Homily 64 — John 11, verses 41 to 48

“Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, ‘Father, I thank you that you have heard me. And I knew that you always hear me, but I said it because of the people standing by.’” And the rest of the passage. [a]

What I have often said, I will say again now: Christ does not look so much to his own honor as to our salvation. He is not concerned with how he can utter some lofty saying, but with how he can say something able to draw us to him. That is why his lofty and mighty sayings are few, and even those are veiled, while the humble and lowly ones are many and fill his discourses. Since people were more readily won over by these, he keeps to them. Yet he does not speak only in this lowly way, or those who were to come after would be harmed; nor does he hold back the lofty sayings entirely, or the people of that time would stumble. For those who have gone on from lowly thinking to maturity will be able to see the whole from even a single lofty teaching, but those who were always lowly-minded would never have come to him at all unless they had often heard these humble sayings.

In fact, even after so many sayings of this kind they do not stand firm. They stone him, persecute him, try to kill him, and call him a blasphemer. When he makes himself equal with God, they say, “This man is blaspheming” (Matthew 9, verse 3); and when he says, “Your sins are forgiven,” they go further and call him a demoniac (John 10, verse 20). So too, when he says that the one who hears his words is stronger than death (John 8, verse 51), or, “I am in the Father and the Father is in me,” they leave him; and again, they stumble when he says that he came down from heaven (John 6, verses 33 and 60). If they could not bear these sayings, spoken only now and then, would they ever have listened to him if his teaching had always been lofty, all woven of that cloth? But when he says, “As the Father commanded me, so I speak” (John 14, verse 31), and, “I have not come of myself” (John 7, verse 28), then they believe. That they did believe then is clear, since the evangelist points this out besides, saying, “As he spoke these words, many believed in him” (John 8, verse 30).

If, then, lowly speech drew people to faith, and lofty speech scared them away, must it not be the height of folly not to see at a glance that there is one reason alone for those lowly sayings: they were spoken because of the hearers? In another place, too, when he wanted to say something lofty, he held it back, and gave this reason: “So that we do not make them stumble, cast a hook into the sea” (Matthew 17, verse 27). He does the same here. After saying, “I know that you always hear me,” he adds, “but because of the crowd standing around I said it, that they may believe.” Are these words ours? Is this a human guess? When someone will not let himself be persuaded by what is written, that they stumbled at lofty things, then how, when he hears Christ himself saying that he spoke in a lowly way so that they would not stumble, how after that can he suspect that the humble sayings belonged to his nature, and not to his stooping down to meet them? So in another place, when a voice came down from heaven, he said, “This voice did not come for my sake, but for yours” (John 12, verse 30).

One who is exalted may be allowed to say lowly things about himself, but it is not right for a lowly person to say anything grand or lofty about himself. The first comes from stooping down, and its cause is the weakness of the hearers. Or rather, its causes are these: leading them to humility; his being clothed in flesh; teaching the hearers to say nothing great about themselves; his being thought an enemy of God and not believed to have come from God; his being suspected of breaking the law; and the fact that the hearers looked on him with an evil eye and were hostile to him, because he said that he was equal to God. But for a lowly man to say something great about himself has no cause at all, reasonable or unreasonable. It can only be folly, impudence, and unpardonable presumption.

Why, then, does Christ speak humbly, when he is of that great essence beyond words? For the reasons already given, and so that he would not be thought unbegotten. Paul seems to have feared something of this kind, which is why he says, “Except him who put all things under him” (First Corinthians 15, verse 27). That is impious even to think. For if he were less than the one who begot him, and of a different essence, and yet had been thought equal, would he not have used every means to keep that from being thought? But as it is, he does the opposite. He says, “If I am not doing the works of him who sent me, do not believe me” (John 10, verse 37). Indeed, his saying, “I am in the Father and the Father is in me” (John 14, verse 10), points us to the equality. If he had been inferior, he should have refuted this opinion with great force, and never have said, “I am in the Father and the Father is in me,” or, “We are one” (John 10, verse 30), or, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14, verse 9).

So too, when he was speaking about power, he said, “I and the Father are one”; and when he was speaking about authority, he said again, “For as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he wills” (John 5, verse 21). That would be impossible for him to do if he were of a different essence; or even granting that it were possible, he still should not have said it, or they would suspect that the essence was one and the same. For if he often speaks words that do not suit him, so that they will not take him for an enemy of God, much more should he have done so then. But as it is, he says, “That all may honor the Son just as they honor the Father” (John 5, verse 23); he says, “The works he does, I do also” (John 5, verse 19); he says that he is “the Resurrection and the Life, and the Light of the world” (John 11, verse 25; John 8, verse 12). These are the words of one making himself equal to the one who begot him, and confirming the suspicion they held. Do you see how he makes this speech and defense to show that he had not broken the law, and how he not only does not remove the opinion that he is equal with the Father, but even confirms it? So also, when they said, “You are blaspheming, because you make yourself God” (John 10, verse 33), he established this very thing from the equality of his works.

