Homily 19 — John 1, verses 41 and 42

“He first finds his own brother Simon, and says to him, ‘We have found the Messiah,’ which means, translated, the Christ. And he brought him to Jesus.” [a]

When God in the beginning made man, he did not let him be alone. He gave him woman as a helper suited to him, and had them live together, because he knew that great good would come from this companionship. What if the woman did not use this benefit rightly? Still, anyone who looks closely into the nature of the thing will see that for the wise, great good comes from living together — and not only in the case of wife and husband. If brothers do it, they too will enjoy the benefit. That is why the prophet said, “What is good, what is pleasant, but that brothers should live together?” (Psalm 133, verse 1, as the Greek Old Testament reads it). And Paul urged us not to neglect meeting together (Hebrews 10, verse 25).

This is what sets us apart from the wild animals. This is why we have built cities and marketplaces and houses: so that we may be united with one another, not only in the place where we live, but by the bond of love. For our nature came incomplete from the one who made it, not sufficient for itself. So God, for our good, arranged that the need this leaves in us should be made up by the help we give one another when we live together. What one person lacked, another would supply, and in this way our incomplete nature would be made sufficient. For instance, though it was made mortal, it would keep up a kind of immortality for a long time, one generation succeeding another. I could have gone into this argument at greater length and shown what advantages come to those who meet together in genuine and pure fellowship with one another. But something else presses on us now — the very thing for whose sake we have said all this.

Andrew stayed with Jesus and learned what he did, and then he did not keep the treasure to himself. He hurries, he runs to his brother, to share with him the good things he had received. But why has John not told us what Christ talked with them about? And how is it clear that this was why they “stayed with him”? We proved it the other day, but we can learn it from what has been read today as well. Notice what Andrew says to his brother: “We have found the Messiah,” which means, translated, “the Christ.” You see how, from what he had learned in a short time, he brought to light both the wisdom of the Teacher who had won them over and their own zeal, since they had cared about these things long before, from the very beginning. For these words, “we have found,” are the voice of a soul that has been in labor with longing for his presence, that looks for his coming from above, that is overjoyed when the thing it looked for has happened, and hurries to share the good news with others. This is what brotherly affection does, and the friendship that comes by nature, and a sincere heart: they are eager to reach out a hand to one another in spiritual things.

Listen, too, how he speaks with the article added. He does not say “Messiah,” but “the Messiah.” So they were expecting one particular Christ, who had nothing in common with the others.

And look, I beg you, at Peter’s mind, obedient and teachable from the very beginning. He ran to him without any delay. “He brought him to Jesus,” John says. Yet let no one blame him for being too easily persuaded because he accepted the word without much questioning. It is likely that his brother had told him these things more exactly and at length; but the evangelists, out of care for brevity, constantly cut many things short. Besides, it is not said outright that “he believed,” but that “he brought him to Jesus,” to hand him over to Jesus from then on, so that he might learn everything from him. For the other disciple was with Andrew too, and had a share in this. And if John the Baptist, after saying that he was “the Lamb” and that he “baptizes with the Spirit,” handed them over to learn the clearer teaching about this from him, much more would Andrew have done so. He did not think himself able to tell him the whole, but drew his brother to the very fountain of light, with such zeal and joy that the other did not put it off or hesitate at all.

Verse 42: “And when Jesus looked at him,” says the evangelist, “he said, ‘You are Simon, the son of Jonah; you will be called Cephas,’ which means, translated, a stone.”

From this point on he begins to reveal what belongs to his divinity, and to unfold it little by little through predictions. He did the same with Nathanael and with the Samaritan woman. For prophecies win people over no less than miracles do, and they are free from any appearance of boasting. Among foolish people miracles can be slandered — “He casts out demons by Beelzebub,” they said (Matthew 12, verse 24) — but nothing of the kind has ever been said of prophecy. Now with Nathanael and with Simon he used this way of teaching, but with Andrew and Philip he did not. Why was this? Because those two had the testimony of John, which was no small preparation, and Philip received trustworthy grounds for faith when he saw those who had been there. [g]

“You are Simon, the son of Jonah.” The present vouches for the future. Clearly the one who named Peter’s father also knew the future beforehand. And the prediction comes with praise; but the aim was not to flatter, it was to foretell something still to come. Listen, at any rate, to how he makes a prediction with severe rebukes in the case of the Samaritan woman: “You have had five husbands,” he says, “and the one you have now is not your husband” (John 4, verse 18).

So too his Father sets great store by prophecy when he takes his stand against the honor paid to idols. “Let them declare to you,” he says, “what will come upon you” (Isaiah 47, verse 13). And again: “I have declared, and I have saved, and there was no foreign god among you” (Isaiah 43, verse 12, as the Greek Old Testament reads it). And he brings this forward all through the prophets. For prophecy is above all the work of God, and demons cannot even imitate it, though they try very hard. With miracles there can be illusion; but to foretell the future exactly belongs to that pure nature alone. And if demons have ever done it, it was by deceiving the simpler sort. That is why their oracles are always easily found out.

