Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 88

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the Praetorium, and gathered together against him the whole band;

and stripping him, they put on him a scarlet robe;

and having plaited a crown of thorns, they set it upon his head, and put a reed in his right hand.

And bowing the knee before him, they mocked him, saying:

Hail, King of the Jews!

As though at some given signal, the devil then danced in wild frenzy through them all.

Grant, if you will, that the Jews, wasting away with envy and malice, were reviling him in drunken insolence;

but the soldiers—from what source and for what reason did they do so? Is it not plain that it was the devil who then held all of them in his bacchic revelry? For being cruel and savage men, they made a pleasure of their outrages against him.

For whereas they ought to have been abashed, ought to have wept—as indeed the common people did—this they did not do; but on the contrary they heaped insults and leaped upon him, perhaps themselves currying favour with the Jews, or else doing all this out of their own perversity.

And the insults were of many different and varied kinds.

For that divine head they at one time buffeted, at another dishonoured with the crown of thorns, and at another smote with the reed—foul and accursed men that they were.

What excuse, then, shall be left to us when we are stirred to anger over insults, after Christ has suffered these things? For what was done was the utmost limit of outrage.

For not one member only, but the whole body throughout its entirety was outraged;

the head, by the crown and the reed and the buffeting;

the whole body, by the scourgings, by the wrapping about with the robe, and by the feigned obeisance;

the hand, by the reed which they gave him to hold instead of a sceptre;

the mouth again, by the offering of the vinegar.

What could be more grievous than these things? What more insulting? For what was done surpasses all telling.

For as though fearing lest they should seem to fall short in any part of their audacity, having slain the prophets with their own hands, but this One by the sentence of a judge, they thus do everything;

and they become his very executioners with their own hands, and they condemn him, and they pass sentence against him both before their own tribunal and before Pilate, saying, His blood be upon us and upon our children;

and they leap upon him and outrage him by their own doing, binding him, leading him away, and they make themselves the cause of the insults inflicted by the soldiers;

and they nail him fast, and they revile him, and they spit upon him, and they make a mockery of him.

For Pilate contributed nothing here, but they themselves did everything, becoming accusers and judges and executioners and all things at once.

And these things are read aloud among us, whenever all are gathered together.

For that the Greeks might not say, You display to the multitudes and the peoples only the brilliant and conspicuous things—such as the signs and the miracles—but these shameful things you keep hidden;

the grace of the Spirit so ordered it that at a public festival, when men in full numbers and women are present, and all without exception, on the great evening of the Passover, then all these things should be read aloud;

when the whole inhabited world is present, then are these things proclaimed with a clear and resounding voice.

And while these things are being read, and made known to all, Christ is believed to be God;

and among the other reasons, for these things too he is worshipped, because he deigned to descend so far for our sakes as even to suffer these things, and to train us in all virtue.

These things, therefore, let us read continually;

for great indeed is the gain, and very great the benefit that comes from it.

For when you see Him mocked both by gestures and by deeds, and worshipped with so much mockery, and buffeted with the fist, and suffering the uttermost things, then, even if you were stone itself, you would become softer than any wax, and would cast out from your soul every inflammation of pride.

Hear then also what follows.

For after they had mocked Him, it says, they led Him away to crucify Him; and having stripped Him, they took His garments, and sitting down they watched Him, waiting for when He would breathe His last.

And they parted His garments among themselves;

which is done in the case of those condemned criminals who are utterly worthless and cast off, who have no one belonging to them, and who are bereft of all help.

They divided the garments through which such great miracles had been wrought.

But nothing was then at work, since Christ was holding back His ineffable power.

And this too was no small addition to their drunken insolence.

For as against one dishonoured and cast off, as I said, and the most worthless of all, so they dared to do all these things.

At any rate, against the robbers they did nothing of the kind, but against Christ they did everything.

And they crucified Him in the midst, that He might share in the shame belonging to those men.

And they gave Him vinegar to drink, and this too by way of insult;

and another Evangelist says that, having tasted it, He said, 'It is finished.'

