馬太福音講道集 第 48 章

And it came to pass, when Jesus had finished these parables, he departed thence.

Why did he say, 'these'? Because he was about to speak others also.

And why does he move on? Because he wished to sow the word everywhere.

And having come into his own country, he taught them in their synagogue.

And what country does he here call his own? It seems to me, Nazareth.

'For he did not do many mighty works there,' he says;

but in Capernaum he wrought signs;

'And you, Capernaum, which are exalted to heaven, shall be brought down to Hades;

for if the mighty works which were done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day.'

But when he had come there, he withheld his signs, so as not to kindle them into greater envy, nor to condemn them more grievously as their unbelief was intensified;

and he set before them a teaching that contained a wonder no less than the signs.

For those men, being altogether senseless—when they ought to have marveled and been astounded at the power of the things he spoke—these, on the contrary, made light of him because of him who was supposed to be his father;

and this though they had many examples of such things in former times, and had seen noble sons come from undistinguished fathers.

For David too was the son of a lowly farmer, Jesse;

and Amos was the son of a goatherd and himself a goatherd;

and Moses the lawgiver had a father far inferior to himself.

For this very reason, then, they ought most of all to have reverenced and been astonished, that being of such parentage he was yet of such a kind;

for it was plain that this came not from human diligence, but from divine grace.

But they, from the very things for which they ought to have marveled, from these they despised him.

And he frequented the synagogues continually, lest, by his constantly spending his time in the wilderness, they should accuse him the more, as one who was separating himself and warring against the established order.

Being astounded, therefore, and at a loss, they said:

'Whence has this man this wisdom, and these mighty works?'—either calling the signs 'mighty works,' or also that very wisdom itself.

'Is not this the carpenter's son?' Then the wonder is the greater, and the astonishment the more.

'Is not his mother called Mary? and his brethren James and Joses and Simon and Judas? And his sisters, are they not all with us? Whence then has this man all these things?' And they were offended in him.

Do you see that he was discoursing in Nazareth? 'Are not his brethren,' he says, 'such and such?' And what of that? For from this very fact you ought most of all to have been led to faith.

But indeed envy is an evil thing, and often trips itself up.

For the very things that were marvelous and wonderful and sufficient to draw them, these were the very things that offended those men.

What then does Christ say to them? 'A prophet,' he says, 'is not without honor, except in his own country, and in his own house.'

'And he did not do many mighty works there,' it says, 'because of their unbelief.'

'And he did not do many signs there.'

For if it had furthered his being marveled at (and indeed even then he was marveled at), why did he not do them? Because he was looking not to his own display, but to what was profitable for them.

This, therefore, not availing, he overlooked what pertained to himself, so as not to increase their punishment.

And yet consider after how long a time he came to them, and how great a display of signs;

but not even so did they bear it, but again they were inflamed with envy.

For what reason, then, did he do even a few signs? That they might not say:

'Physician, heal yourself';

that they might not say, 'He is our adversary and enemy, and despises his own kinsfolk';

that they might not say, 'If signs had been done, we too would have believed.'

For this reason he both did them and held back;

the one, that he might fulfill what was his own to do;

the other, that he might not condemn them more grievously.

But consider the power of the words, seeing that even those who were held fast by envy nevertheless marveled.

But just as in the case of his works they do not find fault with what is done, but fabricate causes that do not exist, saying:

'He casts out the demons by Beelzebul';

so also here, they do not blame his teaching, but take refuge in the meanness of his lineage.

But do you observe for me the forbearance of the Teacher, how he does not insult them, but with much gentleness says:

'A prophet is not without honor, except in his own country.'

And he did not even stop here, but added, 'And in his own house';

and it seems to me that in hinting at his own brethren he added this.

And in Luke he sets down examples of this too, saying that not even Elijah went to his own people, but to the foreign widow;

Nor was any other leper healed by Elisha, but only Naaman the foreigner;

the Israelites neither received good nor did good, but it was the strangers who did.

He says these things, everywhere pointing out their wicked habit, and that nothing that happens in His case is new.

At that time Herod the tetrarch heard the report concerning Jesus.

For King Herod, this man's father, was already dead—he who had slain the young children.

The evangelist does not note the time without purpose, but that you may learn the arrogance of the tyrant and his indifference.

