Homily 42 — John 6, verses 1 to 15

“After these things Jesus went across the Sea of Galilee, into the region of Tiberias. And a great crowd followed him, because they saw the miracles he did on those who were sick. And Jesus went away onto a mountain, and sat there with his disciples. And the Passover of the Jews was near.” [a]

Beloved, let us not fight with violent people. Let us learn, where it does no harm to our virtue, to give way to their evil schemes; for that is how all their audacity is checked. When arrows strike something firm and hard that resists them, they spring back with great force on the people who threw them; but when the force of the throw meets nothing to oppose it, it soon weakens and stops. It is the same with insolent people. When we fight with them, they grow fiercer; but when we yield and give ground, we easily calm all their madness.

That is why the Lord, when he knew that the Pharisees had heard “that Jesus was making and baptizing more disciples than John,” went into Galilee, to put out their envy and to soften by his withdrawal the anger these reports were likely to stir up. And when he went away into Galilee the second time, he did not come to the same places as before. He did not go to Cana, but to “the other side of the sea,” and great crowds followed him, seeing “the miracles he did.”

What miracles? Why does the evangelist not name them one by one? Because this evangelist, more than any other, wanted to spend the greater part of his book on Christ’s discourses and sermons. Notice, for example, how for a whole year — or rather, even up to this present feast of the Passover — he has told us no more on the subject of miracles than that Christ healed the paralyzed man and the royal official’s son. He was not eager to list them all (that would have been impossible), but out of many great ones to record a few.

Verse 2: “A great crowd followed him, seeing the miracles he did.”

What is told here does not show a very wise frame of mind. After enjoying such teaching, they were still drawn more by the miracles, and that was a mark of a coarser state. For “miracles,” Scripture says, “are not for believers, but for unbelievers.” The people Matthew describes did not act like this. How did they act? They were all, he says, “astonished at his teaching, because he taught as one having authority” (Matthew 7, verses 28 and 29).

“And why does he take to the mountain now, and sit there with his disciples?” Because of the miracle that was about to take place. And the fact that only the disciples went up with him was a reproach to the crowd, which did not follow him. Yet this was not the only reason he went up onto the mountain. He did it also to teach us always to rest from time to time from the noise and confusion of ordinary life. For solitude is well suited to the pursuit of wisdom. And he often goes up onto a mountain alone and spends the night there praying, to teach us that the man who means to come nearest to God must be free from every disturbance and must look for times and places clear of confusion.

Verse 4: “And the Passover, a feast of the Jews, was near.”

“How is it, then,” someone says, “that he does not go up to the feast, but, when everyone is hurrying to Jerusalem, goes into Galilee himself — and not by himself alone, but taking his disciples with him — and goes on from there to Capernaum?” Because from now on he was quietly setting the law aside, taking the wickedness of the Jews as his occasion.

Verse 5: “And when he lifted up his eyes, he saw a great crowd.” This shows that he never sat idle with the disciples. He was perhaps talking with them carefully, making them attend and turn toward him — a thing that especially marks his tender care, and how humbly he stooped down to meet them in his manner toward them. For they were sitting with him, perhaps looking at one another; then, lifting up his eyes, he saw the crowds coming to him.

Now the other evangelists say that the disciples came and asked him, begging him not to send the people away hungry, while John says that Christ put the question to Philip. Both events seem to me to be truly reported, but not to have happened at the same time: the first account comes before the other, so that the two are entirely distinct.

Why, then, does he ask Philip? He knew which of his disciples most needed teaching. This is the man who afterward said, “Show us the Father, and that will be enough for us” (John 14, verse 8), and for this reason Jesus was preparing him beforehand. If the miracle had simply been done, the wonder would not have seemed so great. But as it was, he first compels him to admit the need they were in, so that, knowing how things stood, he might grasp more exactly how great the coming miracle was. That is why he says, “Where are we to get so many loaves for these people to eat?”

