Homily 48 — John 7, verses 1 to 8

“After these things Jesus walked in Galilee, for he would not walk in Judea, because the Jews were seeking to kill him. Now the Jews’ feast of tabernacles was at hand.” [a]

Nothing is worse than envy and malice. Through these, death entered into the world. For when the devil saw man honored, he could not bear his good fortune, but used every means to destroy him (Wisdom 2, verse 24). And from the same root you can see the same fruit growing everywhere. That is how Abel was killed; that is how David, and many other righteous men with him, came close to being killed; and that is how the Jews came to be the killers of Christ. The evangelist makes this plain when he says, “After these things Jesus walked in Galilee, for he did not have the power to walk in Judea, because the Jews were seeking to kill him.”

What are you saying, blessed John? Did he not have “the power” — he who was able to do whatever he wished? He who said, “Whom are you seeking?” (John 18, verse 6) and threw them backward? He who was present and yet was not seen (John 21, verse 4) — did he not have “the power”? How is it, then, that afterward he came among them in the middle of the temple, in the middle of the feast, when a crowd had gathered and those who longed to murder him were present, and spoke words that enraged them even more? Indeed, this is the very thing people marveled at, saying, “Is not this the man they are seeking to kill? And look, he is speaking openly, and they say nothing to him” (verses 25 and 26). What do these riddles mean?

Far from it! The evangelist did not speak like this so that he would be thought to be talking in riddles, but to make it plain that Christ gives proofs both of his divinity and of his humanity. When he says that “he did not have the power,” he is speaking of him as a man, who did many things in the way men do. But when he says that he stood in the middle of them and they did not seize him, he is showing us the power of his divinity. As man he fled; as God he appeared. And in both cases the evangelist speaks the truth. To be in the middle of those who were plotting against him and not be seized by them showed his nature, which nothing can match and nothing can resist. To give way strengthened and confirmed the plan of salvation, so that neither Paul of Samosata, nor Marcion, nor those who suffer from the same sickness, would have anything to say. By this, then, he stops all their mouths.

“After these things was the Jews’ feast of tabernacles.” The words “after these things” mean only that the writer has been brief here and has passed over a long stretch of time. This is clear from the following. When Christ sat on the mountain, he says, it was the feast of the Passover; here he mentions the feast of tabernacles. And in those five months he has told us nothing else and taught us nothing else, except the miracle of the loaves and the sermon given to those who ate them. Yet Christ did not stop working miracles and talking with people, by day and in the evening, and often at night. That, at any rate, is how he led his disciples, as all the evangelists tell us.

Why, then, have they left out that stretch of time? Because it was impossible to tell everything in full; and besides, because they were eager to record the things that drew some fault-finding or contradiction from the Jews. There were many events like the ones left out here. That he raised the dead, healed the sick, and was admired — these things they have recorded often. But when they have something unusual to tell, when they have to describe some charge that seemed to be brought against him, these are the things they set down, like this one now: that “his brothers did not believe in him.” For a thing like this carries no small suspicion with it. And it is worth our while to admire their love of the truth: they are not ashamed to tell things that seem to bring disgrace on their Teacher, but have been even more eager to report these than anything else. Here, for instance, the writer has passed over many signs and wonders and sermons and leaped straight to this.

Verses 3 to 5: For, he says, “His brothers said to him, ‘Leave here and go into Judea, so that your disciples also may see the works you are doing. For no one does anything in secret while he himself seeks to be known openly. Show yourself to the world.’ For not even his brothers believed in him.”

Someone will say: “What unbelief is there here? They are urging him to work miracles.” Great unbelief indeed. Their words come from unbelief, and so do their insulting manner and their untimely freedom of speech. Because they were his relatives, they thought they had the right to speak to him boldly. Their request seems, to be sure, to be the request of friends, but the words were full of malice. In this place they are accusing him of cowardice and of seeking empty glory. To say, “No one does anything in secret,” is the language of people charging him with cowardice and suspecting that the things he did were not really done; and to add that “he seeks to be known” was to accuse him of seeking empty glory. [g]

But notice, please, the power of Christ. Of those who said these things, one became the first bishop of Jerusalem — the blessed James, of whom Paul says, “I saw none of the other apostles except James, the Lord’s brother” (Galatians 1, verse 19). And Judas too is said to have been a remarkable man. Yet these men had also been present at Cana, when the wine was made, and still they had gained nothing from it. Where, then, did such great unbelief come from? From their evil mind, and from envy. For when one member of a family rises above the rest, those who have not risen as high are somehow inclined to envy him.

But who are the people they call “disciples” here? The crowd that followed him, not the Twelve. What, then, does Christ say? Notice how mildly he answered. He did not say, “Who are you, to advise me and instruct me like this?” but instead, in verse 6: “My time has not yet come.”

Here he seems to me to be hinting at something other than what he says. Perhaps in their envy they intended to hand him over to the Jews. Pointing this out to them, he says, “My time has not yet come” — that is, “the time of the cross and of death. Why, then, are you hurrying to kill me before the time?”

“But your time is always ready.”

It is as though he had said, “Even though you are always with the Jews, they will not kill you, since you want the same things they want. But me they will want to kill at once. So it is always your time to be with them without danger. My time is when the season of the cross is at hand, when I must die.” That this was his meaning he showed by what followed.

Verse 7: “The world cannot hate you” — and how could it hate those who want the same things it wants and run after them? — “but it hates me, because I testify of it that its works are evil.”

