Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 54

And Jesus, having called His disciples to Him, said:

'I have compassion on the multitude, because they have now continued with Me three days and have nothing to eat;

and I am unwilling to send them away fasting, lest they faint on the way.'

And earlier, when about to work this sign, He first healed those who were maimed in body;

and here He does this same thing;

from the healing of the blind and the lame He again proceeds to this.

Why then was it that on that former occasion the disciples said, 'Send the multitudes away';

but now they did not say it, and that too when three days had passed? Either it was that they themselves had by now become better, or that, seeing the people not greatly feeling the hunger, they held their peace;

for indeed they were glorifying God for the things that were happening.

But observe how even now He does not simply proceed to the miracle, but calls them forth to it.

For the multitudes, having come for healing, did not dare to ask for bread;

but He Himself, the lover of mankind and the caretaker, gives even to those who do not ask, and says to the disciples:

'I have compassion, and I am unwilling to send them away fasting.'

For lest they should say that they had come provided with supplies, He says:

'They have now continued with Me three days;'

so that even if they came with provisions, these have been consumed.

For this very reason He also did not do this on the first or the second day, but when everything of theirs had been used up, so that they, having first been brought into need, might receive what came to pass with greater eagerness.

For this reason He says, 'Lest they faint on the way';

showing that they had come from far off, and that nothing had been left to them.

And if you are unwilling to send them away fasting, why do you not work the sign? He did this so that by this question and answer He might make the disciples more attentive, and that they might display their faith by coming forward and saying:

But not even so did they grasp the reason for the question.

Wherefore afterwards He says to them, as Mark relates: 「Are your hearts so hardened? Having eyes, do you not see, and having ears, do you not hear?」 For if this were not the case, why does He say to the disciples, and show that the crowds were worthy of being treated well, and add His own compassion besides? But Matthew says that after these things He also rebuked them, saying:

「O you of little faith, do you not yet understand, nor remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets you took up? Nor the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many baskets you took up?」 Thus do the Evangelists agree with one another.

What then of the disciples? They are still crawling upon the ground.

And yet He had done countless things so that that miracle might be remembered—both by the question, and by the answer, and by making them His ministers, and by the distributing of the baskets; yet they were still disposed in a more imperfect way.

「Where in the wilderness could we get so many loaves?」 Both before this and now they make mention of the wilderness, saying this indeed out of a weak reasoning, yet by this very thing making the sign beyond suspicion.

For lest anyone should say—as I have already said—that they got the loaves from some nearby village, the place is acknowledged, so that the miracle might be believed.

For this reason He works both the former sign and this one in the wilderness, far distant from the villages.

Understanding none of these things, the disciples said:

「Where in the wilderness could we get so many loaves?」 For they supposed that He had said these things as though about to charge them with feeding the crowds.

For on this account He had also said earlier, 「You give them something to eat,」 in order to cast them into an occasion for entreating Him.

But now He does not even say, 「You give them to eat,」 but what? 「I have compassion, and I am unwilling to send them away fasting.」

leading them nearer and rather stirring them up, and granting them to look clearly toward asking these things from Himself.

For the words were those of one showing that He was able not to send them away fasting, and making plain His authority.

For the words 「I am unwilling」 are those of one making this very thing evident.

But since they now went on to make mention of the multitude, and of the place, and of the wilderness—

(for they say, 「Where in the wilderness could we get so many loaves as to satisfy so great a crowd?」)—and not even so did they understand what was said, He at last brings forward what was His own, and says to them:

「How many loaves do you have?」 And they say, 「Seven, and a few small fish.」

And they no longer say, 「But what are these among so many?」 as they had said before.

Thus, even if they did not lay hold of the whole matter, nevertheless they were somewhat loftier than before.

For He also, through these things rousing their understanding, asks in like manner as before, so that by the very manner of the question He might remind them of what had already taken place.

