Homily 3 — Matthew 1, verses 2 to 16

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

Look: this is a third sermon, and we have not yet finished with the introduction! So it was not for nothing that I said these thoughts are by nature very deep.

Come, then, let us speak today about what remains. What is it, then, that we still need to ask? Why Joseph’s genealogy is traced, when he had no part in the birth. We have already mentioned one reason, but we must also mention the other, which is more mysterious and more hidden than the first. What is it? He did not want it to be plain to the Jews, at the time of the birth, that Christ was born of a virgin.

No, do not be troubled at how strange this sounds. It is not my own statement, but that of our fathers, wonderful and famous men. He veiled many things at first, calling himself Son of Man, and he has not everywhere clearly unfolded to us even his equality with the Father. Why, then, are you surprised that for a time he veiled this too, since he was arranging things for a great and wonderful purpose?

But someone may ask: “What wonderful purpose?” That the Virgin should be kept safe and freed from evil suspicion. If the Jews had found this out from the beginning, they would have stoned the Virgin, seizing on the report as a handle for mischief, and would have condemned her for adultery. Think how they behaved about other matters, for which they had frequent precedents even under the old covenant: they were utterly shameless in their stubbornness. Because he cast out demons, they called him possessed; because he healed on the Sabbath, they thought him an enemy of God — and yet the Sabbath had often been broken even before this. What would they not have said if this had been told them? Especially since all past time was on their side, for it had never produced any such thing. If after so many miracles they still called him the son of Joseph, how would they have believed before the miracles that he was born of a virgin?

That, then, is why Joseph’s genealogy is traced, and why the Virgin is engaged to him. Even Joseph, a righteous and admirable man, needed many things before he could accept what had happened: an angel, the vision in dreams, and the testimony of the prophets. How, then, could the Jews, dull and corrupt as they were, and so hostile toward him, have let this idea into their minds? Its strangeness and newness were bound to disturb them greatly, and so was the fact that they had never so much as heard of such a thing happening in their forefathers’ time. Someone who had once been persuaded that he is the Son of God would have no further reason to doubt this too. But someone who thought him a deceiver and an enemy of God — how could he help being even more offended by this, and driven on to the opposite opinion?

That is why the apostles, too, do not say this outright at first. They speak about his resurrection a great deal and often, since there were examples of that in earlier times, though none like this one; but that he was born of a virgin they do not say at every turn. No, not even his mother herself dared to speak of it. See, for instance, what the Virgin says even to him: “Look, your father and I have been searching for you.” If people had suspected this, he would no longer have been considered the Son of David, and once that opinion was lost, many other evils would have followed as well. That is also why the angels did not tell these things to everyone, but only to Mary and Joseph. When they brought the shepherds the good news of what had happened, they did not add this.

But why is it that, having mentioned Abraham and said, “He fathered Isaac, and Isaac fathered Jacob,” without making any mention of his brother, when he comes to Jacob he mentions both “Judah and his brothers”? Some say it was because of the wickedness of Esau and of the others before him. But I would not say so. If that were the reason, how is it that a little later he mentions such women? In this passage his glory is shown by contrasts: not by his having great forefathers, but lowly ones of little account. For the one who is high, it is a great glory to be able to humble himself deeply. Why, then, did he not mention them? Because the Saracens and Ishmaelites and Arabs, and all who are descended from those ancestors, have nothing in common with the race of the Israelites. That is why he passes over them in silence and hurries on to Christ’s own forefathers, those of the Jewish people. So he says, “And Jacob fathered Judah and his brothers.” For at this point the race of the Jews begins to have its own distinguishing mark. [f]

“And Judah fathered Perez and Zerah by Tamar.” [g]

“What are you doing, man, reminding us of a story that involves an unlawful union?” Why, then, is it mentioned? If we were tracing the family of a mere man, one might naturally have kept quiet about such things. But if it is the family of God made flesh, far from keeping quiet, we ought to glory in them, showing his tender care and his power. Yes, this is why he came: not to run away from our disgraces, but to take them away. We admire him all the more because he not only died but was even crucified. The thing is shameful, yet the more shameful it is, the more it shows him full of love for humankind. We may say the same about his birth. We are rightly amazed at him not only because he took on flesh and became man, but because he was willing to have such relatives as well, not ashamed in any way of our evils.

