Homilies on the Gospel of John 37

This again is the second sign which Jesus did, having come out of Judaea into Galilee.

After these things there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

Just as in mines of gold none of those skilled in these matters would endure to overlook even the tiniest vein, seeing that it works up much wealth;

so also in the divine Scriptures it is not without loss to pass by one iota or one tittle;

but all things must be searched out.

For all things were spoken by the Holy Spirit, and there is nothing superfluous in them.

Consider, then, even here what the Evangelist says:

'This again is the second sign which Jesus did, having come out of Judaea into Galilee.'

For neither did he add the word 'second' simply, but he still exalts the marvel of the Samaritans, showing that even when a second sign had been done, these who had beheld it had not yet reached the height of those who had seen nothing.

'After these things there was a feast of the Jews.'

What feast? It seems to me, that of Pentecost.

'And Jesus went up to Jerusalem.'

Continually at the feasts He frequents the city;

on the one hand, that He might seem to keep the feast together with them, and on the other, that He might draw to Himself the guileless multitude.

For especially in those days the simpler-minded folk flocked together.

Now there is at Jerusalem, by the sheep gate, a pool, which in Hebrew is called Bethesda, having five porches.

In these there lay a great multitude of the sick, of the lame, the blind, the withered, waiting for the moving of the water.

What is this manner of healing? What mystery does it hint at for us? For these things were not written simply nor at random, but they sketch out for us the things to come as in an image and type, so that the exceeding strangeness, arriving unexpectedly, might not harm among the many the power of faith.

What does it sketch out? A baptism was to be given, having great power and a most mighty gift, a baptism that cleanses all sins and makes the dead into the living.

Just as, then, these things are prefigured as in an image by the pool and by many other things.

And first indeed He gave water, cleansing the defilements of bodies, and pollutions that were not real but only seemed to be such, as those from mourning for the dead, those from leprosy, those from other such things.

And one may see many things that came to pass through water under the Old Covenant, for this same reason.

But nevertheless let us now proceed to what is more pressing.

First then, as I said before, He causes bodily defilements, and next also various infirmities, to be loosed through water.

For God, wishing to lead us nearer to the gift of baptism, no longer heals mere defilements only, but also diseases.

For the images nearer to the truth—both in the case of baptism, and of the Passion, and of the rest—were clearer than the more ancient ones.

For just as those near the king are more splendid than the spearmen who are far off,

so too it came to pass in the case of the types.

And an angel came down and troubled the water, and put into it a healing power, so that the Jews might learn that much more the Master of the angels is able to heal all the diseases of the soul.

But just as here it was not simply the nature of the waters that healed (for otherwise this would have happened continually),

but it was by the working of the angel;

so also in our case it is not simply the water that works, but when it has received the grace of the Spirit, then it looses all our sins.

Around this pool there lay a great multitude of the sick, blind, lame, withered, waiting for the moving of the water.

But at that time the infirmity became a hindrance to him who wished to be healed;

yet now each one is master to come forward.

For it is not an angel that troubles the water, but the Master of the angels who works all things.

'Now I have no man to put me in when I am ill;

while I am coming to go down, another goes down before me.'

But even if the whole world should come, the grace is not consumed, nor is the working spent, but it remains the same, and just such as it was before this.

And just as the rays of the sun give light each day, and are not consumed, nor does their light become less because of the abundant supply;

so, and much more, the working of the Spirit is in no way lessened by the multitude of those who enjoy it.

And this happened so that those who had learned that in water it is possible to heal diseases of the body, and who had been long trained in this, might readily believe that it can also heal diseases of the soul.

And why then did Jesus, passing by all the others, come to the man who had had his infirmity for thirty-eight years? And why also does He ask, 'Wilt thou be made whole?' Not that He might learn (for that would have been superfluous), but that He might display the man's endurance, and that we might know that for this reason, passing by the others, He came to this one.

What then does the sick man say? He answered Him and said, 'Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is troubled;

but while I am coming, another goes down before me.'

For this reason He asked, 'Wilt thou be made whole?'—that we might learn these things.

And He did not say to him, 'Wilt thou that I heal thee?' for the man had as yet imagined nothing great concerning Him;

but rather, 'Wilt thou be made whole?' Astonishing is the endurance of the paralytic;

for thirty-eight years, and expecting each year to be delivered from his disease, he kept waiting there and did not depart.

For if not the things past, at least the things to come, were they not sufficient—unless he had been enduring—to draw him away from the place? But consider with me how likely it was that the other sick folk there too were watchful.

For the time was not evident at which the water was troubled;

but the lame and the maimed were able to keep watch;

yet the blind—how did they see? Perhaps from the ensuing commotion they learned this.

Let us be ashamed, therefore, let us be ashamed, beloved, and let us groan over our great sloth.

Thirty-eight years that man spent waiting, and did not obtain what he wished, and yet did not depart;

and he obtained it not—yet not through his own

negligence, but being wronged by others and suffering violence, and not even so did he grow numb;

but we, if we should wait earnestly for ten days entreating on behalf of some matter, and do not obtain it, we thereafter shrink from employing the same zeal.