But as you have seen their imperfection from these things, so also learn thoroughly the philosophic quality of their disposition, and marvel at their love of truth—how, in writing these things, they do not conceal their own faults, and these being great ones.

For it was no ordinary charge to have forgotten so quickly, when this sign had just recently taken place.

For this reason they are also rebuked.

But together with these things, consider also their other philosophic virtue—

how they were superior to the belly;

how they were trained not to make much account of the table.

For being in the wilderness, and spending three days there, they had only seven loaves.

The other things, then, He does in like manner as the former;

for He makes them recline upon the ground, and causes the loaves to gush forth in the hands of the disciples.

For He commanded, it says, the crowds to sit down upon the ground.

And taking the seven loaves and the fish, having given thanks, He broke them, and gave to the disciples.

But the outcome is no longer alike.

For 「they all ate,」 it says, 「and were satisfied;」

「and they took up seven baskets full of the fragments that remained.」

And those who ate were four thousand men, besides women and children.

But why was it that then, when there were five thousand, twelve baskets remained over, whereas here, with four thousand, seven baskets? For what reason and why were the leftovers fewer, though those who were feasted were not so many? Now one may say this: that the baskets here were larger than the former baskets;

or, if not this, then—lest again the sameness of the sign should cast them into forgetfulness—He rouses their memory by the difference, so that from the variation they might call to mind both that miracle and this.

For this very reason, then, on the former occasion He makes the baskets of leftovers equal in number to the disciples, but now equal to the loaves; and in this too displaying His unutterable power, and the ease of His authority—that it was possible for Him to work such wonders both in this way and in another.

For it was no small display of power to preserve the number both then and now — then when they were five thousand, and now when they were four thousand;

and to leave the fragments neither less nor more, then in the baskets, now in the hampers, although the multitude of those who feasted was different.

And the ending too was like the former.

For then also, having dismissed the crowds, He withdrew in a boat; and so now.

And John too says this.

For since nothing so prepared people to follow Him as the miracle of the loaves, and since they wished not merely to follow but even to make Him king, He, shunning the suspicion of usurped rule, sprang away after this miracle;

and He did not depart on foot, lest they should follow, but entered into the boat.

And having dismissed the crowds, it says, He went up into the boat, and came to the borders of Magdala.

And the Pharisees and Sadducees came to Him and asked Him to show them a sign from heaven.

When evening has come, you say, Fair weather;

and in the morning, Today a storm;

for the sky is red and lowering.

You know how to discern the face of the sky, but the signs of the times you cannot? A wicked and adulterous generation seeks after a sign, and no sign shall be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah.

And leaving them, He departed.

But Mark says that, when they came to Him and disputed with Him, He sighed deeply in His spirit and says:

Why does this generation seek after a sign? And yet the question deserved wrath and indignation;

but nevertheless the loving and caring One is not angered, but pities and laments them as being incurably sick, and as tempting Him even after so great a demonstration of His power.

For they were not seeking in order to believe, but in order to lay hold of Him.

For if they had come as intending to believe, He would have given it.

For He who said to the woman, It is not fitting, and yet afterward gave, would much more have granted it to these.

But since they were not seeking to believe, for this reason He also elsewhere calls them hypocrites, because they said one thing but thought another.

had they believed, they would not even have asked.

And from another consideration also it is clear that they did not believe:

that when rebuked and reproved, they did not remain, nor did they say, We do not understand and we are seeking to learn.

And what sign from heaven were they asking for? Either to stop the sun, or to curb the moon, or to bring down thunderbolts, or to change the air, or something else of the kind.

What then does He say to this? You know how to discern the face of the sky, but the signs of the times you cannot? Do you see His gentleness and forbearance? For not, as before, did He merely refuse and say, It shall not be given to it, but He also states the reason why He does not give it — even though they were not asking in order to learn.

What then is the reason? Just as in the case of the sky, He says, one sign belongs to a storm, another to fair weather, and no one on seeing the sign of a storm would look for calm, nor in fair and cloudless calm for a storm;

so also concerning Me you ought to reason.

