Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 42

'Either make the tree good, and its fruit good;

or make the tree corrupt, and its fruit corrupt;

for the tree is known by its fruit.'

Again in another manner He puts them to shame, and is not content with the former reproofs.

And this He does, not to clear Himself of the charges (for the former was enough), but wishing to correct them.

And what He says is of this sort:

None of you ever found fault with those who were healed, as though they had not been healed, nor did anyone say that it is an evil thing to set a man free from a demon.

For even had they been utterly shameless, they could not have said this.

Since, then, they did not censure the works, yet slandered the One who wrought them,

He shows that this accusation runs counter both to common reason and to the natural sequence of things.

For this belongs to intensified shamelessness—not merely to act wickedly, but even to frame such charges as run contrary to common notions.

'Make the tree good,' He says, 'since the fruit also is good';

but stopping their mouths with overwhelming force, and displaying both His own forbearance and their shamelessness, He says:

'If you wish to lay hold even of My works, I in no way hinder you;

only do not bring charges that are inconsistent and incoherent.'

For in this way they were bound to be more clearly convicted, since they were shameless in the face of things utterly plain.

'So then you act wickedly to no purpose,' He says, 'and speak things at variance with yourselves.'

For indeed the discernment of the tree appears from the fruit, not the fruit from the tree.

but you do the very opposite.

For though the tree is the cause of the fruit, yet it is the fruit that makes the tree known.

And it would have been consistent either for you to fault the works as well, laying the blame on them, or, if you praise these works, to acquit us who wrought them of these charges.

But as it is, you do the opposite;

for having nothing to charge against the works, which are the fruit, you cast the contrary verdict concerning the tree, calling Me one possessed by a demon—which is the extremity of frenzied insolence.

For what He said before, this He now also establishes: that a good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, nor again, on the contrary, the reverse.

So that their charges are contrary to all consistency and to nature itself.

Then, since He speaks not on His own behalf but on behalf of the Spirit, He employs the accusation in a vehement, downright manner, saying:

'Offspring of vipers, how can you speak good things, being evil?' Now this is at once of one who both accuses and furnishes from those very facts the proof of what has been said.

'For behold,' He says, 'you, being evil trees, cannot bear good fruit.'

'I do not therefore wonder that you utter these things;

for you were ill nurtured, being sprung from wicked ancestors, and you have acquired a wicked mind.'

And observe how precisely, and without any handle for objection, He has laid down the charges.

'How can you speak good things, being offspring of vipers?'—for this had no bearing on that;

but rather, 'How can you speak good things, being evil?' And He called them offspring of vipers because they gloried in their ancestors.

Showing therefore that they gained nothing from this, He cast them out of kinship with Abraham;

and He gives them ancestors of like character, stripping them of the distinction derived from that lineage.

'For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.' Here again He shows His own Godhead as knowing the unutterable things;

and that men shall render account not only for words, but also for wicked thoughts;

and that He knows them as God.

And He declares that it is not possible for men to know these things;

for it is the natural sequence of things that, when the wickedness within overflows, the words should be poured out through the mouth.

So that when you hear a man uttering wicked things, do not suppose that only so much wickedness lies within him as the words display;

but conjecture the fountain to be far greater;

for what is spoken outwardly is but the overflow of what is within.

Did you see how vehemently He laid hold of them? For if what was spoken was so wicked, and proceeds from the very mind of the devil, consider how great the root and fountain of the words must be.

And this comes to pass reasonably;

for the tongue, being often restrained by shame, does not pour out its wickedness all at once;

but the heart, having no man for a witness, fearlessly brings forth whatever evils it will;

for of God it makes but little account.

Since therefore the things spoken come under examination and are set before all, while the heart is kept in shadow, for this reason the sins of the tongue are fewer, but those of the heart more numerous.

But when the multitude of things within becomes great, then with a mighty rush the things hitherto concealed come forth.

And just as those who vomit, at the outset force themselves to hold the humours within as they leap up, but when they are overpowered, let loose much loathsomeness;

so also do those who harbour wicked designs and revile their neighbours.

'The good man,' He says, 'out of the good treasure brings forth good things;

and the evil man out of the evil treasure brings forth evil things.'

'For do not suppose,' He says, 'that this takes place only in the case of wickedness;

for the same thing happens also in the case of goodness;

for there too the virtue within is greater than the words that come forth.'

From which He showed that those men ought to be reckoned more wicked than their words indicated, and Himself better than what was spoken revealed.

And He says 'treasure,' indicating the abundance.

Then again He raises up a great fear as a bulwark.

'For do not suppose,' He says, 'that the matter rests merely at this point, and at the condemnation of the many;

for all who work such wickedness shall render the uttermost penalty.'

at once instructing the common race of men, and at the same time

making His discourse less burdensome.

'But I say to you, that every idle word,' He says, 'which men shall speak, they shall render account for it in the day of judgement.'

'Idle' means that which is not grounded in fact, that which is false, that which contains slander;

but some say that it also means the vain word;

such as that which stirs disorderly laughter, or the shameful, indecent, and unbecoming word.

