Homily 19 — Matthew 6, verses 1 to 15

“Be careful not to give your alms in front of people, to be seen by them.” [a]

In what follows he roots out the most tyrannical passion of all: the rage and madness for empty glory, which springs up in those who do what is right. At first he said nothing at all about it. Indeed, it would have been pointless to teach them how they should practice and pursue their duties before he had persuaded them to do any of them. But once he had led them on to self-mastery, he goes on to purge away the cheap alloy that lies hidden in it too. For this disease does not spring up at random; it comes when we have duly kept many of the commandments.

So the right order was first to plant virtue, and then to remove the passion that spoils its fruit.

And see where he begins: with fasting, and prayer, and almsgiving. For it is in these good deeds above all that this passion likes to make its den. The Pharisee, for example, was puffed up by them. He says, “I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all I own.” And he sought empty glory even in his prayer itself, making it for display. Since no one else was there, he pointed himself out to the tax collector, saying, “I am not like the rest of men, or even like this tax collector.”

And notice how Christ began, as though he were speaking of some wild beast, hard to catch and cunning at deceiving anyone who is not very watchful. So he says, “Be careful” about your alms. Paul speaks the same way to the Philippians: “Watch out for the dogs.” And with good reason. For this evil beast creeps in on us secretly, blows everything away without a sound, and carries off everything inside us without our noticing.

He had said a great deal about almsgiving. He had brought forward God, “who makes his sun rise on the evil and the good.” He had urged them on to it with reasons from every side, and persuaded them to delight in giving generously. Now he finishes by clearing away everything that chokes this fair olive tree. That is why he says, “Be careful not to give your alms in front of people.” For what he spoke of before is almsgiving of God’s own kind.

And when he had said, “not in front of people,” he added, “to be seen by them.” It may seem that the same thing is being said twice. But if you pay close attention, it is not the same; the one is different from the other. And the addition carries a great safeguard, and a care and tenderness beyond words. For someone may give alms in front of people and not do it to be seen by them; and again, someone may give where no one is present and still do it to be seen. So it is not simply the act but the intention that he both punishes and rewards. If he had not been this exact, it would have made many people more reluctant to give alms, since it is not always possible to do it in secret. That is why he frees you from this constraint and sets both the penalty and the reward, not by how the action turns out, but by the intention of the one who does it. [c]

He did this so that you would not say: “What? Am I the worse for it if someone else happens to see?” “That is not what I am looking for,” he says, “but the mind that is in you, and the spirit of what you do.” For his will is to set our soul completely in order and to free it from every disease.

So, as you see, he has forbidden acting for display, and has taught them the penalty that follows from it: that they do it in vain and for nothing. Then he rouses their spirits again by reminding them of the Father and of heaven, so that he might sting them not only by the loss, but also shame them by the memory of the one who gave them life.

“For you have no reward,” he says, “with your Father who is in heaven.”

Nor did he stop even there, but goes further still, increasing their disgust with other reasons as well. Just as earlier he set the tax collectors and the pagans before them, shaming those who imitate them by the kind of people they were, so here he sets the hypocrites before them.

“So when you give alms,” he says, “do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do.”

Not that they had trumpets. He means to show how great their frenzy was by using this figure of speech, mocking them by it and holding them up to ridicule.

And he did well to call them “hypocrites.” The mask was one of mercy, but the spirit underneath was cruel and inhuman. For they do it not because they pity their neighbors, but so that they themselves may enjoy a good name. And this came from the height of cruelty: while another person was dying of hunger, to be chasing empty glory and not put an end to his suffering.

So what is required is not giving alms, but giving as one ought, and for the right purpose.

Having mocked those men thoroughly, and handled them so that the hearer would be ashamed even of them, he again sets right the mind that is so disordered. He has said how we ought not to act; now in turn he shows how we ought to act. How, then, should we give our alms?

“Do not let your left hand know,” he says, “what your right hand is doing.” Here again his riddling words are not about hands; he has put the thing in an exaggerated way. It is as if he said: “If it were possible for you not to know it yourself, make that your aim: that, if it could be done, it might be hidden from the very hands that do the giving.” It is not, as some say, that we should hide it from wrong-headed people; he has commanded here that it be hidden from everyone.