That is, “Because I reproach it and rebuke it, I am hated.” From this let us learn to master our anger, and not to give way to unworthy passion, even when those who advise us are people of low standing. For if Christ gently put up with unbelievers giving him advice — when their advice was improper and did not come from any good intention — what forgiveness will we have, we who are only dust and ashes, if we are annoyed with those who advise us and think we have been treated unworthily, even when the people who do it are only a little humbler than we are?

Notice in this case how he turns back their accusation with all gentleness. When they say, “Show yourself to the world,” he replies, “The world cannot hate you, but me the world hates,” and so removes their accusation. “So far am I from seeking honor from people,” he says, “that I never stop reproving them — and this when I know that by doing so I am stirring up hatred against myself and preparing my own death.”

“And where,” someone asks, “did he rebuke people?” When did he ever stop doing it? Did he not say, “Do not think that I will accuse you to the Father. There is one who accuses you: Moses” (John 5, verse 45)? And again, “I know you, that you do not have the love of God in you”; and, “How can you believe, you who receive honor from people and do not seek the honor that comes from God alone?” Do you see how he has shown everywhere that it was his open rebuke, and not his breaking of the Sabbath, that caused the hatred against him?

And why does he send them to the feast, saying, in verse 8, “Go up to the feast yourselves; I am not going up yet”? To show that he had not said these things because he needed them or wanted them to flatter him, but that he was letting them do what belonged to Jews to do.

“How, then,” someone asks, “did he go up, after saying, ‘I am not going up’?” He did not say, once and for all, “I am not going up,” but “not now” — that is, “not with you.”

“For my time has not yet been fulfilled.”

And yet he was about to be crucified at the coming Passover. “Then how is it that he went up after all? For if he did not go up because the time had not yet come, he ought not to have gone up at all.” But he did not go up in order to suffer; he went up to teach them. “But why secretly? He could have gone openly, been among them, and still held back their unruly impulses, as he often did.” It was because he did not want to do this all the time. For if he had gone up openly and blinded them again, he would have made his divinity shine out all the more, and that was not fitting at present; instead, he was keeping it hidden. And since they thought his staying behind came from cowardice, he shows them the opposite: that it came from confidence and was by arrangement, and that, since he knew beforehand the time when he would suffer, when that time was finally at hand he would be most eager to go up to Jerusalem.

And it seems to me that by saying, “Go up yourselves,” he meant, “Do not think that I am forcing you to stay with me against your will.” And the added words, “My time has not yet fully come,” are the words of someone declaring that miracles still had to be worked and sermons still had to be spoken, so that greater crowds might believe, and the disciples might be made more steadfast by seeing the boldness and the sufferings of their Teacher.

So let us learn from what has been said his kindness and gentleness — “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart” (Matthew 11, verse 29) — and let us throw away all bitterness. If anyone exalts himself against us, let us be humble. If anyone is brazen, let us bear with him patiently. If anyone bites and devours us with mockery and jokes, let us not be overcome, or in defending ourselves we will destroy ourselves. For anger is a wild beast, a fierce and furious wild beast. [l]

So let us repeat to ourselves soothing charms drawn from holy Scripture, and say, “You are earth and ashes”; and, “Why are earth and ashes proud?” (Sirach 10, verse 9); and, “The sway of his fury will be his destruction” (Sirach 1, verse 22); and, “The angry man is not handsome” (Proverbs 11, verse 25, in the Greek Old Testament). For there is nothing more shameful, nothing uglier, than a face inflamed with anger. When you stir up mud there is a stench; in the same way, when a soul is stirred up by passion there is great ugliness and unpleasantness.

But someone says: “I cannot bear insults from my enemies.” Why? Tell me. If the charge is true, you ought to have been pierced to the heart even before the insult, and to thank your enemy for his rebukes. If it is false, despise it. Has he called you poor? Laugh at him. Has he called you low-born and a fool? Then mourn for him; for “whoever says to his brother, ‘You fool,’ will be in danger of the fire of hell” (Matthew 5, verse 22). So whenever someone insults you, think of the punishment he is bringing on himself, and then you will not only not be angry, but will even weep for him. No one is angry with a man in a fever or with an inflammation; he pities all such people and weeps for them. And an angry soul is just that kind of thing. What is more, if you really want to avenge yourself, keep quiet, and you have dealt your enemy a deadly blow. But if you add abuse to abuse, you have lit a fire.

Someone says: “But the bystanders accuse us of weakness if we keep quiet.” No, they will not condemn you for weakness; they will admire you for your wisdom. Besides, if you are stung by an insult, you become insulting yourself; and by being stung, you force people to think that what was said about you is true. Tell me, why does a rich man laugh when he is called poor? Is it not because he knows he is not poor? So if we laugh at insults, we will give the strongest proof that we know we are not guilty of the faults charged against us.

Besides, how long will we dread the account we give to men? How long will we despise our common Lord and be nailed to the flesh? “For while there is strife and envy and division among you, are you not of the flesh?” (First Corinthians 3, verse 3). So let us become spiritual, and bridle this dreadful wild beast. Anger is no different from madness. It is a demon that comes for a time — or rather, it is worse than having a demon. For someone who has a demon may be excused, but the angry man deserves ten thousand punishments. Of his own accord he throws himself into the pit of destruction, and even before the hell to come he is already being punished by this, bringing a restless turmoil and a never-silent storm of fury upon the thoughts of his soul all through the night and all through the day.

So, to free ourselves from the punishment here and the vengeance hereafter, let us drive out this passion and show all gentleness and mildness, so that we may find rest for our souls both here and in the kingdom of heaven. May we all attain it, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father and to the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.