And this he was proclaiming from the very beginning of his birth: that he is ashamed of nothing that belongs to us. At the same time he teaches us by this never to hide our faces over our forefathers’ wickedness, but to seek one thing only: virtue. Such a man, even if he has a foreigner for an ancestor, even if his mother is a prostitute or anything else you like, can come to no harm from it. For if the sexually immoral man himself, once changed, is not disgraced at all by his former life, much less will the wickedness of his ancestors have power to shame a man born of a prostitute or an adulteress, if he himself is virtuous.

But he did these things not only to teach us, but also to bring down the arrogance of the Jews. They neglected virtue in their own souls and paraded the name of Abraham, thinking their forefathers’ virtue was their defense. So he shows from the very beginning that it is not in these things that people ought to glory, but in their own good deeds.

Besides this, he is establishing another point as well: that all are under sin, even their forefathers themselves. Their patriarch and namesake, at least, is shown to have committed no small sin, for Tamar stands there to accuse him of his sexual immorality. And David too had Solomon by the wife he had corrupted. But if the law was not fulfilled by the great ones, much less by the lesser. And if it was not fulfilled, all have sinned, and Christ’s coming has become necessary.

That is why he also mentioned the twelve patriarchs, once more bringing down by this their pride in the noble birth of their fathers. For many of these too were born of slave women, and yet the difference in the parents made no difference in the children. All alike were patriarchs and heads of tribes. This is the Church’s order of rank, this the privilege of the nobility we have among us, taking its pattern from the beginning. So whether you are slave or free, you have neither more nor less on that account. The whole question turns on one thing only: the mind, and the disposition of the soul.

But besides what we have said, there is another reason why he has mentioned even this story. Zerah’s name was certainly not attached to Perez’s at random. (It would have been beside the point and unnecessary, once he had mentioned Perez, from whom he was to trace Christ’s genealogy, to mention Zerah too.) Why, then, did he mention him? When Tamar was about to give birth to them and her labor pains had come on her, Zerah put out his hand first. The midwife, seeing this, tied scarlet thread around his hand so that the firstborn would be known. But once it was tied, the child drew his hand back in, and when he had drawn it in, Perez came out first, and then Zerah. When the midwife saw this, she said, “Why was the hedge broken through for you?” [i]

Do you see how darkly the mysteries are expressed? It was not without purpose that these things were written down for us. It was hardly worth our study to learn what the midwife happened to say, or worth telling that the child who came out second put out his hand first. What, then, is the hidden lesson? First, we learn what we are asking from the child’s name, for Perez means “a division” and “a breach.” Then we learn it from the event itself. It was not in the order of nature that, having thrust out his hand, he should draw it back in once it was tied. These things did not come from any movement guided by reason, nor did they happen in the natural course of things. Once the hand had come out, it was perhaps not unnatural for another child to be born first. But to draw it back and make way for another was no longer the way children are born. No, the grace of God was present with the children, arranging these things and sketching out for us through them a kind of picture of what was to come.

What, then? Some who have examined these things carefully say that these children are a type of the two nations. So, to teach you that the way of life of the later people shone out before the former people came into being, the child with his hand stretched out does not show himself whole, but even draws that hand back in; and only after his brother has slipped out whole does he too appear in full. That is what happened with the two nations as well. I mean that after the Church’s way of life had been shown in Abraham’s time and then withdrawn partway through its course, the Jewish people came, and the way of life under the law; and then the new people appeared in full, with their own laws. That is why the midwife says, “Why was the hedge broken through for you?” — because the law, coming in, had broken in upon the freedom of that way of life. For Scripture regularly calls the law a hedge. As the prophet says, “You have broken down her hedge, so that all who pass by the way pluck her grapes”; and, “I put a hedge around it”; and Paul, “Having broken down the middle wall of the hedge.” But others say that the words “Why was the hedge broken through for you?” were spoken about the new people, since at its coming it put an end to the law.