So too in the Old Testament he spoke to Moses: he did not work the sign until he had first asked him, “What is that in your hand?” Things that happen unexpectedly and all at once tend to make us forget what came before. So he first drew him into admitting how things stood at present, so that when amazement came over him, he could not afterward push away the memory of what he had admitted, and so might learn by comparison how great the miracle was. And that is exactly what happens here. For when Philip was asked, he replied:

Verses 7 and 6: “Two hundred denarii worth of bread is not enough for them, for each of them to take a little. And he said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do.”

What does “to test him” mean? Did he not know what Philip would say? We cannot claim that. What, then, does the phrase mean? We can find out from the Old Testament. There too it says, “And it came to pass after these things that God tested Abraham, and said to him, Take your beloved son, whom you love” (Genesis 22, verses 1 and 2). Yet it does not appear there either that when he said this he was waiting to see how the trial would end, whether Abraham would obey or not. How could he, who knows all things before they come into being? In both cases the words are spoken in a human way. When the Psalmist says that God “searches the hearts of men,” he does not mean a search that comes from ignorance, but exact knowledge. In just the same way, when the evangelist says that he tested Philip, he means only that he knew exactly. [g]

And perhaps one might say something else as well: that as he once made Abraham more proven, so too he did with this man, bringing him by this question to an exact knowledge of the miracle. So the evangelist, so that you would not stop at the weakness of the expression and form a wrong opinion of what was said, adds, “He himself knew what he would do.”

We must also notice this: whenever there is room for a wrong suspicion, the writer at once corrects it with great care. Here, so that his hearers would not form any such suspicion, he adds the correction, saying, “For he himself knew what he would do.” So too in that other place, where he says that “the Jews persecuted him, because he had not only broken the Sabbath, but also said that God was his Father, making himself equal with God”: if this had not been Christ’s own claim, confirmed by his works, he would have added a correction there too. For if the evangelist takes care that no one should form suspicions even about words Christ himself speaks, much more would he have watched closely where others were speaking about him, had he seen that a wrong opinion about him was current. But he did not do so, because he knew that this was Christ’s own meaning and his unshakable decree. So after saying, “making himself equal with God,” he added no such correction; for what was spoken of was not a mistaken fancy of theirs, but Christ’s own claim, ratified by his works.

Then, when Philip had been questioned —

Verses 8 and 9: “Andrew, Simon’s brother, said, ‘There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two small fish; but what are they among so many?’”

Andrew thinks higher than Philip, yet even he had not reached the whole of it. Still, I do not think he spoke without a purpose. He had heard of the miracles of the prophets, and how Elisha worked a sign with the loaves (Second Kings 4, verse 43). That is why he climbed to a certain height, but could not reach the very top.

So let us who give ourselves to luxury learn what those great and admirable men ate. Let us look at the frugality of their table, in the kind of food and in the amount, and imitate it.

What follows also shows great weakness. After saying, “has five barley loaves,” he adds, “but what are they among so many?” He supposed that the worker of the miracle would make less out of less and more out of more. But that was not how it was. It was equally easy for him to make bread spring up from more or from less, since he needed no material to work on. But so that the creation would not seem foreign to his wisdom — as slanderers, and those sick with the disease of Marcion, said later — he used the creation itself as the groundwork for his wonders.

When both disciples had admitted they were at a loss, then he worked the miracle. That way they gained more from it: having first admitted how hard the thing was, they would understand the power of God when it came about. A miracle was about to be done that the prophets had also performed, though not to the same degree, and he was going to do it after first giving thanks. So, to keep them from falling into any suspicion of weakness on his part, notice how by the very manner of his working he lifts their thoughts altogether and shows them the difference between himself and the others. Before the loaves had appeared — so that you may learn that things that are not are to him as though they were, as Paul says, “who calls the things that are not as though they were” (Romans 4, verse 17) — he commanded them to sit down at once, as though the table were already laid and ready, and by this he roused the minds of his disciples. And because they had gained from his questioning, they obeyed immediately and were not thrown into confusion. They did not say, “What is this? Why do you tell us to sit down, when there is nothing in front of us?” The same men who at first disbelieved so far as to say, “Where are we to buy bread?” began to believe so far, even before they saw the miracle, that they readily made the crowds sit down.

