Homily 16 — John 1, verses 19 to 27

“And this is the witness of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, ‘Who are you?’” [a]

Envy is a terrible thing, beloved — a terrible and a destructive thing — to those who envy, not to those who are envied. It harms and wastes them first, like some deadly poison lodged deep in their souls. And if by chance it does harm those it is aimed at, the harm is small and slight, and such as brings more gain than loss. Indeed, not with envy only but in every other case, it is not the one who suffers the wrong but the one who does it who is injured. If this were not so, Paul would not have urged the disciples to put up with wrong rather than to do it, when he says, “Why do you not rather accept wrong? Why do you not rather let yourselves be cheated?” (First Corinthians 6, verse 7). He knew well that ruin always follows, not the one who is wronged, but the one who does the wrong.

I have said all this because of the envy of the Jews. Those who had flocked from the cities to John, who had condemned their own sins and had themselves baptized, now send — as though they had changed their minds after their baptism — to ask him, “Who are you?” Truly they were the offspring of vipers, serpents, and worse than that, if anything could be. O evil and adulterous and perverse generation! After being baptized, do you now turn idly curious and start questioning the Baptist? What folly could be greater than yours? Why, then, did you come out to him? Why did you confess your sins, why did you run to the Baptist? Why did you ask him what you must do? In all this you were acting without reason, since you did not know the principle and purpose of his coming.

Yet the blessed John said nothing of this. He does not charge them with it or reproach them, but answers them with all gentleness. It is worth learning why he did so. It was so that their wickedness might be exposed and made plain to everyone.

Again and again John bore witness to Christ before the Jews. When he baptized them, he kept mentioning him to those who came to him, and said, “I indeed baptize you with water, but one is coming after me who is mightier than I; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire” (Matthew 3, verse 11). Toward John they were moved by a merely human feeling. Anxiously attentive to the world’s opinion, and looking to “the outward appearance” (Second Corinthians 10, verse 7), they thought it beneath him that he should be subject to Christ. For there were many things that marked John out as a man of distinction. First, his noble and eminent descent, for he was the son of a chief priest. Then his way of life, his austere living, his contempt for all human things. He despised clothing and table, house and food itself, and had spent his earlier life in the desert.

With Christ it was all the opposite. His family was humble, as they often threw in his face, saying, “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son? Isn’t his mother called Mary, and his brothers James and Joses?” (Matthew 13, verse 55). And the place that was supposed to be his hometown had so bad a name that even Nathanael said, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (John 1, verse 46). His way of living was ordinary, and his clothes were no better than most people’s. He did not wear a leather belt, his clothing was not made of hair, and he did not eat honey and locusts. He lived like everyone else, and he went to the feasts of wicked men and tax collectors, so that he might draw them to himself. The Jews did not understand this and reproached him for it, as he himself says: “The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners’” (Matthew 11, verse 19).

So when John kept sending them away from himself to Jesus, who seemed to them the lesser man, they were ashamed and annoyed at it. They would rather have had John for their teacher, but they did not dare to say so openly. So they send to him, thinking that by flattery they could bring him to confess that he was the Christ. That is why they do not send him men of no standing, as they did in Christ’s case — for when they wanted to arrest him, they sent servants, and later Herodians and the like. Here they send “priests and Levites,” and not just “priests,” but priests “from Jerusalem,” that is, the more honored ones. The evangelist did not note this without a reason.

And they send to ask, “Who are you?” Yet the way he was born was known to everyone, so that all were saying, “What kind of child will this be?” (Luke 1, verse 66), and the report of it had spread through all the hill country. And afterward, when he came to the Jordan, all the cities were stirred up and came flocking to him from Jerusalem and from all Judea to be baptized. Why, then, do they ask now? Not because they did not know him — how could that be, when he had been made known in so many ways? — but because they wanted to bring him to do what I have mentioned.

Listen, then, to how this blessed man answered the intention behind their question, and not the question itself. When they said, “Who are you?” he did not at once give them what would have been the direct answer, “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness.” What did he do? He removed the suspicion they had formed. For the evangelist says that when he was asked, “Who are you?” — [f]

Verse 20: “He confessed, and did not deny, but confessed, ‘I am not the Christ.’”

Notice the wisdom of the evangelist. He mentions this for the third time, to bring out the Baptist’s excellence, and their wickedness and folly. Luke too says that when the crowds supposed he was the Christ, he again removed their suspicion. This is the mark of an honest servant: not only not to take his master’s honor for himself, but to refuse it even when the many offer it to him. But the crowds came to their supposition out of simplicity and ignorance; these men questioned him with the ill intention I have mentioned, expecting, as I said, to win him over to their purpose by flattery. If they had not expected this, they would not have gone straight on to another question. They would have been angry with him for giving an answer that had nothing to do with what they asked, and would have said:

“Why, did we suppose that? Did we come to ask you that?”

