Homilies on the Gospel of John 84

When Jesus had spoken these words, He went forth with His disciples over the brook Kedron, where was a garden, into which He entered, Himself and His disciples.

Death is a fearful thing, and full of much dread;

yet not so to those who know the philosophy that is from above.

For he who knows nothing certain concerning the things to come, but deems the matter to be some dissolution and ending of life, with reason shudders and is afraid, as one passing into non-existence.

But we, having by the grace of God learned the hidden and secret things of His wisdom, and deeming the matter to be a journeying abroad, would not be

justified in trembling, but rather in rejoicing and being of good cheer, because, having left this perishable life, we are passing on to another far better and more glorious, and one that has no end.

These very things then Christ also teaches by His deeds, coming to His Passion not by force and constraint, but willingly.

These things, he says, Jesus spoke, and went forth over the brook Kedron, where was a garden, into which He entered, Himself and His disciples.

And Judas also, who betrayed Him, knew the place; for Jesus oftentimes resorted thither with His disciples.

At midnight He journeys, and crosses a river, and hastens to come to the place known to the traitor, thus cutting short the labor of those who plotted against Him, and delivering them from all trouble, and showing His disciples that He comes willingly to the matter;

which was especially able to console them;

and He sets Himself as it were in a prison in the garden.

What do you say? Nay, He was conversing with the Father;

why then do you not say that, having ceased from prayer, He came there? Because it was not prayer, but a discourse made for the sake of the disciples.

And His disciples entered into the garden.

So thoroughly had He freed them from fear, that they no longer resisted, but even entered into the garden.

But how did Judas come thither? Or whence had he learned to come there? From this it is plain, that Jesus for the most part passed the night out of doors.

For had He been passing the time indoors, Judas would not have come to the desert place, but to the house, expecting to find Him there asleep.

But lest, hearing of a garden, you should think that He was hiding Himself, he added that Judas knew the place;

and not simply so, but that He had often resorted thither with His disciples.

For He often withdrew with them privately, discoursing on necessary matters, and on things which it was not lawful for others to hear.

And this He does especially on mountains and in gardens, ever seeking a place free from tumult, that the mind might not be distracted from the hearing.

But Judas, having taken the band, and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees, comes thither.

And these had oftentimes at other times sent to seize Him, but were not able.

Whence it is plain, that then too He gave Himself up willingly.

And how did they persuade the band? They were men that were soldiers, practiced in doing everything for money.

But Jesus, knowing all the things that were coming upon Him, went forth, and says to them:

Whom seek ye? That is, He did not wait to learn these things from their coming, but, undisturbed, as knowing all these things, He both spoke and acted thus.

But why do they come with weapons, when they were about to seize Him? They feared those who followed Him;

and on this account also they came upon Him at an unseasonable hour of the night.

And going forth He says to them:

Whom seek ye? And they say, Jesus of Nazareth.

Have you seen His irresistible power, how, being in their midst, He blinded their eyes? For that it was not the darkness which was the cause, the evangelist showed by saying that they had lanterns.

But if there were lanterns, at least from the voice they ought to have known Him;

and if even those knew Him not, how did Judas fail to know Him, who was continually with Him? For he too stood with them, and knew nothing more, but even fell backward with them.

And Jesus did this to show that they were not only unable to seize Him, but could not even see Him, though He was in their midst, unless He Himself permitted it.

Again He says to them, Whom seek ye? Oh, their folly!

His word had cast them backward, and not even so did they turn back, though they had learned so great a power, but again they set upon the same men.

Since therefore He had fulfilled all that was His to do, then at last He gives Himself up, and says to them:

And Judas also, who betrayed Him, was standing there.

Mark the gentleness of the evangelist, how he does not revile the traitor, but relates what came to pass, being anxious to show one thing only, that the whole took place by Jesus' own permission.

Then, that no one might say that He Himself had brought them to this, by delivering Himself up and making Himself known to them, having displayed all those things which were sufficient to beat them back, since they persisted in their wickedness and had no excuse, then at last He gave Himself into their hands, saying:

to let these go, showing His loving-kindness toward them even to the last hour.

For if you seek Me, He says, let you have nothing in common with these.

For lo, I give up Myself.

That the saying might be fulfilled, which He spoke, that Of them I have lost none.

But by 'loss' here He means not that of death, but that eternal loss.

Yet the evangelist takes it also of the present case.

But one might marvel how they did not seize the disciples also along with Him and cut them down, especially when Peter had provoked them by what he did to the servant.

