Homilies on Matthew, Homily 86

“And Jesus stood before the governor; and the governor asked Him, ‘Are You the king of the Jews?’ And Jesus said to him, ‘You say so.’ And when He was accused by the chief priests and elders, He answered nothing.” Do you see what He is asked first—the very thing they kept bringing up in every possible way? Since they saw that Pilate paid no attention to matters of the law, they turned their accusation toward charges against the state. They did the same with the apostles, constantly bringing up these things and saying that they were going around proclaiming a certain Jesus as king, speaking of Him as a mere man and casting suspicion on them as people trying to seize power. This makes it clear that both the tearing of the garment and the astonishment were a pretense. They staged everything and pressed every point to bring about His death. This, at any rate, was what Pilate asked Him then. What did Christ say? “You say so.” He acknowledged that He was a king, but a heavenly king, as He stated more clearly elsewhere when He answered Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world,” so that neither they nor Pilate would have an excuse for accusing Him of such things. And He gives a reason that cannot be disputed: “If I were of this world, My servants would fight to keep Me from being handed over.” This, I say, was why He both paid the tax and commanded others to pay it, and why He fled when they wanted to make Him king: to refute this suspicion. Then why, someone may ask, did He not bring these things up at that time, when He was accused of trying to seize power? Because although they had countless proofs from His deeds of His power, His meekness, and His gentleness, they were willfully blind, acted unjustly, and the court was corrupt. For these reasons He gives no reply and remains silent, though He answers briefly when the high priest puts Him under oath and when the governor questions Him (so that His continual silence will not earn Him a reputation for arrogance). But He no longer says anything in answer to their accusations, because He was no longer likely to persuade them. Long ago, the prophet declared this very thing when he said, “In His humiliation His judgment was taken away.” The governor was amazed at this, and indeed it was astonishing to see Him showing such great restraint and remaining silent when He had countless things to say. They did not accuse Him because they knew of anything evil in Him, but only out of jealousy and envy. After all, once they had produced false witnesses, why did they keep pressing their case when they had nothing to say? And when they saw that Judas was dead and that Pilate had washed his hands of it, why were they not struck with remorse? Even at that very time He did many things to bring them back to their senses, but none of them changed their ways. What, then, does Pilate say? “Do You not hear how many things these people testify against You?” He wanted Him to defend Himself and be acquitted, which is why he said this. But since He answered nothing, Pilate came up with another plan. What was it? They had a custom of releasing one of the condemned, and he tried to save Him by this means. For if you are unwilling to release Him as innocent, then pardon Him as guilty for the sake of the feast. Do you see how the order is reversed? Usually the people petitioned on behalf of the condemned, and the rulers granted the request. But now the opposite has happened: the ruler petitions the people. Even this does not soften them. Instead, they grow more savage and bloodthirsty, driven into a frenzy by envy. They had no grounds for accusing Him, even though He remained silent. Even then, His many righteous deeds refuted them, and by remaining silent He defeated those who were saying ten thousand things and raging. “And while he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, saying, ‘Have nothing to do with this righteous man, for I have suffered many things today in a dream because of Him.’” See what happens again—something that should have been enough to bring them all to their senses. Along with the evidence of His deeds, the dream was no small matter either. And why did Pilate not see it himself? Either because she was more worthy, or because, if he had seen it, he would not have been believed as readily, or would not even have told anyone about it. So it was arranged that his wife should see it, so that everyone would know about it. And she does not simply see it; she also suffers many things, so that his feelings for his wife might make him more reluctant to commit the murder. The timing also contributed a great deal, for she saw it that very night. But someone may say that it was not safe for him to release Him, because they said He made Himself a king. Then he should have looked for evidence, a basis for conviction, and all the unmistakable signs of an attempt to seize power: for instance, whether He had raised troops, collected money, made weapons, or attempted anything else of the kind. Instead, he lets himself be swept along without judgment. That is why Christ does not clear him of blame when He says, “The one who hands Me over to you has the greater sin.” So it was out of weakness that he gave in, had Him scourged, and handed Him over. Pilate, then, was cowardly and weak, but the chief priests were wicked and criminal. Since he had found a way out—the law of the feast that required him to release a condemned person—what did they devise to counter it? “They persuaded the crowd,” it says, “to ask for Barabbas.” 