Homily 13 — John 1, verse 15

“John bears witness of him, and cries out, saying, ‘This is he of whom I spoke, saying, He who comes after me ranks ahead of me, for he was before me.’” [a]

Are we, then, running and laboring in vain? Are we sowing on the rocks? Is the seed falling on the rocks? Is it falling, without our knowing it, by the path and among the thorns? I am deeply troubled and afraid that our farming may bring no return — not that I will lose the reward for this labor as well as you. For it is not with teachers as it is with farmers. Often a farmer, after a year’s toil, after all his hard work and sweat, if the earth gives him no fitting return for his pains, can find comfort for his labors from no one. He goes home from his barn to his house, to his wife and children, ashamed and downcast, unable to ask anyone for a reward for his long toil.

But with us there is nothing like this. Even if the soil we cultivate bears no fruit, if we have shown all diligence, the Lord of the soil and of us will not let us go away with our hopes disappointed, but will give us a reward. For Paul says, “Each one will receive his own reward according to his own labor” (First Corinthians 3, verse 8) — not according to how things turn out. And to show you that this is so, listen: “And you,” he says, “son of man, testify to this people, whether they will hear, and whether they will understand” (Ezekiel 2, verse 5). And Ezekiel says, “If the watchman gives warning of what one must flee from and what one must choose, he has saved his own soul, even if no one pays attention” (Ezekiel 3, verse 18, and 33, verse 9).

Yet although we have this strong comfort and are confident of the reward that will be given us, still, when we see that the work in you is not going forward, we are no better off than those farmers who lament and mourn, who hide their faces and are ashamed. This is the sympathy of a teacher; this is the natural care of a father. For Moses too had it in his power to be rid of the Jews’ ingratitude and to lay the more glorious foundation of another and far greater people. “Leave me alone,” God said, “that I may consume them, and I will make of you a nation mightier than this” (Exodus 32, verse 10). But because he was a holy man, the servant of God, a friend most true and generous, he could not bear even to listen to this word. He chose rather to perish with those who had once been given into his charge than to be saved without them and stand in greater honor.

That is what the man who has the care of souls ought to be. For it is a strange thing: a man whose children are sickly will not agree to be called the father of any but those born to him, yet one who has had disciples placed in his hands keeps exchanging one flock for another, so that we would be grasping now at the charge of these, then of those, then again of others, with real affection for none. May we never have cause to suspect this of you. We trust that you abound all the more in faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, and in love for one another and for all people. May it be increased, and may the excellence of your way of life be advanced still further. For this is how you will be able to bring your understanding down to the very depth of the words set before us: if no film of wickedness darkens the eyes of your mind and troubles their clearness and sharpness.

What, then, is set before us today? “John bore witness of him, and cried out, saying, ‘This was he of whom I spoke: He who comes after me ranks ahead of me, for he was before me.’” The evangelist is very full in mentioning John again and again, and keeps circling back to his testimony. He does this not without reason, but very wisely. All the Jews held the man in great admiration. Even Josephus puts the war down to his death, and shows that because of him what was once the mother city is now no city at all, and he draws out his praise of him at great length. So the evangelist, wanting to put the Jews to shame by means of John, keeps reminding them of the forerunner’s testimony.

The other evangelists mention the older prophets, and at each thing that happened concerning him they refer the hearer to them. So when the child is born, they say, “Now all this was done, that what was spoken by Isaiah the prophet might be fulfilled, saying, ‘Look, a virgin will be with child and will bear a son’” (Matthew 1, verse 22; Isaiah 7, verse 14). And when he is plotted against and hunted for everywhere so carefully that even tender infants are slaughtered by Herod, they bring in Jeremiah, saying, “In Ramah a voice was heard, lamentation and weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children” (Matthew 2, verse 18; Jeremiah 31, verse 15). And again, when he comes up out of Egypt, they mention Hosea, saying, “Out of Egypt I have called my Son” (Matthew 2, verse 15; Hosea 11, verse 1). They do this everywhere.

But John, offering a testimony clearer and fresher and uttering a voice more glorious than the others, keeps bringing forward not only those who had departed and were dead, but also one who was alive and present, who pointed him out and baptized him. This man he keeps introducing — not because he wants to win credit for the Master through the servant, but because he is stooping to the weakness of his hearers. For just as Christ would not have been easily received unless he had taken the form of a servant, so, had he not prepared the ears of his fellow servants by the voice of a servant, most of the Jews at any rate would not have received the Word.

