Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 51

'And when He had sent the multitudes away, He went up into the mountain apart to pray.'

'And when evening was come, He was there alone.'

'But the boat was now in the midst of the sea, tossed by the waves.'

For what reason does He go up into the mountain? To teach us that solitude and seclusion are good, whenever we must converse with God.

For this reason He continually withdraws into the deserts, and there often spends the whole night in prayer, teaching us both by the time and by the place to seek out in our prayers a mind untroubled.

For the desert is the mother of stillness, a calm and a harbour, delivering us from all tumults.

He then, for this cause, went up thither;

but the disciples are again tossed by the surge, and endure a storm like the one before.

Yet at that former time they suffered this while they had Him in the boat;

but now they are by themselves, alone.

For gently and little by little He leads them on to greater things and brings them up, and trains them to bear all things nobly.

For this very reason, when at first they were about to be in peril, He was present, but was asleep, so as to give them consolation ready at hand;

but now, leading them on to a greater endurance, He does not even do this, but departs, and in the midst of the sea allows the storm to arise, so that they might not look for hope of deliverance from any quarter; and He suffers them to be tossed by the surge the whole night through, rousing, as I think, their hardened heart.

For such is fear, which the very time, together with the storm, produces.

And along with the compunction, He also cast them into a greater longing for Himself, and into a continual remembrance of Him.

For this cause He did not come to them at once;

'For in the fourth watch of the night,' it says, 'He came to them, walking upon the sea;'

teaching them not to seek a speedy release from the troubles that press upon them, but to bear nobly the things that befall them.

At any rate, just when they expected to be delivered, then again their fear was heightened.

'For the disciples,' it says, 'seeing Him walking upon the sea, were troubled, saying that it was a phantom, and for fear they cried out.'

Whenever He is about to loose our troubles, He brings on others harsher and more terrible;

for together with the storm, the sight also troubled them no less than the storm itself.

Therefore He neither dispelled the darkness, nor made Himself manifest at once, but was training them, as I said, in the continuance of these fears, and teaching them to be steadfast and enduring.

This He did also in the case of Job;

for when He was about to loose [the fear and] the trial, then He allowed the end to become harsher;

I do not mean because of the death of his children and the words of his wife, but because of the reproaches of his servants and of his friends.

And when He was about to snatch Jacob away from his misery in the strange land, He allowed the tumult to be stirred up and to become greater.

For his father-in-law, overtaking him, threatened death, and after him his brother, who was about to meet him, hung over him the peril of utmost extremity.

For since it is not possible to be tried both for a long time and severely, whenever the righteous are about to come forth from their contests, He, willing that they should gain the more, intensifies their exercises.

This He did also in the case of Abraham, appointing as the last contest that concerning his son.

For thus even the unbearable things become bearable, when they are brought upon us at the very doors, having deliverance close at hand.

This then He did at that time also, and Christ did not reveal Himself sooner, until they cried out.

For the more the agony was intensified, so much the more welcome to them was His presence.

Then, when they cried out, it says, 'Straightway Jesus spoke to them, saying:'

This word loosed their fear, and prepared them to take courage.

For since they did not recognize Him by His appearance, both because of the strangeness of His walking and because of the hour, He makes Himself known by His voice.

What then does Peter do—he who is everywhere fervent and always leaps forward before the others? 'Lord, if it be Thou,' he says, 'bid me come to Thee upon the waters.'

He did not say, 'Pray and entreat,' but 'Bid me.'

Do you see how great his fervor? how great his faith? And yet from this very thing he is often in danger, from asking beyond due measure.

For here too he asked for something very great, out of love alone, not for display.

For he did not say, 'Bid me walk upon the waters';

but what? 'Bid me come to Thee.'

For no one loved Jesus so greatly.

This he did also after the resurrection;

he could not endure to come with the others, but leaped forward ahead of them.

And he displays not only his love, but also his faith.

For he not only believed that Christ Himself was able to walk upon the sea, but that He could bring others also; and he longed to be near Him quickly.