And upon men indeed we wait for so long a time, serving as soldiers and toiling, and rendering slavish services, and often at the very end falling short even of the very hope;

but toward our Master, where it is altogether possible to receive a recompense far greater than the labors (for 'hope maketh not ashamed,' He says), we cannot bear to wait with the fitting zeal.

And of how much punishment are these things worthy? For even if it were possible to receive nothing, would not this very thing—to converse continually with Him—be worthy to be esteemed as ten thousand good things? But is unceasing prayer laborious? And tell me, what of the things of virtue is not laborious? Indeed, this very thing, He says, is full of much perplexity: that to vice pleasure is allotted, but to virtue toil.

And I think that many inquire into this.

What then is the cause? God gave us from the beginning a life free from cares and delivered from toils;

we did not use the gift as we ought, but were perverted by idleness, and fell out of paradise.

For this reason He thereafter made our life laborious, as it were making His defense to the race of men, and saying:

'I gave you to live in delight from the beginning, but you became worse through the ease;

for this reason I thereafter commanded that toils and sweat be laid upon you.'

But since not even that toil restrained him, He gave again a law having many commandments, as though putting fetters and shackles upon a hard-mouthed horse, so as to check its prancings;

for so also do the horse-breakers.

For this reason life is laborious, since not to toil is wont to corrupt us.

For our nature does not endure to be idle, but readily inclines toward vice.

For let us suppose that the temperate man needed no toils, nor did he who succeeds in every other virtue, but that men accomplished all things while asleep;

in what should we then have employed that ease? Would it not have been toward pride and arrogance? But why, one says, is much pleasure yoked to vice, but much toil and sweat joined to virtue? And what favor would you have had, or from whom would you have received a reward, if the matter were not laborious? For even now I can point to many who by nature hate intercourse with women, and flee, as loathsome, association with them;

shall we then call these men temperate, or crown them, tell me, and proclaim them victors? By no means.

For temperance is self-control, and the prevailing over pleasures that fight against us.

And in wars too, when the contests are fierce, then the trophies become more splendid—not when no one lifts up his hands against you.

There are also many who are sluggish by nature;

shall we then call these men self-controlled? By no means.

For this reason too Christ, in speaking of three modes of eunuchhood, leaves two of them uncrowned, but brings the one into the kingdom.

'And what need was there of vice?' one says. And I too say this.

Who then is the maker of vice? Who else but the sloth that springs from the free choice of the will? 'But it were fitting,' one says, 'that men should be good only.'

And what is proper to a good man? To be watchful and awake, or to sleep and snore? And why, one says, did it not seem good that a man should succeed without toiling? You speak to me the words of beasts and of gluttons, and of those who make their belly their god.

For that these words are the words of sloth, answer me this:

If there were a king and a general, and then the king were sleeping and drunk, while the general, toiling hard, set up the trophies, to whom would you reckon the victory? And who reaped the pleasure of what was done? Do you see that the soul is more disposed toward those things for which it labored? For this reason too He mingled toils with virtue, wishing to make it truly its own.

For this very reason we admire virtue, even if we do not attain to it;

but vice, even though it be most pleasant, we condemn.

Why do we not admire those who are good by nature more than those who are such by deliberate choice? Because it is just to prefer the one who toils to the one who does not toil.

Do we toil? It is because you did not bear the absence of toil with moderation;

or rather, if one examine the matter with accuracy, idleness in another way too is wont to destroy us and to bring on much toil.

And if you will, let us shut up a man, feeding him only, cramming him with food, neither allowing him to walk about nor sending him out to any work;

but let him enjoy table and couch, and let him revel in luxury continually;

and what could be more wretched than such a life? But it is one thing to work, one says, and another thing to toil.

But it was then possible to work without toils.

And is this possible? one says. Yes, it is possible;

this God also willed, but you did not endure it.

For this reason indeed He set you to work the garden, appointing labor but mingling no toil with it.

For if man had toiled from the beginning, He would not afterward have appointed this as a part of the penalty.

For it is possible both to work and not to be distressed, as the angels do.

For that they do work, hear what he says:

'Mighty in strength, doing His word.'

For now indeed the lack of strength causes much toil;

'For he that has entered into His rest, has himself also rested from his works,' he says, 'as God did from His own;'

not here speaking of idleness, but of freedom from toil.

For God even now still works, as Christ says:

'My Father works until now, and I work.'

For this reason I exhort you, laying aside all the things of slothfulness, to be zealous for virtue.

For of vice the pleasure is brief, but the sorrow is perpetual;

but of virtue the contrary: the joy grows not old, and the toil is but for a season.

And virtue even before the crowns refreshes her own laborer, nourishing him with hopes;

but vice even before the punishment torments her own laborer, throttling and terrifying his conscience, and making him suspect everything.

And yet how much worse are these than any toils, than any sweats!

But if these things were not so, and it were pleasure instead;

what is more worthless than that pleasure? For no sooner does it appear than it flits away and withers, fleeing before it can be grasped, whether you speak of the pleasure of bodies, or of luxury, or of riches;

for they cease not day by day to grow old.

But when there is punishment and torment besides, what could be more wretched than those who pursue this? Knowing these things then, let us endure all things for the sake of virtue.

For so shall we also enjoy the true pleasure, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father be glory, together with the Holy Spirit, unto the ages of ages.