And why do I say that the Son did this, when the Father too, who did not take on flesh, does the same thing? He too allowed many lowly things to be said about him, for the salvation of the hearers. Take “Adam, where are you?” (Genesis 3, verse 9); and, “That I may know whether they have done altogether according to its outcry” (Genesis 18, verse 21); and, “Now I know that you fear God” (Genesis 22, verse 12); and, “If they will hear” (Ezekiel 3, verse 11); and, “If they will understand”; and, “Who will give this people such a heart?” (Deuteronomy 5, verse 29); and the saying, “There is none like you among the gods, O Lord” (Psalm 86, verse 8). If someone picks out these and many other such sentences in the Old Testament, he will find them unworthy of God’s dignity. In the case of Ahab it is said, “Who will entice Ahab for me?” (Second Chronicles 18, verse 19). And his constantly setting himself above the gods of the pagans by way of comparison: all these things are unworthy of God. Yet in another way they are worthy of him, for he is so kind that for our salvation he does not insist on words that befit his dignity. Indeed, becoming man is unworthy of him, and taking the form of a slave, and speaking humble words, and being clothed in humble garments: unworthy if one looks to his dignity, but worthy if one considers the unspeakable riches of his love for humankind. [f]

And there is another reason for the humility of his words. What is it? That they knew and acknowledged the Father, but him they did not know. That is why he continually turns to the Father, as to one they acknowledged, since he himself was not yet thought worthy of belief. This was not because of any inferiority of his own, but because of the folly and weakness of the hearers. That is why he prays and says, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me.” For if he gives life to whom he wills, and gives it in the same way as the Father does, why does he call on him?

But now it is time to go through the passage from the beginning. “Then they took up the stone from where the dead man lay. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, ‘Father, I thank you that you have heard me. And I knew that you always hear me, but because of the people standing by I said it, that they may believe that you sent me.’”

Let us ask the heretic, then: Did he get the impetus from the prayer, and so raise the dead man? Then how did he work his other miracles without prayer, saying, “You evil spirit, I command you, come out of him” (Mark 9, verse 25); and, “I will; be clean” (Mark 1, verse 41); and, “Get up, take up your bed” (John 5, verse 8); and, “Your sins are forgiven” (Matthew 9, verse 2); and to the sea, “Peace, be still” (Mark 4, verse 39)? In short, what does he have more than the apostles, if he too works by prayer? Or rather, I should say that not even they did everything by prayer; they often worked without prayer, calling on the name of Jesus. Now if his name had such great power, how could he have needed prayer? If he had needed prayer, his name would not have had that power. When he made man, what kind of prayer did he need? Was there not great equality of honor then? “Let us make man,” Scripture says (Genesis 1, verse 26). What could be a greater sign of weakness than needing prayer?

But let us see what the prayer was. “I thank you that you have heard me.” Now who ever prayed like this? Before uttering any prayer, he says, “I thank you,” showing that he had no need of prayer. “And I knew that you always hear me.” He did not say this as though he himself were powerless, but to show that his will and the Father’s are one. Then why did he take on the form of prayer? Hear, not me, but him: “Because of the people standing by, that they may believe that you sent me.” He did not say, “That they may believe that I am inferior, that I need an impetus from above, that without prayer I cannot do anything,” but, “That you sent me.” For the prayer would declare all those things, if we take it at face value. He did not say, “You sent me weak, owning my slavery, and doing nothing of myself.” Setting all these aside, so that you would have no such suspicions, he gives the real cause of the prayer: “So that they will not take me for an enemy of God; so that they will not say, ‘He is not from God’; so that I may show them that the work has been done according to your will.” He all but says, “If I had been an enemy of God, what was done would not have succeeded.” But “you have heard me” is said between friends and equals. “And I knew that you always hear me” means: “In order for my will to be done I need no prayer, except to persuade people that you and I have one will.” “Then why do you pray?” For the sake of the weak and the duller sort.

Verse 43: “And when he had said this, he cried out with a loud voice.” Why did he not say, “In the name of my Father, come out”? Or why did he not say, “Father, raise him up”? Why did he leave out all such expressions, and after taking the posture of one praying, show by his actions his own independent authority? Because this too was part of his wisdom: to show his stooping down in his words, but his power in his deeds. They had nothing else to charge him with except that he was not from God, and in this way they were deceiving many; so for this reason he proves this very point most abundantly by what he says, and in the way their weakness required. It was in his power to show by other means both his agreement with the Father and his own dignity at once, but the crowd could not climb so high. And he says, “Lazarus, come out.”

