Homily 73 — John 13, verse 36, to 14, verse 7

“Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, where are you going?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Where I am going you cannot follow me now, but you will follow me afterward.’” [a]

Love is a great thing, stronger than fire itself; it rises to heaven itself, and no obstacle can hold back its tearing force. That is why Peter, burning with it more than anyone, when he hears, “Where I am going you cannot come,” says — what? “Lord, where are you going?” He said this not so much from a wish to learn as from a desire to follow. He did not yet dare to say openly, “I am going,” so he said, “Where are you going?” Christ answered, not his words, but his thoughts. That this was what he wanted is clear from Christ’s reply: “Where I am going you cannot follow me now.” Do you see that he longed to follow him, and that this was why he asked the question? And when he heard, “You will follow me afterward,” not even then did he hold back his longing. Though he had been given good hope, he is so eager that he says (verse 37), “Why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.”

Now that he had shaken off the dread of being the traitor, and had been shown to be one of Christ’s own, he went on to ask boldly himself, while the others kept silent. “What are you saying, Peter? He said, ‘You cannot,’ and you say, ‘I can’? Then you will learn from this trial that your love is nothing without the impulse that comes from above.” From this it is clear that it was out of care for him that Christ allowed even that fall. He did want to teach him by his first words; but when Peter persisted in his vehemence, he did not throw him or force him into the denial. He left him to himself, so that he might learn his own weakness.

Christ had said that he must be betrayed, and Peter answered, “Far be it from you, Lord! This will never happen to you” (Matthew 16, verse 22). He was rebuked, yet he did not learn. On the contrary, when Christ wanted to wash his feet, he said, “You will never wash my feet” (John 13, verse 8). Again, when he hears, “You cannot follow me now,” he says, “Even if all deny you, I will not deny you.” Since, then, it was likely that his habit of contradicting would carry him away into folly, Jesus now teaches him not to set himself against him. Luke points to this too, when he tells us that Christ said, “And I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail” (Luke 22, verse 32) — that is, “that you may not be lost for good.” In every way he was teaching him humility and proving that human nature by itself is nothing.

But since his great love made him quick to contradict, Christ now sobers him, so that he would not be open to this in later times, when he had been entrusted with the care of the world, but would remember what he had suffered and know himself. And look how violent his fall was. It did not happen to him once or twice; he was so beside himself that within a short time he spoke the words of denial three times, so that he might learn that he did not love as much as he was loved. And yet to the one who had fallen so far Christ says again, “Do you love me more than these?” So the denial did not come from his love growing cold, but from his having been stripped of help from above. Christ accepts Peter’s love, then, but cuts away the spirit of contradiction that grew out of it.

“If you love, you ought to obey the one you love. I told you, and those with you, ‘You cannot.’ Why are you quarrelsome? Do you know what it is to contradict God? But since you will not learn in this way that what I say cannot fail to come to pass, you will learn it in the denial.” And yet this seemed to you far harder to believe. This you did not even understand, while that you knew in your own heart. Yet what was not even expected came to pass.

“I will lay down my life for you.” He had heard, “No one has greater love than this,” and so he sprang forward at once, insatiably eager, longing to reach even the very summit of virtue. But Christ, to show that it belonged to him alone to promise such things with authority, says (verse 38), “Before the rooster crows.”

That is, “now”; there was only a little time left. He was speaking late at night, when the first and second watches were already past.

John 14, verse 1: “Do not let your heart be troubled.”

He says this because it was likely that when they heard these things they would be troubled. For if the leader of their band, a man so completely on fire, was told that before the rooster crowed he would deny his Teacher three times, they would probably expect to face some great disaster themselves, enough to bend even souls of diamond. Since, then, it was likely that they would be stunned as they thought this over, see how he comforts them: “Do not let your heart be troubled.” By this first word he shows his power as God, because he knew what they had in their hearts and brought it to light.

“You believe in God; believe also in me.”

That is, “All dangers will pass you by, for faith in me and in my Father is stronger than whatever comes upon you, and will not let any evil get the better of you.” Then he adds (verse 2), “In my Father’s house are many rooms.”

Just as he comforted Peter in his bewilderment by saying, “But you will follow afterward,” so he gives this glimpse of hope to the others too. So that they would not think the promise had been given to Peter alone, he says, “In my Father’s house are many rooms.”