Do you see that it was not for few or small reasons that he reminded us of the whole story of Judah? For the same purpose he has also mentioned Ruth and Rahab, the one a foreigner, the other a prostitute, so that you may learn that he came to do away with all our ills. He has come as a physician, not as a judge. So, just as men of old took prostitutes as wives, God too took as his bride the nature that had played the prostitute. The prophets, too, declare from the beginning that this happened in the case of the Synagogue. But that bride was ungrateful toward the one who had been a husband to her, whereas the Church, once freed from the evils received from our fathers, went on embracing the Bridegroom. [l]

See, for instance, what happened to Ruth, and how like it is to what belongs to us. She was of a foreign race and reduced to the deepest poverty. Yet when Boaz saw her, he neither despised her poverty nor shrank from her lowly birth. In the same way Christ received the Church, a foreigner and very poor, and took her to share in the great blessings. But just as Ruth would not have come to this marriage if she had not first left her father and given up household and race, country and kin, so the Church too became lovely to the Bridegroom only then, and not before, when she had left behind the customs people had received from their fathers. That is why the prophet speaks to her and says, “Forget your people and your father’s house, and the king will desire your beauty.” Ruth did this too, and because of it she became a mother of kings, just as the Church did. For David himself came from her.

So it was to shame them by all these things, and to persuade them not to be proud, that he composed the genealogy and brought these women forward. Yes, for this last woman, through those who came between, was the ancestor of the great king, and David is not ashamed of them. It cannot be — no, it cannot be — that a man is good or bad, obscure or famous, because of the virtue or the vice of his forefathers. If I may say something even paradoxical, the one who shines out more is the man who, without worthy ancestors, has still become excellent.

So let no one be proud because of these things. Let him consider the Lord’s forefathers and put away all his arrogance, and let his good deeds be his pride — or rather, not even these. That is how the Pharisee came to fall behind the tax collector. So if you want to show that your good deed is great, do not think highly of yourself, and you have proved it all the greater. Count yourself as having done nothing, and then you have done everything. If we who are sinners become righteous when we count ourselves what we are, as the tax collector did, how much more when we are righteous and count ourselves sinners! If sinners are made righteous by a humble mind — though that is not really being humble, only thinking rightly — if, then, thinking rightly does so much for sinners, consider what humility will not do for the righteous! [o]

So do not spoil your labors, or throw away the fruits of your toil. Do not run in vain, making all your labor worthless after the many laps you have run. No, your Lord knows your good deeds better than you do. Even if you give only a cup of cold water, he does not overlook even that. Even if you contribute only a penny, even if you only sigh, he receives it all with great favor, remembers it, and assigns great rewards for it.

But why do you search out your own deeds and keep bringing them out before us? Do you not know that if you praise yourself, God will no longer praise you? Just as, if you lament over yourself, he will not stop proclaiming you before everyone. For he does not at all want your labors to be belittled. Why do I say belittled? No, he is doing and contriving everything so that he may crown you even for a little, and he goes around looking for reasons to set you free from hell. That is why, even if you work only the eleventh hour of the day, he gives you your wages in full. And even if you give him no ground for saving you, he says, “I do it for my own sake, so that my name may not be profaned.” Even if you only sigh, even if you only weep, he quickly seizes on all these things as occasions to save you.

So let us not lift ourselves up, but let us call ourselves unprofitable, so that we may become profitable. If you call yourself approved, you have become unprofitable, even if you were approved; but if you call yourself useless, you have become profitable, even if you were rejected.

That is why we must forget our good deeds. But someone may say: “How is it possible not to know things we are well aware of?” What are you saying? You offend your Lord constantly, and you live in luxury and laugh, and you do not even know that you have sinned, but have handed it all over to forgetfulness — and you cannot put away the memory of your good deeds? And yet fear is a stronger thing. But we do exactly the opposite. Although we offend every day, we do not even bring it to mind; but if we give a little money to a poor person, we keep turning it over and over. Such conduct comes from sheer madness, and it is a very great loss to the one who keeps his accounts this way. For the safe storehouse of good deeds is to forget our good deeds. [q]

When we set out clothing and gold in the marketplace, we attract many people with bad intentions; but if we put them away at home and hide them, we will store them all in safety. It is the same with our good deeds. If we keep them always in memory, we provoke the Lord, we arm the enemy, and we invite him to steal them away. But if no one knows of them except the one who alone ought to know, they will lie in safety.

So do not keep parading them, or someone may take them away. That is what happened to the Pharisee for carrying them around on his lips; that is how the devil snatched them away. And yet he mentioned them with thanksgiving and referred everything to God. But even that did not satisfy God. For it is not thanksgiving to revile others, to show off before many, and to set oneself above those who have done wrong. No — if you are giving thanks to God, be content with him alone. Do not publish it to people, and do not condemn your neighbor, for that is not thanksgiving.

