“Then Jesus comes with them to a place called Gethsemane and says to the disciples, Sit here while I go over there and pray. And He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee with Him and began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Then He says to them, My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow, even to death; stay here and keep watch with me.” Because they clung to Him inseparably, He says, “Stay here while I go away and pray.” For He usually prayed apart from them. He did this to teach us to find silence and deep solitude for our prayers. And He takes the three with Him and says to them, “my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow, even to death.” Why does He not take them all with Him? So that they would not become discouraged; but He takes those who had witnessed His glory. Yet He leaves even these behind: “And He went a little farther and prayed, saying, Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will. And He comes to them and finds them sleeping and says to Peter, What, could you not keep watch with me for one hour? Keep watch and pray that you do not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” He has good reason to rebuke Peter most sharply, although the others had also slept: He wants to make Peter feel this too, for the reason I mentioned before. Then, because the others had said the same thing (for after Peter said—these are the words—“Even if I must die with You, I will not deny You,” it adds, “all the disciples said the same”), He addresses them all, exposing their weakness. For those who wanted to die with Him could not then even stay awake to share His sorrow; sleep overcame them. And He prays earnestly so that this would not seem to be an act. Sweat pours over Him for the same reason, so that the heretics could not say that He was acting out His agony. That is why there is sweat like drops of blood, an angel appeared strengthening Him, and there are a thousand unmistakable signs of fear, so that no one could claim His words were feigned. This was also the reason for His prayer. By saying, “If it is possible, let it pass from me,” He showed His humanity; but by saying, “Nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will,” He showed His virtue and self-control, teaching us to follow God even when nature pulls us back. For since merely showing His face was not enough for the foolish, He also uses words. Again, words alone were not enough; actions were needed too. He joins these to His words so that even the most contentious people may believe that He both became man and died. For if some still disbelieve even with all this, how much more would they have disbelieved without it? See how many things He uses to show the reality of the incarnation: what He says and what He suffers. After that He comes and says to Peter, as the account tells us, “What, could you not keep watch with me for one hour?” They were all sleeping, yet He rebukes Peter, directing His words at him. And the words “with me” are not used without reason. It is as though He had said, You could not keep watch with me for one hour, and will you lay down your life for me? What follows suggests exactly the same thing. For He says, “Keep watch and pray that you do not enter into temptation.” See how He again teaches them to be humble and contrite in mind instead of self-confident, and to entrust everything to God. At one moment He addresses Peter, at another all of them together. To Peter He says, “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to have you all, so that he may sift you all like wheat; but I have prayed for you”; and to all of them together, “Pray that you do not enter into temptation.” In every way He uproots their self-will and makes them earnest. Then, so that His words would not seem entirely condemnatory, He says, “The spirit indeed is ready, but the flesh is weak.” For even if you want to despise death, you will not be able to until God stretches out His hand, because the carnal mind drags you down. And again He prayed in the same way, saying, “Father, if this cannot pass from me unless I drink it, Your will be done,” showing here that He is in complete harmony with God’s will and that we must always follow it and seek it. “And He came and found them asleep.” For besides its being late at night, their eyes were also weighed down by their despondency. And the third time He went and said the same thing, establishing that He had become man. For in the Scriptures, a second and third time especially indicate truth, just as Joseph also said to Pharaoh, “Did the dream appear to you a second time? This happened to confirm the truth and to assure you that this will certainly happen.” So He too said the same thing once, twice, and three times to prove the incarnation. And why did He come the second time? To rebuke them because they were so overwhelmed with despondency that they were not even aware of His presence. Yet He did not rebuke them, but stood a little apart from them, showing their indescribable weakness: even after being rebuked, they could not hold out. But He does not wake them and rebuke them again, so that He would not strike those who had already been struck. Instead, He went away and prayed, and when He comes back again, He says, “Sleep on now and take your rest.” Yet this was the very time they needed to stay awake. But to show that they would not bear even the sight of the dangers, and would flee and abandon Him in terror, that He has no need of their help, and that He must in any case be handed over, He says, “Sleep on now and take your rest; look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.” He shows again that what happens is part of a divine plan. 2. But He does more than this: by saying, “into the hands of sinners,” He also encourages them, showing that this results from their wickedness, not from His being guilty of any charge. “Get up, let us go; look, the one who betrays me is near.” For in every way He taught them that this came about neither from necessity nor from weakness, but from a secret plan. For, as we see, He knew beforehand that Judas would come, and far from fleeing, He even went to meet him. Indeed, “While