And then there is the reward: consider how great it is. After speaking of the punishment that comes from the one course, he points out the honor that comes from the other, urging them on from both sides and leading them to lofty lessons. For he is persuading them to understand that God is present everywhere; that our concerns do not end with this present life; that a more awesome judgment seat will receive us when we leave here, together with the account of everything we have done, and honors and punishments; and that no one who does anything, great or small, will stay hidden, even if he seems to be hidden from people. All this he hinted at when he said, “Your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.”

He sets before the giver a great and majestic gathering of spectators, and grants him in rich abundance the very thing he desires. “For what do you want?” he says. “Isn’t it to have some people watching what you do? Look, then, you have them: not angels, not archangels, but the God of all.” And if you want to have people as spectators too, he does not deprive you even of this desire at the proper time; he grants it to you all the more abundantly. For if you make a display now, you will be able to make it to ten people only, or twenty, or, let us say, a hundred. But if you take pains to stay hidden now, God himself will then proclaim you before the whole universe. So above all, if you want people to see your good deeds, hide them now, so that then everyone may look on them with greater honor, as God reveals them, praises them, and proclaims them before all. Again, the people watching now will rather condemn you as someone hungry for empty glory; but when they see you crowned, far from condemning you, they will all admire you. So when by waiting a little you can both receive a reward and reap greater admiration, think what folly it is to throw yourself out of both — to be seeking your reward from God, with God watching, and yet to call people in to view what you are doing. Why, if we must make a display of our love, it is to our Father above all that we should make it, and most of all when our Father has the power both to crown and to punish.

And let me add: even if there were no penalty, it would not be fitting for someone who wants glory to give up this theater of ours and take the theater of men in exchange. Who is so wretched that, when the king was hurrying to come and see his achievements, he would let the king go and fill his audience with poor men and beggars instead? That is why he not only commands us to make no display, but even to take pains to stay hidden. For not striving to be seen and striving to stay hidden are not at all the same thing.

“And when you pray,” he says, “you must not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners. Truly I tell you, they have their reward.” [d]

“But you, when you pray, go into your inner room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in secret.”

These too he calls “hypocrites,” and very fittingly. While they pretend to be praying to God, they are looking around for people, dressed not as people pleading but as a laughingstock. For someone who comes to plead lets everything else go and looks to the one person who has the power to grant the request. But if you leave him and go wandering about, casting your eyes everywhere, you will go away empty-handed. That was your own choice. That is why he did not say, “Such people will not receive a reward,” but, “They have it in full.” That is, they will receive one, but from those they themselves wanted it from. God does not want this. For his part, he was willing to give people the reward that comes from himself. But since they seek the one that comes from people, they can no longer rightly claim to receive anything from him, for whom they have done nothing.

But notice, please, God’s love for humankind: he promises to give us a reward even for the good things we ask of him. He has discredited those who do not carry out this duty as they should, both by the place they choose and by their frame of mind, and has shown how ridiculous they are. Now he brings in the best way of praying, and again offers the reward, saying, “Go into your inner room.”

“What, then? Shouldn’t we pray in church?” We certainly should, but in this spirit. For everywhere God looks for the intention behind everything that is done. Even if you go into your inner room and shut the door, but do it for display, the doors will do you no good.

Here too it is worth noticing how exact his definition was when he said, “so that they may be seen by people.” So even if you shut the doors, what he wants you to do, more than shutting the doors, is to shut the doors of the mind. For as it is good in everything to be free of empty glory, so above all in prayer. If even without this we wander and are distracted, when will we pay attention to what we are saying if we come in with this disease as well? And if we who are praying and pleading do not pay attention, how can we expect God to pay attention?

