Homily 2 — Matthew 1, verse 1

“The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham.” [a]

Do you remember the charge I gave you the other day? I begged you to listen to everything that is said in complete silence, with the hushed stillness that holy mysteries deserve. Today we are about to set foot in the holy entrance hall, and that is why I have reminded you of the charge.

Think of the Jews. When they were to come near “a mountain that burned with fire, and blackness, and darkness, and storm” — or rather, when they were not even to come near it, but to see and hear these things from far off — they were commanded to keep away from their wives for three days beforehand and to wash their clothes, and they were trembling and afraid, they and Moses with them. How much more, then, must we show a greater self-denial! We are about to listen to such words, and we are not to stand far off from a smoking mountain, but to enter heaven itself. We are not to wash our clothes, but to wipe clean the robe of our soul and rid ourselves of every mixture with the things of this world. For it is not blackness you will see, or smoke, or storm, but the King himself, seated on the throne of that glory beyond words, with angels and archangels standing beside him, and the tribes of the saints, with those countless tens of thousands. For such is the city of God, which has “the church of the firstborn, the spirits of the righteous, the great assembly of the angels, the blood of sprinkling.” By this all are knit into one: heaven has received the things of earth, and earth the things of heaven, and the peace has come that angels and saints alike longed for long ago.

Here stands the trophy of the cross, glorious and plain to see; here are the spoils Christ won, the firstfruits of our nature, the plunder taken by our King. All this, I tell you, we will come to know fully from the Gospels. If you follow along in the quiet that is fitting, we will be able to lead you around everywhere and show you where death is displayed, crucified, and where sin is hung up, and where the many wonderful offerings from this war, from this battle, are laid. You will also see the tyrant bound here, and the crowd of captives following, and the fortress from which that unholy demon once overran everything. You will see the robber’s hiding places and dens, broken open now and laid bare, for our King was present even there.

But do not grow tired, beloved. If someone were describing a war you could see, with its trophies and victories, would you ever feel you had heard enough? No, you would not put food or drink ahead of that story. And if that kind of story is welcome, this one is far more so. Think what it is to hear how, on the one side, God from heaven, rising “from the royal thrones, leaped down” to the earth, and even to hell itself, and took his place in the battle line; and how, on the other, the devil drew up his forces against him — or rather, not against God unveiled, but God hidden in human nature.

And what is wonderful, you will see death destroyed by death, curse wiped out by curse, and the devil’s rule put down by the very things through which he had won. So let us rouse ourselves fully and not sleep. Look, I see the gates opening to us! Let us go in, then, in fitting order and with trembling, and set foot at once in the entrance hall itself.

But what is this entrance hall? “The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, Son of David, Son of Abraham.” [e]

“What are you saying? Didn’t you promise to speak about the only Son of God? And now you bring up David, a man born a thousand generations later, and call him both father and ancestor?” Wait. Do not try to learn everything at once, but gently, little by little. You are standing in the entrance hall, right by the porch. Why rush toward the inner sanctuary? You have not yet taken a good look at everything outside. For the moment I am not telling you about that other generation — or rather, not even about this one that comes after it — for it is beyond telling and beyond words. The prophet Isaiah told you so before me. When he was proclaiming his suffering and his great care for the world, marveling at who he was, what he became, and how far down he came, he cried out loud and clear: “Who will declare his generation?”

So it is not that generation we are to speak of now, but this one below, the one that took place on earth, among tens of thousands of witnesses. And even this we will tell only as far as we are able, having received the grace of the Spirit. For no one can set out even this birth with complete clarity, since it too is deeply awe-inspiring. So do not think you are hearing about small things when you hear about this birth. Rouse your mind, and tremble at once, when you are told that God has come to earth. This was so wonderful and so far beyond expectation that because of it the angels themselves formed a choir and offered up their praise on the world’s behalf, and from the beginning the prophets were astonished that “he was seen on earth and lived among people.” Yes, it is far beyond all thought to hear that God — the one beyond words, beyond speech, beyond understanding, the one equal to the Father — has passed through a virgin’s womb, has consented to be born of a woman, and to have Abraham and David for forefathers. But why do I say Abraham and David? What is even more astonishing, there are those women whom we mentioned a little while ago.