This is what he had spoken of: “The hour is coming when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live” (John 5, verse 25). So that you would not think he received the power to act from someone else, he taught you this beforehand, and then gave proof by deeds. And he did not say, “Get up,” but, “Come out,” speaking to the dead man as though he were alive. What can equal this authority? And if he does not do it by his own strength, what more will he have than the apostles, who say, “Why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or holiness we had made this man walk?” (Acts 3, verse 12). For if he was not working by his own power, and yet did not add what the apostles said about themselves, then in a way they would be more truly wise than he, because they refused the glory. And in another place: “Why are you doing these things? We too are men with the same feelings as you” (Acts 14, verse 15). The apostles, since they did nothing of themselves, spoke this way to convince people of it. But he, when a like opinion was formed about him, would he not have removed the suspicion, if in fact he was not acting by his own authority? Who would claim that? [h]

But in truth Christ does the opposite, when he says, “Because of the people standing by I said it, that they may believe.” So if they had believed, there would have been no need of prayer. Now if prayer was not beneath his dignity, why should he make them the reason for his praying? Why did he not say, “I do it so that they may believe that I am not equal to you”? Because of the suspicion, he ought to have come to this point. When he was suspected of breaking the law, he used this very expression, even though they had said nothing: “Do not think that I have come to destroy the law” (Matthew 5, verse 17). But here he confirms their suspicion. In fact, what need was there at all to go such a long way around, and to use such dark sayings? It would have been enough to say, “I am not equal,” and be done with the matter. “But,” someone says, “did he not say, ‘I do not do my own will’?” Even this he said in a veiled way, one suited to their weakness, and for the same reason that the prayer was made.

But what does “that you have heard me” mean? It means, “There is nothing on my part opposed to you.” So “that you have heard me” is not the saying of one declaring that he did not have the power of himself. If that were so, it would show not only lack of power but ignorance, if before praying he did not know that God would grant the prayer. And if he did not know, how did he say, “I am going to wake him,” instead of, “I am going to ask my Father to wake him”? So, just as this expression is a sign not of weakness but of one and the same will, so also is “you always hear me.” We must either say this, or else say that it was addressed to their suspicions. Now if he was neither ignorant nor weak, it is clear that he speaks these lowly words so that you may be persuaded by their very excess, and be compelled to confess that they do not suit his dignity but come from his stooping down.

What, then, do the enemies of the truth say? “He did not say those words, ‘you have heard me,’ to suit the weakness of the hearers, but to show that one was greater than the other.” So someone says. Yet this was not to show that one was greater, but to humble himself greatly, and to show himself as having nothing more than a man. For to pray is not proper to God, nor to the one who shares his throne. Do you see, then, that he came to this for no other reason than their unbelief? Notice, at least, that the action bears witness to his authority.

“He called, and the dead man came out, wrapped.” Then, so that the event would not seem to be a mere appearance (for his coming out bound seemed no less marvelous than his rising), Jesus told them to unbind him, so that by touching him and being near him they might see that it really was he. And he says, “Let him go.”

Do you see how free he is from boasting? He does not lead him along, or tell him to go about with him, so that no one would think he was putting him on show. So well did he know how to keep to modesty.

When the sign had been done, some marveled, while others went and told the Pharisees. What did they do then? When they ought to have been astonished and to have admired him, they plotted to kill the one who had raised the dead. What folly! They thought to hand over to death the one who had conquered death in the bodies of others.

Verse 47: “And they said, ‘What are we doing? For this man is doing many miracles.’”

They still call him “man,” these who had received such proof of his divinity. “What are we doing?” They ought to have believed, and served him, and bowed down to him, and no longer taken him for a man.

Verse 48: “If we let him go on like this, the Romans will come and take away both our nation and our city.”

What is it they are planning? They want to stir up the people, as though they themselves were in danger of being suspected of setting up a kingdom. One of them says: “If the Romans learn that this man is leading the crowds, they will suspect us, and they will come and destroy our city.” Why, tell me? Did he teach revolt? Did he not allow you to pay tribute to Caesar? Did you not want to make him king, and he fled from you? Did he not lead a humble, unpretentious life, with no house or anything else of the kind? So they said this not because they expected any such thing, but out of malice. Yet things turned out the opposite of what they expected: it was when they had killed Christ that the Romans took their nation and city. For the things he did were beyond all suspicion. He who healed the sick, who taught the finest way of life, and who commanded people to obey their rulers, was not setting up a tyranny but pulling one down. “But,” someone says, “we are judging from the impostors who came before.” But they taught revolt, and he taught the opposite. Do you see that the words were only a pretext? For what action of that kind did he ever display? Did he parade around with guards? Did he have a train of chariots? Did he not seek out the deserts? But they, so as not to seem to be speaking from their own ill will, say that the whole city is in danger, that the state is being plotted against, and that they have the worst to fear.