What then held them back? No one else, but the power that had cast them backward and laid them on the ground. And this the evangelist too made plain, that it was not of their own will, but of the power and sentence of Him who was seized, when he added:

That the saying might be fulfilled, which He spoke, that None of them perished.

So Peter, taking courage from this voice and from the things already done, arms himself against those who had come upon them.

And how is it, one asks, that he who was commanded to have no scrip, no two coats, has a sword? It seems to me that, fearing this very thing, he had made himself ready long before.

But if you say, How is it that he who was commanded not to strike becomes a slayer of men? First of all, he was chiefly bidden not to avenge himself;

and here he did not avenge himself, but the Master.

And besides, they were not yet in any way perfect and complete.

But if you would see Peter behaving with true philosophy, you shall see him afterwards wounded, and bearing it meekly, and suffering countless dreadful things, and not being provoked.

But Jesus here also works a miracle, at once teaching that we must do good to those who do us evil, and revealing His own power.

To the one then He restored the ear, but to Peter He says, All they that take the sword shall perish by the sword.

Just as He also did at the washing-basin, slackening his vehemence by a threat;

But the evangelist adds the name of the servant, since what took place was very great, not only that He healed him, but that He restrained the one who had come against Him, and who a little later was about to strike Him, and also checked the war which was from this point about to be kindled against the disciples.

For this reason too the evangelist set down the name, so that those who read at that time might be able to inquire and search out, whether the things that happened had really taken place.

Nor does he say without purpose that it was the right ear;

but it seems to me that, wishing to tell of the impetuosity of the Apostle, he shows that he had almost rushed at the very head.

But Jesus restrains him not by a threat only, but also consoles him by other words, saying:

The cup which the Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it? showing that what took place was not of their power, but of His own permission;

and making it plain that He is not any adversary of God, but obedient to the Father even unto death.

Then, at last, Jesus is seized, and they bound Him.

Why to Annas? Out of their delight they made a public parade of what was done, as though they had set up a trophy of victory.

Now this man was the father-in-law of Caiaphas.

And this Caiaphas was the one who had counselled the Jews that it was expedient that one man should die.

Why does the Evangelist again remind us of the prophecy? To make plain that these things were taking place for our salvation.

And so great was the surpassing power of the truth, that even its enemies proclaimed it beforehand.

For lest the hearer, on hearing of the bonds, should be troubled, he calls to mind that prophecy, that His death was salvation for the whole world.

And Peter followed, and so did the other disciple.

Who is the other disciple? It is he himself who wrote these things.

And for what reason does he not name himself? For when he leaned upon the breast of Jesus, he naturally hid himself.

But now, for what reason does he do this? For the same reason.

For here too he relates a great achievement, that when all the rest had fled away, he alone kept following.

For this reason he hides himself and sets Peter before himself.

Yet he was constrained to mention himself now, that you might learn that he relates what happened in the courtyard more accurately than the others, inasmuch as he was within.

And observe how he cuts short his own praise.

For lest anyone should say, How is it that, when all had withdrawn,

this man entered even further in than Simon? he says, Because he was known to the high priest.

So that no one should marvel that he followed, nor proclaim him for his manly courage.

But that other was the marvel, the deed of Peter, that being so fearful he yet came even as far as the courtyard, when the rest had withdrawn.

Now his coming there was of love;

but his not entering within was of anguish and fear.

For this reason the Evangelist recorded these things also, paving the way for the defence of the denial.

For he does not set it down as some great thing concerning himself, that he was known to the high priest;

but since he had said that he alone entered in with Jesus, lest you should think the matter was of some lofty resolve, he sets down the reason as well.

And that Peter too would have entered, had he been permitted, he made clear by what follows.

For as soon as the other went out and bade the doorkeeper bring him in, Peter straightway entered.

But why did he not bring him in himself? He was clinging to Christ, and kept following Him.

For this reason he bade the woman bring him in.

What then said the woman? Art thou also one of this man's disciples? And he said, I am not.

What sayest thou, O Peter? Didst thou not say but lately, that even if I must lay down my life for Thee, I will lay it down? What then has happened, that thou canst not endure even a doorkeeper's question? For was it a soldier who asked? Was it one of those who had seized Him? It was a mean and lowly doorkeeper, and not even her question was insolent.

For she did not say, Thou art a disciple of the deceiver and destroyer, but, Of this man;

which was rather the mark of one who pitied and was moved to compassion.

But Peter could bear none of these things.

And the words, Art thou also, were spoken for this reason, because John was within;

so gently did the woman converse.