For he did not learn of the things concerning Him even at the outset, but only after an immense interval of time.

For such are those who are in positions of power and are clothed with much pomp;

they learn these things late, because they take no great account of them.

But consider with me how great a thing virtue is;

that Herod feared John even when he was dead, and out of that fear he even philosophizes about the resurrection.

For he said, it says, to his servants:

This is John, whom I put to death;

he has risen from the dead;

and for this reason the powers work in him.

Do you see the intensity of his fear? For not even then did he dare to speak it out openly, but even then he says it to his own household servants.

And this glory is soldier-like and irrational.

For indeed many rose from the dead, and none of them did any such thing.

It seems to me that his words are marked both by vainglory and by fear.

For such are irrational souls;

they often admit a mixture of contrary passions.

But Luke says that the crowds were saying:

This is Elijah, or Jeremiah, or one of the ancient prophets;

but this man, as though saying something wiser than the rest, uttered this.

It is likely that at first, to those who said he was John (for many said this too), he denied it and said, 'I put him to death,' out of vainglory and boastful pride.

For this is what both Mark and Luke say, that he said, 'I beheaded John.'

But when the rumor had spread, thereafter he too says the same things as the many.

Then the evangelist also recounts to us the history.

And why then did he not bring it in earlier? Because their whole concern was to speak of the things concerning Christ;

and they made nothing else a secondary matter, except insofar as it would again contribute to the same purpose.

Therefore they would not even now have mentioned the history, had it not been on account of Christ, and because Herod said that that man had risen.

But Mark says that Herod greatly honored the man, even while being rebuked by him.

Then, in recounting it, he speaks thus:

For Herod, having seized John, bound him and put him in prison, on account of Herodias, the wife of Philip his brother.

For John said to him:

It is not lawful for you to have her.

And though he wished to kill him, he feared the crowd, because they held him to be a prophet.

And why does he say nothing to her, but only to the man? Because this man was the more responsible party.

And observe how he makes the accusation without giving offense, as though recounting a history rather than bringing an accusation.

But when Herod's birthday was being kept, it says, the daughter of Herodias danced in the midst, and pleased Herod.

O lawless dance, and reward of the dance more lawless still!

For a murder more accursed than all murders was being dared, and he who was worthy to be crowned and proclaimed was being slaughtered in the midst;

and the trophy of the demons stood upon the table.

And the manner of the victory too was worthy of what was done.

For the daughter of Herodias, it says, danced in the midst, and pleased Herod.

Whereupon with an oath he swore to give her whatever she should ask.

And she, being urged on by her mother, said, Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist.

The crime is twofold: both that she danced, and that she pleased, and pleased in such a way as even to take murder for her reward.

Do you see how cruel he was? how insensible? how senseless? For he makes himself liable by his oath;

but he makes her mistress of the request.

But when he saw that the evil had come to pass, he was grieved, it says;

and yet from the beginning he had bound him.

For what reason, then, is he grieved? Such is virtue: even among the wicked it is worthy of wonder and of praise.

It behooved even her to marvel, it behooved her to do reverence, because he defended her when she was being outraged; but she even helps to contrive the drama, and sets a snare, and asks a satanic favor.

But he was afraid, it says, on account of his oaths and of those who reclined with him.

And how is it that you did not fear the more grievous thing? For if you dreaded having witnesses of your perjury, much more ought you to have feared having so many witnesses of a slaughter so lawless.

But since I suppose that many are ignorant even of the ground of the accusation, from which the murder was born—of its underlying cause—it is necessary to explain this also, that you may learn the wisdom of the lawgiver.

What, then, was the ancient law that Herod trampled upon and that John vindicated? That the wife of one who had died childless should be given to his brother.

For since death was an inconsolable evil, and everyone was busied on behalf of life, he ordains that the surviving brother should marry her, and that the child born should be called by the name of the deceased, so that his house might not fall away.

For if the deceased were to leave not even children behind—which is the greatest consolation for death—it would be an incurable calamity.

For this reason the lawgiver devised this consolation for those who by nature were deprived of children, and commanded that the child born be reckoned to him.

But when there was a child, this marriage was no longer permitted.

For if it were permitted to another, much more so to the brother.