He was still speaking, look, Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a great crowd with swords and clubs, sent by the chief priests and elders of the people.” What fitting tools for priests! They come against Him “with swords and clubs”! And Judas, the account says, was with them, one of the twelve. Again the evangelist calls him “one of the twelve” and is not ashamed. Now the one who betrayed Him gave them a sign, saying, “The one I kiss is He; hold Him firmly.” Oh, what depravity had taken possession of the traitor’s soul! With what eyes did he look at his Master then? With what mouth did he kiss Him? Oh, accursed purpose! What did he devise? What did he dare? What sort of sign of betrayal did he give? The one I kiss, he says. His Master’s gentleness emboldened him—the very thing that, more than anything else, should have shamed him and left him without any excuse for betraying someone so meek. But why does he say this? Because often, when they had seized Him, He had passed right through them without their knowing it. Even then this would have happened if He Himself had not willed to be taken. At least, it was to teach them this that He then blinded their eyes and Himself asked, “Whom are you looking for?” And they did not recognize Him, though they had lanterns and torches and Judas was with them. After they said, “Jesus,” He says, “I am He” whom you are looking for; and here again, “Friend, why have you come?” For after showing His own strength, He immediately surrendered Himself. But John says that even to the very last moment He continued to rebuke him, saying, “Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?” Are you not ashamed even of the form your betrayal takes? He says. Yet since even this did not stop him, He allowed Himself to be kissed and willingly gave Himself up. And they laid hands on Him and seized Him that night on which they ate the Passover, so fiercely did they seethe with rage and madness. Yet they would have had no power unless He Himself had allowed it. But this does not spare Judas unbearable punishment; it condemns him all the more, because although he had received such proof of His power, mercy, meekness, and gentleness, he became fiercer than any wild beast. Knowing these things, then, let us flee from greed. For that was what drove him to madness then; it trains those caught in it in the most extreme cruelty and inhumanity. For when it makes them despair of their own salvation, how much more does it make them disregard the salvation of the rest of humanity? And this passion is so tyrannical that it sometimes overcomes even the fiercest lust. Indeed, I am deeply ashamed that many have restrained their sexual immorality to save their money, but were unwilling to live chastely and with dignity out of fear of Christ. That is why I say, let us flee from it; for I will never stop saying this. Why, man, do you gather gold? Why do you make your slavery more bitter? Why make your sleepless nights more burdensome? Why make your anxiety more painful? Consider the metals buried in the mines and those in kings’ courts your own. For even if you had that whole pile, you would only keep it; you would not use it. If you have not used what you now possess, but keep away from it as though it belonged to others, how much more would you do so if you had more? For the greedy, the more they pile up around them, the more reluctant they are to spend it. “But I know,” you say, “that these things are mine.” Then your possession exists only in your imagination, not in your enjoyment. But people would fear me, you say. On the contrary, this would make you easier prey for rich and poor alike, for robbers, false accusers, servants, and, in general, everyone who wants to plot against you. For if you want people to fear you, remove the opportunities by which anyone intent on it can get a hold on you and hurt you. Have you not heard the saying that even a hundred men gathered together can never strip a poor, naked man? For his poverty is his greatest protection, which not even the king will ever be able to overcome and take away. 3. Everyone joins in tormenting the greedy man. And why do I say people, when moths and worms wage war against such a man? And why do I speak of moths? The passage of time alone, even when no one troubles him, is enough to do him the greatest harm. What pleasure, then, does wealth bring? For I see its troubles, but you tell me its pleasure. And what are its troubles? you ask. Anxieties, plots, hostilities, hatred, fear; constant thirst and pain. For if someone embraces a young woman he loves but cannot satisfy his desire, he suffers the greatest torment. So does the rich man. For he has abundance and is with her, but cannot fully satisfy his desire. Instead, what a wise man describes happens to him: “A eunuch’s lust to deflower a virgin”; and, “Like a eunuch embracing a virgin and groaning.” All the rich are like this. Why speak of the other things—how such a man displeases everyone: his servants, his laborers, his neighbors, those who manage public affairs, those he has harmed, those he has not harmed, his wife most of all, and his children more than anyone? For he does not raise them as human beings, but treats them more miserably than servants and purchased slaves. And he brings countless occasions for anger, irritation, insults, and ridicule on himself, making himself a public laughingstock. These, then, are the troubles, and perhaps there are more than these; for no one could ever describe them all in words, but experience can set them before us. But tell me what pleasure comes from this. “I appear rich,” he says, “and have a reputation for being rich.” And what pleasure is there in that reputation? It is a grand title that invites envy. I say a title, for wealth is only a name with no reality. “Yet the rich man,” he says, “indulges himself and takes delight in this idea.” He takes delight in things he ought to grieve over. “Grieve? Why?” he asks. Because this makes him useless for every purpose, and cowardly and unmanly in the face of both exile and death, for he regards death as double, longing for money more than for light. Such a man finds no delight even in