And yet there are some who, after such earnest warnings, behave so shamefully in prayer that even when they are out of sight, they make themselves known to everyone by their voice. They shout in a disorderly way and make themselves ridiculous by both gesture and voice. Don’t you see that even in a marketplace, if someone came up behaving like this and begging noisily, he would drive away the person he was asking? But if he comes quietly and with a fitting bearing, he is more likely to win over the one who can grant the favor. [e]

So let us not make our prayer with the posture of our body or the loudness of our voice, but with the earnestness of our mind. Not with noise and shouting and for display, so as to disturb even those near us, but with all modesty, with a crushed heart, and with tears inside.

But are you in pain of mind, and can’t help crying out? Surely it is the mark of someone in deep pain to pray and plead in just the way I have described. Moses too was in pain, and he prayed in this way and was heard; that is why God said to him, “Why are you crying out to me?” And Hannah again, though her voice was not heard, achieved everything she wanted, because her heart cried out. And Abel prayed not only in silence but even in death, and his blood sent up a cry clearer than a trumpet.

So you too groan, like that holy one; I do not forbid it. “Tear your heart,” as the prophet commanded, “and not your garments.” Call on God from the depths, for it says, “Out of the depths I have cried to you, O Lord.” Draw your voice up from below, from the heart; make your prayer a mystery. Don’t you see that even in the palaces of kings all uproar is put away, and there is deep silence on every side? So you too, since you are entering as into a palace — not the one on earth, but one far more awesome than it, the palace in heaven — show great reverence. For you are joined to the choirs of angels, you share in the fellowship of archangels, and you are singing with the seraphim. And all these ranks keep beautiful order, singing with great awe that mystical song and their sacred hymns to God, the King of all. Mingle yourself with them, then, when you pray, and copy their mystical order.

For you are not praying to people, but to God, who is present everywhere, who hears even before the voice, who knows the secrets of the mind. If you pray this way, great is the reward you will receive.

“For your Father,” he says, “who sees in secret, will reward you openly.”

He did not say, “will freely give you,” but, “will reward you.” For he has made himself your debtor, and by this too has honored you with great honor. Since he himself is invisible, he wants your prayer to be invisible as well.

Then he gives the very words of the prayer. [h]

“When you pray,” he says, “do not use empty repetitions, as the pagans do.”

You see that when he was speaking about almsgiving, he removed only the harm that comes from empty glory and added nothing more. He did not say where one should give alms from — from honest work, for instance, and not from robbery or greed — since this is fully agreed among everyone. And even before that he had made this point thoroughly clear, when he blessed those “who hunger for righteousness.”

But about prayer he adds something more: “not to use empty repetitions.” And as there he mocks the hypocrites, so here he mocks the pagans, shaming the hearer everywhere above all by the low character of the people he names. For in most cases this especially bites and stings — I mean, seeming to be put on a level with outcasts. By this line of argument he turns them away from it. What he calls “empty repetition” here is frivolous talk: as when we ask God for things that are unfitting — kingdoms, and glory, and getting the better of our enemies, and an abundance of wealth — and in general for things that do not concern us at all.

“For he knows,” he says, “what you need.”

And with this he seems to me to be commanding here that we should not make our prayers long either — long, I mean, not in time, but in the number and length of the things we list. For persevering in the same requests is certainly our duty; his word is, “persevering in prayer.” And he himself gave the example of the widow, who prevailed over the pitiless and cruel ruler by the persistence of her pleading, and the example of the friend, who came late at night and got the sleeper out of bed, not because of their friendship but because of his persistence. By these, what was he doing but laying down a law that everyone should continually make petition to him? Yet he does not tell us to compose a prayer of ten thousand clauses, and so come to him and simply recite it. He hinted at this when he said, “They think they will be heard for their many words.”

“For he knows,” he says, “what you need.” Someone may say: “If he knows what we need, why must we pray?” Not to inform him, but to win him over; to be brought close to him by persistence in prayer; to be humbled; to be reminded of your sins.

“So pray like this,” he says: “Our Father in heaven.”

