Homily 71 — John 13, verses 12 to 19

“And he took his garments, and having sat down again, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you?’” And what follows. [a]

It is a grievous thing, beloved, a grievous thing, to come down to the depths of wickedness, for then the soul becomes hard to restore. That is why we should make every effort not to be caught at all, since it is easier not to fall in than, having fallen, to recover oneself. Look at Judas, for example. Once he had thrown himself into sin, how much help he received, and yet not even so was he raised up. Christ said to him, “One of you is a devil” (John 6, verse 71). He said, “Not all believe” (John 6, verse 65). He said, “I do not speak of all of you,” and, “I know whom I have chosen” (John 13, verse 18). And he does not feel a single one of these sayings.

Now when he had washed their feet, and taken his garments, and sat down, he said, “Do you know what I have done to you?” He no longer speaks to Peter only, but to them all.

Verse 13: “You call me Lord and Teacher, and you speak rightly, for so I am.”

“You call me.” He takes up their own verdict, and then, so that the words may not be thought mere kindness on their part, he adds, “for so I am.” By bringing in something they themselves say, he keeps it from giving offense; and by confirming it himself once it has come from them, he puts it beyond suspicion. “For so I am,” he says. Do you see how, when he talks with his disciples, he speaks more openly about who he is? Just as he says, “Call no one teacher on earth, for One is your Guide” (Matthew 23, verses 8 and 9), so also, “And call no one father on earth.” But the “One” in each saying is spoken not of the Father only, but of himself as well. For if he had spoken in a way that shut himself out, how could he say, “That you may become children of the light” (John 12, verse 36)? And again, if he called only the Father “Teacher,” how could he say, “For so I am,” and again, “For One is your Guide, the Christ”?

Verses 14 and 15: “If I, then,” he says, “your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”

And yet it is not the same thing, for he is Lord and Teacher, while you are fellow servants of one another. What, then, does the “as” mean? “With the same eagerness.” This is why he takes his examples from the greater actions: so that we may, if possible, carry out the lesser ones. In the same way schoolmasters write out the letters for children very beautifully, so that the children may come to imitate them, even if only in an inferior way.

Where now are those who spit on their fellow servants? Where now are those who demand honors? Christ washed the feet of the traitor, the sacrilegious man, the thief, and that close to the time of the betrayal; and, incurable as he was, he made him a sharer of his table. And are you proud? Do you raise your eyebrows? “Then let us wash one another’s feet,” someone says. “Then we must wash the feet of our household servants too.” And what great thing is it if we do wash even our household servants’ feet? With us, “slave” and “free” is a difference of words; but there it was an actual reality. For by nature he was Lord and we were servants, and yet even this he did not refuse to do at that time. But as things are now, we may be content if we do not treat free people as bondservants, as slaves bought with money.

And what will we say on that day, if after receiving proofs of such forbearance we do not imitate them at all, but take the opposite course, standing in direct opposition, puffed up, and not paying the debt? For God has made us debtors to one another, having done it first himself; and he has made us debtors for a smaller amount. For he was our Lord, but we do it, if we do it at all, for our fellow servants. He himself hinted at this when he said, “If I, then, your Lord and Teacher — so you also do.” It would have followed naturally to say, “How much more should you, who are servants,” but he left this to the conscience of his hearers.

But why has he done this “now”? In the future they were to enjoy honor, some more, some less. So that they would not exalt themselves one above another and say, as they had before, “Who is the greatest?” (Matthew 18, verse 1), and would not be angry with one another, he brings down the high thoughts of them all, by saying, “Even if you are very great, you ought to have no high thoughts toward your brother.” And he did not mention the greater action — “If I have washed the feet of the traitor, what great thing is it if you wash one another’s?” — but, having shown it by deeds, he left it to the judgment of those who saw it. That is why he said, “Whoever does and teaches, he will be called great” (Matthew 5, verse 19). For this is what it is to “teach” a thing: actually to do it. [d]

What pride would this not remove? What folly and insolence would it not wipe out? He who sits upon the cherubim washed the traitor’s feet; and do you, my friend, you who are earth and ashes and cinders and dust, do you exalt yourself and think high thoughts? How great a hell would you not deserve?

If, then, you desire a lofty state of mind, come, I will show you the way to it, for you do not even know what it is. The man who pays attention to present things as though they were great has a small soul. So there can be no humility without greatness of soul, and no conceit except from smallness of soul. Little children are eager for trifles, gaping at balls and hoops and dice, but cannot even form an idea of important matters. So it is here: the one who is truly wise will count present things as nothing (so that he will neither choose to get them for himself nor to receive them from others); but the one who is not like that will be affected in the opposite way, intent on cobwebs and shadows and dreams, and on things less substantial even than these.

Verses 16 to 18: “Truly I say to you, a servant is not greater than his lord, nor is one who is sent greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, happy are you if you do them. I do not speak of you all — but that the Scripture may be fulfilled, ‘He who eats bread with me has lifted up his heel against me.’”

What he said before, he says here too, to shame them: “For if a servant is not greater than his master, nor one who is sent greater than the one who sent him, and these things have been done by me, much more ought they to be done by you.” Then, so that no one might say, “Why are you telling us these things now? Don’t we know them already?” he adds this very thing: “I am not speaking to you as though you did not know, but so that by your actions you may show the things I have spoken of.” For “to know” belongs to all, but “to do” does not belong to all. That is why he said, “Blessed are you if you do them.” And that is why I keep saying the same things to you, over and over, even though you know them: so that I may set you to the work. For the Jews too “know,” but they are not “blessed,” because they do not do what they know.