Heaven, because it produces no gold, or in the sun, because it sends out no golden rays. But there are some, he says, who do enjoy their possessions, living in luxury, gluttony, and drunkenness, spending lavishly. You are telling me about people worse than the first. For these last are above all the ones who have no enjoyment. The first at least keeps away from other evils, bound as he is to a single love. But the others are worse than these: besides what we have said, they bring a crowd of cruel masters upon themselves, serving the belly, lust, drunkenness, and other kinds of excess every day as so many cruel tyrants, keeping prostitutes, preparing expensive feasts, buying parasites and flatterers, pursuing unnatural lusts, and entangling their bodies and souls in a thousand diseases that arise from these things. For they do not spend their possessions on what they need, but on ruining the body and the soul along with it. They act just like someone who decorates himself and thinks he is spending his money on necessities. So the only person who enjoys pleasure and is master of his possessions is the one who uses his wealth for a proper purpose. These others are slaves and captives, for they aggravate both the passions of the body and the diseases of the soul. What kind of enjoyment is this, where there is siege and war and a storm worse than all the raging of the sea? For if wealth finds people foolish, it makes them more foolish; if lustful, more lustful. And what use is understanding to the poor man? you will ask. You are ignorant, as one would expect; for a blind man does not know the benefit of light either. Listen to Solomon saying, “As far as light surpasses darkness, so wisdom surpasses folly.” But how can we teach someone who is in darkness? For the love of money is darkness, allowing nothing that exists to appear as it is, but making it appear otherwise. For just as someone in darkness, even if he sees a golden vessel, a precious stone, or purple garments, thinks nothing of them because he cannot see their beauty, so someone caught in greed does not properly recognize the beauty of the things worthy of our care. Please clear away the mist that rises from this passion, and then you will see the nature of things. But nowhere do these things appear so clearly as in poverty; nowhere are things that seem real but are not so clearly exposed as in self-denial. 4. But oh, the foolish people who even curse the poor and say that poverty disgraces both houses and lives, throwing everything into confusion! For what disgraces a house, I ask you? It has no ivory couch or silver vessels, but everything is made of earthenware and wood. On the contrary, this is a house’s greatest glory and distinction. For indifference to worldly things often leads a person to spend all his free time caring for his soul. So when you see great care lavished on outward things, be ashamed of how disgraceful it is. For the houses of the rich are most lacking in decency. When you see tables covered with draperies and couches inlaid with silver, just as in a theater, just as in a stage display, what could equal this indecency? For which house most resembles the stage and its furnishings—the rich man’s or the poor man’s? Is it not perfectly clear that it is the rich man’s? This house, then, is full of indecency. Which house most resembles Paul’s or Abraham’s? Clearly, the poor man’s. This house, then, is the best adorned and deserves approval. And to learn that this is above all what adorns a house, enter Zacchaeus’s house and learn how he adorned it when Christ was about to enter. For he did not run to his neighbors begging for curtains, seats, and ivory chairs, nor did he bring Laconian hangings out of his closets. Instead, he adorned it with decorations fit for Christ. What were they? “I will give half my possessions,” he says, “to the poor; and whoever I have robbed, I will repay four times over.” Let us adorn our houses this way too, so that Christ may also enter our homes. These are the beautiful curtains; these are made in Heaven, woven there. Where these are, there too is the King of Heaven. But if you adorn your house another way, you are inviting the devil and his company. He also came into the house of Matthew the tax collector. What, then, did this man do? He first adorned himself by his readiness, by leaving everything and following Christ. In the same way, Cornelius adorned his house with prayers and alms; that is why even to this day it shines more brightly than the palace itself. For a house’s squalor does not consist in vessels lying in disorder, an untidy bed, or smoke-covered walls, but in the wickedness of those who live there. And Christ shows this: He is not ashamed to enter such a house if its inhabitant is virtuous; but He will never enter that other house, even if it has a golden roof. So while the former is more magnificent than the palace because it receives the Lord of all, the latter, with its golden roof and columns, is like filthy drains and sewers, because it contains the devil’s vessels. But we have said these things about the grasping and greedy, not about those who use their riches for a useful purpose. For the former show no diligence or care for necessary things, but only for pampering the belly, drunkenness, and other such indecencies; the others care about self-restraint. That is why Christ never entered a magnificent house, but the houses of a tax collector, a chief tax collector, and a fisherman, passing by kings’ palaces and those dressed in soft clothing. So if you too want to invite Him, adorn your house with alms, prayers, supplications, and vigils. These are the decorations of Christ the King; the others belong to mammon, Christ’s enemy. Let no one, then, be ashamed of a humble house if it has these furnishings. Let no rich man pride himself on having an expensive house; instead, let him hide his face and seek these other adornments, abandoning those, so that he may both receive Christ here and enjoy the eternal tabernacles there, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might forever and ever. Amen.
About this book
Homilies on Matthew, Homily 83
0 connections
No connections in this book yet.