Homily 50 — John 7, verses 25 to 36

“Then some of the people of Jerusalem said, ‘Is this not the man they are trying to kill? But look, he speaks boldly, and they say nothing to him. Do the rulers really know that this is the Christ? But we know where this man comes from.’” [a]

Nothing is placed in the Holy Scriptures without a reason, for they were spoken by the Holy Spirit. So let us look closely into every point. It is possible to discover the whole meaning of a passage from a single expression, as in the case before us: “Many of the people of Jerusalem said, ‘Is this not the man they are trying to kill? But look, he speaks boldly, and they say nothing to him.’” Now why is “the people of Jerusalem” added? By this the evangelist shows that those who had enjoyed his mighty miracles most were more pitiable than anyone. They had seen the greatest proof of his divinity, and yet they left everything to the judgment of their corrupt rulers.

For was it not a great proof of it that men in a fury, bent on murder, who went about trying to kill him, should suddenly go quiet when they had him in their hands? Who could have brought this about? Who quenched their fury like this, when it was at its height? Yet after such proofs, look at the folly and the madness of these men. “Is this not the man they are trying to kill?” See how they accuse themselves! “The man,” the text says, “they are trying to kill, and yet they say nothing to him.” And not only do they say nothing to him; they say nothing even when he “speaks boldly.” A man who spoke boldly and with complete freedom would naturally have angered them all the more, yet they did nothing.

“Do they really know that this is the Christ?” What do you think? What is your opinion? The opposite, the text says. That is why they said, “We know where this man comes from.” What malice, what contradiction! They do not even follow the opinion of their rulers, but put forward another of their own, perverse and worthy of their own folly: “We know where he comes from.”

“But when the Christ comes, no one knows where he comes from.”

Yet your rulers, when they were asked, replied that he was to be born in Bethlehem (Matthew 2, verse 4). And others again said, “God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we do not know where he comes from” (John 9, verse 29). “We know where he comes from,” and, “We do not know where he comes from” — look at these words; they are the words of drunken men! And again, “Is the Christ to come out of Galilee?” (verse 41). Is he not to come from “the town of Bethlehem”? Do you see that theirs is the verdict of madmen? “We know,” and, “We do not know”; “The Christ comes from Bethlehem,” and, “When the Christ comes, no one knows where he comes from.” What could be plainer than this contradiction? For they had an eye to one thing only: not to believe. What, then, is Christ’s reply?

Verse 28: “You both know me, and you know where I come from. And I have not come of myself, but he who sent me is true, whom you do not know.”

And again: “If you had known me, you would have known my Father also” (John 8, verse 19). How, then, does he say that they both “know him” and know “where he comes from,” and then that they know neither him nor the Father? He is not contradicting himself — far from it! — he is entirely consistent. When he says, “you do not know,” he is speaking of a different kind of knowledge, as when it is said, “The sons of Eli were wicked sons; they did not know the Lord” (First Samuel 2, verse 12), and again, “Israel does not know me” (Isaiah 1, verse 3). So too Paul says, “They profess that they know God, but by their works they deny him” (Titus 1, verse 16). So it is possible to know and not to know. This, then, is what he is saying: “If you know me, you know that I am the Son of God.” [c]

For “where I come from” does not refer to a place here. That is clear from what follows: “I have not come of myself, but he who sent me is true, whom you do not know.” Here he is referring to the ignorance shown by their works — as Paul says, “They profess that they know God, but by their works they deny him.” For their fault did not come from mere ignorance, but from wickedness and an evil will: even though they knew this, they chose not to know.

But what kind of connection is there here? How is it that in rebuking them he uses their own words? When they say, “We know where this man comes from,” he adds, “You both know me.” Did they say, “We do not know him”? No, they said, “We know him.” But notice: by saying, “We know where he comes from,” they meant nothing else than that he was “of the earth” and that he was “the carpenter’s son.” But he led them up to heaven by saying, “You know where I come from” — that is, not from where you suppose, but from the place from which he who sent me has sent me. For the words “I have not come of myself” hint to them that they did know he had been sent by the Father, though they would not say so openly.

So he rebukes them in two ways. First, what they were saying in secret he published aloud, to put them to shame. Then he laid bare what was in their hearts as well. It is as though he had said: “I am not one of the outcasts, nor one of those who come for no purpose. But ‘he who sent me is true, whom you do not know.’” What does “he who sent me is true” mean? “If he is true, he has sent me for the truth. If he is true, it follows that the one he has sent is true as well.”