But what does 'It is finished' mean? The prophecy concerning Him has been fulfilled.

For 'they gave Me,' it says, 'gall for My food, and in My thirst they gave Me vinegar to drink.'

Nor does that Evangelist show that He drank it;

for merely to taste differs in nothing from not drinking, but signifies one and the same thing.

But nevertheless not even here does their drunken insolence come to a stand, but having stripped Him, and crucified Him, and offered Him vinegar, they go yet further;

and seeing Him impaled upon the cross, both they themselves and those who passed by reviled Him;

which was the most grievous thing of all—to suffer these things under the charge of being a deceiver and an impostor, and as a braggart who vainly boasted of the things He said.

For this reason they also crucified Him publicly, that in the sight of all they might make a spectacle of Him;

for this reason too by soldiers' hands, that, these things being dared even in a public tribunal, the measure of their drunken insolence might be heightened.

And yet whom would the crowd that followed Him and lamented not have moved to pity? But not these wild beasts.

For this very reason He too deems those worthy of an answer, but these no longer.

For after doing what they wished, they are eager also to destroy His glory, dreading His resurrection.

For this reason they say these things publicly, and crucified robbers together with Him, and, wishing to show Him a deceiver, they said:

'You who destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross.'

For since, when they had told Pilate to do away with the inscription (and this was the writing, 'The King of the Jews'), they had prevailed nothing, but he had stood firm, saying, 'What I have written, I have written';

so now they themselves attempted, by means of their mockeries, to show that He was not a king.

Wherefore they said both those things and these:

'If He is the King of Israel, let Him now come down from the cross';

and again, 'He saved others, He cannot save Himself';

and from this they set about to slander His former signs as well;

and again, 'If He is the Son of God, and He wills Him, let Him save Him.'

But what of it? Were the prophets not prophets, nor the righteous righteous, because God did not snatch them out of their perils? Nay, surely they were, even while suffering these things.

What then could equal your folly? For if the coming upon them of perils did not, in your esteem, mar their glory, but they were prophets even while suffering what they suffered;

much more in His case ought you not to have been offended, since both by what He did and by what He said He had always beforehand corrected this suspicion of yours.

But nevertheless, even though these things were said and done, they prevailed nothing, not even at that very moment.

At any rate, the one who had rotted away in the uttermost wickedness, and had spent his whole life in murders and burglaries, at the very time when these things were being said, then confessed Him, and made mention of His kingdom;

and the people bewailed Him.

And yet, to those who did not know the dispensation of the mystery, the things that were happening seemed to testify to the contrary — that He was weak and able to do nothing;

but nevertheless the truth prevailed even through the very things that opposed it.

Hearing these things, then, let us arm ourselves against all wrath, against all anger.

And if you see your heart inflamed, seal your breast, setting the cross upon it;

call to mind something of the things that happened at that time, and, as though it were dust, you will cast out all wrath by the remembrance of what took place.

Consider the words, consider the deeds;

consider that He is Master, and you are a servant;

that He suffered for your sake, but you for your own;

He suffered on behalf of those whom He had benefited and who nonetheless crucified Him, but you on behalf of yourself;

He on behalf of those who had insulted Him, but you often at the hands of the very ones who had been wronged by you;

He in the sight of the whole city — nay rather, of the whole populace of the Jews, both strangers and natives, before whom He had uttered His words of loving-kindness — but you with only a few present;

and what added still greater insult was that even His disciples forsook Him.

For those who before were attending upon Him leaped away and fled;

while His enemies and foes, having taken Him impaled in their midst,

reviled Him, made Him a mockery, laughed, and jeered at Him;

the Jews and the soldiers from below;

from above, and on either side, the robbers;

for indeed the robbers also insulted Him, and both of them reproached Him.

How then does Luke say that only one of them reproached Him? Both things happened;

for at first both reproached Him, but afterwards no longer so.