2. See how much care he takes to free them from blame, and how hard they work to leave themselves not even the slightest excuse. Which was right: to release the acknowledged criminal, or the man whose guilt was in question? For if acknowledged offenders were eligible for release, those whose guilt was doubtful were much more so. Surely this man did not seem worse to them than acknowledged murderers. That is why it does not simply say that they had a robber, but a notorious one—that is, a man infamous for wickedness, who had committed countless murders. Yet they preferred even him to the Savior of the world. They respected neither the season because it was holy, nor the laws of humanity, nor anything else of the kind. Envy had utterly blinded them. And beyond their own wickedness, they also corrupted the people, so that they might suffer the most extreme punishment for deceiving them as well. Since they ask for the other man, he says, “What, then, shall I do with the Christ?” By giving them the power to choose, he wanted to put them to shame, so that at least out of shame they might ask for Him, and the whole act might be their own generous gift. For although saying that He had done no wrong made them more argumentative, asking that He be spared out of humanity was a persuasive appeal they could not reasonably reject. But even then they said, “Crucify Him.” He said, “Why, what evil has He done?” But they cried out all the louder, “Let Him be crucified.” When he saw that he was getting nowhere, he washed his hands, saying, “I am innocent.” Why, then, did you hand Him over? Why did you not rescue Him, as the centurion rescued Paul? That man too knew that he would please the Jews, and an uprising and a disturbance had broken out on Paul's account. Nevertheless, he stood firm against everything. But Pilate did not. He was extremely cowardly and weak, and all of them were corrupt together. Neither did he stand firm against the crowd, nor did the crowd stand firm against the Jews, and in every way they were left without an excuse. For they “cried out all the louder,” that is, they kept increasing their cries: “Let Him be crucified.” They wanted not only to put Him to death, but also to have Him put to death on a charge of wickedness. Although the judge contradicted them, they kept shouting the same thing. Do you see how many things Christ did to bring them back to their senses? Just as He often held Judas back, He also restrained these men, both throughout His Gospel and at the very time of His condemnation. Surely, when they saw the ruler and judge washing his hands of it and saying, “I am innocent of this blood,” both his words and his actions should have moved them to remorse. So should the sight of Judas having hanged himself, and of Pilate himself begging them to take another man in His place. For when the accuser and traitor condemns himself, and the one passing sentence disclaims the guilt, and such a vision appears that very night, and the judge pleads for Him to be spared even as a condemned man, what defense will they have? Even if they were unwilling to accept His innocence, they still should not have preferred a robber to Him—a man acknowledged to be a robber, and a very notorious one. What, then, did they do? When they saw the judge washing his hands and saying, “I am innocent,” they cried out, “His blood be on us and on our children.” Then at last, after they had passed sentence against themselves, he gave in and allowed everything to be done. See their great madness here too. This is what passion and wicked desire are like. They do not let people see anything that is right. Granted that you curse yourselves; why do you bring the curse down on your children too? Nevertheless, the lover of humanity, although they acted with such madness against both themselves and their children, did not enforce their sentence even against them, much less against their children. Instead, He accepted those from both groups who repented and considers them worthy of countless good things. Indeed, Paul himself was one of them, as were the thousands who believed in Jerusalem; for it says, “You see, brother, how many thousands of Jews there are who have believed.” And if some continued in their sin, let them blame themselves for their punishment. “Then he released Barabbas to them, but after having Jesus scourged, he handed Him over to be crucified.” And why did he have Him scourged? Either