When you hear these things, rise up and imagine nothing low. On the contrary, this is the very thing that should make you marvel most: that he, the Son of the God who has no beginning, and his true Son, allowed himself to be called the son of David as well, so that he might make you a son of God. He let a slave be his father, so that he might make the Lord a Father to you, a slave. Do you see from the very start what the Gospels are like? If you doubt the things that concern you, then from what belongs to him, believe these things too. For by human reckoning it is far harder for God to become man than for a man to be declared a son of God. So when you are told that the Son of God is the son of David and of Abraham, do not doubt any longer that you too, a son of Adam, will be a son of God. He did not humble himself so deeply at random or for nothing; he meant to raise us up. So he was born according to the flesh, that you might be born according to the Spirit; he was born of a woman, that you might cease to be the son of a woman. [h]

That is why the birth was twofold: both like ours and beyond ours. To be born of a woman was our lot. But to be born “not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of man,” but of the Holy Spirit, announced in advance the birth that surpasses ours, the birth still to come, which he was about to give us freely, of the Spirit. And everything else was like this too. His baptism was of the same kind: it shared in the old, and it shared in the new as well. Being baptized by the prophet belonged to the old; the Spirit coming down foreshadowed the new. Imagine someone placing himself in the space between two people standing apart, stretching out both hands, taking hold of each, and tying them together. That is what he has done: joined the old covenant with the new, God’s nature with man’s, what is his with what is ours.

Do you see the flashing brightness of the city, how brilliantly it has dazzled you from the very start? How it has shown you the King at once in your own form, as though in an army camp? There, too, the king does not always appear with the marks of his rank; he often lays aside the purple and the diadem and disguises himself in the clothes of a common soldier. But there he does it so that he will not draw the enemy onto himself by being recognized. Here it is the opposite: so that the enemy would not flee from the fight with him if he were recognized, and so that he would not throw all his own people into confusion. For his purpose was to save, not to terrify.

That is also why the evangelist names him at once with this title, calling him Jesus. This name, Jesus, is not Greek; in the Hebrew language he is called Jesus, and translated into Greek it means “Savior.” He is called Savior because he saves his people. Do you see how the evangelist gives the hearer wings, speaking of familiar things and at the same time pointing us through them to things beyond all hope? I mean that both these names were well known to the Jews. Because what was going to happen was beyond expectation, even the names went ahead as types, so that from the very first all the unsettling power of something new might be taken away. So the man who brought the people into the promised land after Moses is called Jesus. Have you seen the type? Now look at the truth. That one led into the land of promise; this one into heaven and the good things in the heavens. That one after Moses was dead; this one after the law had ceased. That one as a leader; this one as a King. But so that when you heard the name Jesus you would not be confused because the name is the same, he has added, “Jesus Christ, Son of David.” That other man was not descended from David; he was of another tribe. [i]

But why does he call it “the book of the generation of Jesus Christ,” when this book contains not the birth only but the whole divine plan? Because the birth is the sum of that whole plan, and it has become the origin and root of all our blessings. Moses calls his book the book of heaven and earth, although he does not speak only of heaven and earth but also of everything between them. In the same way this evangelist has named his book from the event that sums up all the great things that were done. For what is overflowing with wonder, beyond hope and all expectation, is that God should become man. Once this has happened, everything afterward follows reasonably. [j]

But why did he not say “the son of Abraham” first, and then “the son of David”? It is not, as some suppose, that he means to work upward from the lower point. If that were so, he would have done the same as Luke; but in fact he does the opposite. Why, then, has he mentioned David? The man was on everyone’s lips, both because of his distinction and because of the time: he had not been dead so very long, as Abraham had. God made promises to both; but the one, being old, was passed over in silence, while the other, being fresh and recent, was repeated by everyone. The people themselves, for instance, say, “Does not the Christ come from the seed of David, and from Bethlehem, the town where David was?” No one called him son of Abraham; everyone called him son of David. And that was because David was more in everyone’s memory, both because of the time, as I have already said, and because of his kingship. [k]

On the same principle, all the kings they held in honor after his time were named after him, both by the people themselves and by God. Ezekiel and other prophets besides speak of David as coming and rising again — not meaning the man who had died, but those who were striving to match his virtue. And to Hezekiah God says, “I will defend this city for my own sake and for the sake of my servant David.” And he told Solomon too that for David’s sake he would not tear the kingdom away during his lifetime. For the man’s glory was great, both with God and with people.

That is why he begins at once with the better-known man and then goes back up to his forefather, thinking it unnecessary, as far as the Jews were concerned, to carry the genealogy any higher. For these two were the men they most admired: the one as a prophet and a king, the other as a patriarch and a prophet.

But someone may ask: “How is it clear that he is descended from David?” If he was not born of a man, but of a woman only, and the Virgin’s genealogy is not traced, how will we know he was of David’s line? So two questions are being asked: why his mother’s genealogy is not given, and why the evangelists mention Joseph at all, when he had no part in the birth. The second seems superfluous, and the first a gap. [m]

Which, then, must we speak of first? How the Virgin is of David. So how will we know that she is of David? Listen to God telling Gabriel to go to “a virgin engaged to a man (whose name was Joseph), of the house and lineage of David.” What could you want plainer than this, when you have heard that the Virgin was of the house and lineage of David?