See how at once he stirred up the hearer and reminded him of all God’s generosity at the very beginning. For whoever calls God Father acknowledges, in this single title, the forgiveness of sins, the removal of punishment, righteousness, being made holy, redemption, adoption, the inheritance, brotherhood with the only Son, and the gift of the Spirit. For no one can call God Father without having received all these blessings. So he awakens their spirit twice over: by the dignity of the one they call on, and by the greatness of the benefits they have enjoyed. And when he says, “in heaven,” he does not say it to shut God up there, but to draw the one who is praying away from the earth and set him in the high places and the dwellings above.

He also teaches us to make our prayer common, on behalf of our brothers as well. For he does not say, “My Father in heaven,” but, “Our Father,” so that the one praying offers his petitions for the whole body together, and nowhere looks to his own good, but everywhere to his neighbor’s. And by this he at once takes away hatred, puts down pride, drives out envy, and brings in love, the mother of all good things. He wipes out the inequality of human affairs, and shows how far the equality reaches between the king and the poor man, since in the things that are greatest and most necessary we are all partners. For what harm is there in our kinship here below, when in what is on high we are all bound together, and no one has anything more than another — not the rich more than the poor, nor the master more than the servant, nor the ruler more than the subject, nor the king more than the common soldier, nor the philosopher more than the barbarian, nor the educated more than the unlearned? For he has given one nobility to all, since he has consented to be called the Father of all alike.

So when he has reminded us of this nobility, of the gift from above, of our equality with our brothers, and of love, and when he has lifted us from the earth and set us in heaven, let us see what he commands us to ask for next. True, in the first place, that saying alone would be enough to plant instruction in every virtue. For whoever has called God Father, and the common Father of all, would rightly be bound to show such a way of life that he does not seem unworthy of this nobility, and to show an earnestness to match the gift. Yet he is not satisfied with this, but adds another clause, saying, “Hallowed be your name.” [i]

It is worthy of someone who calls God Father to ask for nothing before his Father’s glory, and to count everything else secondary to the work of praising him. For “hallowed” means glorified. His own glory he has complete, always remaining the same; but he commands the one who prays to ask that he may be glorified by our life as well. He had said this before too: “Let your light so shine before people that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” Yes, and the seraphim too, giving glory, spoke this way: “Holy, holy, holy.” So “hallowed” means this: “glorified.” That is, “Grant,” he says, “that we may live so purely that through us everyone may glorify you.” And this again belongs to perfect self-control: to show everyone a life so blameless that each person who sees it offers the Lord the praise due to him for it.

“Your kingdom come.”

This again is the language of a right-minded child: not to be riveted to the things that are seen, and not to count present things as anything great, but to hurry toward our Father and long for the things to come. And this springs from a good conscience and a soul set free from the things of earth. Paul himself, for example, longed for this every day. That is why he also said, “Even we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan, waiting for an adoption, the redemption of our body.” For whoever has this longing can be neither puffed up by the good things of this life nor cast down by its sorrows. Instead, as though he were already living in heaven itself, he is free from both kinds of imbalance.

“Your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.”

See how excellent the order of thought is! He told us to long for the things to come and to hurry toward that home; and until that can be, while we stay here, to be eager meanwhile to show the same way of life as those above. For you must long, he says, for heaven and the things in heaven. And yet even before heaven, he has told us to make the earth a heaven, and to do and say everything, even while we remain on it, as people whose way of life is there, so that these things too should be the subject of our prayer to the Lord. For living on earth does not stop us from reaching the perfection of the powers above; even while staying here, it is possible to do everything as though we were already placed on high. So what he is saying is this: “As there everything is done without hindrance, and the angels do not obey in part and disobey in part, but yield and obey in everything — for it says, ‘Mighty in strength, doing his word’ — so grant that we human beings may not do your will by halves, but carry out everything as you will.”

Do you see how he has taught us also to be modest, by making it clear that virtue comes not from our efforts alone, but also from grace from above? And again, he has charged each of us who pray to take on himself the care of the whole world. For he did not say at all, “Your will be done” in me, or in us, but everywhere on the earth: so that error may be destroyed, truth planted, all wickedness driven out, and virtue return, and from then on there may be no difference in this respect between heaven and earth. “For if this happens,” he says, “there will be no difference between things below and things above, separated as they are by nature, since the earth will show us a second company of angels.”