'And Peter, coming down from the ship, walked upon the waters, and came to Jesus.'

'But seeing the wind mighty, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried out, saying:'

'And immediately Jesus stretched forth His hand and took hold of him, and says to him:'

'O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?' This was more marvelous than the former.

For this reason, after that first miracle this one comes to pass.

For when He had shown that He has power over the sea, then He also brings forth the sign in its more wondrous form.

For then indeed He only rebuked the winds;

but now He Himself walks, and grants to another to do the same;

which, had He bidden it to happen at the very beginning, Peter would not likewise have accepted it, because he had not yet acquired so great a faith.

For what reason then did Christ permit it? Because had He said, 'Thou canst not,' being fervent he would again have contradicted Him.

Therefore He persuades him by the facts themselves, so that for the future he might be brought to sober-mindedness.

Having come down, then, he is tossed by the surge;

and this the billow wrought;

but the fear the wind produced.

But John says that 'They were willing to receive Him into the ship, and immediately the ship was at the land whither they were going';

so that, as they were about to reach the land, He went up into the ship.

Having come down, then, from the ship, he went to Him, rejoicing not so much in walking upon the waters as in coming to Him.

And having overcome the greater thing, he was destined to suffer harm from the lesser—I mean the rush of the wind, not of the sea.

For such is human nature:

often succeeding in great matters, it is put to shame in the lesser.

Such as Elijah suffered in the case of Jezebel;

such as Moses in the case of the Egyptian;

such as David in the case of Bathsheba.

While the fear was yet at its height, he took courage to step upon the waters, but against the onset of the wind he could no longer stand—and that though he was near to Christ.

Thus it profits nothing to be near to Christ, if one is not near by faith.

And this showed the difference between the Master and the disciple, and comforted the others.

For if they were indignant over the two brothers, much more here;

for they had not yet been counted worthy of the Spirit.

But after these things they were not such as before.

At all events, everywhere they yield the first place to Peter, and put him forward in their public addresses, even though he was of a rougher disposition than the rest.

And why did He not command the winds to cease, but Himself stretching forth His hand took hold of him? Because there was need of his faith.

For when the things that come from us are wanting, then also the things that come from God stand still.

Showing therefore that it was not the onset of the wind, but his own little faith, that wrought the overturning, He says:

Wherefore didst thou doubt, O thou of little faith? So that if his faith had not grown weak, he would easily have stood firm against the wind also.

For this very reason, even when He had taken hold of him, He suffers the wind to blow, making it plain that the wind does no harm at all when the faith is firmly fixed.

And just as when a nestling has come out of the nest before its time and is about to fall, its mother bearing it up upon her wings brings it back again to the nest, even so also did Christ do.

When they had gone up into the boat, then the wind ceased.

What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey Him? But now it is not so.

For they that were in the boat, he says, came and worshipped Him, saying:

Seest thou how by little and little He was leading them all up to that which is higher? For from His walking on the sea, and from His bidding another to do this, and from saving him when in peril, henceforth their faith was great.

For at that former time He rebuked the sea, but now He rebukes it not, in another way showing His power yet more greatly.

What then? Did He rebuke them for having said this? On the contrary, altogether the reverse: He even confirmed what was spoken, healing those who came to Him with greater authority, and not as before.

And when they had crossed over, he says, they came into the land of Gennesaret.

And when the men of that place had recognized Him, they sent into all that region round about, and brought unto Him all that were sick, and besought Him that they might but touch the hem of His garment.

For no longer did they approach Him as before, dragging Him into their houses, and seeking the touch of His hand, and commands by words;

but in a far loftier and more philosophic manner, and with greater faith, they drew the healing unto themselves.

For the woman with the issue of blood had taught them all to be wise.

And the evangelist, showing that it was after a long interval of time that He set foot in those parts, says that when the men of the place had recognized Him, they sent into the region round about, and brought unto Him those that were sick.