'For by your words you shall be justified, and by your words you shall be condemned.'

Did you see how unburdensome the tribunal is? how gentle the reckoning? For not from what another said about you, but from what you yourself uttered, will the Judge cast the votes;

which is of all things the most just.

For you yourself are lord both of speaking and of not speaking.

It is not therefore those who are reviled that ought to be in anguish and to tremble, but those who revile.

For not those men are compelled to make defence for the evil they heard spoken against them, but these for the evil they spoke;

and upon these hangs all the peril.

So that those who are ill spoken of ought to be free from care;

For they will not render an account for the evil that others have spoken;

but those who have spoken evil must be in anguish and tremble, seeing that it is they who are to be dragged into the court to answer for these things.

For this is indeed a diabolical snare, a sin that holds no pleasure whatsoever, but only harm.

For such a man lays up an evil treasure in his soul.

And if he who has an evil humour first reaps the sickness of it in himself, much more shall he who stores up within himself wickedness, which is more bitter than any gall, suffer the utmost, gathering to himself a grievous disease.

And this is plain from what he belches forth.

For if it so grieves others, much more does it grieve the soul that gives it birth.

For he who plots against another destroys himself first;

for he who treads upon fire burns himself;

and he who strikes at adamant does violence to himself;

and he who kicks against the goads draws his own blood.

For such a thing is the man who knows how to be wronged and to bear it nobly: he is as adamant, as goads, and as fire;

but he who has made a practice of doing wrong is weaker than any clay.

It is not, then, being wronged that is the evil, but doing wrong, and not knowing how to bear it when one is wronged.

How many wrongs, for instance, did David suffer!

And how many wrongs did Saul commit? Which of them, then, became the stronger and the more blessed? And which the more wretched and pitiable? Was it not the one who did the wrong? But consider:

Saul promised that, if David should overthrow the foreigner, he would take him as his son-in-law and give him his daughter with much favour.

That man broke the covenant, and not only did not give her, but even attempted to slay him.

Which, then, became the more illustrious? Was not the one choked by despondency and by the evil spirit, while the other shone brighter than the sun by his trophies and by his devotion toward God? Again, in the matter of the chorus of women, was not the one strangled with envy, while the other, bearing all in silence, captured all men and bound them to himself? And when David himself took Saul into his hands and spared him, which again was the blessed one, and which the wretched? Which the weaker, and which the more powerful? Was it not this man, who did not even take vengeance when he justly might? And that with good reason.

For the one had soldiers under arms, but the other had righteousness for his ally and helper, mightier than ten thousand armies.

For this reason, though he had been unjustly plotted against, he would not endure to slay even justly.

For he knew from what had gone before that it is not the doing of evil, but the suffering of evil, that makes men the more powerful.

This happens also in the case of bodies, and this too in the case of trees.

And what of Jacob? Was he not wronged by Laban and made to suffer evil? Which, then, was the stronger: he who took Jacob into his hands yet dared not touch him, but feared and trembled, or this man who, without weapons and soldiers, became more terrible to him than ten thousand kings? [3]

But that I may furnish you with yet another and greater proof of what has been said, let us again exercise our argument on David himself, in the opposite direction.

For this same man, who was wronged and prevailed, when afterward he himself did wrong became weaker again.

When, therefore, he wronged Uriah, the order was again reversed: the weakness passed over to the one who had done the wrong, and the power to the one who had been wronged;

for, though dead, Uriah ravaged that man's house.

And David himself, though a king and living, availed nothing;

while the other, though a soldier and slain, turned that man's affairs utterly upside down.

Would you have me make what I say still clearer from another instance as well? Let us examine also those who take vengeance justly.

For that those who do wrong, warring against their own soul, are of all men the most worthless, is surely plain to everyone.

But who was it that took vengeance justly, and yet kindled countless evils and pierced himself through with many calamities and sorrows? It was David's general.

For this man both stirred up a grievous war and suffered countless evils, not one of which would have come to pass, had he but known how to practise wisdom.

Let us, then, flee this sin, and let us wrong our neighbours neither by words nor by deeds.

For he did not say, 'If you slander and set up a court of judgment';

'If you speak evil,' even against yourself, then also shall you pay the uttermost penalty.

And even if what was said be true, and even though you spoke it in conviction, even so shall you be punished.

For God will cast His vote, not from what that man did, but from what you said;

for 'by your words shall you be condemned,' He says.

Do you not hear that the Pharisee too spoke the truth, and told what was plain to all, not disclosing things that were hidden;

and yet, notwithstanding, he paid the uttermost penalty.

But if one ought not to accuse concerning things that are admitted, much more concerning things that are in dispute;

for he who has done amiss has a Judge.

Do not, then, seize upon the dignity of the Only-begotten.

For Him the throne of judgment is reserved.

But do you wish to judge? You have a tribunal that brings much profit and no accusation.

Seat upon your conscience your reasoning as the judge, and bring forward into the midst all your own transgressions.