From this it is clear that Joseph was of the same line too. Yes, for there was a law that made it unlawful to take a wife from any other stock than one’s own tribe. And the patriarch Jacob also foretold that he would arise from the tribe of Judah, saying: “A ruler will not fail from Judah, nor a leader from his loins, until he comes for whom it is appointed; and he is the expectation of the nations.”

“Well, this prophecy does make it clear that he was of the tribe of Judah, but not that he was of the family of David as well. Was there only one family in the tribe of Judah, David’s, or were there not many others too? Couldn’t someone be of the tribe of Judah without being of David’s family?” No; so that you would not say this, the evangelist has removed this suspicion of yours by saying that he was “of the house and lineage of David.”

And if you want to learn this from another reason as well, we will not be short of further proof. It was not permitted to take a wife from another tribe — and not even from another lineage, that is, from another clan. So if we connect the words “of the house and lineage of David” with the Virgin, what has been said stands; and if with Joseph, that proves this too. For if Joseph was of the house and lineage of David, he would not have taken his wife from any line but the one he himself came from.

Someone may say: “What if he broke the law?” That is exactly why the evangelist testified in advance that Joseph was righteous: so that you would not say this, but, having been told of his virtue, would be sure that he would not have broken the law. He was so kind and so free of passion that even when suspicion pressed him, he did not want to try to have the Virgin punished. How, then, would he have broken the law out of desire? He showed wisdom and self-restraint beyond what the law required — for to send her away, and to do it quietly, was to act with self-restraint beyond the law. How, then, would he have done anything against the law, and that when nothing was pushing him to it?

So it is clear from these things that the Virgin was of David’s race. But why the evangelist did not give her genealogy, but Joseph’s, needs explaining. What was the reason? It was not the law among the Jews that the genealogy of women should be traced. So that he might keep the custom and not seem to be making changes from the very start, and yet might make the Virgin known to us, he passed over her ancestors in silence and traced Joseph’s genealogy. If he had done this for the Virgin, he would have seemed to be introducing something new; and if he had passed over Joseph in silence, we would not have known the Virgin’s forefathers. So that we might learn who Mary was and where she came from, and that the laws might remain undisturbed, he traced the genealogy of the man she was engaged to and showed him to be of the house of David. Once this has been clearly proved, the other fact is proved along with it: that the Virgin too came from that line, because this righteous man, as I have already said, would not have been willing to take a wife from another race.

There is also another reason one might mention, a more hidden one, why the Virgin’s forefathers were passed over in silence. But it would not be timely to set it out now, since so much has been said already.

So let us stop our discussion of these questions here, and meanwhile let us hold on carefully to what has been made clear to us: why he mentioned David first; why he called the book “the book of the generation”; why he said “of Jesus Christ”; how the birth is both like ours and not like ours; how Mary was shown to be from David; and why Joseph’s genealogy is traced while her ancestors are passed over in silence. If you hold on to these things, you will encourage us all the more for what is to come. But if you reject them and throw them out of your minds, we will be all the slower with the rest — just as no farmer would care to tend soil that had destroyed the seed sown in it before. [p]

So I beg you to turn these things over in your minds. From thinking about such matters some great good springs up in the soul, leading to salvation. By these thoughts we will be able to please God himself. Our mouths will be kept clean of insults and filthy talk and abuse while they practice spiritual sayings. We will be fearsome to the demons when we arm our tongues with such words. We will draw God’s grace to ourselves all the more, and it will make our eye sharper. For he placed eyes and mouth and hearing in us for this very purpose: that all our members might serve him, that we might speak his words and do his deeds, sing unending hymns to him, offer up sacrifices of thanksgiving, and by these thoroughly purify our consciences.

A body is healthier when it enjoys the benefit of pure air; in the same way a soul gains more practical wisdom when it is fed on exercises like these. Don’t you see that even the body’s eyes are always watering when they stay in smoke, but in clear air, in a meadow, by springs and gardens, they become sharper and healthier? The soul’s eye is like that too. If it grazes in the meadow of the Spirit’s sayings, it will be clear and piercing and quick to see. But if it goes off into the smoke of this life’s affairs, it will weep without end and wail, both now and hereafter. For the affairs of this life really are like smoke. That is why someone said, “My days have failed like smoke.” He was speaking of how short and insubstantial they are; but I would say we should take the words not in that sense only, but also of how murky they are.

Nothing so hurts and dims the soul’s eye as the crowd of worldly worries and the swarm of desires. These are the wood that feeds this smoke. When fire catches hold of damp, soaked fuel, it raises a great deal of smoke; in the same way this desire, so violent and burning, when it catches hold of a soul that is — so to speak — damp and slack, produces its own great cloud of smoke. That is why we need the dew of the Spirit and that pure air, to put out the fire, scatter the smoke, and give our thoughts wings. It cannot be — it simply cannot be — that someone weighed down with such great evils should soar up to heaven. It is a good thing if, with nothing holding us back, we can cut our way up there; or rather, even then it is not possible unless we receive the wing of the Spirit.