But besides this, there was another great and wonderful piece of forethought. To say great things about oneself makes a man’s witness suspect, and is often an obstacle to many hearers; so another comes to testify about him. Besides this, most people are in a way inclined to run more readily to a voice that is more familiar and natural to them, since they recognize it more easily than other voices. That is why the voice from heaven was uttered once or twice, but John’s often and continually. [g]

Those among the people who had risen above the weakness of their nature and had been set free from everything of the senses could hear the voice from heaven, and had no great need of a man’s voice; they obeyed that other voice in everything and were led by it. But those who still moved below and were wrapped in many veils needed that humbler voice. In the same way John, because he had stripped himself in every way of the things of the senses, needed no other teachers, but was taught from heaven. “He who sent me to baptize with water,” he says, “the same said to me, ‘On whomever you see the Spirit of God descending, this is he’” (John 1, verse 33). But the Jews, who were still children and could not yet reach that height, had a man for their teacher — a man who did not speak words of his own to them, but brought them a message from above.

What, then, does he say? He “bears witness of him, and cries out, saying.” What does the word “cries out” mean? He means that he proclaims boldly, freely, holding nothing back. What does he proclaim? To what does he “bear witness” and “cry out”? “This is he of whom I said, He who comes after me ranks ahead of me, for he was before me.” The testimony is obscure, and besides, it has much that is lowly in it. For he does not say, “This is the Son of God, the only Son, the true Son.” What does he say? “He who comes after me ranks ahead of me, for he was before me.”

Mother birds do not teach their young to fly all at once, nor finish the lesson in a single day. At first they lead them out just beyond the nest; then, after letting them rest, they set them flying again; on the next day they carry the flight much farther; and so, gently, little by little, they bring them to the proper height. In just the same way blessed John did not bring the Jews to high things at once, but taught them for a while to fly a little above the earth, saying that Christ was greater than he. And even this was no small thing for the time: to be able to persuade his hearers that one who had not yet appeared or worked any wonders was greater than a man — I mean John — so marvelous, so famous, to whom everyone ran, and whom they thought to be an angel. So for a while he labored to establish this in his hearers’ minds: that the one to whom witness was borne was greater than the one who bore it; the one who came after, greater than the one who came before; the one not yet seen, greater than the one who was visible and famous.

And notice how wisely he introduces his testimony. He does not only point him out once he has appeared, but proclaims him even before he appears. For the words “This is he of whom I spoke” are the words of one who had declared this beforehand. So Matthew says that when everyone came to him, he said, “I indeed baptize you with water, but he who comes after me is mightier than I, the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie.”

Why, then, did he do this even before Christ appeared? So that when he did appear, the testimony might be readily received, because the hearers’ minds had already been won over by what was said about him, and his humble outward appearance would not spoil it. If they had seen the Lord without having heard anything at all about him, and had received John’s testimony, so wonderful and great, at the very moment they saw him, the lowliness of his appearance would at once have told against the grandeur of the words. For Christ took on so humble and ordinary an appearance that even Samaritan women and prostitutes and tax collectors had the confidence to come up to him boldly and talk with him. So, as I said, if they had heard these words and seen him at the same time, they might perhaps have mocked at John’s testimony. But as it was, because even before Christ appeared they had often heard what was said about him and had grown used to it, they were affected the opposite way. They did not reject the teaching of the words because of the appearance of the one to whom witness was borne; because they believed what they had already been told, they thought him all the more glorious.

The phrase “who comes after me” means “who preaches after me,” not “who was born after me.” Matthew hints at this when he says, “After me comes a man.” He is speaking not of Christ’s birth from Mary but of his coming to preach. Had he been speaking of the birth, he would not have said “comes,” but “has come,” since Christ was already born when John said this. What, then, does “ranks ahead of me” mean? That he is more glorious, more honored. “Do not suppose, because I came preaching first, that I am greater than he on that account. I am far inferior — so far inferior that I am not worthy to be counted in the rank of a servant.” That is the sense of “ranks ahead of me,” which Matthew shows in a different way when he says, “The strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie” (Luke 3, verse 16).

Again, it is plain from what follows that the phrase “ranks ahead of me” does not refer to his coming into being. If he had meant this, the next words, “for he was before me,” would be superfluous. Who is so dull and foolish as not to know that he who “was born before” him “was before” him? Or if the words refer to his existence before the ages, what is said is nothing other than “He who comes after me came into being before me, because he was before me.” But this makes no sense, and the reason is thrown in for nothing. If he had wanted to say this, he ought to have said the opposite: “He who comes after me was before me, since he was also born before me.” One could reasonably give “being born before” as the reason for “being before,” but not “being before” as the reason for “being born.”