These were not the causes of your captivity; its causes were the very opposite. That is true of this last captivity, of the one in Babylon, and of the one under Antiochus that followed it. It was not that there were worshipers among you, but that there were among you people who did wrong and provoked God to anger: that is what caused you to be handed over into slavery. But such a thing is envy: once it has blinded the soul, it lets people see nothing they ought to see. Did he not teach people to be gentle? Did he not tell them, when struck on the right cheek, to turn the other also? Did he not tell them to bear it when they were wronged, and to show more readiness to suffer evil than others have to inflict it? Tell me, are these the signs of one setting up a tyranny, and not rather of one pulling a tyranny down?

But, as I said, malice is a dreadful thing, and full of hypocrisy. It has filled the world with countless evils. Because of this disease the law courts are full. From it comes the desire for fame and wealth; from it the love of power, and insolence. Because of it the roads have wicked robbers and the sea has pirates. From it come the murders throughout the world; because of it our race is torn apart. Whatever evil you may see, you will find that it springs from this. It has even burst into the churches. It has caused countless dreadful things from the beginning. It is the mother of greed. This disease has turned everything upside down and corrupted justice. For “gifts,” Scripture says, “blind the eyes of the wise, and like a muzzle on the mouth they turn away rebukes” (Sirach 20, verse 29). It makes slaves of free people. We talk about this every day, and no good comes of it. We become worse than wild beasts: we plunder orphans, strip widows, wrong the poor, heap misery on misery. “Alas, the righteous man has perished from the earth!” (Micah 7, verses 1 and 2). [n]

From now on it is our part, too, to mourn; or rather, we need to say this every day. We gain nothing by our prayers, nothing by our advice and pleading; what is left is to weep. Christ did this: after warning those in Jerusalem many times, when they gained nothing by it, he wept over their hardness. The prophets do this too, and let us do it now. From now on it is the season for mourning and tears and wailing. Now it is fitting for us too to say, “Call for the mourning women, and send for the skilled women, so that they may cry aloud” (Jeremiah 9, verse 17). Perhaps in this way we will be able to cast out the disease of those who build splendid houses, of those who surround themselves with lands seized by plunder.

It is fitting to mourn. But you who have been stripped and wronged, take part with me in the mourning; by your mourning call forth my tears. Yet as we mourn, we will mourn not for ourselves but for them. They have not harmed you; they have destroyed themselves. For you have the kingdom of heaven in return for the injustice done to you, and they have hell in return for their gain. That is why it is better to be wronged than to do wrong.

Let us lament them, not with a lament of human making, but with the one from the Holy Scriptures, with which the prophets also lamented. With Isaiah let us wail bitterly and say, “Woe to those who join house to house and lay field to field, so that they may take something from their neighbor! Will you live alone on the earth? Great and fine houses, and there will be no one living in them” (Isaiah 5, verses 8 and 9). Let us mourn with Nahum, and say with him, “Woe to him who builds his house on high.” Or rather, let us mourn for them as Christ mourned for those of old: “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation” (Luke 6, verse 24).

I beg you, let us not stop lamenting like this. And if it is not unseemly, let us even beat our breasts for the carelessness of our brothers and sisters. Let us not weep for the one who is already dead; let us weep for the robber, the grasping man, the greedy, the insatiable. Why should we mourn for the dead, when nothing more can be done in their case? Let us mourn for these, who are still capable of change. But while we are lamenting, perhaps they will laugh. Even this is a fitting cause for lament: that they laugh when they ought to mourn. If they had been moved at all by our sorrow, we would have had to stop grieving, because they would have promised to amend. But since they are unfeeling, let us go on weeping, not simply for the rich, but for the lovers of money, the greedy, the robbers. Wealth is not an evil thing, for we can use it rightly when we spend it on those in need. But greed is an evil, and it prepares undying punishments.

So let us lament them. Perhaps there will be some amendment; or even if those who have fallen in do not escape, at least others will not fall into the danger, but will guard against it. May it be that they are freed from their disease, and that none of us ever falls into it, so that we may all together obtain the good things promised, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.