because He had been condemned, or because he wanted to give the judgment its proper form, or to please them. Yet he should have resisted them. Even before this he had said, “Take Him yourselves, and judge Him according to your law.” There were many things that might have held both him and those men back: the signs and miracles, the great patience of the One suffering these things, and above all His indescribable silence. Since He had shown His humanity both by defending Himself and by His prayers, He now shows His exaltedness and the greatness of His nature, both by His silence and by His disregard for what is said. Through all these things He leads them to marvel at Him. But none of these things moved them. 3. For once the powers of reason are overwhelmed, as if by drunkenness or some wild insanity, it is hard for the sinking soul to rise again unless it is very noble. For it is terrifying, terrifying to give way to these wicked passions. That is why we should do everything possible to keep them out and repel them as they enter. Once they have seized the soul and gained control of it, they kindle the flame into a blaze, like fire catching in a forest. So I beg you to do everything you can to keep them from entering. Do not bring every kind of wickedness upon yourselves by comforting yourselves with this callous reasoning: “What does this matter? What does that matter?” Countless evils are born from this. For the devil, depraved as he is, uses great cunning, effort, and self-abasement to ruin people, and he begins his attack on them with relatively trivial things. Notice how he wanted to lead Saul into the superstition of witchcraft. But if he had advised this at the beginning, Saul would not have listened. How could he, when he was even driving such people out? So the devil leads him toward it gently, little by little. When Saul disobeyed Samuel and had the burnt offering offered in Samuel's absence, he was blamed for it and said, “The pressure from the enemy was too great.” And when he should have mourned, he felt as though he had done nothing. Again, God gave him commands concerning the Amalekites, but he broke these too. From there he went on to his crimes against David. Slipping easily and little by little, he did not stop until he reached the very pit of destruction and threw himself in. So too with Cain: the devil did not immediately urge him to kill his brother, since he would not have persuaded him. First he worked on him to offer things of little value to varying degrees, saying, “This is no sin.” Next he kindled envy and jealousy, saying, “There is nothing wrong with this either.” Third, he persuaded him to kill and to deny his murder, and he did not leave him until he had brought him to the crowning act of evil. That is why we must resist the beginnings. Even if the first sins went no further, it would still be wrong to disregard them. But as things are, they also lead to greater sins when the mind is careless. So we must do everything we can to eliminate their beginnings. Do not look simply at the sin's nature and say that it is small. Consider that, when neglected, it becomes the root of great sin. To say something surprising, great sins do not require as much vigilance as small, seemingly insignificant ones. The very nature of the greater sins makes us recoil from them, but little sins make us careless precisely because they are little, and keep us from rousing ourselves wholeheartedly to remove them. That is also why they quickly become great while we sleep. We can see this happen with bodies too. This is also how Judas's great wickedness began. If stealing the money of the poor had not seemed a little thing to him, he would not have been led on to this betrayal. If being taken captive by the desire for human praise had not seemed a little thing to the Jews, they would not have crashed against the rock of becoming Christ's murderers. Indeed, we can see that all evils arise from this. For no one plunges into vice suddenly and all at once. The soul has—yes, it has—an inborn sense of shame and respect for what is right. It would not immediately become so shameless as to throw everything away in a single act. Instead, when it is careless, it perishes slowly and little by little. This is also how idolatry came in: people, both living and dead, were honored beyond measure. This is how idols came to be worshiped; this is how sexual immorality and the other evils came to prevail. Consider this. One person laughed at an inappropriate time; another rebuked him; a third removed his fear by saying, “Nothing comes of this. What is laughing? What can come of it?” This gives birth to foolish joking, which leads to filthy talk, and then to filthy actions. Again, someone else, rebuked for slandering his neighbors, insulting them, and making false accusations against them, dismissed it, saying, “Speaking evil of others is nothing.” By this he produces unspeakable hatred and endless insults; the insults lead to blows, and the blows often lead to murder. 