But as it is, like men caught and exposed in the act, they go on to another question and say:

Verse 21: “What then? Are you Elijah?” And he says, “I am not.”

For they expected that Elijah too would come, as Christ declares. When his disciples asked, “Why then do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” (Matthew 17, verse 10), he replied, “Elijah truly will come first, and restore all things.” Then they ask, “Are you the Prophet?” And he answered, “No” (John 1, verse 21). Yet surely he was a prophet. Why, then, does he deny it? Because once again he looks to the intention of his questioners. They expected that some special prophet would come, because Moses said, “The Lord your God will raise up for you a Prophet from among your brothers, like me; you shall listen to him” (Deuteronomy 18, verse 15). Now this was Christ. That is why they do not say, “Are you a prophet?” meaning one of the ordinary prophets. The words “Are you the Prophet?” — with the article added — mean, “Are you that Prophet who was foretold by Moses?” And so he denied, not that he was a prophet, but that he was “the Prophet.”

Verse 22: “Then they said to him, ‘Who are you, so that we may give an answer to those who sent us? What do you say about yourself?’”

See how they press him harder, urging him, repeating their questions, and not letting up. He, for his part, first kindly removes the false opinions about himself, and then sets the true one before them. For he says:

Verse 23: “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’ as the prophet Isaiah said.”

Because he had spoken high and lofty words about Christ, as if answering their opinion, he at once turned to the prophet, to draw from him the confirmation of what he said.

Verses 24 and 25: “And those who were sent,” the evangelist says, “were of the Pharisees. And they asked him and said to him, ‘Why then do you baptize, if you are not the Christ, nor Elijah, nor the Prophet?’”

Do you see that I was not wrong to say they wanted to bring him to this? The reason they did not say so at first was so that they would not be found out by everyone. Then, when he said, “I am not the Christ,” they, wanting to hide what they were plotting inside, go on to “Elijah” and “the Prophet.” But when he said he was not one of these either, then, at a loss, they threw off the mask and, without any disguise, showed their treacherous intention plainly, saying, “Why then do you baptize, if you are not the Christ?” And then again, wanting to cloud the matter, they add the others as well, “Elijah” and “the Prophet.” For since they could not trip him up by flattery, they thought that by an accusation they could force him to say what was not so.

What folly, what insolence, what untimely meddling! You were sent to learn who he was and where he came from, not to lay down laws for him as well. This too was the behavior of men trying to force him to confess himself the Christ. Yet not even now is he angry. He does not say to them, as one might have expected, anything like this:

“Are you giving me orders and making laws for me?”

Instead, once again he shows them great gentleness.

Verses 26 and 27: “I,” he says, “baptize with water; but there stands one among you whom you do not know. He it is who, coming after me, has been ranked ahead of me, the strap of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie.”

What could the Jews have left to say to this? Even from this, the charge against them cannot be escaped; the verdict against them allows no pardon; they have passed sentence on themselves. How? In what way? They thought John worthy of belief, and so truthful that they would believe him not only when he bore witness about others but also when he spoke about himself. If they had not felt this way, they would not have sent to learn from him what concerned himself. For you know that the only people we believe, especially when they speak about themselves, are those we think more truthful than anyone else. [j]

And it is not this alone that shuts their mouths, but also the attitude with which they had first come to him. For at first they came out to him with great eagerness, even if afterward they changed. Christ declared both these things when he said, “He was a burning and shining light, and you were willing for a while to rejoice in his light.” Moreover, John’s answer made him still more worthy of belief. For Christ says, “He who does not seek his own glory is true, and there is no unrighteousness in him.” Now this man did not seek it, but refers the Jews to another. And those who were sent were among the most trustworthy of them and of the highest rank, so that they could have no refuge or excuse at all for the unbelief they showed toward Christ.

Why did you not accept what John said about him? You sent men who held first rank among you. You made your inquiry through them. You heard what the Baptist answered. They pried into everything as far as anyone could, searched out every point, and named every person you suspected him to be. And yet, most publicly and plainly, he confessed that he was neither “the Christ,” nor “Elijah,” nor “the Prophet.” Nor did he stop there. He also told them who he was, and spoke of the nature of his own baptism — that it was a slight and humble thing, nothing more than some water — and told them of the superiority of the baptism Christ gives. He also cited Isaiah the prophet, who bore witness very long ago, calling Christ “Lord” (Isaiah 40, verse 3) and giving John the names of “minister” and “servant.” After this, what ought they to have done? Should they not have believed in the one to whom he bore witness, worshiped him, and confessed him to be God?

For the character and heavenly wisdom of the witness showed that his testimony came not from flattery but from truth. This is plain also from the fact that no one prefers his neighbor to himself, and no one, when he may rightfully take honor for himself, gives it up to another — especially an honor as great as the one we are speaking of. So John would not have given up this testimony as belonging to Christ if Christ had not been God. He might have refused it for himself as too great for his own nature, but he would not have assigned it to another nature that was beneath it.