What we are saying, on the other hand, is entirely reasonable. For you all know this much at least: it is always things uncertain, not things obvious, that need their reasons given. If the question were about coming into existence, there could have been no doubt that he who “was born” first must also “be” first. But because he is speaking about honor, he rightly explains what seems to be a difficulty. Many might well ask how, and on what grounds, the one who came after came to be ahead — that is, appeared with great honor. So, in answer to this question, he at once gives the reason; and the reason is that he was first. He does not say, “By some kind of promotion he pushed me, who had been first, behind him, and so came to be ahead of me,” but, “He was before me,” even though he arrives after me.

But someone says: “If the evangelist is speaking of his being made known to people, and of the glory that was to come to him from them, how can he speak of what had not yet happened as though it had already taken place? For he does not say ‘will be,’ but ‘was.’” Because it is a custom among the prophets of old to speak of the future as though it were past. So Isaiah, speaking of his slaughter, does not say, “He will be led like a sheep to the slaughter,” which would have pointed to the future, but, “He was led like a sheep to the slaughter” (Isaiah 53, verse 7). Yet he had not yet taken flesh; the prophet speaks of what was to be as though it had already come to pass. So David, pointing to the crucifixion, did not say, “They will pierce my hands and my feet,” but, “They pierced my hands and my feet, and divided my garments among them, and cast lots for my clothing” (Psalm 22, verses 16 and 18). And speaking of the traitor, who was not yet born, he says, “He who ate my bread has lifted up his heel against me” (Psalm 41, verse 9). And of what happened at the crucifixion: “They gave me gall for food, and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink” (Psalm 69, verse 21).

Would you like us to bring forward more examples, or are these enough? For my part, I think they are. Even if we have not dug over the whole extent of the ground, we have at least dug down to the bottom of it — and that work is no less laborious than the other. And we are afraid that by straining your attention beyond measure we may make you fall back.

So let us give our discourse a fitting conclusion. And what conclusion is fitting? Giving glory to God as is due; and glory is given as is due not by words only, but much more by actions. For he says, “Let your light so shine before people, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5, verse 16). Now nothing is more full of light than a truly excellent way of life. As one of the wise men has said, “The paths of the righteous shine like light” (Proverbs 4, verse 18). And they shine not only for those who kindle the flame by their works and are guides on the way of righteousness, but also for those who are their neighbors.

So let us pour oil into these lamps, so that the flame may rise higher and a rich light appear. For this oil not only has great strength now; even when sacrifices were at their height, it was far more acceptable than they could ever be. “I desire mercy,” he says, “and not sacrifice” (Matthew 12, verse 7; Hosea 6, verse 6). And rightly so. For that altar is lifeless, and this one living. Everything laid on that altar becomes food for the fire and ends in dust; it is poured out as ashes, and its smoke melts away into the air. But here there is nothing like this; the fruits this altar bears are different.

The words of Paul show it. Describing the treasures of kindness to the poor that the Corinthians had laid up, he writes, “For the ministry of this service not only supplies the needs of the saints, but overflows also in many thanksgivings to God” (Second Corinthians 9, verse 12). And again: “While they glorify God for your professed submission to the good news of Christ, and for your generous sharing with them and with all; and by their prayer for you, as they long for you.” Do you see it turning into thanksgiving and praise of God, and into the constant prayers of those who have been helped, and into more fervent love?

So let us sacrifice, beloved; let us sacrifice every day on these altars. For this sacrifice is greater than prayer and fasting and many other things — if only it comes from honest gain and honest toil, and is clean of all greed and plunder and violence. God accepts offerings like these; the others he turns away from and hates. He will not be honored out of other people’s misfortunes. Such a sacrifice is unclean and unholy, and would anger God rather than appease him. So we must take every care not to insult, in the very act of service, the one we mean to honor. For if Cain suffered the utmost punishment for making a second-rate offering, though he had done no other wrong, how will we not suffer still more severely when we offer anything gained by plunder and greed?

This is why God has shown us the pattern of this commandment: so that we may show mercy, and not be harsh to our fellow servants. But the man who takes what belongs to one person and gives it to another has not shown mercy; he has done harm, and committed the worst injustice. Just as a stone cannot yield oil, so cruelty cannot produce kindness; for almsgiving that has a root like this is almsgiving no longer. So I urge that we look not only to this, that we give to those in need, but also that we do not give out of what we have plundered from others. “When one prays and another curses, whose voice will the Lord hear?” (Sirach 34, verse 24). If we keep this strict watch over ourselves, we will be able, by the grace of God, to find much love for humankind, mercy and pardon for the wrongs we have done in all this long time, and to escape the river of fire. May we all be delivered from it and go up to the kingdom of heaven, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory forever and ever. Amen.