“I do not speak,” he says, “of you all.” Oh, what forbearance! He does not yet expose the traitor, but veils the matter, and by this gives him room for repentance. He both exposes him and does not expose him when he says, “He who eats bread with me has lifted up his heel against me.”

It seems to me that “A servant is not greater than his lord” was also said for this purpose: so that if people should ever suffer harm, whether from their household servants or from anyone of lower rank, they would not stumble at it, looking to the example of Judas, who, after enjoying ten thousand good things, repaid his Benefactor with the opposite. That is why he added, “He who eats bread with me.” Passing over everything else, he put down the thing most fitted to restrain and shame him: “He who was fed by me,” he says, “and who shared my table.” And he spoke the words to teach them to do good to those who do them harm, even if such people should remain incurable.

But having said, “I do not speak of you all,” so as not to lay fear on more than the one, he at last singles out the traitor, saying, “He who eats bread with me.” For “not of you all” does not point the words at any single one; that is why he added, “He who eats bread with me.” He was showing that wretched man that he would not be seized in ignorance, but even with full knowledge, a thing which by itself was the most fitted to restrain him. And he did not say, “betrays me,” but, “has lifted up his heel against me,” wanting to picture the deceit, the treachery, the secrecy of the plot.

These things are written so that we may bear no malice toward those who injure us, but rebuke them and weep for them. For the ones to weep over are not those who suffer wrong, but those who do it. The greedy man, the false accuser, and whoever does any other evil thing, do themselves the greatest injury, and us the greatest good, if we do not take revenge. Take a case like this: someone has robbed you. Have you given thanks for the injury, and glorified God? By that thanksgiving you have gained ten thousand rewards, just as he has gathered for himself fire beyond words. [g]

But if someone says, “What then, if I could not defend myself against the one who wronged me, because I was weaker?” I would say this: you could still have acted on your resentment and your impatience (for these things are in our power); you could have prayed against the one who grieved you, uttered ten thousand curses against him, spoken ill of him to everyone. So the one who has not done these things will be rewarded even for not defending himself, since it is clear that even if he had had the power, he would not have done it. The injured man, when he is small of soul, uses any weapon that comes to hand to defend himself against the one who has injured him: curses, abuse, plotting. As for you, then, not only do not do these things, but even pray for him. For if you do not do them, and even pray for him, you have become like God. For it says, “Pray for those who mistreat you — that you may be like your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5, verses 44 and 45).

Do you see how we are the greatest gainers from the insults of others? Nothing so delights God as not returning evil for evil. But what am I saying — not returning evil for evil? We are commanded to return the very opposite: kindnesses, prayers. That is why Christ too repaid the one who was about to betray him with everything opposite. He washed his feet, exposed him in secret, rebuked him sparingly, cared for him, let him share his table and his kiss; and not even by these things was he made better. Nevertheless Christ went on doing his own part.

But come, let us teach you even from the example of servants, and, to make the lesson stronger, of those in the Old Testament, so that you may know that we have no defense when we hold a grudge. Do you want me to tell you of Moses, or shall we go still farther back? For the more ancient the examples that can be pointed to, the more we are outdone. “Why is that?” Because virtue was harder then. Those men had no written commands and no patterns of life to follow; their nature fought unarmed, by itself, and was forced to drift in every direction without ballast. That is why God, when he praised Noah, did not call him simply perfect, but added, “in his generation” (Genesis 7, verse 1), meaning, “at that time,” when there were many hindrances. For many others shone after him, yet he will have no less than they, since in his own time he was perfect.

Who, then, before Moses, was patient? The blessed and noble Joseph, who, having shone by his chastity, shone no less by his patience. He was sold though he had done no wrong, but was waiting on others, and serving, and carrying out all the duties of household servants. They brought an evil accusation against him, and he did not defend himself, though he had his father on his side. No, he even went to carry food to them in the wilderness; and when he did not find them, he did not despair or turn back (and yet he would have had an excuse for doing so, had he chosen), but stayed on near the wild beasts and those savage men, keeping the feelings of a true brother. Again, when he lived in the prison and was asked the reason, he spoke no evil of them, but only, “I have done nothing,” and, “I was stolen out of the land of the Hebrews.” And after this, when he was made ruler, he fed them and delivered them from ten thousand dangers.

If we are sober, our neighbor’s wickedness is not strong enough to throw us out of our own virtue. But those others were not like him. They stripped him, and tried to kill him, and taunted him with his dream, though they had even received their food from him; and they planned to rob him of life and of liberty. And they ate, and cared nothing for their brother lying naked in the pit. What could be worse than such brutality? Were they not worse than any number of murderers? And after this, having drawn him up, they handed him over to ten thousand deaths, selling him to barbarous and savage men who were on their way to barbarians.

Yet he, when he became ruler, not only let them off their punishment, but even acquitted them of their sin, at least as far as he himself was concerned, calling what had been done God’s arrangement and not any wickedness of theirs. And the things he did against them he did not do out of a grudge; in all of them he was acting a part, for his brother’s sake. After this, when he saw them clinging to him, he at once threw away the mask, and wept aloud, and embraced them, as though he had received the greatest benefits — he who had once been done away with by them. And he brought them all down into Egypt, and repaid them with ten thousand benefits.

What excuse, then, will we have, if after the law, and after grace, and after so much heavenly wisdom has been added, we do not even try to rival the man who lived before grace and before the law? Who will deliver us from punishment? For there is nothing, there is nothing more grievous than holding a grudge. The man who owed ten thousand talents showed this. At one time payment was not demanded of him; at another it was demanded again. It was not demanded because of God’s love for humankind; it was demanded because of his own wickedness, and because of his malice toward his fellow servant. Knowing all these things, let us forgive our neighbors their trespasses, and repay them with deeds of the opposite kind, so that we too may obtain mercy from God, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.