But he was aware of none of these things, nor took them to heart, neither the first time, nor the second, nor even the third, but only when the cock crew;

and not even this brought him to his senses, until Jesus looked upon him bitterly.

And he himself stood warming himself with the servants of the high priest;

but Christ was held within, bound.

These things we say, not accusing Peter, but demonstrating the truth of the words spoken by Christ.

The high priest then asked Christ concerning His disciples and His teaching.

Though he had continually heard Him speaking publicly in the temple and teaching with boldness, now he wishes to learn.

For since they had no charge to bring, they asked perhaps concerning the disciples, where they were, and for what purpose He had gathered them, and with what intent, and on what terms.

And this he said, as if wishing to convict Him of being a seditious innovator, on the ground that no one else gave heed to Him but those men alone, as though it were some evil workshop.

What then said Christ? Overturning this, He says:

I spoke openly to the world, not privately to my disciples;

I taught openly in the temple.

What then? Did He say nothing in secret? He did indeed speak, but not, as these men supposed, out of fear and forming conspiracies, but wherever the things spoken were above the understanding of the multitude.

Why askest thou Me? Ask those who have heard.

These are not the words of one acting arrogantly, but of one taking courage in the truth of what He had spoken.

Wherefore, ever holding fast to this, He said:

If I bear witness of Myself, My witness is not true; this too He now hints at, wishing out of abundance to establish His testimony as worthy of belief.

For since they had made mention of the disciples as disciples, what says He? Dost thou ask Me concerning My own? Ask My enemies, those who plotted against Me, those who bound Me.

For this is the incontrovertible proof of the truth, when a man calls his very enemies as witnesses to what he says.

What then did the high priest do? Though he ought to have conducted the examination in this way, that he did not do;

but one of the officers who stood by gave Him a blow when He had said these things.

What could be more insolent than this? Shudder, O heaven; be astonished, O earth, at the long-suffering of the Master and the ingratitude of the servants.

And yet what was it that had been said? For He did not speak as one refusing to answer:

Why askest thou Me? but as wishing to cut off all pretext for their ingratitude.

And though, when smitten upon this, He was able to shake and blot out and

remove all things, yet He does none of these;

but He utters words able to dissolve all savagery.

If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil;

that is, If thou art able to lay hold of anything in what I have said, prove it;

but if thou art not able, Why smitest thou Me? Dost thou see the tribunal full of tumult and confusion and wrath and disorder? The high priest questioned Him insidiously and with guile;

but Christ answered directly and as was fitting.

What then should have followed? To refute or to accept what had been said.

But the servant strikes Him.

Thus what took place was not a court of justice, but a conspiracy and a tyranny.

Then, finding nothing further even so, they send Him bound to Caiaphas.

Now Peter was standing and warming himself.

Alas, in how deep a stupor was that fervent and impetuous man held while Jesus was being led away! And after all that had happened, he no longer stirs, but still goes on warming himself, that you may learn how great is the weakness of our nature when God forsakes it.

And being questioned again, he denies.

Then there speaks the kinsman of the servant whose ear Peter had cut off, grieved at what had been done.

'Did I not see you in the garden?' And not even the garden brought him to remembrance of what had happened, nor the great tenderness of affection which there, by means of those words, Christ had shown him; but all these things his anguish cast out.

But why did the evangelists all with one voice record this concerning him? Not to accuse the disciple, but wishing to instruct us how great an evil it is not to commit everything to God but to trust in oneself.

But do you marvel at the Teacher's care, that even while held fast and bound He took much thought for the disciple, raising him up as he lay prostrate by a single look, and drawing him down to tears.

So they lead Him from Caiaphas to Pilate.

And this came to pass so that, even against their will, the multitude of judges might display how well tested the truth was.

Before the cock crowed, He was led to Caiaphas.

By these things the evangelist shows that, though questioned by Caiaphas throughout the whole half of the night, He was convicted of nothing.

Wherefore also he sent Him on to Pilate.

But leaving those matters to the others to relate, he himself tells what follows.

And consider the ridiculousness of the Jews.

Having seized the innocent one and taken up weapons, they do not enter into the praetorium, 'that they might not be defiled.'

And yet what defilement, tell me, is there in setting foot in a court of justice, where wrongdoers pay the penalty? Those who tithe mint and dill did not think themselves defiled by murdering unjustly;

but by merely setting foot in a court they supposed they were defiling themselves.

And for what reason did they not put Him to death themselves, but led Him to Pilate? Chiefly because much of their rule and authority had by now been curtailed, since affairs lay under the Romans.