For this present time of My coming is one thing, and the time to come is another.

Now there is need of these signs upon the earth;

but those in heaven are reserved for that other time.

Now I have come as a physician, but then I will be present as a judge;

now in order to seek that which is lost, then in order to demand an account.

but then with great publicity, rolling up the heaven, hiding the sun, not allowing the moon to give its light.

Then also the powers of the heavens shall be shaken, and the manifestation of My coming shall resemble lightning that appears suddenly to all.

But now is not the time for these signs;

for I came to die, and to suffer the uttermost things.

Have you not heard the prophet saying:

He shall not strive, nor cry aloud, neither shall His voice be heard outside? And again another prophet:

He shall come down like rain upon a fleece of wool. (3)

But if they should speak of the signs done in the case of Pharaoh, it was then necessary to be delivered from an enemy, and with good reason those wonders came to pass;

yet for one who has come to friends there is no need of these signs.

And how shall I give the great things, when the little are not believed? I call them little as regards display;

since in respect of power these were far greater than those.

For what could be equal to loosing sins, and raising the dead, and driving out demons, and fashioning a body, and setting right all other things? But observe their hardened heart, how, when they had heard that 'There shall no sign be given them, save the sign of the prophet Jonah,' they do not so much as inquire.

And yet, knowing the prophet and all that had befallen him, and hearing this a second time, they ought to have asked and learned what in the world was being said;

but, as I said, it is not from any desire to learn that they do these things.

For this reason He too left them and departed.

'And when His disciples,' it says, 'were come to the other side, they had forgotten to take bread.'

And Jesus said unto them,

'Take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.'

And why did He not say plainly, 'Beware of their teaching'? He wishes to remind them of what had happened;

for He knew that they had forgotten.

But simply to reproach them did not seem to have good ground;

whereas to take an occasion from themselves and so to rebuke them made the reproof easy to receive.

And why did He not rebuke them at the time when they said,

'Whence should we have so many loaves in the wilderness?' for indeed it seemed a fitting occasion for this to be said then.

It was that He might not seem to press upon the miracle.

And besides, He did not wish to rebuke them before the multitudes, nor to make a display at their expense.

And now the charge was the more reasonable, in that, though the miracle had been wrought twice over, they were still of such a mind.

Wherefore, having wrought yet another miracle, He then rebukes them;

for the things which they were reasoning within themselves, these He brings out into the midst.

And what were they reasoning? 'That we took no bread,' it says.

For they were still fluttered about the Jewish purifications and the observances concerning meats.

Wherefore, on account of all these things, He presses upon them the more vehemently, saying,

'Why reason ye among yourselves, O ye of little faith, because ye have taken no bread? Do ye not yet perceive, neither understand? Is your heart hardened? Having eyes, see ye not? and having ears, hear ye not? Do ye not remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many

baskets ye took up? Neither the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many baskets ye took up?' Didst thou see indignation intensified? For nowhere else does He appear to have rebuked them so.

Wherefore then does He do this? So as again to cast out their preconceived notion concerning meats.

For on this account, at that former time He said only, 'Ye do not perceive, neither understand;'

but here, and with much upbraiding, 'O ye of little faith,' saith He.

For gentleness is not everywhere a good thing.

For just as He imparted to them boldness of speech, so also He rebukes them, by this variety ordering their salvation.

And behold both the greatness of the rebuke and the forbearance.

For all but making a defence to them for the things wherein He had sharply rebuked them, He saith,

'Do ye not yet perceive the five loaves, and how many baskets ye took up? and the seven loaves, and how many baskets ye took up?' And for this reason He sets down the number both of those that were fed and of the fragments that remained, at once leading them to the remembrance of the things past, and making them more attentive as to the things to come.

And that thou mayest learn how much the rebuke availed, and how it roused up their slumbering understanding, hear what the evangelist saith.