“Give us today our daily bread.” [j]

What is “daily bread”? Bread for one day.

He had said, “Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” But he was speaking to human beings, clothed in flesh, bound by the needs of nature, and unable to share the angels’ freedom from bodily wants. So while he commands us to carry out the commandments just as the angels carry them out, he also stoops down, in what follows, to meet the weakness of our nature. “I require the same perfection of conduct,” he says, “but not freedom from the body’s needs. No, the tyranny of nature does not allow it, for nature requires the food it cannot do without.”

But notice, I beg you, how even in bodily things the spiritual abounds. He has not commanded us to pray for riches, or for luxurious living, or for costly clothes, or for anything else of that kind, but for bread only. And for “daily” bread, so that we will not “be anxious about tomorrow.” That is why he added “daily bread,” that is, bread for one day.

And not even with this word is he satisfied, but afterward he adds another, saying, “Give us today,” so that we will not wear ourselves out beyond this with worry over the following day. That day — you do not even know whether you will live through the hours before it and see it — why do you take its worries on yourself?

As he went on, he gave this command more fully as well, saying, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow.” He wants us to be unburdened on every side and winged for flight, giving nature only as much as the force of necessity demands of us.

Then, since it happens that we sin even after the washing of rebirth, he shows that his love for humankind is great in this case too. He commands us to come to God, who loves humankind, for the forgiveness of our sins, and to say, “Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors.” [m]

Do you see his surpassing mercy? After taking away such great evils, and after a gift so great that it cannot be told, if people sin again, he counts them as people who can still be forgiven. That this prayer belongs to believers we are taught both by the laws of the church and by the opening of the prayer, for those not yet initiated could not call God Father. If, then, the prayer belongs to believers, and they pray, asking that their sins be forgiven them, it is clear that not even after the washing is the benefit of repentance taken away. If he had not meant to show this, he would not have made it a law that we should pray this way.

He brings our sins to mind, and bids us ask forgiveness, and teaches how we may obtain it, and so makes the way easy. It is perfectly clear, then, that he brought in this rule of prayer because he knew, and wanted to show, that it is possible even after the font to wash ourselves clean of our offenses. By reminding us of our sins, he persuades us to be humble. By the command to forgive others, he sets us free from every passion for revenge. And by promising in return to pardon us too, he holds out good hopes and teaches us to think highly of God’s mercy toward humankind, which is beyond words.

But what we should notice most is this. In each of the petitions he had included the whole of virtue, and in this way had included the forgetting of wrongs as well. For that his “name be hallowed” is the exactness of a perfect way of life; that his “will be done” declares the same thing again; and to be able to call God “Father” is the profession of a blameless life. In all these, the duty of letting go of our anger against those who have wronged us was already contained. Still he was not satisfied with them. Meaning to show how much this matters to him, he sets it down separately as well, and after the prayer he mentions no other commandment than this one, saying:

“For if you forgive people their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.”

So the beginning is with us, and we ourselves have control over the judgment that is to be passed on us. So that no one, not even the most foolish, might have any complaint to make, great or small, when brought to judgment, he makes the sentence depend on you, the one who is to give account. “In whatever way you have judged for yourself,” he says, “in that same way I too judge you.” If you forgive your fellow servant, you will obtain the same favor from me — though the one is not equal to the other. For you forgive because you are in need, but God needs no one. You forgive your fellow slave; God, his slave. You are liable to countless charges; God is without sin. And yet even so he shows his love for humankind.

He could, of course, forgive you all your offenses even without this. But he wants you to gain a benefit from it too. On every side he gives you countless occasions for gentleness and love of others, casting out what is savage in you, putting out your anger, and in every way binding you fast to the one who is a member of your own body.

For what can you say? That you have suffered some wrong from your neighbor unjustly? (Only these are trespasses; if a thing is done justly, the act is not a trespass.) But you too are coming to receive forgiveness for such things, and for much greater ones. And even before the forgiveness, you have received no small gift: you are being taught to have a humane soul and trained in every kind of gentleness. And besides this, a great reward will be stored up for you elsewhere as well: to be called to account for none of your offenses.

