Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 31

While He was yet speaking these things to them, behold, a ruler came in and worshipped Him, saying:

My daughter has just now died;

but come and lay Your hand upon her, and she shall live.

The deed caught up with the words, so that the Pharisees were the more put to silence.

For indeed he who came was a ruler of the synagogue, and the grief was a terrible one.

For the child was an only-begotten one, and having reached twelve years of age, it was at the very flower of its youth;

which is the very reason why He also raised it up at once and immediately.

But if Luke says that they came saying:

Do not trouble the Teacher;

we shall say this: that the phrase, 'She has just now died,' belonged to one guessing from the time of the journey, or exaggerating the calamity.

For it is customary with those who make entreaty to magnify their own troubles in their speech and to say something beyond what actually is, so as the more to draw on those whom they supplicate.

But mark his grossness of mind.

For he demands two things of Christ, both that He should come in person and that He should lay on His hand;

which was a sign that he had left her still breathing.

This also that Syrian, Naaman, demanded of the prophet.

For he said, it is written: I thought that he would surely come out, and lay his hand upon it.

For those who are more grossly disposed have need both of sight and of things perceptible to the senses.

And Mark says that He took the three disciples, and so does Luke;

but this one says simply 'the disciples.'

For what reason, then, did He not take Matthew along, and that though he had just now come to Him? In order to cast him into a greater longing, and because he was still more imperfectly disposed.

For it was on this account that He honoured those others, that these might become like them.

But for this one it sufficed for the present to see what took place concerning the woman with the issue of blood, and to be honoured with a place at the table, and with the fellowship of salt.

And when He arose, many followed Him, as at some great marvel, both because of the personage who had come to Him, and because the greater part, being grossly disposed, sought not so much the care of the soul as the healing of the body; and they thronged together, some being urged on by their own sufferings, others eager to become spectators of the correction of the ailments of others;

but as for those who resorted to Him chiefly for the sake of His words and teaching, they were as yet but few.

Yet He did not suffer them to enter into the house, but only the disciples, and not even all of these, everywhere teaching us to thrust aside the glory that comes from the many.

And behold, He says, a woman who had an issue of blood twelve years came up behind, and touched the hem of His garment.

If I only touch His garment, I shall be made whole.

For what reason did she not come to Him with boldness? She was ashamed on account of her affliction, considering herself unclean.

For if she who was in her monthly period was not accounted clean, much more would one afflicted with such a disease have thought this of herself;

for indeed this affliction was accounted by the law to be a great uncleanness.

For this reason she remains hidden and conceals herself.

For not even she herself as yet had the fitting and complete opinion concerning Him;

since otherwise she would not have thought to escape His notice.

And this woman is the first to come forward publicly;

for indeed she had heard that He healed women also, and

that He was going off to the little daughter who had died.

And into her house she did not dare to invite Him, although she was well-to-do;

nor did she approach Him publicly, but secretly, with faith, she touched His garments.

For she did not doubt, nor say within herself:

'Shall I perhaps be delivered from the disease? Or shall I not be delivered?' But taking courage concerning her recovery, thus she came forward.

For she said, it is written, within herself:

If I only touch His garment, I shall be made whole.

For indeed she had seen from what sort of house He had come out—the house of the tax-gatherers—and who they were that followed Him: sinners and tax-gatherers;

and all these things made her full of good hope.

What then does Christ do? He did not permit her to remain hidden, but brings her into the midst and makes her manifest, for many reasons.

And yet some of the insensible ones say that He did this out of love for glory.

'Why then,' one asks, 'did He not permit her to remain hidden?' What are you saying, O foul and utterly abominable one? He who bids others keep silence, who passes over countless miracles unheralded—does He crave glory? For what reason, then, does He bring her forward into the midst? First, He dispels the woman's fear, lest, being pricked by conscience as though she had stolen the gift, she should pass her days in anguish.

Secondly, He corrects her, since she supposed she could escape notice.

Thirdly, He displays her faith to all, so that others too might emulate it;

and He furnishes no lesser a sign than the staunching of the fountains of her blood, namely, the showing forth that He knows all things.

Then, by means of the woman, He sets aright the ruler of the synagogue, who was about to fall into unbelief and thereby to ruin the whole matter.

For indeed those who had come were saying:

'Do not trouble the Teacher, for the little girl is dead';

and those in the house laughed Him to scorn when He said that she was sleeping;

and it was likely that the father too had been affected by some such feeling.

For this reason, remedying this weakness beforehand,

He brings the little woman forward into the midst.

For that that man was among the exceedingly dull of understanding, hear what He says to him:

'Fear not; only believe, and she shall be made whole.'

For indeed He deliberately waited for death to come, and then to arrive, so that the proof of the resurrection might become manifest.