But nevertheless the lapse of time not only did not undo their faith, but even made it greater, and preserved it in full vigour.

Let us therefore also lay hold of the hem of His garment;

or rather, if we will, we have the whole of Him.

For indeed His very body is set before us now;

not His garment only, but also His body;

not so that we may touch it only, but so that we may also eat and be filled.

Let us therefore draw near with faith, each one having some infirmity.

For if they who touched the hem of His garment drew unto themselves so great a power, how much more they who possess the whole of Him? Now to draw near with faith is not only to receive that which is set before us, but also to touch it with a pure heart, to be so disposed as though we were approaching Christ Himself.

For what, if thou hearest no voice? Yet thou seest Him lying there;

or rather, thou dost hear His voice also, as He speaks through the evangelists.

Believe therefore that even now this is that supper at which He Himself also reclined.

For that supper in nothing differs from this.

For neither is this one wrought by man, and that other by Himself; but both this and that are wrought by Himself.

When therefore thou seest the priest delivering it to thee, think not that it is the priest who does this, but that it is the hand of Christ which is stretched forth.

For just as, when he baptizes, it is not he that baptizes thee, but it is God who holds thy head with an invisible power, and neither angel, nor archangel, nor any other dares to draw near and touch;

for when God begets, the gift is His alone.

Seest thou not those who adopt sons here below, how they do not entrust the matter to slaves, but are themselves present at the tribunal? Even so also God entrusted not the gift to angels, but is Himself present, commanding and saying:

Call no man father upon the earth;

not that thou mayest dishonour those who begat thee, but that above all those thou mayest set Him who made thee and enrolled thee among His own children. For He who has given the greater, that is, has offered up Himself, much more will not disdain to impart to thee His body also.

Let us therefore hearken, both priests and people that are ruled, of what we have been counted worthy;

He gave us to be filled with His holy flesh; He set Himself before us, having been slain in sacrifice.

What defense, then, shall we have, when, feeding upon such food, we yet commit such sins? When, eating the Lamb, we become wolves? When, feeding upon the Sheep, we ravage like lions? For this mystery commands us to be pure not only from rapine, but even from the least enmity.

For this mystery is indeed a mystery of peace;

it does not permit us to grasp after riches.

For if He Himself did not spare Himself for our sake, of what should we be worthy, if we spare our money while being unsparing of the soul, for the sake of which He did not spare Himself? Now to the Jews God bound, in their feasts, a yearly remembrance of the benefits He had bestowed on them;

but for you it is, so to speak, every day, through these mysteries.

Be not ashamed, then, of the Cross;

for these are our glories, these are our mysteries;

with this gift we are adorned, with this we are made beautiful.

And if I say that He stretched out the heaven, that He spread out the earth and the sea, that He sent prophets and angels, I shall say nothing equal to this.

For the sum of all good things is this: that He did not spare His own Son, that He might save the servants who had become estranged from Him.

Let no Judas, then, approach this table, let no Simon;

for both of these perished through the love of money.

Let us flee, then, this pit, and let us not suppose that it suffices for our salvation if, after stripping widows and orphans, we offer a golden and jewel-studded cup at the table.

For if you wish to honor the sacrifice, offer your soul, for the sake of which it was also sacrificed;

but if it remains worse than lead and potsherd, while the vessel is of gold, what is the gain? Let us not, then, look to this alone—that we offer golden vessels—but that we offer them also from righteous labors.

For these are the things more precious even than gold—those which are free from covetousness.

For the Church is not a goldsmith's shop nor a silversmith's workshop, but a festal assembly of angels;

for indeed God accepts these things for the sake of souls.

That table of old was not of silver, nor was the cup of gold from which Christ gave His own blood to the disciples;

yet all those things were precious and awesome, because they were full of the Spirit.

Do you wish to honor the body of Christ? Do not overlook Him when He is naked;

nor honor Him here with silken garments, while outside you overlook Him perishing from cold and nakedness.