For lest you should think that the thing came about by some prior arrangement, or that the robber was not truly a robber, He shows you from the man's insolence that up there on the cross he was a robber and an enemy, and yet was suddenly transformed.

Reckoning up all these things, then, be a lover of wisdom.

For what do you suffer such as your Master suffered? Have you been insulted in public? But not in such a manner.

Are you mocked? But not your whole body, nor while being scourged and stripped naked in such a way.

And even if you have been struck on the cheek, yet not in such a manner.

Add for me, too, by whom, and why, and when, and who you are;

and — what is the hardest of all — that, while these things were being done, no one made accusation, no one found fault with what was happening;

but on the contrary, they all applauded, and joined in the mockery, and joined in the derision, and reviled Him as a braggart and an impostor and a deceiver, and as one unable to prove by deeds the things which He had said.

But He kept silence to it all, preparing for us the greatest of remedies for long-suffering.

Yet we, though we hear these things, do not hold out even toward our own household servants, but leap and kick more than wild asses;

being cruel and inhuman in regard to the wrongs done against ourselves, while making little account of the wrongs done against God.

And toward our friends likewise are we disposed;

if any one grieves us, we do not bear it;

and if any one insults us, we grow more savage than wild beasts — we who read these very things every single day.

The rest, forsaking Him, fled;

those whom He had benefited spat upon Him;

the servant of the high priest struck Him;

the soldiers buffeted Him;

those who passed by jeered at Him and reviled Him;

yet He uttered not a word against any of them, but by His silence overcame them all, teaching you through His deeds that the more meekly you endure, so much the more will you prevail over those who do you evil, and be an object of wonder in the sight of all.

For who will not marvel at the man who bears with gentleness the insults of those who wrong him? For just as, even if a man suffers justly, yet endures the evil meekly, he is reckoned by most people to be suffering unjustly;

so too, even if a man suffers unjustly, yet behaves insolently, he will be suspected of suffering justly, and will become a laughing-stock, as one dragged along like a captive by his own wrath, and losing his own nobility.

For such a man ought not even to be called free, even if he be master of ten thousand slaves.

But so-and-so provoked you fiercely? And what of that? For that is precisely the time to display true wisdom;

just as, when there is none to irritate them, we shall behold even the wild beasts as tame;

for neither are those creatures always savage, but only when someone rouses them up.

We too, therefore, if we are calm only then, when there is no one to provoke us, what advantage is there in it? For those creatures often grow angry even with justice, and have much to plead in their defense;

for indeed it is by being moved and goaded that they are roused up;

and apart from this, they are also destitute of reason, and have savageness in their very nature.

But you—tell me—when you become savage and wild, from what source will you be able to obtain pardon? What dreadful thing have you suffered? Were you robbed? Why, for that very reason you ought to bear it, so as to gain the greater profit.

But you were deprived of glory? And what of that? For your affairs are in no way diminished by this, if you practice true wisdom.

But if you suffer nothing dreadful, why are you angry with one who has done you no harm, but has even benefited you? For those who honor us make us who are not sober even more slack and dissolute;

but those who insult and despise us make those who attend to themselves more steadfast and enduring.

For indeed the slothful are more injured by being honored than by being insulted.

And these people, if we are sober, become for us a cause of true wisdom;

but the others puff up our conceit, fill us with arrogance, vainglory, and folly, and render our soul more effeminate.

And to this the fathers bear witness, who do not so much flatter their own sons as chide them, fearing lest they should receive some harm from thence;

and the teachers too use this same remedy toward them.

one ought rather to rebuke than to flatter;

for this bait brings a greater ruin than insult does to those who are not on their guard, and it is more difficult to hold this in check than that passion.

And the reward too is far greater from this course, and the admiration it wins is greater.

For indeed it is more admirable to see a man insulted and not moved, than one struck and beaten and not falling down.

And how is it possible not to be moved? someone says.

Has someone insulted you? Place the sign of the cross upon your breast;

call to mind all that was accomplished for you at that time, and everything will be quenched.