Examine the sins of your soul, and demand an account with strictness, and say:

'Why has such and such been dared by you?' And if it flees from these things and examines instead the things of others, say to it:

'It is not concerning these that I judge you; it is not concerning these that you have come in to make your defence.'

'For what if such a one is wicked? On what account did you commit this and that? Make your defence, do not accuse;'

'look to your own things, not to the things of others.'

And continually set it in this struggle.

Then, if it has nothing to say but sinks down, scourge it and beat it well, as though it were some idle and harlot maidservant.

And thus every day convene this court of judgment, and sketch before it the river of fire, the venomous worm, and the other instruments of torment.

And do not permit it to consort with the devil any longer, nor endure it when it shamelessly says, 'That one comes to me, he plots against me, he tempts me';

for if you are not willing, all those things are superfluous.

And if it says again, 'I am entangled with a body, I am clothed with flesh, I dwell in the world, I pass my time upon the earth';

say to it, 'All these are pretexts and excuses.'

'For such a one, too, was clothed about with flesh, and such a one, dwelling in the world and passing his time upon the earth, is of good repute;'

'and you yourself, when you prosper, do this very thing, though clothed about with flesh.'

And if it grieves at hearing these things, do not lift your hand from it;

for it will not die if you smite it, but you will rescue it from death.

And if it says again, 'Such a one provoked me,' say to it:

'But it is in your power not to be provoked;'

'for many a time, at least, you have restrained your anger.'

If it says, 'The beauty of such a woman has excited me,' say to it:

'Bring forward those who have overcome; bring forward that first woman who said, The serpent deceived me,'

'and yet was not released from the charge.'

But when you examine these things, let no one be present.

Rather, just as the judges sit behind curtains when they pass judgment, so do you also, in place of curtains, seek out a fitting time of quiet and a place.

And whenever you rise from supper and are about to lie down, then sit in judgment upon these matters.

This is the time well suited to you;

and the place is the bed and the bedchamber.

This the prophet also enjoined, saying:

'What you say in your hearts, be pierced with sorrow for it upon your beds.'

And demand of yourself strict accounts even for small things, that you may never come near to the great ones.

If you do this each day, you will stand with boldness before that fearful judgment seat.

Thus did Paul become pure;

'for if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged.'

Thus did Job cleanse his children.

For he who offers sacrifices for hidden things, would much more demand accounts for the things that are manifest.

But we do not act thus; rather, quite the opposite in every way.

For no sooner have we lain down than we turn over all the affairs of this life;

and some bring in unclean thoughts, others loans and contracts and perishable cares.

And though we keep a daughter, when she is a virgin, under strict guard, yet that which is more precious to us than a daughter—the soul—this we permit to play the harlot and be defiled, bringing in ten thousand wicked imaginings;

whether it be the lust of covetousness, or of luxury, or of splendid bodies, or of wrath,

or whatever else may seek to enter in—we fling open the doors, and drag it in and call it, and with all license allow it to have union with her.

And what could be more barbarous than this—to look on unmoved while the soul, more precious to us than all things, is outraged by so many adulterers, and consorts with them until they are sated? Which shall never be.

For this reason, only when sleep overtakes us do they at last withdraw;

for indeed the dreams and the fantasies bring to it the very same images.

Whence also, when day has come, the soul that has imagined such things has often fallen even into the deed of those imaginings.

But you do not allow even the smallest speck of dust to enter the pupil of your eye, yet you look on unconcerned while the soul is dragged through the refuse of so many evils? When, then, shall we be able to bail out this filth which we lay up day by day? When shall we cut out the thorns? When cast in the seed? Do you not know that the time of harvest is now at hand? Yet we have not so much as broken up the fields.

If, then, the husbandman come and bring a charge against us, what shall we say? What shall we answer? That no one gave the seed? Nay, it is cast in every day.

Or that no one cut out the thorns? Nay, every day we whet the sickle.

But the necessities of this life distract us? And why did you not crucify yourself to the world? For if he who merely gave back what was entrusted to him was wicked, because he did not double it,

then what shall he hear who has actually squandered it as well? If that man was bound and cast out where there is gnashing of teeth, what shall we suffer—we who, though ten thousand things draw us to virtue, shrink back and hesitate? For what is not enough to spur you on? Do you not see the paltriness of this life? the uncertainty of existence? the toil in things present? the sweat? For is it possible to pursue virtue with toil, but vice without toil? If, then, there is toil both here and there, why did you not choose that which has far the greater gain? Nay rather, there are some parts of virtue that involve no toil at all.

For what toil is there in not slandering, nor lying, in not swearing oaths, in letting go of anger toward one's neighbor? On the contrary, it is the doing of the opposite that is laborious and brings much anxiety.

What defense, then, shall we have, what pardon, if we do not accomplish even these things? For from these it is plain that even the more laborious duties escape us through sloth and hesitation.

Having considered all these things, let us flee vice and choose virtue,

that we may attain both the present and the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and dominion unto the ages of ages. Amen.