What punishment, then, do we not deserve, if after receiving this privilege we throw away our own salvation? And how can we expect to be heard in the rest of our concerns, if in the things that depend on us we will not spare ourselves?

“And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.” [o]

Here he plainly teaches us how lowly we are and puts down our pride, instructing us to pray to be spared all contests rather than to rush into them. That way our victory will be more glorious, and the devil’s defeat more laughable. I mean this: when we are dragged into the contest, we must stand our ground nobly; but when we are not called, we should keep quiet and wait for the time of the struggle, so that we may show both freedom from empty glory and nobility of spirit.

Here he calls the devil “the evil one,” commanding us to wage against him a war that knows no truce, and showing that he is not evil by nature. For wickedness is not one of the things that come from nature; it is one of those added by our own choice. He is called this above all others because of how far his wickedness goes, and because, though we have done him no wrong of any kind, he wages a war against us that nothing can appease. That is why he did not say, “Deliver us from the evil ones,” but “from the evil one.” He is teaching us never to hold resentment against our neighbors for whatever wrongs we may suffer at their hands, but to turn our hostility away from them and onto him, since he himself is the cause of all our wrongs.

So, by reminding us of the enemy, he has made us alert, as men before a battle, and has cut away all our slackness. Then he encourages us again and raises our spirits by reminding us of the King under whom we are drawn up for battle, and showing that he is more powerful than all. “For yours,” he says, “is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory.”

Does it not follow, then, that if the kingdom is his, we should fear no one, since there can be no one to resist him and divide the empire with him? For when he says, “Yours is the kingdom,” he shows us that even the one who is waging war on us has been brought into subjection, though he seems to oppose God, who allows it for a while. For in truth he too is among God’s servants, though of the disgraced class, those guilty of offenses; and he would not dare to attack any of his fellow servants unless he had first received permission from above. And why do I say “his fellow servants”? He did not dare to do any harm even to pigs until God himself allowed him, nor to flocks and herds, until he had received permission from above.

“And the power,” he says. So however great your weakness may be, you may rightly be confident, since you have such a one reigning over you, who is able to accomplish everything fully, and with ease, even through you.

“And the glory, forever. Amen.” So he not only frees you from the dangers that are approaching you, but can also make you glorious and renowned. For as his power is great, so too his glory is beyond words, and they are all boundless, and there is no end to them. Do you see how he has used every means to anoint his champion and has shaped him to be full of confidence?

Then, as I said before, he meant to show that of all things he most loathes and hates the holding of grudges, and most of all welcomes the virtue opposite to that vice. So after the prayer he has once more reminded us of this same kind of goodness, urging the hearer to obey this command both by the punishment set and by the reward appointed. [r]

“For if you forgive people,” he says, “your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive, neither will he forgive you.”

That is why he has mentioned heaven again, and their Father: to shame the hearer with this thought as well — that he of all people, having such a Father, should be turned into a wild beast, and that, summoned as he is to heaven, he should nurse an earthly and common kind of mind. For you see, it is not only by grace that we ought to become his children, but also by our works. And nothing makes us so like God as being ready to forgive the wicked and those who wrong us — just as he had taught before, when he spoke of his “making the sun shine on the evil and on the good.”

For this same reason, in every one of the petitions he commands us to make our prayers in common, saying, “Our Father,” and “Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” and “Give us the bread,” and “Forgive us our debts,” and “Do not lead us into temptation,” and “Deliver us.” Everywhere he commands us to use this plural word, so that we may not keep so much as a trace of anger against our neighbor.

How great a punishment, then, must they deserve who, after all this, far from forgiving others themselves, even beg God for vengeance on their enemies, and break this law, so to speak, head-on — and that while he is doing and devising everything to keep us from quarreling with one another! For since love is the root of all that is good, he removes on every side whatever spoils it, and brings us together, and binds us fast to one another. For there is no one — there is no one at all, whether father or mother or friend or anyone you like — who has loved us as much as the God who created us. Both his daily benefits and his commandments show this above all things.