And besides, they were afraid lest they should afterwards pay the penalty, being accused by Him.

But what is the meaning of, 'that they might eat the Passover'? And indeed He Himself had already kept it on the first day of Unleavened Bread.

Either, then, by 'the Passover' he means the whole feast;

or else that they were then keeping the Passover, while He handed it over one day before, reserving His own slaying for the Preparation, when the ancient Passover also used to take place.

But they themselves, taking up weapons, which was not lawful, and shedding blood, are scrupulous about the place, and bring Pilate out to themselves.

'What accusation do you bring against this man?'

Do you see him freed from their lust for power and their envy? For seeing Him bound and led by so many, he did not think there was an incontestable proof of accusation;

but he asks, saying it was strange that they should snatch away the judgment for themselves, yet entrust the punishment, apart from any judgment, to him.

What then do they say? 'If this man were not an evildoer, we would not have delivered Him up to you.'

For why do you not state the evil deed, but cast a shadow over it? Why do you not prove the wrong? You see that everywhere they shrink from a direct accusation and can say nothing? That Annas questioned Him concerning His teaching, and having heard, sent Him to Caiaphas;

and he in turn questioning Him again, and

finding nothing, sent Him to Pilate.

Pilate says, 'What accusation do you bring against Him?' And not even here do they have anything to say, but they resort to certain conjectures once more.

Hence he himself, being at a loss, says:

'Take Him yourselves, and judge Him according to your law.'

'It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death.'

But this they said, that the word of the Lord might be fulfilled which He spoke, signifying by what manner of death He was about to die.

And how did this—'It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death'—make it clear? Either the evangelist means this, that He was about to be slain not for them only but also for the Gentiles;

or else that it was not lawful for them to crucify.

But if they say, 'It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death,' they say it with reference to that particular season.

For that they did in fact put men to death, and put them to death in another manner, Stephen shows, being stoned;

but they desired to crucify Him, that they might also make a public spectacle of the manner of His end.

But Pilate, wishing to be rid of the burden, does not put off the trial long;

and going in, he questions Jesus and says:

'Are You the King of the Jews?' And He said:

'Do you say this of yourself, or did others tell you this concerning me?' For what reason does Christ ask this? Wishing to unveil the wicked purpose of the Jews.

Now Pilate had indeed heard this from many;

but since they had nothing to say, so as not to make the examination long-drawn-out, He wishes to bring into the open that which was always being bandied about.

And since he had said to them, 'Judge Him according to your law,' wishing to show that the offense was not a Jewish one, they say, 'It is not lawful for us.'

'For He did not sin against our law, but the charge is a common one.'

Perceiving this, then, Pilate, as one who was about to be in danger, says:

'Are You the King of the Jews?' Christ therefore does not ask out of ignorance, but wishing that the Jews should be accused even by him, He says, 'Did others tell you?' Which indeed Pilate, making it plain, said:

'Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests delivered You to me;

what have You done?' Here wishing to clear himself.

Then, since he had said, 'Are You the King?' Jesus, convicting him, says:

'For this you heard from the Jews.'

'For what reason do you not make an accurate examination? They said that I am an evildoer;

ask, what evil have I done?

But this you do not do; you simply string together charges.'

'Do you say this of yourself, or from elsewhere?' Then he, unable at once to say that he had heard it, simply follows the crowd, saying, 'They delivered You to me.'

'It behooves you, then, to ask what You have done.'

What then does Christ say? 'My kingdom is not of this world.'

He lifts Pilate up—who was not exceedingly wicked, nor like those Jews—and wishes to show that He is not a mere man, but God, and the Son of God.

And what does He say? 'If My kingdom were of this world, My servants would have fought, that I should not be delivered to the Jews.'

That which Pilate had all along feared, He now dispelled—the suspicion of usurpation.

Is His kingdom, then, not of this world? Most assuredly it is.

How then does He say, 'It is not'? Not because He does not rule here also, but because He holds His dominion from above, and it is not human, but far greater and more glorious than this.

If, then, it is greater, how was He captured by this one? Willingly, and by delivering Himself up.

But He does not for the present reveal this; but what does He say? 'If I were of this world, My servants would have fought, that I should not be delivered.'

He shows here the weakness of the kingdom that is among us, that it has its strength in servants;

but the kingdom above is sufficient for itself, having need of nothing.

Hence the heretics, taking their occasions, say that He is alien to the Creator.