For He wills that kinship be extended, and that there be many occasions for mutual intimacy with one another.

Why, then, when a man died childless, did not another marry her? Because the child would not thus be reckoned to belong to the departed;

but now, since the brother sowed the seed, the device became plausible.

Besides, another was under no necessity to raise up the house of the deceased;

but this one possessed the right that came from kinship.

Since, then, Herod married his brother's wife who had a child, on this account John accuses him, and accuses him with due measure, displaying together with his boldness of speech also his gentleness.

But consider with me how the whole spectacle was satanic.

For in the first place, it was got together out of drunkenness and luxury, from which nothing wholesome could come.

Secondly, he had spectators who were corrupted, and a host more lawless than them all.

Thirdly, the delight was contrary to reason.

Fourthly, the girl through whom the marriage was unlawful, who ought even to have hidden herself, since her mother was thereby put to shame, comes in parading herself, and the maiden outdoes all harlots.

And the occasion too contributes not a little to the condemnation of this lawlessness.

For when he ought to have given thanks to God that on that day He had brought him forth into the light, then he dares those lawless deeds;

when he ought to have loosed the bound, then he adds a slaughter to the bonds.

Hear this, you virgins—nay rather, you married women too—as many of you as at the weddings of others consent to behave thus unseemly, leaping and springing about, and putting to shame our common nature.

Hear this, you men also, as many of you as pursue costly banquets full of drunkenness;

and dread the pit of the devil.

For in this way she then took that wretched man so completely captive by force, that he swore an oath and offered to give her even half of his kingdom.

For this is what Mark says, that «He swore to her, Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give it thee, unto the half of my kingdom.»

So little did he value his own rule, and so utterly had he become a captive to his passion, that for the sake of her dancing he was ready to surrender it.

And why do you marvel if such things happened then, when even now, after so great a philosophy has come, for the sake of the dancing of these effeminate young men, many surrender even their own souls, though they are under no compulsion of any oath? For being made captives by pleasure, they are led about like cattle, wherever the wolf drags them.

This indeed was what that deranged man then suffered, having gone mad in two most extreme ways: both in making that woman, so frenzied and drunk with passion and refusing nothing, his mistress;

and in binding the deed fast by the necessity of an oath.

But though he was thus a lawbreaker, the woman was more lawless than all, more so than both the girl and the tyrant.

For she was the very architect of all these evils, the one who wove the whole drama—she to whom, above all, the prophet ought to have shown gratitude.

For the daughter, being persuaded by her, both behaved shamefully, and danced, and demanded the murder;

and Herod was ensnared by her.

Do you see how justly Christ said:

«He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me»? For if she had kept this law, she would not have transgressed so many laws, nor would she have wrought this bloodshed.

For what could be worse than this brutality—to ask for a murder by way of a favour, an unlawful murder, a murder in the midst of a banquet, a murder publicly and shamelessly? For she did not approach privately and speak about these things, but publicly, and casting off her mask, with bared head, and taking the devil for her advocate, she thus said what she said.

For it was he who both made her win applause as she danced, and captured Herod at that moment.

For where there is dancing, there is the devil.

For God did not give us feet for this, but that we might walk in an orderly manner;

not that we should behave indecently, not that we should leap about like camels (for they too are unpleasing when they dance, much less then...)

but that we might join in the dance together with the angels.

For if the body is disgraceful when it behaves so indecently, much more is the soul.

Such are the dances of the demons;

such are the mockeries of the ministers of the demons.

Consider also the request itself.

«Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist.»

Do you see the shameless woman, wholly become the devil's own? She both makes mention of his rank, and even so is not ashamed, but as though discoursing about some dish of food, so she asks that that holy and blessed head be brought in on a platter.

but she simply thinks it fit to be honoured by the calamities of others.

And she did not say, «Bring him in here, and slay him»;

for she could not have borne the boldness of speech of one who was about to die.

For she was afraid to hear, even as he was being slain, that dread voice;

for he would not have kept silent even when about to be beheaded.

«For I desire,» she says, «to see that tongue silenced.»

For she was eager not merely to be rid of his reproofs, but also to trample upon him and to insult him as he lay dead.