Do you want to learn words of thanksgiving? Listen to the three young men saying, “We have sinned, we have broken the law. You are righteous, Lord, in all that you have done to us, because you have brought all these things on us by a true judgment.” For to confess one’s own sins is to give thanks to God with confession. It shows that one is guilty of countless offenses and yet has not had the penalty one deserves exacted. That person above all is the one who gives thanks.

So let us beware of saying anything about ourselves, for this makes us hateful to people and detestable to God. For this reason, the greater the good deeds we do, the less let us say about ourselves. This is the way to reap the greatest glory both from people and from God. Or rather, not only glory from God, but a reward — yes, a great recompense. So do not demand a reward, so that you may receive a reward. Confess that you are saved by grace, so that he may declare himself your debtor — and not for your good deeds only, but also for this right way of thinking. When we do good deeds, we have him as our debtor for the good deeds alone. But when we do not even think we have done any good deed, then he is our debtor for this very disposition too, and more for this than for the rest, so that it counts as much as our good deeds. Without it, even they will not seem great. It is the same with us: when we have servants, we approve of them most when they have done all their work willingly and do not think they have done anything great. So if you want to make your good deeds great, do not think them great, and then they will be great. [t]

This is how the centurion too said, “I am not fit for you to come under my roof.” Because of this he became worthy, and was “marveled at” above all the Jews. In the same way Paul says, “I am not fit to be called an apostle”; because of this he became even first of all. So too John: “I am not fit to untie the strap of his sandal”; because of this he was the “friend of the Bridegroom,” and the very hand he declared unworthy to touch his sandals, Christ drew onto his own head. So Peter too said, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man”; because of this he became a foundation of the Church.

For nothing is so acceptable to God as counting oneself among the last. This is a first principle of all practical wisdom. The one who is humbled and bruised in heart will not be vain, will not be angry, will not envy his neighbor, will not harbor any other passion. When a hand is bruised, we cannot lift it high, though we try ten thousand times. So if we bruised our heart in the same way, then even if ten thousand swelling passions stirred it, it could not be lifted up, not even a little. For if a man who mourns over the things of this life drives out all the diseases of his soul, much more will the one who mourns over sins enjoy the blessing of self-restraint.

But someone may say: “Who will be able to bruise his own heart like this?” Listen to David, who became famous above all for this, and see how crushed his soul was. After ten thousand good deeds, when he was about to lose his country, his home, and life itself, in the very hour of his disaster, he saw a worthless outcast, a common soldier, trampling on him in his misfortune and reviling him. Far from reviling him back, he flatly forbade one of his captains who wanted to kill the man, saying, “Let him alone, for the Lord has told him to.” And again, when the priests wanted to carry the ark of God around with him, he did not allow it. What does he say? “Let me set it down in the temple. If God rescues me from the dangers ahead of me, I will see its beauty. But if he says to me, ‘I have no delight in you,’ here I am; let him do to me what seems good to him.” [v]

And what he did with regard to Saul, again and again, many times over — what excellent self-restraint does it not show? Yes, he even surpassed the old law and came close to the commands of the apostles. That is why he bore contentedly everything that came from the Lord’s hands, not fighting against what happened to him, but aiming at one thing only: to obey in everything and to follow the laws the Lord had set. After so many noble deeds of his own, he saw the tyrant, the parricide, the murderer of his own brother, that violent and raving man, holding David’s own kingdom in his place; and even so he was not offended. “If this pleases God,” he says, “that I should be hunted, and wander, and flee, and that he should be in honor, I agree, I accept it, and I thank God for his many afflictions.”

He was not like many shameless and brazen people, who have not done even the smallest part of his good deeds, yet if they see anyone prospering while they themselves endure a little discouragement, ruin their own souls with ten thousand blasphemies. David was not like that; rather, he showed every kind of modesty. That is why God also said, “I have found David, the son of Jesse, a man after my own heart.”

Let us too acquire a spirit like this, and whatever we suffer we will bear easily, and even before the Kingdom we will reap here the gain that comes from humility. For he says, “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” So, that we may enjoy rest both here and hereafter, let us with great diligence plant in our souls the mother of all good things — I mean humility. In this way we will be able to cross the sea of this life untouched by its waves and to end our voyage in that calm harbor, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.