“But there stands one among you whom you do not know.” It was fitting that Christ should mingle with the people as one of the many, because everywhere he taught people not to be puffed up and boastful. And here by “knowing” the Baptist means a full acquaintance with him — who he was and where he came from. And immediately after this he puts, “who comes after me,” all but saying:

“Do not think that everything is contained in my baptism. If mine had been complete, another would not have come after me to offer you a different one. No, this baptism of mine is a preparation, a clearing of the way for that other. Mine is only a shadow and an image; but one must come who will add the reality to it. So his very coming ‘after me’ shows his dignity above all. If the first had been complete, no place would have been needed for a second.”

“Has been ranked ahead of me” means is more honored, more glorious. Then, so that they would not imagine that his superiority was measured by comparison, and wanting to establish that he is beyond all comparison, he says, “the strap of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie.” That is: he is not simply “ahead of me,” but ahead of me in such a way that I am not worthy to be counted among the lowest of his servants. For to untie the sandal is the task of the humblest service.

Now if John was not worthy to “untie the strap” — John, than whom “among those born of women there has not risen a greater” (Matthew 11, verse 11) — where shall we place ourselves? He was equal to the whole world, or rather greater than it, for Paul says, “the world was not worthy” of such men (Hebrews 11, verse 38). If he declares himself not worthy to be counted even among the lowest of those who would serve Christ, what shall we say, we who are full of ten thousand sins, and as far from John’s excellence as earth is from heaven?

John, then, says that he himself is not “worthy so much as to untie the strap of his sandal.” Yet the enemies of the truth are mad with such madness that they claim they are worthy to know him even as he knows himself. What could be worse than such insanity? What more frenzied than such arrogance? A wise man said it well: “The beginning of pride is not to know the Lord.” [m]

The devil would not have been brought down and become a devil — for he was not a devil before — if he had not been sick with this disease. This is what cast him out of that confident freedom he once had; this sent him to the pit of fire; this was the cause of all his woes. For pride is enough by itself to destroy every excellence of the soul, whether it finds almsgiving there, or prayer, or fasting, or anything else. For the evangelist says, “What is highly esteemed among men is unclean before the Lord” (Luke 16, verse 15). So it is not only sexual immorality or adultery that defile those who practice them, but pride too, and far more than those vices.

Why? Because sexual immorality, though it is an unpardonable sin, still lets a man plead his desire. But pride cannot possibly find any cause or pretext of any kind to gain even a shadow of excuse. It is nothing but a warping of the soul and a most grievous disease of it, and it springs from no other source than folly. There is nothing more foolish than a proud man — though he is surrounded with wealth, though he has much of the wisdom of this world, though he sits in a royal seat, though he carries around with him everything that people think desirable. If the man who is proud of things that are really good is wretched and miserable, and loses the reward of them all, then surely the man who is lifted up by things that are nothing, and puffs himself up over a shadow or the flower of the grass — for that is what this world’s glory is — must be more ridiculous than anyone. He is doing just what some poor, needy man might do who pines with hunger all his days, and yet, if he happens one night to dream of good fortune, is filled with conceit because of it.

Wretched, miserable man! When your soul is perishing of a most grievous disease, when you are poor with the most utter poverty, are you proud because you have so many talents of gold? Because you have a crowd of slaves and herds of cattle? Yet these are not yours. If you do not believe what I say, learn from the experience of those who went before you. And if you are so drunk that you cannot learn even from what has happened to others, wait a little, and you will learn from what happens to you yourself that these things do you no good. When you are gasping for breath, master not of a single hour, not even of a brief moment, you will leave them against your will to those around you — and perhaps to the very people you would least want to have them. For many have not even been allowed to give directions about their property. They have departed suddenly, wanting to enjoy it and not allowed to; they were dragged away from it and forced to hand it over to others, giving way under compulsion to those they would not have chosen.

So that this may not be our fate, let us, while we are still strong and healthy, send our riches ahead from here to our own city. For only in this way, and in no other, will we be able to enjoy them; so we will store them in a place that is secure and safe. For there is nothing, nothing at all there, that can take them from us: no death, no witnessed wills, no heirs stepping in to the estate, no false informers, no plots against us. The one who departs from here carrying great wealth with him may enjoy it there forever. Who, then, is so wretched as not to want to revel in riches that are wholly his own? So let us transfer our wealth and move it there.

For such a move we will not need donkeys or camels or carts or ships — God has spared us even this trouble. We need only the poor, the lame, the crippled, the sick. These are entrusted with this transfer; these carry our riches to heaven; these bring the owners of such wealth into the inheritance of everlasting good things. May we all attain them, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.