But God bore with it, and neither sent down a thunderbolt from above and consumed that shameless countenance,

nor commanded the earth to open and swallow up that wicked banquet;

at once both crowning the righteous man more greatly, and leaving behind abundant consolation for those who should afterwards suffer anything unjustly.

Let us then listen, all of us who suffer terrible things at the hands of wicked men while living in virtue.

For even then God suffered him—the man in the wilderness, the man in the leathern girdle, the man in the garment of hair, the prophet, the one greater than the prophets, the one than whom none is greater among those born of women—to be slain, and that too by a licentious girl and a corrupt harlot, and this while he was defending the divine laws.

Considering these things, therefore, let us bear nobly all that we may suffer.

For even then this bloodthirsty and lawless woman prevailed to the full measure of her desire to avenge herself upon the one who had grieved her, and glutted all her rage, and God permitted it.

And yet to her he said nothing, nor did he accuse her, but reproached the husband alone.

But conscience was a bitter accuser.

Therefore she raged all the more into greater evils, being pained and stung; and she brought shame at once upon them all — upon herself, upon her daughter, upon the husband who had departed, upon the living adulterer — and she strove on top of her former misdeeds.

For she said, in effect: If you are grieved that he commits adultery, I will make him a murderer as well, and turn him into the slayer of the one who rebukes him.

Hear this, all you who are excited toward women beyond what is fitting.

Hear this, all you who make rash oaths concerning uncertain things, and make others masters of your own destruction, and dig a pit for yourselves.

For indeed this man too perished in just this way.

For he expected that she would ask some request worthy of the banquet — she being a young girl, and asking at a feast and a drinking-party and a festival some bright and gracious favour — and by no means that she would ask for a head.

But nevertheless none of these things will avail to excuse him.

For even though she had acquired the soul of men who fight with wild beasts, yet he ought not to have been deceived, nor to have carried out such tyrannical commands.

For first of all, who would not have shuddered to see that sacred head dripping with blood, set before them at the banquet? But not the lawless Herod, nor his wife, more accursed than he.

For such are women who give themselves to fornication:

they are more shameless and more savage than all others.

For if we, merely hearing these things, shudder, what is it likely that sight then wrought in her? What must those reclining together have felt, seeing the blood dripping from a freshly-slain head in the midst of the banquet? Yet that blood-drinking woman, wilder than the Furies, felt nothing at this spectacle, but even exulted in it.

And yet, even if from no other source, from that sight alone she might reasonably have been struck numb thereafter.

But that murderess, thirsting for prophetic blood, suffered nothing of the kind.

it makes people not only licentious, but also murderous.

Those women, at any rate, who desire to commit adultery are also prepared for the slaughter of the husbands they wrong:

they are ready to dare not one murder only, nor two, but even ten thousand.

And of these deeds there are many witnesses.

And this is just what she too did then, expecting that she would thereafter escape notice and conceal her outrage.

But the very opposite of this came to pass entirely:

For John cried out even more loudly after these things.

But wickedness looks only to the present moment, just like those burning with fever, when they unseasonably ask for cold water.

For indeed, had he not slain his accuser, the outrage would not have been so thoroughly exposed.

The disciples, at least, when he cast him into prison, said nothing of the kind;

but when he put him to death, then they were compelled also to state the cause.

For they wished to conceal the adulteress, and were unwilling to parade abroad the misfortunes of their neighbors;

but when they fell under the necessity of the narrative, then they tell the whole outrage.

For lest anyone should suspect the cause of the slaughter to be some wicked thing, as in the case of Theudas and Judas, they are compelled to state also the pretext of the murder.

So that, the more you should wish to cover over a sin in this manner, so much the more do you parade it abroad.

For sin is not hidden by the addition of sin, but by repentance and confession.

And observe the evangelist, how inoffensively he relates everything, and, so far as is possible for him, even frames a defense.

For concerning Herod he says:

on account of the oaths and those who reclined at table with him, and that he was grieved;

and concerning the girl, that she was prompted by her mother, and that she brought the head to her mother;

as though he were saying, She was fulfilling that woman's command.

For all the righteous grieve not for those who suffer evil, but for those who do it, since these latter are especially the ones who suffer evil.

For neither was John wronged, but rather these who thus contrived these things.

Let us also imitate these men, and not trample upon the sins of our neighbors, but as far as need be, let us cover them over.