For when Jesus had said nothing more, but only rebuked them and added this alone, 'How is it that ye do not understand that I spake not to you concerning bread, that ye should beware, but of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees?' He went on to say,

'Then understood they how that He bade them not beware of the leaven of bread, but of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees;'

and this, though He had not interpreted it for them.

Behold how many good things the rebuke wrought.

For He both led them away from the Jewish observances, and made them, careless as they were, more attentive, and freed them from vainglory and from their little faith, so that they should not be afraid, nor tremble, if ever they appeared to have few loaves, nor be anxious about famine, but rise above all these things.

Let us therefore, neither, on our part, flatter our subordinates on every occasion,

nor seek to be flattered by those who rule over us.

For the soul of man stands in need of both these remedies.

For this very reason God so orders all things throughout the whole world, at one time doing this, at another that, and neither allowing prosperity to be lasting, nor sorrows to exist by themselves.

For just as at one time it is night, at another day, and at one time summer, at another winter;

so also within us, at one time there is sorrow, at another pleasure;

at one time sickness, at another health.

Let us not, therefore, marvel when we are sick, since even when we are in health we ought to marvel.

Neither let us be troubled when we suffer pain, since even when we rejoice we might reasonably be troubled.

For all things come to pass according to nature and in due sequence.

And why do you marvel if these things happen to you? For one might see this very thing befalling even those holy men of old.

And that you may learn this, let us bring into the midst the man whose life you suppose to be most full of pleasure and free from troubles.

Are you willing that we examine the life of Abraham from its very beginning?

What then did he hear at once? 'Get out of your land and from your kindred.'

Do you see a grievous command laid upon him? But behold also the good thing that follows in its turn:

'And come hither into a land which I will show you, and I will make you into a great nation.'

What then? When he came into the land, and reached the harbor, did the sorrowful things cease? By no means;

but again other things more grievous than the former succeeded—famine, and removal, and the seizing of his wife;

and after these things other prosperous things awaited him—the plague upon Pharaoh, and the release, and the honor, and those many gifts, and the return to his household.

And all that follows likewise has such a chain, woven together of prosperity and of sorrow.

And in the case of the apostles too such things came to pass.

'He who comforts us in all our affliction, that we may be able to comfort those who are in every affliction.'

'What then is this to me,' says one, 'who am ever in sorrows?' Be not ungrateful, nor unthankful;

for it is impossible that anyone should be continually in sorrows;

but because we wish to be always in joy, on this account we suppose ourselves to be always in sorrows.

And not for this reason only, but also because we straightway forget the prosperous and good things, while

we ever remember the sorrowful ones; for this reason we say that we are in sorrows.

For it is not possible that a man, being a man, should be always in sorrows.

And if you will, let us also examine the life of luxury—the soft and dissolute life—and that which is burdensome, and oppressive, and full of pain.

For we will show you that this one too has its sorrows, and that other one its reliefs.

Let there be set before us in the midst a man in bonds, and another a young king, an orphan, who has inherited a great estate;

and let there also be set forth a certain hired laborer, toiling the whole day through, and another who lives in continual luxury.

Are you willing, then, that we speak first of the dejections of that one who lives in luxury? Consider how his mind is likely to be tossed as by a storm, whenever he aims at a glory that is beyond him, whenever he is despised by his household servants;

whenever he is insulted by those beneath him;

whenever he has ten thousand accusers, and those who decry his extravagance.

And the other things too, as many as are likely to befall amid such wealth, it is not even possible to tell:

the vexations, the offenses, the accusations, the losses, the plots laid by those who envy him, who—when they cannot transfer his wealth to themselves—drag and tear the young man from every side, and stir up ten thousand storms against him.

Are you willing that I also tell you of the pleasure of this one, the hired laborer? He is delivered from all these things;

and even if someone insults him, he feels no pain;

For he counts himself greater than no one.