For this reason He also walks more slowly, and converses more at length with the woman, in order that He might allow the girl to die and that those who reported these things might arrive and say:

This indeed the Evangelist too intimates when he notes, saying that, 'While He was yet speaking, there came those from the house, saying:'

'Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher.'

For He wished the death to be believed, lest the resurrection should be suspected.

So too in the case of Lazarus, He tarried a first and a second and a third day.

Therefore, on account of all these things, He brings her forward into the midst, and says:

even as He also said to the paralytic:

For indeed the woman was greatly afraid;

therefore He says, 'Take courage,' and He calls her 'daughter';

for her faith had made her a daughter.

But Luke reports to us yet more things besides these concerning the woman.

For when she had approached, he says, and received her healing, Christ did not immediately call her, but first says:

'Who is it that touched Me?' Then, when Peter and those with him said:

'Master, the multitudes throng You and press upon You, and do You say, Who is it that touched Me?' (which was a very great sign that He was truly clothed in flesh and trod down all vainglory;

for they were not following at a distance, but were pressing about Him on every side;) yet He persisted, saying, 'Someone touched Me;'

'for I perceived power going forth from Me;'

answering in a more palpable manner to the supposition of those who were listening.

And He said these things in order that He might also persuade her to confess of her own accord.

For it was for this reason that He did not immediately reprove her, so that, having shown that He clearly knows all things, He might induce her spontaneously to declare everything, and might prepare her herself to proclaim what had come to pass, and might not, by speaking, seem to be open to suspicion.

Do you see the woman better than the ruler of the synagogue? She did not lay hold, she did not grasp;

but she touched only with the tips of her fingers, and though she came later, she departed healed first.

And that man was bringing the whole physician into his house;

but for her a mere touch sufficed.

For even though she was bound by her affliction, yet she was bound by faith.

And observe how He comforts her, saying:

And yet, if it were for the sake of display that He had drawn her into the midst, He would not have added this;

but at once teaching the ruler of the synagogue to believe, He says these things, and proclaims the woman, and through these words bestows upon her a joy and a benefit no less than the health of her body.

For that He did these things wishing to glorify her, and to set others aright, but not to make Himself illustrious, is clear from this.

For He Himself was likewise going to be marvellous even without this (for His miracles poured around Him thicker than snowflakes, and He had wrought, and was yet going to work, far greater things than this);

but the woman, had this not happened, would have gone away unnoticed, deprived of these great praises.

For this reason, bringing her into the midst, He proclaimed her, and cast out her fear (for she came trembling, it says), and made her take courage, and along with the health of her body He gave her other provisions as well, saying, 'Go in peace.'

And when He had come into the ruler's house, and saw the flute-players and the crowd making a tumult, He said:

'for the little girl is not dead, but sleeps.'

Fine indeed are the tokens of these rulers of the synagogue, who at a death stir up lamentation with flutes and cymbals!

What then does Christ do? All the others He cast out, but the parents He brought in, so that no room might be left for anyone to say that He had healed her by some other means;

and even before the raising He rouses her by His word, saying:

'The little girl is not dead, but sleeps.'

And in many places He does this.

As therefore also upon the sea He first rebukes the disciples;

so here too He casts out the tumult from the minds of those present, at once showing that it is easy for Him to raise the dead (which indeed He did also in the case of Lazarus, saying:

'Lazarus our friend has fallen asleep'), and at the same time teaching them not to be afraid of death;

for it is no longer death, but has now become a sleep.

For since He too was going to die, in the bodies of others He beforehand prepares the disciples to take courage and to bear death with equanimity.

For indeed, once He was present, death was thenceforth a sleep.

But nevertheless they laughed Him to scorn;

yet He was not indignant at being disbelieved concerning the things He was about to work wondrously a little later;

nor did He rebuke their laughter, so that both it, and the flutes, and the cymbals, and all the rest might become a proof of the death.

For since for the most part men disbelieve after the miracles have happened, He forestalls them by His own responses;

which indeed happened also in the case of Lazarus, and in the case of Moses.

'What is this in your hand?'—so that when he should see it become a serpent, he might not forget that it had been a staff before this, but, calling to mind His own word, might be astounded at what was taking place.

And in the case of Lazarus He says:

'Where have you laid him?'—so that those who said, 'Come and see,' and 'He stinks, for he has been dead four days,' might no longer be able to disbelieve that He raised a dead man.

Having therefore seen the cymbals and the crowds, He led them all out, and in the presence of the parents He works the wonder, not introducing another soul, but bringing back the very one that had departed, and rousing her as if from sleep.

And He takes hold of her hand, assuring those who beheld, so that through the sight He might prepare the way for faith in the resurrection.