But why, when he was about to heal the paralyzed man, did he not pray — nor when he raised the dead, or bridled the sea — while here, over the loaves, he does? It was to show that when we begin our meals, we ought to give thanks to God. Besides, he does it especially in a smaller matter, so that you may learn that he does not do it because he has any need. If that were so, he would have done it much more in greater things; but since he did those by his own authority, it is clear that it was by stooping down to meet them that he acted as he did in the smaller one. Besides, a great crowd was present, and they had to be convinced that he had come according to the will of God. That is why, when he works miracles with no witnesses present, he shows nothing of the kind; but when he works them before many, then, to convince them that he is no enemy of God, no opponent of the one who begot him, he removes the suspicion by giving thanks. [l]

“And he gave to those who were seated, and they were filled.”

Do you see how wide the gap is between the servants and the Master? They had grace by measure, and they worked their miracles to match; but God, acting with free power, did everything in the greatest abundance.

Verse 12: “And he said to his disciples, ‘Gather up the broken pieces that are left over’; and they gathered them up, and filled twelve baskets.” This was not a needless display. It was so that the thing would not be thought a mere illusion; and for this reason too he creates from matter that already existed. “But why did he give the bread to carry not to the crowds, but only to his disciples?” Because he was most eager to instruct these men, who were to be the teachers of the world. The crowd would not yet reap any great fruit from the miracles — at any rate, they forgot this one at once and asked for another — while these men would gain no ordinary benefit. And what took place was also no small condemnation of Judas, who carried a basket. That these things were done for their instruction is plain from what is said afterward, when he reminded them, saying, “Do you not yet understand … how many baskets you took up?” (Matthew 16, verse 9). It was for the same reason that the baskets of broken pieces were equal in number to the disciples. Later, when they had been instructed, they did not take up so many, but only “seven baskets” (Matthew 15, verse 37).

And I marvel not only at the amount of bread created, but, besides the amount, at how exact the surplus was: he made the leftovers neither more nor less than just what he willed, foreseeing how much they would eat — a thing that showed a power beyond words. So the broken pieces confirmed the matter by showing both points: that what had happened was no illusion, and that these pieces came from the loaves the people had been fed with. As for the fish, on this occasion they were produced from fish that already existed; but later, after the resurrection, they were not made from existing matter. Why? So that you may understand that even now he used matter not from necessity, nor as needing any base to work on, but to stop the mouths of heretics.

“And the crowds said, ‘This is truly the Prophet.’”

Oh, what excess of gluttony! He had done ten thousand things more wonderful than this, but nowhere did they make this confession except when they had been filled. Yet this makes it clear that they were expecting some remarkable prophet. For those others had asked John, “Are you the Prophet?” while these say, “This is the Prophet.”

Verse 15: “So when Jesus perceived that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again onto a mountain.”

How remarkable! How great is the tyranny of gluttony, how great the fickleness of human minds! They no longer stand up for the law, they no longer care about the breaking of the Sabbath, they are no longer zealous for God. All such concerns are thrown aside once their bellies have been filled. He was a prophet in their eyes, and they were about to choose him for king. But Christ flees. Why? To teach us to despise worldly honors, and to show us that he needed nothing on earth. He who chose everything humble — mother, house, city, upbringing, and clothing — was not going to be made illustrious afterward by earthly things. The things he had from heaven were glorious and great: angels, a star, his Father speaking aloud, the Spirit bearing witness, and prophets proclaiming him from long before. The things on earth were all humble, so that his power might show all the more.