But Peter makes no reply to these words. As yet he knew nothing clearly; he was still learning. And notice that not even the prediction is set out in full. Jesus did not say, “I will change your name to Peter, and on this rock I will build my church,” but, “You will be called Cephas.” The first way of speaking would have shown too much authority and power. For Christ does not declare all his power immediately or at the start, but for a while speaks in a humbler tone. And so, once he had given proof of his divinity, he puts it with more authority, saying, “Blessed are you, Simon, because my Father has revealed it to you,” and again, “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church” (Matthew 16, verses 17 and 18).

So he named Peter in this way, and James and his brother he called “sons of thunder” (Mark 3, verse 17). Why, then, does he do this? To show that it was he who gave the old covenant; that it was he who changed names, who called Abram “Abraham,” and Sarai “Sarah,” and Jacob “Israel.” To many he gave names even from their birth, as to Isaac and to Samson, and to those in Isaiah and Hosea (Isaiah 8, verse 3; Hosea 1, verses 4, 6, and 9). To others he gave names after their parents had already named them, as to those we have mentioned, and to Joshua the son of Nun. It was also a custom of the ancients to give names from events, as Leah in fact did. This was not done without reason. It was done so that people might have the name to remind them of God’s goodness, and so that an unending memory of the prophecy the names carried might sound in the ears of those who received them. So too he named John early, because those whose virtue was to shine out from their earliest youth received their names from that time on, while those who were to become great at a later time were also given their title later.

But back then they each received a different name. Now we all have one name, the one greater than any: we are called “Christians,” and “sons of God,” and his “friends,” and his “body.” This name itself, more than all those others, is able to rouse us and make us more zealous in the practice of virtue. So let us not act unworthily of the honor that goes with the title. Let us consider how surpassing our dignity is — we who are called Christ’s, for that is what Paul has named us (First Corinthians 3, verse 23). Let us keep in mind the greatness of the name, and revere it. [l]

Think of someone who is said to be descended from some famous general, or from a man distinguished in some other way. He is proud to be called that man’s son; he counts the name a great honor; and he does everything he can not to bring disgrace, through his own slackness, on the one he is named after. Then what of us? We are named not after a general, nor after any of the rulers on earth, nor an angel, nor an archangel, nor the seraphim, but after the King of these himself. Shall we not freely give even our very lives, so as not to insult the one who has honored us? Don’t you know what honor the royal bands of shield-bearers and spearmen who stand around the king enjoy? We have been counted worthy to be near him — much closer than they are, as much nearer than those men as the body is closer to the head. So let us, I say, use every means to be imitators of Christ.

What, then, does Christ say? “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Luke 9, verse 58). Now if I demand this of you, it will perhaps seem hard and burdensome to most of you. So because of your weakness I do not speak of such perfection; I only want you not to be nailed to your riches. And just as I, because of the weakness of the many, draw back somewhat from demanding virtue at its height, I want you to do the same, and much more, on the side of vice. I do not blame those who have houses and lands and wealth and servants. I want them to possess these things safely and in a fitting way.

And what is “a fitting way”? As masters, not as slaves: so that they rule their possessions and are not ruled by them; so that they use them and do not misuse them. This is why they are called “things to be used”: so that we may spend them on what is needed, not hoard them up. Hoarding is a household servant’s job, spending a master’s. It is for the slave to keep them, but for the lord, the one with great authority, to spend them. You did not receive your wealth to bury it, but to give it away. If God had wanted riches to be hoarded, he would not have given them to people, but would have left them where they were, in the earth. But because he wants them to be spent, he has let us have them, so that we may share them with one another. And if we keep them to ourselves, we are no longer their masters.

But if you want to make them grow, and that is why you keep them shut away, even then the best plan of all is to scatter them and give them out in every direction. For there can be no income without an outlay, no wealth without spending. You can see that this is so even in the affairs of this world. So it is with the merchant, and so with the farmer: the one puts out his wealth, the other his seed. The one sails the sea to sell off his goods; the other labors all year long, sowing and tending his seed. But here there is no need of any of these things: no ship to fit out, no oxen to yoke, no land to plow, no worry about uncertain weather, no dread of a hailstorm. Here there are no waves and no rocks. This voyage and this sowing need one thing only: that we cast out our possessions. All the rest will be done by that Farmer of whom Christ says, “My Father is the farmer” (John 15, verse 1).

Is it not absurd, then, to be sluggish and lazy where we may gain everything without labor, and to show all our eagerness where there are many toils, many troubles and cares, and after all that, an uncertain hope? Let us not, I beg you, let us not be so senseless about our own salvation. Let us leave the more troublesome task and run to the one that is easiest and more profitable, so that we may also obtain the good things that are to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father and to the Holy and life-giving Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.