For the father had said, 'Lay Your hand upon her';

yet He does not lay it on, but rather, taking hold of her, He raises her up, showing that all things are ready to His hand.

And He does not merely raise her up, but also commands that food be given to her, so that what had taken place might not seem to be a phantom.

And He Himself does not give it, but bids others to do so;

just as in the case of Lazarus He also said:

'Loose him, and let him go'; and after this He makes him a partaker of the table.

For indeed He was ever wont to establish both truths, furnishing with all exactness the proof both of the death and of the resurrection.

But do not merely consider the resurrection for me, but also that He charged them to tell no one;

and by all these things be trained above all in this: to be free from pride and vainglory.

Learn too that He cast out those who were wailing, out of the house, and declared them unworthy of such a spectacle;

and do not go out with the flute-players, but remain with Peter and John and James.

For if at that time He cast those out, much more will He do so now.

For then death was not yet clearly shown to have become a sleep;

but now this is clearer even than the sun itself.

But has He not now raised your little daughter? Nay, He will assuredly raise her, and with greater glory.

For that child, having risen, died again;

but your child, if she rise, remains thenceforth immortal.

Let no one, therefore, henceforth wail, nor lament, nor disparage the achievement of Christ.

For indeed He has conquered death.

Why then do you lament to excess? The matter has become a sleep.

Why do you wail and weep? For if even the Greeks did this, they would deserve to be laughed at;

but when the believer behaves unseemly in these matters, what defense is there? What pardon shall there be for those who play the fool in such a way, and that too after so long a time and after so clear a proof of the resurrection? Yet you, as though eager to increase the accusation, bring in even Greek hired mourning-women, kindling the passion and stirring up the furnace, and you do not hear Paul saying:

'What concord has Christ with Belial? Or what part has a believer with an unbeliever?' And even the children of the Greeks, who know nothing about the resurrection, nevertheless find words of consolation, saying:

'for what has happened cannot be undone, nor can it be set right by lamentations';

yet you, who hear things more philosophical and more excellent than these, are you not ashamed to behave more unseemly than they? For we do not even say:

Bear it nobly, since what has happened cannot be undone;

for indeed she will assuredly rise again;

the child sleeps, and is not dead;

she is at rest, and is not lost.

For resurrection shall receive her, and life eternal, and immortality, and an angelic lot.

Do you not hear the psalm saying, 'Return, O my soul, unto your rest, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you'? God calls the matter a benefit, and do you lament? And what more would you have done, had you been an enemy and foe of the departed? For if one must lament, one must lament the devil.

Let him wail, let him lament, because we are journeying toward greater goods.

This wailing befits his wickedness, not you who are about to be crowned and to enter into rest.

For indeed death is a calm harbor.

Consider, then, with how many evils the present life is laden;

call to mind how many times you yourself have cursed the present life.

For matters go on from bad to worse, and from the beginning you were allotted no small sentence of condemnation.

For 'In sorrows shall you bring forth children,' it says;

and, 'In the sweat of your face shall you eat your bread';

and, 'In the world you shall have tribulation.'

But concerning the things there nothing of the sort has been said, but altogether the opposite: that 'Pain, sorrow, and sighing have fled away';

and that 'From the east and the west they shall come, and shall recline in the bosoms of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob';

and that the things there are a spiritual bridal chamber, and bright torches, and a translation to heaven.

Why then do you put the departed to shame? Why do you make others dread and tremble at death? Why do you cause many to accuse God, as though He had wrought great evils? Nay, rather, why after these things do you summon the poor, and beseech the priests to pray? That the departed may go to his rest, you say, that he may find the Judge merciful.

Do you then lament and wail over these things? Surely you are then fighting and warring against yourself, preparing a tempest for yourself over the very things for which he has gone into harbor.

The accusation belongs not to nature, nor to the natural course of the matter;

but it is we who turn everything upside down, who grow soft, who betray our own nobility, and who make the unbelievers worse.

For how shall we discourse to another about immortality? How shall we persuade the pagan, when we fear and shudder at death more than he does? Indeed, many among the Greeks, though knowing nothing about immortality, were crowned when their children departed, and appeared clothed in white, that they might reap the present glory;

may you cease from playing the woman and wailing over the future glory.

But have you no heirs, no successor to your possessions? And what would you rather have — that he be heir of your goods, or of the heavens? Why did you desire that he should inherit the perishable things, which a little later he was destined to leave behind, rather than the things that remain and are unmoved? You have not had him as your heir, but instead of you God has had him;

he became not a joint-heir with his own brethren, but he became a joint-heir with Christ.