But if you tell me of the pains and sorrows and evils of life, consider how many ways you offend him every day, and you will no longer be surprised even if more evils than these come upon you. Rather, if you enjoy any good thing, then you will be surprised and amazed. But as it is, we look at the misfortunes that come upon us, but the offenses by which we offend every day we do not consider; and so we are perplexed. If we would only reckon up strictly our sins of one single day, we would know well how great the evils are that we deserve.

To pass over the other wrongs each of us has done in his own life, let us speak of what has been committed this very day. Of course I do not know how each of us may have sinned; yet our misdeeds are so plentiful that not even someone who knew them all exactly could pick out only these. Which of us, for example, has not been careless in his prayers? Who has not been insolent, or full of empty glory? Who has not spoken evil of his brother, or let in a wicked desire, or looked with unchaste eyes, or gone over things with hostile feeling until his heart swelled? And if we have become guilty of such great evils while we are in church, and in so short a time, what will happen when we have gone out from here? If the waves run so high in the harbor, when we have gone out into the open channel of wickedness — the marketplace, I mean, and public business, and our cares at home — will we even be able to recognize ourselves any longer?

Yet from sins so great and so many, God has given us a short and easy way of release, and one free of all toil. For what toil is there in forgiving someone who has hurt us? No, the toil is in not forgiving, in keeping up our hostility; while to be released from anger brings us great relief and is very easy for anyone who is willing. There is no sea to cross, no long journey to travel, no mountain peaks to pass over, no money to spend, no need to torment your body. It is enough only to be willing, and all our sins are wiped away.

But if, far from forgiving him yourself, you appeal to God against him, what hope of salvation will you have? At the very moment when you ought most of all to be appeasing God, even then you provoke him, wearing the dress of a suppliant but uttering the cries of a wild beast, and hurling those arrows of the evil one at yourself. That is why Paul too, when he spoke of prayer, required nothing so much as the keeping of this commandment. He says, “lifting up holy hands without anger and doubting.” And if, when you need mercy, not even then will you let go of your anger, but rather keep it fixed in your memory — though you know you are driving the sword into yourself — when will it ever be possible for you to become merciful and to spit out the vile poison of this wickedness?

But if you have not yet seen this outrage in its full extent, imagine it happening among people, and then you will see how extreme the insolence is. Suppose someone came to you, who are only a man, seeking to obtain mercy, and then, in the middle of lying on the ground before you, he caught sight of an enemy, stopped pleading with you, and began to beat him. Would that not make you even angrier with him? Think of the same thing as taking place with God. For you too, while making your plea to God, break off your plea in the middle, strike your enemy with your words, and insult the laws of God. He made a law to put away all anger, and you summon him against those who have annoyed you, requiring him to act against his own commandments. Is it not revenge enough for you that you yourself break God’s law, but must you beg him to do the same? What? Has he forgotten what he commanded? What? Was it a man who said these things? It is God, who knows all things, whose will is that his own laws be kept with the greatest exactness. Far from doing what you are asking of him, he regards you with loathing and hatred for saying such things, simply because you say them, and exacts the most extreme penalty from you. How, then, do you try to obtain from him the very things he so seriously tells you to keep away from?

Yet there are some who have come to such a pitch of savagery that they not only appeal against their enemies but even curse their children, and would taste, if only they could, their very flesh — or rather, they are already tasting it. For do not tell me that you have not sunk your teeth into the body of the man who hurt you. As far as it was up to you, you have done something far worse: you have demanded that wrath from above fall on him, that he be handed over to undying punishment, and that he be overthrown with his whole house.

Why, what bite is as savage as this? What weapons are as cruel? This is not how Christ taught you; this is not how he commanded you to stain your mouth with blood. No, mouths made bloody with human flesh are not as shocking as tongues like these.

How, then, will you greet your brother? How will you touch the sacrifice? How will you taste the Lord’s blood, when you have so much poison in your mind? For when you say, “Tear him to pieces, overthrow his house, destroy everything,” when you call down countless deaths on him, you are no different from a murderer — or rather, from a wild beast that devours people.