Let us take up a philosophic soul.

For indeed the evangelist too, in discoursing about a harlot and murderous woman, was inoffensive, so far as it was possible.

For he did not say, By the murderess and accursed woman, but, Being prompted by her mother, using the more honorable and fair names.

But you both insult and revile your neighbor, and would never endure to make mention of a brother who had so grieved you as that man made mention of the harlot; rather, with great savagery and with reproaches, you call him wicked, a villain, crafty, senseless, and many other things more grievous than these.

For we grow more savage, and discourse as about a man of another race, disparaging, reviling, insulting.

but they rather lament those who sin than curse them.

This then let us also do, and let us weep for Herodias, and for those who emulate her.

For many such banquets take place even now;

and though John is not slain, yet the members of Christ are, and that far more grievously.

For those who dance now do not ask for a head upon a platter, but for the souls of those who recline at table.

For when they make them slaves, and lead them into lawless lusts, and set harlots as fortifications against them, they do not take off the head, but slaughter the soul, making them adulterers and effeminate men and fornicators.

For you will surely not tell me that, being flushed with wine and drunken, and beholding a woman dancing and speaking shamefully, you feel nothing toward her, nor are carried away to profligacy, overcome by pleasure.

And you suffer that dreadful thing, making the members of Christ members of a harlot.

For even if the daughter of Herodias is not present, yet the devil, who then danced through her, dances now also through these, and departs having taken captive the souls of those who recline at table.

But if you are able to remain free from drunkenness, yet you share in another most grievous sin;

for indeed such banquets are full of many rapines.

For do not look at the meats set before you, nor at the cakes;

but consider whence they have been gathered together, and you will see that it is from insult and greed and violence and rapine.

But these things are not from such sources, he says.

Still, even if it be pure from these, not even so

are costly banquets freed from accusations.

Hear, at all events, how even apart from these things the prophet brings a charge, speaking thus:

Woe to those who drink the filtered wine, and anoint themselves with the finest ointments.

Do you see how he accuses even luxury? For here he does not charge greed, but only profligacy.

And you eat to excess, while Christ has not even what is needful;

you have varied cakes, while He has not even dry bread;

you drink Thasian wine, while to Him, thirsty, you have not given even a cold cup;

you lie upon a soft and richly embroidered couch, while He is perishing from the cold.

Wherefore, even if the banquets be pure from greed, even so they are unhallowed, because you do all things beyond your need, while to Him you do not give even what is needful, and this while you are luxuriating in what is His own.

But if you were guardian of a child, and having received his property, overlooked him while he was in the utmost want, you would have countless accusers, and would pay the penalty appointed by the laws;

yet having received the things of Christ, and thus spending them in vain, do you not think you will render an account? And I say these things not concerning those who bring harlots to their tables;

(for with those I have no discourse, just as none with the dogs;) nor concerning those who are greedy and gorge others;

(for neither is there anything in common between me and them, just as none with swine and wolves;) but concerning those who enjoy their own substance, yet do not share with others, concerning those who simply squander their patrimony.

For neither are these free from accusation.

For how, tell me, will you escape accusation and charges, when your parasite is gorged, and the dog standing by, but Christ does not appear to you worthy even of these things? when the one receives so much for the sake of a laugh, but the other, for the sake of the kingdom of heaven, not even the least fraction of these? and the one departs filled that he may utter some witticism, while this One, having taught us those things without learning which we should have differed nothing from the dogs, is not accounted worthy even of the same treatment as that man? Do you shudder at hearing it? Then shudder in your deeds.

Cast out the parasites, and make Christ to recline together with you.

If He share your salt and your table, He will be gentle to you when He sits in judgment;

For if even robbers know this, much more the Master.

Consider, at any rate, that harlot, how He justified her from the table, and reproaches Simon, saying:

For if He nourishes you when you do not do these things, much more will He recompense you when you do them.

Do not look at the poor man, that he approaches filthy and squalid;

but consider that through him Christ enters your house, and cease from your harshness and from the cruel words with which you are always drenching those who approach, calling them impostors, idlers, and other things more grievous than these.