He proves this in another way too, defeating them with their own words. They had said, “When the Christ comes, no one knows where he comes from,” and from this very saying he proves that he himself is the Christ. They used the words “no one knows” with some particular place in mind; but from the same words he shows that he is the Christ, because he came from the Father. And everywhere he testifies that he alone has knowledge of the Father, saying, “Not that anyone has seen the Father, except he who is from the Father” (John 6, verse 46). And his words enraged them. To tell them, “You do not know him,” and to rebuke them because they knew and pretended not to, was enough to sting and annoy them.

Verse 30: “Then they tried to seize him, and no one laid a hand on him, because his hour had not yet come.”

Do you see that they are held back invisibly, and their anger reined in? But why does the evangelist not say that he held them back invisibly, but rather, “because his hour had not yet come”? The evangelist wanted to speak in a more human and humbler way, so that Christ might be seen to be also a man. Since Christ everywhere speaks of lofty things, the evangelist scatters expressions of this kind among them. And when Christ says, “I am from him,” he speaks not as a prophet who learns, but as one who sees him and is with him.

Verse 29: “I know him,” he says, “for I am from him, and he sent me.”

Do you see how he keeps trying to prove his words “I have not come of myself” and “He who sent me is true,” working hard not to be thought an enemy of God? And notice how much good the humility of his words did. For after this, the text says, many said:

Verse 31: “When the Christ comes, will he do more miracles than these which this man has done?”

How many miracles were there? In fact, three: the wine, the paralyzed man, and the nobleman’s son; the evangelist has related no more. From this it is plain, as I have often said, that the writers pass over most of them and tell us only of those for which the rulers treated him badly. “Then they tried to seize him” and kill him. Who tried? Not the crowd, who had no desire for power and could not be taken captive by malice, but the priests. For the people of the crowd said, “When the Christ comes, will he do more miracles?” Yet even this was not sound faith, but the kind of notion a mixed and random crowd has; for to say, “When he comes,” was not the language of people firmly persuaded that he was the Christ. We may take the words this way, or else as spoken by the crowds when they gathered together, as though they said: “Since our rulers are taking every pains to prove that this man is not the Christ, let us suppose that he is not the Christ. Will the Christ be any better than he is?” For, as I keep repeating, the cruder sort of people are drawn in not by teaching, nor by preaching, but by miracles.

Verse 32: “The Pharisees heard the people murmuring, and sent servants to seize him.”

Do you see that the breaking of the Sabbath was a mere pretext, and that what stung them most was this murmuring? For here, though they could find fault with nothing he had said or done, they wanted to seize him because of the crowd. They did not dare to do it themselves, since they suspected danger, but sent their hired servants. What tyranny, what madness — or rather, I should say, what folly! After trying often themselves without success, they handed the matter over to servants, just to give vent to their anger. Yet he had said a great deal at the pool (John 5), and they had done nothing of the kind. They were looking for an opportunity, it is true, but they made no attempt; here, though, they can bear it no longer, now that the crowd is about to run to him. What, then, does Christ say?

Verse 33: “Yet a little while I am with you.”

Though he had the power to humble and terrify his hearers, he speaks words full of humility. It is as though he had said: “Why are you so eager to persecute me and kill me? Wait a little while. Even if you should be eager to keep me back, I will not allow it.” Some might suppose, as they in fact did, that “Yet a little while I am with you” meant an ordinary death. So that no one would suppose this, or that he did nothing after death, he added:

Verse 34: “And where I am, there you cannot come.”

If he had been going to remain in death, they could have gone to him, for that is the place where we all go. So his words won over the simpler part of the crowd, terrified the bolder, and made the more intelligent eager to hear him, since only a little time was now left and they would not always have the chance to enjoy this teaching. Nor did he simply say, “I am here,” but, “I am with you” — that is: “Though you persecute me, though you drive me away, yet for a little while I will not stop providing what is for your good, speaking to you and urging on you the things that concern your salvation.”

Verse 33: “And I go to him who sent me.”

This was enough to terrify them and throw them into anguish. For he declares that they will also need him:

Verse 34: “You will seek me,” he says — not only “You will not forget me,” but you will even “seek me” — “and you will not find me.”