Do not consider only the insults, but if any kindness has ever been done to you by the one who has insulted you, and you will at once become gentle.

Or rather, before all things, consider the fear of God, and you will speedily become moderate and forbearing.

Together with these things, take also from your own household servants the admonition concerning these matters.

And when you see yourself insulting, and him keeping silence, consider that it is possible to practice true wisdom, and condemn yourself for being harsh, and in the very moment of the insults be trained not to insult; and thus, even when insulted, you will feel no pain.

Consider that the one who insults is beside himself and raving mad, and you will not be indignant when insulted;

since even those who are possessed by demons strike us, and we not only are not moved, but even pity them.

For he is held fast by a terrible beast—by wrath;

set him free, for he is worked upon by a grievous demon, and in a brief moment is being destroyed.

For such is this malady, that it does not even need time for the ruin of the one who is seized by it.

For the very impulse of wrath is itself his fall;

and in this it most of all displays its tyrannical character, that in a brief moment it works great evils, and needs no long delay;

for if, in addition to its strength, it were also lasting, it would be well-nigh impossible to overcome.

I could wish to show who is the one who insults and who is the one who practices true wisdom, and to bring the soul of each of them naked into the midst.

For you would have seen the one resembling a sea tossed by the storm, and the other a harbor freed from all turmoil.

For neither is it troubled by these wicked spirits, and it easily dissolves them as well.

For those who insult do everything in order to sting;

when therefore they fall short of this hope, they too thereafter give up, and depart corrected.

For it is not possible that a man in anger should not vehemently condemn himself;

just as, then, it is not possible for one not in anger to condemn himself.

For even if it be necessary to proceed against someone, it is possible to do this without anger, both more easily and more prudently than with anger, and to suffer nothing unpleasant.

For if we will, our good things shall come from ourselves, and we shall be self-sufficient, with the grace of God, for our own security and honour.

For why do you seek the glory that comes from another? Honour yourself, and no one will be able to insult you;

but if you dishonour yourself, then even though all men honour you, you will not be honoured.

For just as, if we do not treat ourselves ill, no other man will treat us ill;

so likewise, if we do not insult ourselves, no other man will put us to shame.

For let there be some admirable and great man, and let all men call him adulterer, thief, tomb-robber, murderer, brigand;

but let him neither be provoked, nor be indignant, nor be conscious of any of these things in himself;

what insult will he suffer from this? None at all.

What then, one says, if many hold such an opinion concerning him?

Not even so is he insulted; rather, those men have put themselves to shame, in reckoning one who is not such to be such.

For tell me, if someone should reckon the sun to be dark, has he slandered the star, or himself? Himself clearly, having fastened upon himself the reputation of a blind man or a madman.

So also those who reckon the wicked to be good, and those who do the contrary, put themselves to shame.

Wherefore we ought to make greater endeavour so as to cleanse our conscience, and to give no handle against ourselves, nor any evil suspicion;

but if others should choose to rage even when we are thus disposed, not to be greatly concerned, nor to grieve.

For he who receives the reputation of a wicked man, while being good, is in no way harmed thereby as to being such as he is;

but he who has suspected without cause and in vain has received the uttermost injury;

and if he be suspected in the contrary way, he will gain nothing thereby, but will both incur greater condemnation, and will come to greater slothfulness.

For he who is indeed such and is suspected, may even be humbled and come to recognise his own sins;

but when he passes unnoticed, he falls into insensibility.

For if, even when all accuse them, those who offend are scarcely roused to compunction;

when not only do some not accuse them, but even praise them, when shall those who live in wickedness be able to see clearly? Do you not hear that Paul also brings this charge, that the Corinthians not only did not permit the fornicator to recognise his own sin, applauding and honouring him, but even thereby drove him further into wickedness? Wherefore I exhort you, laying aside the surmises of the many, both the insults and the honours, let us be earnest for one thing only: to be conscious of nothing wicked in ourselves, and not to insult ourselves.

For thus both here and in the world to come we shall enjoy great glory;

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