Sermons 102

We have run into a certain conflict, as it were, of manuscripts and printed editions concerning the author of this homily. That it was once attributed to Augustine is established from the appendix of his sermons; the Benedictine monks of the congregation of St. Maur, judging the work spurious, placed it there under number 87. Gillot believed it to be a sermon of Ambrose, and in his Paris edition, which we have often mentioned, placed it in the second position, with the title: On the Grain of Mustard. The Laurentian manuscript X, Plut. XIV, agrees with him, bearing a similar inscription. But we judge it to be of superior right that we ascribe it to St. Maximus, the most ancient manuscripts giving warrant. Of these we first cite the manuscripts of Sankt Gallen and of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme.

These manuscripts, number 90, Mabillon said breathe a venerable antiquity. Afterward we mention the Vallicellian A 9, the Vatican 6451, Santa Croce in Gerusalemme 95, the Laurentian 39, Plut. XVII, page 172 on the reverse, and codex 176, formerly of the sacristy of the metropolitan church of Florence, page 248 on the reverse, in the Laurentian Library. Concerning these two latter manuscripts this is to be noted, namely that to the title 'On the Grain of Mustard' there is read added: 'and on St. Lawrence,' because St. Maximus has certain things at the end of the discourse about the holy levite and martyr—perhaps because he delivered the homily on the day of his feast. But another, not slight, discrepancy occurs concerning the beginning of this same homily. For some, having first noted the Gospel passage, begin from these words:

'Perhaps it moves your minds,' etc., which are the manuscripts of Sankt Gallen and Santa Croce in Gerusalemme 90; and they entitle the homily 'On the Grain of Mustard.' Others begin from the Gospel, with these words added: 'The Lord says in the Gospel,' as in the Laurentian manuscripts, and this same reading of the homily is found in the appendix of the sermons of St. Augustine. Others take another path, keeping the same title 'On the Grain of Mustard,' prefixing a certain preface to the Gospel, as in the manuscripts of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme 99, the Vallicellian and the Orvietan, and Gillot and the other editors of Ambrose. We, judging that preface to have been added in later times, place it among the variant readings, and bring the homily to light in the manner in which the older manuscripts present it.

The Lord says in the holy Gospel, as the reading just run through attests: 'To what is the kingdom of God like, and to what shall I liken it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which a man took and cast into his garden; and it grew, and became a tree, and the birds of heaven rested in its branches' (Luke 13). Perhaps it moves your minds why the kingdom of God, so glorious and so magnificent, is compared to a tiny grain of mustard, and why so great a solace of our hope is said to be like a most worthless thing—especially since elsewhere the same Lord says to his disciples: 'If you have faith like a grain of mustard, say to this mountain: Be lifted up and cast into the sea; and it shall be done' (Matthew 17).

Therefore, if faith is a marvel that can move the very foundations from the seats of mountains, of necessity the grain of mustard also is great, to whose likeness we are compelled to have faith. Yet I would call it great, not in appearance but in power, and it is to be compared not by its quality but to be matched by the vigor of its pungency. For if we attend diligently, we find that this comparison was rightly made by the Lord. For just as the grain of mustard at first sight is small in its appearance, cheap, despised, yielding no savor, carrying about no fragrance, showing no sweetness:

but when it begins to be crushed, at once its pungency displays its fragrance, it breathes forth a food of flaming savor, and is kindled with so great a heat of fervor that it is a wonder that so great a fire was enclosed in such trifling grains. Men, especially in the winter season, take the food of this seed with great relish, in order to repel the cold, discharge the humors, warm the inner parts of the vitals; and sometimes from it they apply a medicine to the head, so that if anything is weak, if anything is ailing, it may be cured by the fire of mustard. So too Christian faith at first sight seems to be small, cheap, and slight—not displaying its power, not showing pride, not administering favor.

But when it begins to be crushed by various temptations, at once it brings forth its vigor, reveals its pungency, breathes forth the heat of belief in the Lord, and is tossed with so great an ardor of divine fire that it both glows itself and compels him who shares in it to burn—just as in the holy Gospel Ammaon and Cleophas said, while the Lord was speaking with them after the passion: 'Was not our heart burning within us on the way, while the Lord Jesus opened the Scriptures?' (Luke 24). Therefore the grain of mustard warms the vitals of the members, but the vigor of faith burns up the sins of hearts, removes the harsh chill of cold; and this drives out the diabolical cold of transgressions. Mustard boils away the wicked humors of bodies, but faith consumes the streams of lusts.

And through mustard a medicine is procured for the head, but through faith our spiritual head, which is Christ the Lord, is more often cherished anew. Moreover, according to the comparison of mustard, we also enjoy the holy fragrance of faith, as the blessed Apostle says: 'For we are the good odor of Christ to God' (2 Corinthians 2). Therefore we can compare the holy martyr Lawrence to a grain of mustard, who, worn down by various sufferings, merited to send forth the fragrance of his martyrdom throughout the whole world; who, when formerly established in the body, was humble, unknown, and cheap; but after he had been vexed, torn, and burned, he poured out the odor of his nobility to all the churches throughout the whole world. Rightly, therefore, is the comparison joined to him.

For the grain of mustard, when it is crushed, is kindled; Lawrence, when he suffers, is set aflame; the one gives off the fervor of its crushing; the other sighs out fire under manifold vexation. Mustard, I say, is boiled by the hot vapor in a little vessel; Lawrence is roasted by the fire of the flames on a gridiron. Thus the blessed martyr burned on the outside from the fires of the raging tyrant, but a greater flame of the love of Christ scorched him within. And although the wicked king laid on wood and put beneath greater fires, yet St. Lawrence did not feel these flames because of the heat of his own; and while he ponders the precepts of Christ, all that he suffers is cold to him.

For he could not feel the torments of the fires in his vitals, who in his senses possessed the refreshments of paradise. Let his burnt flesh lie before the feet of the tyrant, his lifeless body—yet he suffers no loss on earth whose mind abides in heaven. He is stretched out, then, over the fiery globes of the flames, and is turned again and again on his sides; but the more punishments he suffers, the more he fears the Lord Christ; and by a new kind of wonder, one man tortures him, and the torments of the raging one profit others; more atrocious tortures made Lawrence more devout.