So let us stop this disease and madness, and let us show toward those who have hurt us the kindness he commanded, so that we may become like “our Father who is in heaven.” And we will stop it if we call our own sins to mind, if we search out strictly all our misdeeds — at home, outside, in the marketplace, and in church.

For if for nothing else, then surely for our irreverence here we deserve to suffer the utmost punishment. While the prophets are chanting, and the apostles singing hymns, and God is speaking, we wander off outside and bring the turmoil of worldly business in upon ourselves. We do not give the laws of God even as much stillness as the spectators in the theaters give the emperor’s letters, keeping silent for them. There, when these letters are being read, officials and governors, senate and people all stand upright at once, listening quietly to the words. And if, in the middle of that deepest silence, anyone should suddenly leap up and shout, he suffers the utmost punishment for having insulted the emperor. But here, when the letters from heaven are being read, there is great confusion on every side. [u]

And yet the one who sent these letters is far greater than this king of ours, and the assembly more to be revered, for not only people but angels too are in it. And the triumphs whose good news these letters bring us are far more awe-inspiring than those on earth. That is why not only people but angels and archangels too, both the nations of heaven and all of us on earth, are commanded to give praise. For it says, “Bless the Lord, all his works.” Yes, for his are no small achievements; rather, they surpass all human speech and thought and understanding.

And the prophets proclaim these things every day, each of them announcing this glorious triumph in a different way. One says, “You have gone up on high, you have led captivity captive, and have received gifts among men.” And, “The Lord, strong and mighty in battle.” And another says, “He will divide the spoils of the strong.” For indeed this is why he came: to “proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind.”

And one, raising aloud the shout of victory over death, said, “Where, O Death, is your victory? Where, O Grave, is your sting?” And another, announcing the good news of the deepest peace, said, “They will beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks.” And while one calls to Jerusalem, saying, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion, for look, your King is coming to you, gentle, riding on a donkey and a young colt,” another proclaims his second coming as well, saying, “The Lord whom you seek will come, and who will endure the day of his coming? Leap like calves set free from their bonds.” And another again, amazed at such things, said, “This is our God; no other will be counted in comparison with him.”

And yet, while these sayings and many more besides are being spoken — while we ought to tremble and not even count ourselves as being on earth — we still make an uproar and a commotion, as if we were in the middle of the marketplace, and spend the whole time of our sacred assembly talking about things that are nothing to us.

So when we are this careless in little things and in great, in hearing and in doing, outside and at home and in church, and on top of all this we also pray against our enemies, where are we to find any hope of salvation? To sins so great we add yet another grave aggravation, one equal to all of them together: this lawless prayer. After this, have we any right to be surprised if something unexpected and painful happens to us? Rather, we ought to be surprised when nothing of the kind happens. The one is in the natural order of things; the other would be beyond all reason and expectation. For surely it is beyond reason that those who have become God’s enemies and are provoking him to anger should enjoy sunshine and rain and all the rest — people who, though human, outdo the savagery of wild beasts, setting on one another and staining their own tongues with blood by biting their neighbors, and this after the spiritual table, after his great benefits, after his countless commandments.

So, thinking these things over, let us spit out that poison. Let us put an end to our hostilities and make the prayers that suit people like us. Instead of the savagery of demons, let us take on the gentleness of angels. In whatever ways we may have been wronged, let us think of our own case, and of the reward appointed us for keeping this commandment, and so soften our anger. Let us calm the waves, so that we may pass through this present life in calm, and when we have departed there, may find our Lord to be toward us just as we have been toward our fellow servants.

And if this is a heavy and fearful thing, let us make it light and desirable. Let us open the glorious gates of confidence before him. What we did not have the strength to achieve by keeping from sin, let us achieve by being gentle to those who have sinned against us — for this is surely not hard or burdensome — and by doing good to our enemies let us store up much mercy for ourselves in advance. So in this present life everyone will love us, and above all, God will befriend us and crown us, and will count us worthy of all the good things to come. May we all attain them, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.