And when did the Jews “seek him”? Luke says that the women mourned for him (Luke 23, verse 49), and it is likely that many others too, both at that time and when the city was taken, remembered Christ and his miracles and sought his presence. He added all this because he wanted to draw them to himself. For the facts that little time was left, that after his departure they would long for him, and that they would not then be able to find him, were enough, taken together, to persuade them to come to him. If they had not been going to long for him, he would not have seemed to them to be saying anything great. If, on the other hand, they were going to long for him and would be able to find him, that would not have troubled them either. Again, if he had been going to stay with them a long time, they would have grown careless for that reason too. But as it is, he presses and alarms them in every way. [g]

And the words “I go to him who sent me” are those of someone declaring that no harm will come to him from their plotting, and that his suffering was voluntary. So here he made two predictions: that after a little while he would depart, and that they would not come to him. Foretelling one’s own death is not a thing within human understanding. Listen, for example, to David saying, “Lord, make me know my end and the number of my days, what it is, so that I may know what time I have” (Psalm 39, verse 4). No human being at all knows this. And each prediction is confirmed by the other.

I think, too, that he is speaking here with a veiled reference to the servants, and directing his words to them, drawing them especially in this way by showing them that he knew why they had come. It is as though he had said: “Wait a little, and I will go away.”

Verse 35: “Then the Jews said among themselves, ‘Where will he go?’” Yet people who had wanted to be rid of him, who did everything in their power not to have to see him, should not have asked this question. They should have said, “We are glad of it! When is he leaving?” But they were somewhat moved by his words, and with foolish suspicion they ask one another, “Where will he go?”

“Will he go to the dispersion of the Gentiles?”

What does “the dispersion of the Gentiles” mean? The Jews gave this name to the other nations, because they were scattered everywhere and mixed with one another without fear. And they themselves later bore this very reproach, for they too became a “dispersion.” In the past their whole nation was gathered in one place, and you could not find a Jew anywhere except in Palestine. That is why they called the Gentiles a “dispersion,” taunting them and boasting about themselves.

What, then, does “Where I go you cannot come” mean? At that time all the nations had dealings with them, and there were Jews everywhere. So if he had meant the Gentiles, he would not have said, “where you cannot come.” After saying, “Will he go to the dispersion of the Gentiles?” they did not add, “and destroy them,” but, “and teach them.” That is how far their anger had cooled, and how far they believed his words; for if they had not believed, they would not have asked among themselves what the saying meant.

These words were spoken to the Jews, it is true, but I fear they may fit us as well: that because our life is full of sins, we “cannot come” to “where he is.” For of the disciples he says, “I want them also to be with me where I am” (John 17, verse 24). But of us I dread that the opposite may be said: “Where I am, you cannot come.” For when we act against the commandments, how can we go to that place? Even in this present life, if a soldier behaves unworthily toward his king, he will not be allowed to see the king; he will be stripped of his rank and suffer the severest punishment. So if we steal or are greedy, if we wrong or strike others, if we do no deeds of mercy, we will not be able to go there, but will suffer what happened to the virgins. Where he was, they could not enter; they went away, because their lamps had gone out — that is, grace had left them.

For we can, if we are willing, increase the brightness of that flame which we received at once by the grace of the Spirit. But if we are not willing, we will lose it; and when it is put out, there will be nothing but darkness in our souls. While a lamp is burning the light is strong, and when it is put out there is nothing but gloom. That is why the apostle says, “Do not quench the Spirit” (First Thessalonians 5, verse 19). And the Spirit is quenched when it has no oil, when there is a violent gust of wind, when it is cramped and confined — for that is how fire is put out. It is cramped by worldly cares and quenched by evil desires.

And besides the causes we have mentioned, nothing quenches it so much as inhumanity, cruelty, and robbery. For when, besides having no oil, we also pour cold water on it — and that is what greed is, chilling with dejection the souls of those we wrong — where will it be kindled from again? So we will depart carrying dust and ashes with us, and plenty of smoke to convict us of having had lamps and having put them out. For where there is smoke, there must have been a fire that has been put out.

May none of us ever hear that word, “I do not know you” (Matthew 25, verse 12). And how will we come to hear that word, if not from this: if we ever see a poor man and act as though we did not see him? If we will not know Christ when he is hungry, he in turn will not know us when we beg for his mercy. And rightly so. For how can a man who neglects the afflicted, and will not give of what is his own, expect to receive of what is not his own?

So I beg you, let us do and plan everything so that our oil does not fail us, but that we may trim our lamps and go in with the Bridegroom into the bridal chamber. May we all attain this, 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.