Now if we need both a mind free of burdens and the grace of the Spirit in order to climb to that height, what if we have none of these, but draw to ourselves everything opposed to them — a weight that comes from Satan? How will we be able to soar upward when we are dragged down by so heavy a load? If anyone tried to weigh our words on honest scales, he would hardly find a hundred denarii of spiritual words in ten thousand talents of worldly talk — or rather, I should say, not even ten pennies’ worth.

Is it not a disgrace, and utterly ridiculous? If we have a servant, we use him mostly for necessary things; but though we have a tongue, we do not treat this member of ours even as well as a slave. On the contrary, we use it for useless things and mere filler. And if only it were only filler! But as things are, we use it for what is opposed to us and harmful and of no benefit to us at all. If what we said were profitable to us, it would certainly be pleasing to God as well. But as it is, we say whatever the devil suggests: now laughing, now making witty remarks; now cursing and insulting, now swearing, lying, and taking false oaths; now grumbling, now babbling emptily and chattering more nonsense than old women — saying all kinds of things that are no concern of ours.

Tell me, which of you standing here could recite one psalm, or any other passage of the divine Scriptures, if he were asked? Not one. And that is not the only grievous thing. While you have become so sluggish about spiritual things, you are hotter than fire about what belongs to Satan. If anyone wanted to ask you for the songs of the demons and filthy, effeminate tunes, he would find many who know them perfectly and recite them with great pleasure.

But what answer is there to these charges? You will say: “I am not one of the monks. I have a wife and children, and a household to look after.” Why, this is what has ruined everything: your thinking that reading the divine Scriptures belongs only to them, when you need it far more than they do. Those who live in the world and are wounded every day are the ones who most need medicine. So it is far worse than not reading at all to think the thing even “superfluous”; for these are words the devil invented. Do you not hear Paul saying that “all these things were written for our warning”? [r]

If you had to pick up a book of the Gospels, you would not choose to do it with unwashed hands. Yet what is stored up inside it — do you not think that highly necessary? This is why everything has been turned upside down.

If you want to learn how great the benefit of the Scriptures is, examine yourself: what you become when you hear psalms, and what when you listen to a song of Satan; how you feel when you are in church, and how when you are sitting in a theater. You will see how great the difference is between this soul and that, although both are one and the same. That is why Paul said, “Bad company corrupts good character.” For this reason we constantly need those songs that act as charms from the Spirit. Yes, this is what makes us better than the creatures without reason, since in every other respect we fall far short of them. This is the soul’s food, this its ornament, this its safety; just as not hearing is famine and wasting away. For he says, “I will give them not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but a famine of hearing the word of the Lord.”

What, then, could be more wretched? The very evil God threatens as a punishment, you are drawing down on your own head of your own accord, bringing a terrible kind of famine into your soul and making it the weakest thing in the world. For it is the soul’s nature both to be wasted and to be saved by words. Words lead it on to anger, and the same kind of thing makes it gentle again. A filthy expression usually kindles it to lust, and speech full of seriousness trains it in self-control.

But if a mere word has such power, tell me, how can you despise the Scriptures? And if a piece of advice can do such great things, how much more when the advice comes with the Spirit! Yes, a word from the divine Scriptures, sounding in the ear, softens a hardened soul more than fire does, and makes it fit for every good thing.

This is how Paul too, when he found the Corinthians puffed up and inflamed, calmed them and made them more sensible. They were priding themselves on the very things they should have been ashamed of and hidden their faces over. But after they had received the letter, listen to the change in them, to which the Teacher himself bears witness on their behalf: “For this very thing — that you grieved in a godly way — what earnestness it produced in you, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what zeal, what readiness to punish the wrong!” This is how we bring servants and children, wives and friends to order, and make our enemies into friends. [s]

This is how the great men too, those who were dear to God, became better. David, for example, after his sin, having received the benefit of certain words, came to that most excellent repentance. And the apostles too became what they became by this means, and drew the whole world after them.

Someone may say: “But what good is it if a person hears and does not do what is said?” The benefit even from hearing will be no small thing. He will come to condemn himself and to groan inwardly, and in time he will come to do the things that are spoken of as well. But the man who does not even know that he has sinned — when will he stop being careless? When will he condemn himself?

So let us not despise hearing the divine Scriptures. This is Satan’s scheme: he does not let us see the treasure, so that we will not gain the riches. That is why he says that hearing the divine laws is nothing, so that he will not see us go on from hearing to doing as well. Knowing, then, this evil craft of his, let us fortify ourselves against him on every side, so that, protected by this armor, we may stay unconquered ourselves and strike him on the head. And so, having crowned ourselves with the glorious wreaths of victory, may we attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.