“If it were not so, I would have told you: I am going to prepare a place for you.”

That is, “The same place that receives Peter will receive you.” For there is a great abundance of dwellings there, and it cannot be said that they need to be prepared. And since he had said, “You cannot follow me now,” he added, so that they would not suppose they had been cut off for good (verse 3), “That where I am, there you may be also.” As if to say: “I have been so earnest about this matter that I would already have given myself up to it, had preparation for you not been made long ago.” He was showing them that they ought to be full of courage and confidence. Then, so that he would not seem to be speaking only to coax them, but so that they might believe the thing was really so, he adds:

Verse 4: “And where I am going you know, and the way you know.” [j]

Do you see that he gives them proof that these things were not said idly? He used these words because he knew in himself that their souls now longed to learn this. For Peter had said what he said not in order to learn, but so that he might follow. But once Peter had been rebuked, and Christ had declared that what seemed impossible for the moment would be possible, and the apparent impossibility had made him want to know the matter exactly, that is why Christ says to the others, “And the way you know.” For just as, after saying, “You will deny me,” he searched their hearts before anyone had said a word and told them, “Do not be troubled,” so here too, by saying, “You know,” he brought to light the desire that was in their hearts, and himself gave them an opening to ask. Now Peter asked, “Where are you going?” out of a very loving affection; Thomas asked it out of cowardice.

Verse 5: “Lord, we do not know where you are going.”

“We do not know the place,” he says, “so how will we know the way that leads there?” And notice with what deference he speaks. He does not say, “Tell us the place,” but, “We do not know where you are going”; for all of them had long been yearning to hear this. If the Jews questioned one another when they heard of his departure, though they wanted to be rid of him, how much more would these men want to learn, who wished never to be separated from him! So they were afraid to ask him, and yet they did ask him, out of their great love and anxiety. What, then, does Christ say?

Verse 6: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

“Why, then, when Peter asked him, ‘Where are you going?’ did he not say straight out, ‘I am going to the Father, but you cannot come now’? Why did he bring in such a roundabout string of words, setting questions and answers side by side? He had good reason not to tell the Jews this; but why not these men?” He had in fact told both these men and the Jews that he came from God and was going to God; now he says the same thing more clearly than before. Besides, to the Jews he did not speak so clearly. Had he said, “You cannot come to the Father except through me,” they would at once have thought the matter mere boasting; as it was, by concealing it he threw them into perplexity. “But why,” someone says, “did he speak this way both to the disciples and to Peter?” He knew how very forward Peter was, and that because of this he would press on all the more and trouble him. So, to lead him away from it, he hides the matter. Then, having achieved what he wanted by the obscurity and the veiling of his speech, he makes the matter plain again. After saying, “Where I am, no one can come,” he adds, “In my Father’s house are many rooms,” and again, “No one comes to the Father except through me.” He would not tell them this at first, so as not to throw them into deeper dejection; but now that he has soothed them, he tells them. For by Peter’s rebuke he drove out much of their dejection: afraid that they might be spoken to in the same way, they held themselves back all the more.

“I am the way.” This is the proof of the words, “No one comes to the Father except through me”; and “the truth, and the life” is the proof that “these things will surely come to pass.” “There is no falsehood in me, then, if I am the truth; and if I am also the life, not even death will be able to keep you from coming to me. Besides, if I am the way, you will need no one to lead you by the hand; if I am also the truth, my words are not lies; if I am also the life, even if you die you will obtain what I have told you.” Now that he was the way, they both understood and accepted; the rest they did not know. They did not venture, though, to say what they did not know. Still, they gained great comfort from his being the way. “If I alone have authority to bring people to the Father,” he says, “you will surely come there; for it is not possible to come by any other way.” But by saying earlier, “No one can come to me unless the Father draws him,” and again, “If I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself” (John 12, verse 32), and again, “No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14, verse 6), he shows that he is equal to the one who begot him. But how is it that after saying, “Where I am going you know, and the way you know,” he has added (verse 7), “If you had known me, you would have known my Father also; and from now on you know him, and have seen him”?