He is not anxious over money; he eats with pleasure, and he sleeps with great gladness.

Not so luxuriously do those who drink Thasian wine revel, as does that man who goes off to the springs and takes his delight in those streams.

But that man's lot is not of this kind.

But if what has been said does not satisfy you, then, so that I may make the victory the greater, come, let us compare the king and the prisoner.

And you will often see the one in pleasure, playing and leaping, while the other, in diadem and purple, is despondent, weighed down with countless cares, and dead with dread. For it is not possible, no, it is not possible, to find anyone's life free of grief; yet neither is any life without its share of pleasure.

For our nature would not have been able to endure it, as I said before.

But if the one rejoices the more and the other grieves the more, this comes about because of the very man who grieves, when he is faint-hearted, and not because of the nature of things.

For if we were willing to rejoice continually, we have many occasions for it.

For if we lay hold of virtue, there will thenceforth be nothing to grieve us.

For she holds out good hopes to those who possess her, and makes them well-pleasing to God and well-esteemed among men, and instills an unspeakable pleasure.

For even though virtue has toil in the accomplishing of it, yet the conscience is filled with much gladness, and it implants within so great a pleasure as no word will be able to set forth.

For what seems to you to be pleasant among the things of this present life? A lavish table, and health of body, and glory, and wealth? But if you set these pleasant things beside that pleasure, they will all prove more bitter than anything when compared with it.

For nothing is sweeter than a good conscience and a good hope.

And if you wish to learn this, let us examine the man who is about to depart hence, or the one who has grown old;

and having reminded him of the lavish table which he enjoyed, and of glory and honor, and of the good works which he once wrought and performed, let us ask over which of these he rejoices the more, and we shall see him ashamed and covering his face over the former, but over the latter soaring and dancing for joy.

So too did Hezekiah, when he fell sick, make no mention of a lavish table, nor of glory, nor of kingship, but of righteousness.

"Remember," he says, "how I walked before you in an upright way."

Behold Paul also, dancing for joy over these things and saying:

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith."

For what else, one might say, had this man to tell of?

Many things, and far greater than these: both the honors with which he was honored, and the escort of guards which he enjoyed, and the abundant attentions.

Or do you not hear him saying:

"You received me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus";

and that, "If it were possible, you would have plucked out your own eyes and given them to me";

and that, "For his life's sake they laid down their own necks"? But of none of these

does he bring forward into the midst, but rather the toils and the dangers, and the crowns won on their behalf; and this with very good reason.

For these former things are left behind here, whereas those latter travel abroad together with us;

and of the former we shall render an account, but of the latter we shall demand a reward.

Do you not know how, on the last day, sins throng in upon the soul? How they stir up the heart from below? At that time, then, when these things happen, the memory of good works, standing by, like fair weather in a storm, comforts the troubled soul.

For if we are watchful, this fear will always be present with us even while we are living;

but since we are in an insensible state, when we are cast out from hence, it will assuredly come upon us.

Since the prisoner too grieves most of all when they lead him out to the court of judgment;

he trembles most of all when he is near the tribunal, when he must render his account.

For this very reason one may then hear many recounting terrors, and fearful apparitions, the very sight of which those who are departing can no longer endure; and lying there they shake the very bed with great violence, and gaze fearfully upon those who are present, while the soul thrusts itself deep within, shrinking from being torn away from the body, and unable to bear the sight of the angels who are coming.

For if, when we behold fearsome men, we are terrified, then when we see the threatening angels and the stern powers who come, what shall we not suffer, when the soul is being dragged and hauled away from the body, and laments much in vain and to no purpose? Since that rich man too, after he departed, mourned much, but gained nothing thereby.

Picturing and turning over all these things within ourselves, so that we too may not suffer the same, let us keep the fear arising from them at its height, that we may flee the punishment which comes from our deeds, and attain the eternal good things;

which may it be granted to us all to attain, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father be glory, together with the Holy and life-giving Spirit, now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.