And reckon, when you say these things, what deeds your parasites perform; what benefit do they bring to your house? Do they, at all events, make your meal pleasant? And how is it pleasant, when they are being slapped and speak shameful things? And what is more unpleasant than this, when you strike the one made in the image of God, and gather pleasure for yourself out of the outrage against him, making your house a theater, and filling your banquet with mimes, and, noble and free man that you are, imitating those on the stage with shaven heads? For there too are laughter and slappings.

Do you then call these things pleasure, tell me, things which are worthy of many tears, worthy of many lamentations and wailings? And when you ought to launch them into an earnest life, when you ought to exhort them to what is fitting, you instead lead them into perjuries and disorderly words, and you call the thing delight, and think the procurer of hell to be a ground of pleasure? For indeed, whenever they run short of witty sayings, they resolve the whole into oaths and perjuries.

Are these things, then, worthy of laughter, and not rather of mourning and tears? And who that has understanding would say such things? Chapter 7.

And I say these things, not forbidding that they be fed, but that it be not for such a cause.

For let the feeding have benevolence as its ground, not cruelty;

Because he is poor, feed him; because Christ is fed, feed him; not because he brings in satanic words, and disgraces his own life.

Do not look at him laughing outwardly, but examine his conscience, and then you will see him cursing himself ten thousand times, and

But if he does not show it, this too is because of you.

Let your fellow-diners, therefore, be men poor and free, not perjurers, nor mimes.

And if you wish also to require of them a return for the food, bid them, if they see anything unseemly being done, to rebuke it, to exhort, to lend a hand in the care of the household, in the oversight of the servants.

Have you children? Let these men become fathers in common to them; let them share with you the care of them, and let them bring you gains that are pleasing to God.

Cast them into a spiritual traffic.

And if you see one in need of protection, bid them help him; command them to render service.

By these means hunt for strangers; by these means clothe the naked; by these means send to the prison-house, and loose the distresses of others.

Let them render you this recompense for their sustenance, one that profits both you and them, and that incurs no reproach.

By these means also friendship is bound the more tightly.

For now, even if they seem to be loved, yet they are nonetheless ashamed, as though living idly at your expense;

but if they accomplish these things, they too will be more at ease in their disposition, and you will feed them the more gladly, seeing that you spend not in vain; and they will be with you with boldness and with fitting freedom, and your house instead of a theatre will become for you a church, and the devil will flee away, and Christ will enter in together with the choir of angels.

For where Christ is, there also are the angels;

and where Christ and the angels are, there is heaven, there is a light brighter than this light of the sun.

And if you wish through them to reap yet another consolation, bid them, when you have leisure, take up the books and read aloud the divine law.

More gladly will they minister these things to you than those others.

For these things make both you and them the more honourable;

but those others put all alike to shame:

you as an insolent and drunken man, and them as wretches and gluttons.

For if you feed them for insult's sake, it is more grievous than if you had slain them;

but if for their benefit and gain, it is more helpful in turn than if you had brought back those being led away to death.

And now you put them to greater shame than your household slaves, and the slaves have more boldness than they, and a freer conscience;

but then you will make them equal to the angels.

Deliver, then, both these men and yourself; and taking away the name of parasites, call them fellow-diners; and casting out the appellation of flatterers, bestow upon them that of friends.

For this reason too did God make friendships—not for the harm of those loved and those loving, but for good and for profit.

But these friendships are more grievous than any enmity.

For from our enemies, if we will, we even gain profit;

but from these there is every necessity of being harmed as well.

Do not, then, keep friends who are teachers of harm;

do not keep friends who are lovers of your table rather than of friendship.

For all such men, if you break off the luxury, break off the friendship also;

but those who are with you for virtue's sake remain continually, bearing every vicissitude.

But the tribe of parasites both often take vengeance on you, and clothe you with an evil reputation.

From this source, at any rate, I know of many free men who have incurred wicked suspicions;

and some were slandered as guilty of sorceries, others of adulteries and the corruption of boys. For when they have no work, but live their life idly, being suspected by many of ministering the same services as the catamites.

Freeing ourselves, therefore, from an evil reputation, and above all from the gehenna to come, and doing the things that seem good to God, let us break off this diabolical custom, that both eating and drinking we may do all things unto the glory of God, and may enjoy the glory that is from Him;

which may it be for us all to attain, by the grace and love toward mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.