Lest we weary our readers by writing the same things over again, we wish them to be advised that this sermon and the one that follows were copied from the Ambrosian codex, published by Muratori in the fourth volume of the Anecdota, and that they are extant in the praised Turin codex, number 20; and it is noted that sermons 21, 22, 23, 24, and 25 are lacking. The mystery of our redemption, most dear brethren, which, coming from heaven, works out our salvation on earth, bears itself about with such majesty and such graciousness that its power and truth are hidden from the faithless and manifest to believers. For just as that which is holy becomes known to the faithful, so faithlessness cannot see the matter of faith.
For in examining heavenly things all human wisdom is made foolish, and every mortal heart grows numb, as the most glorious teacher, Paul the apostle, says: 'The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God' (1 Corinthians 5). Our Lord and Savior himself also, rejecting the wisdom of this world, said: 'I give thee thanks, Father, because thou hast hidden these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them to little ones' (Matthew 11). Learn therefore from these things, brethren, that the sacraments of our life are not to be attained by philosophic doctrines, but to be believed with the simplicity of little ones; for by that deep and great judgment of our God, what is concealed from the wise is revealed to the little one.
For one is called a little one, not one whose age is imperfect, but one who does not know how to oppose the divine mysteries. And rightly is he called a little one who prepares for the will of his God not arguments, but faith. It is hidden, therefore, from the wise man, so that he may not see what is manifest, because, proudly and imprudently elated, he contends that he can be wiser than God is able to be. And therefore, refuting the questionings of worldly wisdom, let us hold the faith that is revealed to little ones, believing without hesitation that the Virgin conceived by heavenly operation, and that, having brought forth her Son, she remained a virgin after the birth. Nor let us doubt that he was born of a virgin, whom virginity alone could worthily bring to birth.
And this is the point, dearly beloved, in which we differ from the wise of this world: that they, in their immoderate disputations about Christ, despise the lowliness of a female birth; but we, illumined by faith, look up in reverence to the mystery of the virginal womb. For Christ, our God and Lord, so bound together in himself, by an ineffable union, that which he had from the Father and that which he took from the mother, that the simplicity of little ones might behold the depth of his incarnation, the prudence of the wise being driven far off. Finally, that we may come to what follows: the nations laugh that Christ was crucified, not attending to the fact that through his cross the world trembled, the day was closed, and—what had befallen no ages before—the powers below beheld the Lord of heaven.
They add also, saying: 'How is your Christ worshiped by you as God, who was afraid to die?' If, then, you know that Christ was afraid to die, why do you not know that what he feared was not of cowardice, but of mystery? Christ indeed feared, but that he might either will or be able to fear, he took that from the weakness of our body. For he feared through that same nature by which he also hungered, by which he was sorrowful, by which he slept, by which he grieved, by which he wept. What does this mean? You see Christ fearing to die, and do you not behold him tearing the spoils from captive death with triumphant hand? You see that he feared death, and do you refuse to see that he raised the dead? He who, having traversed the underworld, restored life to his very self after the tomb?
Do not, therefore, despise him as dead, who glorifies his own burial by his resurrection. For from his mother he drew that by which he underwent death; from the Father he brought that by which he might raise the dead. And rising from the underworld, that he might show there was in him the reality of his risen body, he said to his disciples, saying: 'Handle and see, for a spirit has not flesh and bones, as you see me to have' (Luke 24). He showed his bones and his flesh, that no one might doubt that he himself had returned from the tomb who had been pierced with nails on the wood. 'Handle,' he says, 'and see': that is, handle with the hand, see with faith, for there is in me both the reality of my body and the property of divinity. 'A spirit has not flesh and bones, as you see me to have.'
That is, it is not of the nature of a spirit that it can have either bones or flesh; but by my mystery it has come to pass, by my power and my Father's, that both my flesh in the spirit and the spirit in the flesh should ever remain inseparable in me. See, therefore, see, that I myself am he who, pierced through with nails and lance, by fearing death did not fear, who healed my wounds not by the diligence of the medical art, but by dying, who kept in my body the marks of the nails not for myself but for your faith. For I willed not to blot out in myself the memory of that saving passion, so that in your hearts the truth of my resurrection might remain. And therefore, brethren, let us honor the mystery of the dying Lord, that we may be able to receive the glory of the one who rises.
Let us venerate the crucified one, that we may deserve to see him reigning. For he chose to die, not that hell might claim him for itself, but that he might free the dead from the dead.