge you to make every effort to rid yourselves of the plague of greed, so that we may both be wealthy here and enjoy the eternal good things. May God grant that we all attain them through the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.