He came also to teach us to despise the things of the world: not to be dazzled or amazed by the splendors of this life, but to laugh them all to scorn and to long for the things to come. For whoever admires the things here will not admire the things in heaven. That is why he also says to Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18, verse 36), so that he would not seem afterward to have used mere human fear or power to persuade. Why, then, does the prophet say, “Look, your King is coming to you, gentle, and sitting on a donkey” (Zechariah 9, verse 9)? He was speaking of the kingdom in heaven, not of this one on earth. And that is why Christ says, “I do not receive honor from men” (John 5, verse 41).

So let us learn, beloved, to despise the honor that comes from men and not to desire it. For we have been honored with the greatest of honors, and compared with it that other honor is truly insult, ridicule, and mockery. Just as the riches of this world are poverty compared with the riches of that one, and this life apart from that one is death — for “let the dead bury their own dead” (Matthew 8, verse 22) — so this honor, compared with that one, is shame and ridicule. So let us not chase after it. If those who give it are worth less than a shadow or a dream, the honor itself is worth far less. “The glory of man is like the flower of the grass” (First Peter 1, verse 24); and what is more paltry than the flower of the grass?

Even if this glory lasted forever, what good would it do the soul? None at all. In fact, it does us great harm by making us slaves — slaves worse off than those bought with money, slaves who obey not one master only but two, three, ten thousand, all giving different orders. How much better is it to be free than to be a slave — to be free of slavery to men, and subject only to the rule of God?

In short, if you want glory, want it — but let it be the glory that does not die. That glory is displayed in a more glorious theater, and it brings greater profit. The people here make you spend money to please them; but Christ, on the contrary, gives you a hundred times what you give him, and adds eternal life besides. Which, then, is better: to be admired on earth or in heaven? By man or by God? To your loss or to your gain? To wear a crown for a single day, or for endless ages?

Give to the one in need, but do not give to a dancer, or you will lose your money and destroy his soul. For by your ill-timed generosity you are the cause of his destruction. If people on the stage knew their work would bring them nothing, they would long ago have stopped practicing it. But when they see you applauding, crowding after them, spending and wasting your property on them, then even if they have no wish to go on in their profession, the desire for gain keeps them at it. If they knew no one would praise what they do, they would soon give up their labors, since they brought no profit. But when they see the performance admired by many, the praise of others becomes a bait to them.

So let us stop this unprofitable spending, and let us learn on whom and when we ought to spend. Let us not, I beg you, provoke God in both ways — gathering from where we ought not, and scattering where we ought not. What anger does your conduct not deserve, when you pass by the poor and give to a prostitute? Even if you had paid out of honest earnings, would it not have been a charge against you to pay the wages of sin and to honor where you ought to punish? But when you feed your impurity by stripping orphans and wronging widows, think how great a fire is prepared for those who dare such things. Hear what Paul says: “Who not only do these things, but also take pleasure in those who do them” (Romans 1, verse 32).

Perhaps we have stung you sharply. Yet if we do not sting you, real punishments await those who go on sinning without amendment. What good is it, then, to please with words people who will be punished with realities? Do you take pleasure in a dancer? Do you praise and admire him? Then you are worse than he is. His poverty gives him an excuse, though not a reasonable one; but you are stripped even of this defense. If I ask him, “Why have you left other trades and come to this cursed and impure one?” he will answer, “Because with little work I can make big profits.” But if I ask you why you admire a man who spends his time in impurity and lives to the ruin of many, you cannot run to the same excuse. You must bow your face and be ashamed and blush.

Now if, when we call you to account, you would have nothing to answer, how will we stand when that terrible and inexorable judgment comes, where we will give account of thoughts and deeds and everything? With what eyes will we look at our Judge? What will we say? What defense will we make? What excuse, reasonable or unreasonable, will we put forward? Will we plead the expense? The pleasure? The destruction of others, whom we ruin by means of the dancer’s art? We will have nothing to say, but must suffer a punishment that has no end and knows no limit. So that this may not happen, let us from now on guard every point, so that, having departed with good hope, we may obtain the everlasting blessings. May we all attain them through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.