What then, when He says, 'He came unto His own'? And what, when He says, 'They are not of the world, even as I am not of this world'? In the same way He says also that His kingdom is not from hence, not thereby depriving the world of His providence and governance, but showing, as I have said, that His kingdom is not human nor perishable.

What then does Pilate say? 'Art thou a king then?' Jesus answered:

'Thou sayest that I am a king.'

If then He was begotten a king, so also was He begotten as to all else besides.

So that when you hear that 'As the Father hath life in Himself, so hath He given to the Son also to have life,' think of nothing else than the generation.

'And for this cause came I, that I should bear witness unto the truth.'

That is, that I might speak this very thing, and teach it, and persuade all.

But you, O man, hearing these things, and seeing your Master bound and led about, count the things of this present life as nothing.

For how is it not absurd, if Christ endured so much for your sake,

while you cannot even bear words? Nay, He is spat upon, while you adorn yourself with garments and rings; and if you fail to obtain the good esteem of all, you count life as not worth living.

And He is reviled, He bears mockery, and derisive blows upon the cheek;

while you desire to be honored everywhere, and cannot bear the reproach of Christ.

Do you not hear Paul saying:

'Be ye imitators of me, even as I also am of Christ'? When therefore anyone jeers at you, remember your Master, that with mockery they did homage to Him, and both by words and by deeds they abused Him, and displayed much scornful irony toward Him;

yet He not only did not retaliate, but even requited His adversaries with meekness and forbearance.

Let us then also emulate Him;

for thus shall we be able to be delivered from all insult.

For it is not the one who insults, but the one who is faint-hearted and pained by insults,

he it is who gives insults their power and makes them sting.

For if you are not pained, you have not been insulted.

For the suffering of hard things comes not from those who inflict them, but from those who endure them.

For why are you pained at all? If he insulted unjustly, on this very account you ought not to be indignant, but rather to pity him;

but if justly, all the more ought you to keep quiet.

For just as if someone should address a poor man as rich, the praise has nothing to do with you, but the commendation is rather a mockery;

so if in insulting he should say things that are not so, the reproach again has nothing to do with you.

But if your conscience is convicted by what is said, be not pained at the words, but correct your deeds.

And this I say concerning insults that are true.

Since, if one reproaches you with poverty or low birth, it is again laughable.

For these things are no reproach to the one who hears them, but to the one who speaks them, as one who knows not how to be wise.

But when these things are spoken before many, one says, who know not the truth, the wound becomes unbearable.

Nay, this is most of all bearable, when you have a theater of witnesses praising you, approving you, jeering at that man, and holding him up to ridicule.

For not the one who retaliates, but the one who says nothing, this man is admired by those who have understanding.

But if none of those present has understanding, on this very account laugh him most to scorn, and take your delight in the theater of heaven.

For there all will praise and applaud and approve you.

And one angel suffices in place of the whole world.

And why do I speak of the angels, when the Master Himself shall proclaim you? With these reasonings let us train ourselves.

For it is no defect to keep silence when insulted, but on the contrary, to avenge oneself when insulted.

For if it were a defect to bear in silence what is said, Christ would not have said:

'If anyone smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.'

If then he says things that are not so, on this account also let us pity him, because he draws upon himself the punishment and vengeance due to false accusers, becoming unworthy even to read the Scriptures.

For to the sinner God says, 'Why dost thou declare My statutes, and take My covenant in thy mouth? Sitting, thou didst speak against thy brother.'

But if he speaks things that are so, even thus he is pitiable.

Since the Pharisee too spoke things that were so;

yet this man also in no way harmed the one who heard, but even benefited him;

but he deprived himself of countless good things, having suffered shipwreck through this accusation.

So that in both cases it is he who is wronged, not you.

But you, if you are sober, will gain a double profit: both propitiating God by your silence, and being the more moderate, and taking occasion from what is said to correct what has been done, and looking down upon human glory.

For hence it is that pain has arisen for us, because many gape after the opinion

of human things.

So if we are willing to be wise, we shall know well that human things are nothing.

Let us learn then, and reckoning up our own defects, let us accomplish their correction with time, this one in the present month, another in the coming month, and yet another after that, let us appoint ourselves to set right;

and thus, ascending as it were by certain steps, let us attain to heaven by the ladder of Jacob.

For that ladder too seems to me by that vision to hint at this very thing, the ascent by virtue which comes little by little, whereby it is possible to ascend from earth to heaven, using not perceptible steps, but the increase and correction of one's ways.

Let us therefore lay hold of this journeying and this ascent, that having attained the heavens we may enjoy all the good things there, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory unto the ages of ages. Amen.