For He who said, 'This is My body,' and confirmed the deed by the word, is the same who said:

'You saw Me hungry, and did not feed Me;'

and, 'Inasmuch as you did it not to one of these least, neither did you do it to Me.'

For this body has no need of coverings, but of a pure soul;

but that other has need of much care.

Let us learn, then, to live wisely, and to honor Christ as He Himself wills;

for to the one honored, the most pleasing honor is that which he himself desires, not that which we suppose.

Since Peter too thought he was honoring Him by forbidding Him to wash his feet, but what was done was no honor, but the very opposite.

So do you also honor Him with this honor, which He Himself ordained, by spending your wealth upon the poor.

For God has no need of golden vessels, but of golden souls.

And I say these things not to forbid the making of such offerings;

but I ask that, together with these, and before these, you also do works of mercy.

For He accepts these too, yet far more those.

For here only the one who offers is benefited, but there both the giver and the receiver.

Here the deed seems to be an occasion also for vainglory;

but there it is all mercy and love of man.

For what profit is it, when His table is laden with golden cups, while He Himself is perishing of hunger? First fill Him when He is hungry, and then out of your abundance adorn His table also.

You make a golden cup, yet you do not give a cup of cold water? And what is the profit of it? You fashion gold-embroidered coverings for the table, yet to Him you do not so much as provide the covering He needs? And what is the gain from this? For tell me:

if you saw someone in want of necessary food, and, neglecting to relieve his hunger, you merely overlaid the table with silver, would he indeed feel gratitude to you, or would he not rather be indignant? And again: if you saw someone clad in rags and stiffening with the cold, and, neglecting to give him a garment, you set up pillars of gold, saying that you did it in his honour, would he not say that you were mocking him, and count it an insult, and that the very worst of insults? Reckon this same thing also with regard to Christ, when as a wanderer and a stranger He goes about in need of a roof:

you, neglecting to receive Him, adorn the pavement and the walls and the capitals of the pillars;

and you hang up silver chains by means of lamps, yet Him, bound in prison, you are not even willing to look upon.

And I say these things, not forbidding that such munificence be shown in these matters, but urging that these be done together with those others, or rather that these be done before those others.

For on account of not doing those things no one was ever brought to account;

but on account of these there is threatened both hell, and unquenchable fire, and the punishment together with the demons.

Do not therefore, while adorning the house, overlook your brother in his affliction;

for this brother is a temple more precious than that one.

And these treasures, moreover, even unbelieving kings, and tyrants, and robbers will be able to seize;

but whatever you do for your brother when he is hungry and a stranger and naked, not even the devil will be able to plunder, but it will lie in an inviolable treasure.

Why then does He Himself say, 'The poor you have always with you, but Me you have not always'? For it is on this very account that we ought above all to show mercy, because we do not always have Him hungering, but only in the present life.

But if you wish to learn the whole meaning of what was said, listen: this was spoken not to the disciples, even though it seems so, but to the weakness of the woman.

For since she was still somewhat imperfectly disposed, and they were causing her perplexity, He said these things to restore her.

For that it was to console her that He said these things, He added:

'Why do you trouble the woman?' For, He says, we do have Him also always with us;

'Behold, I am with you always, even to the consummation of the age.'

From all of which it is clear that these things were said for no other reason than that the disciples' rebuke might not wither the faith of the woman which had then sprung up.

Let us not therefore now bring forward these words, which were spoken by reason of a certain dispensation;

but rather, having read all the laws laid down by Him concerning almsgiving, both those in the New and those in the Old Testament, let us make much diligence on behalf of this matter.

For this cleanses away sins;

'Give alms,' He says, 'and all things shall be clean unto you.'

'For I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.'

This opens the heavens;

'For your prayers and your alms have gone up for a memorial before God.'

This is more necessary than virginity;

for so were those others cast out from the bridal chamber, and so were the rest brought in.

Being conscious of all these things, let us sow liberally, that we may reap with greater abundance, and may attain to the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory unto the ages.