'And to whom,' one says, 'do we leave the garments, to whom the dwellings, to whom the slaves and the fields?' To him again, and more securely than if he were alive;

For if barbarians burn up their possessions together with the departed, much more is it just for you to send off his own things along with the one who has died — not that they may become ashes, as with those barbarians, but that you may clothe him thereby with greater glory;

and if he departed as a sinner, that his sins may be loosed;

but if righteous, that there may be an increase of reward and recompense.

But do you desire to see him? Then lead the same life as he, and you shall speedily recover that holy sight.

And along with these things reckon this also, that even if you do not listen to us, by time you will assuredly be persuaded.

But then there is no reward for you;

for the consolation comes from the multitude of days.

But if you are willing now to be wise, you will gain two very great things;

you will both deliver yourself from the evils that are in the meantime, and you will bind on from God a more splendid crown.

For indeed to bear a calamity with meekness is far greater than almsgiving and the other virtues.

Consider that even the Son of God died;

and He indeed for your sake, but you for your own.

And having said, 'If it be possible, let this cup pass from Me,' and being grieved and in agony, He nevertheless did not shun the end, but underwent it, and that with much tragedy.

For neither did He merely endure death, but the most shameful death;

and before the death, scourgings, and before the scourgings, reproaches and mockeries and revilings — training you to bear all things nobly.

But nevertheless, having died and laid aside the body, He took it up again with greater glory, holding out good hopes to you even here.

If these things are no fable, do not lament; if you deem them trustworthy, do not weep;

but if you weep, how shall you be able to persuade the Greek that you believe? (5)

But does what has befallen still seem to you unbearable even so? Then for this very reason it is not fitting to lament him;

for from many such calamities has he been delivered.

Do not, then, envy him, nor look upon him with a grudging eye.

For to ask death for oneself on account of his untimely end, yet to mourn him because he no longer lives — so that he might endure many such trials — is rather the mark of one who envies and grudges.

Do not dwell on this, that he will no longer return to the household, but rather on this, that you yourself will also depart to him a little while hence.

Do not reckon this, that he no longer comes back here, but rather that not even these very things which we see remain such as they are, but these too are being transformed.

For indeed heaven and earth and sea and all things are being refashioned, and then you will receive back your child with greater glory.

And if he departed a sinner, the workings of his wickedness have been brought to a halt; for God would not have snatched him away before repentance, had He known him to be one who would change.

for God would not, had He known him to be about to change, have snatched him away before repentance;

but if being righteous he was taken from this life, he possesses his good things in safety.

Whence it is plain that your tears are not of natural affection, but of unreasoning passion.

Since if you loved the departed one, you ought rather to rejoice and be glad that he has been delivered from the present billows.

For what is the advantage? Tell me.

And what is there strange and new? Do we not see the same things revolving each day? Day and night, night and day;

winter and summer, summer and winter, and nothing more.

And these things are ever the same;

but the evils are strange and ever newer.

Would you then have had him drink of these things each day, and remain here, and be sick, and mourn, and dread, and tremble, and endure some of the terrors while fearing lest he should ever endure the rest? For neither could you say this, that in sailing this long sea it was possible to be freed from despondency and cares and all the other such things.

And along with these things, consider also this, that you did not bear an immortal child;

and that if he had not now come to his end, a little

later he would have endured this.

But you had not your fill of him? Yet you will surely enjoy him there in full.

But you desire to see him here as well;

and what is to hinder it? For it is possible even here, if you are watchful;

for the hope of things to come is clearer than sight.

But if he were in a king's palace, you would never have sought to see him, hearing that he was held in high esteem;

yet when you see him departed to things far better, you are faint-hearted over a little span of time, and this though you have in his stead the One who dwells with you;

But you have no husband? Yet you have a consolation, the Father of orphans and the Judge of widows.

Hear Paul also pronouncing this widowhood blessed, and saying:

'She who is a widow indeed, and left alone, has set her hope on the Lord.'

For such a woman will appear the more highly esteemed, displaying the greater endurance.

Do not, therefore, lament over that for which you are being crowned.

For indeed you have rendered back the deposit, if you have presented that which was entrusted to you.

Be no longer anxious henceforth, having laid up your possession in an inviolable treasury.

But if you should also learn what the present life is, and what the life to come, and that this one is a spider's web and a shadow, while all things there are unshaken and immortal, you would need no further words.

For now the child has been released from all change;

but had he remained here, perhaps he would have continued good, and perhaps not such.

Or do you not see how many disown their own children? How many are compelled to keep at home those who are worse than the disowned? Reflecting on all these things, let us be philosophical;

for thus we shall both do a kindness to the departed, and reap from many men their praises, and receive from God the great rewards of endurance, and attain to the eternal good things;

which may it be granted us all to attain, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might unto the ages of ages. Amen.