4. From these little things, then, that wicked spirit brings in great sins, and from great sins, despair. He has devised this other snare, which is no less harmful than the first. For sin does not destroy as much as despair does. Someone who has sinned, if he is watchful, quickly repairs what he has done through repentance. But someone who has learned to despair and does not repent consequently misses this chance to make amends, because he does not apply the remedies that repentance provides. And he has a third terrible snare: giving sin an appearance of devotion. Where has the devil succeeded in deceiving people to such a degree? Listen, and beware of his schemes. Through Paul, Christ commanded “that a woman not leave her husband,” and that they “not deprive one another, except by consent.” But some women, supposedly out of a love of sexual abstinence, have withdrawn from their own husbands as though they were doing something devout, and have driven them to adultery. Now consider what an evil it is that, after undergoing so much hardship, they should be blamed for committing the greatest injustice, suffer extreme punishment, and drive their husbands into the pit of destruction. Others, again, abstaining from certain foods as part of a rule of fasting, have gradually gone so far as to loathe them, which even in itself brings very great punishment. This happens when people cling to their own prejudices contrary to what the Scriptures approve. Those among the Corinthians also thought it was a mark of perfection to eat everything without distinction, even forbidden things. Yet this was a mark of the utmost lawlessness, rather than perfection. That is why Paul rebukes them so earnestly and declares them worthy of extreme punishment. Others, again, think wearing long hair is a sign of piety. Yet this is among the things forbidden and brings great disgrace. Again, others pursue excessive sorrow for their sins as something beneficial. Yet this too comes from the devil's tricks, as Judas showed: it was because of this that he even hanged himself. That is why Paul, too, feared that something like this might happen to the man who had committed sexual immorality, and urged the Corinthians to rescue him quickly, “so that such a person may not perhaps be swallowed up by excessive sorrow.” Then, indicating that such an outcome comes from the snares of that wicked one, he says, “So that Satan may not gain an advantage over us, for we are not ignorant of his schemes,” meaning that he attacks us with great cunning. If he fought against us plainly and openly, victory would be readily won and easy. Or rather, even now, if we are watchful, victory will be readily won. For God has armed us against each of these methods. To persuade us not to disregard even these little things, hear the warning He gives us: “Whoever says to his brother, ‘You fool,’ will be in danger of hell.” And anyone who has looked with lustful eyes is an adulterer in the fullest sense. He pronounces a woe on those who laugh, and everywhere He removes the beginnings and seeds of evil, and says that we must give an account of an idle word. That is also why Job applied a remedy even for his children's thoughts. As for not despairing, it says, “Does someone fall and not get up? Does someone turn away and not return?” And, “I do not desire the death of the sinner so much as that he should turn and live.” And, “Today, if you are willing to hear His voice.” Many other such things, both sayings and examples, are set out in Scripture. And so that you may not be ruined under the guise of godly fear, hear Paul saying, “So that such a person may not perhaps be swallowed up by excessive sorrow.” Knowing these things, then, let us use the wisdom drawn from the Scriptures as a barrier across every path that leads the unwary astray. Do not say, “What does it matter if I gaze curiously at a beautiful woman?” For if you commit adultery in your heart, you will soon dare to commit it in the flesh. Do not say, “What does it matter if I pass this poor man by?” For if you pass this man by, you will pass the next one by as well; and if that one, then the third. Again, do not say, “What does it matter if I desire my neighbor's possessions?” For this—this—caused Ahab's ruin. Although he would have paid a price, he still took it from someone unwilling to sell. A person should buy by persuasion, rather than by force. But if the man who would have paid a fair price was punished so severely because he took from someone unwilling, what punishment will the man not deserve who does not even do this, but takes by violence from someone unwilling—and does so while living under grace? So, to escape punishment, let us keep ourselves entirely free from all violence and plunder, guard against the sources of sins as well as the sins themselves, and devote ourselves diligently to virtue. For in this way we will also enjoy the eternal good things through the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.