He does not contradict himself. They did know him, but not as they ought to have. God they knew, but the Father not yet; for afterward the Spirit came upon them and worked all knowledge in them. What he says amounts to this: “Had you known my being and my dignity, you would have known the Father’s as well; and from now on you will know him, and have seen him” — the one referring to the future, the other to the present — that is, “through me.” By “seeing” he means the knowledge that the mind grasps. For people who are seen we may see and yet not know; but people who are known we cannot know and at the same time not know. That is why he says, “and you have seen him,” just as Scripture says, “He was seen by angels” (First Timothy 3, verse 16). His very being was not seen; yet it says that he “was seen,” that is, as far as it was possible for them to see. These words are used so that you may learn that whoever has seen him knows the one who begot him. But they saw him, not in his bare being, but clothed with flesh.

Elsewhere, too, he often puts “seeing” for “knowing,” as when he says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Matthew 5, verse 8). By “pure” he means not only those who are free from sexual immorality, but those free from all sins; for every sin brings filth on the soul.

Let us, then, use every means to wipe off the filth. First the font cleanses; after that there are other ways too, many and of every kind. For God, being merciful, has given us various ways of reconciliation even after this, and the first of them all is almsgiving. “By almsgiving and deeds of faith,” it says, “sins are cleansed away” (Sirach 3, verse 30). [o]

By almsgiving I do not mean the kind kept up by injustice. That is not almsgiving, but savagery and inhumanity. What good is it to strip one man and clothe another? We ought to begin the act with mercy, but this is inhumanity. If we give away everything we have taken from other people, we gain nothing by it. Zacchaeus shows this: on that occasion he said he was appeasing God by giving back four times as much as he had taken (Luke 19, verse 8). But we plunder without limit, give only a little, and think we are appeasing God, when in fact we are provoking him all the more.

For tell me: if you dragged a dead, rotting donkey in from the roadsides and alleys and brought it to the altar, would not everyone stone you as cursed and polluted? Well, then, if I prove that a sacrifice obtained by plunder is more polluted than that, what defense will we have? Suppose some article has been got by plunder: does it not stink worse than a dead donkey? Would you learn how great the rottenness of sin is? Listen to the prophet saying, “My wounds stank and festered” (Psalm 38, verse 5). Do you beg God in words to forget your misdeeds, while by what you actually do — robbing and grasping, and placing your sin on the altar — you make him remember them continually?

And this is not the only sin. There is one more serious than this: you defile the souls of the saints. The altar is only a stone, and it is consecrated; but they always carry Christ himself with them. And do you dare to send anything so impure there? “No,” someone says, “not the same money, but other money.” This is mockery and trifling. Do you not know that if one drop of injustice falls on a great heap of wealth, the whole of it is defiled? Just as a man who throws dung into a clean spring makes it all unclean, so it is with riches: anything ill-gotten that gets in taints them all with its own stench.

Then we wash our hands when we come into church, but not our hearts. Why, do our hands give out a voice? It is the soul that speaks the words; it is the soul God looks at. Cleanness of the body is of no use while the soul is defiled. What good is it to wipe your outward hands clean while you keep the hands within impure? For the terrible thing, the thing that overturns all good, is this: we are anxious about trifles and do not care about what matters. To pray with unwashed hands is a matter of no importance; but to pray with an unwashed mind is the worst of all evils. Listen to what was said to the Jews who busied themselves with such outward impurities: “Wash your heart from wickedness. How long will thoughts of your toils remain in you?” (Jeremiah 4, verse 14).

Let us too wash ourselves — not with mud, but with clean water; with almsgiving, not with greed. First be done with plunder, and then practice almsgiving. Let us “turn away from evil and do good” (Psalm 37, verse 27). Hold your hands back from greed, and then bring them to almsgiving. But if we strip one set of people with those same hands, then even though what we clothe others with is not what was taken from them, we will not escape punishment that way. For what should be the foundation of our reconciliation with God is made the foundation of every wickedness. It is better not to show mercy at all than to show it like this; for Cain, too, it would have been better not to bring his offering at all. And if the man who brought too little angered God, how will the one who gives what belongs to someone else not anger him? “I commanded you not to steal,” he will say, “and do you honor me with what you have stolen? What do you think? That I am pleased with these things?” Then he will say to you, “You wickedly supposed that I would be just like you. I will rebuke you and set your sins before your face” (Psalm 50, verse 21).

But may none of us ever hear that voice. Instead, having done almsgiving that is pure, and with our lamps burning, may we enter the bridal chamber, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with the Father and the Holy Spirit be glory forever and ever. Amen.