Homily 30 — Matthew 9, verses 9 to 17

“And as Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” [a]

When he had performed the miracle, he did not stay there, so that by remaining in their sight he would not inflame their jealousy all the more. He gave way to them by withdrawing, and so calmed their passion. Let us do the same. Let us not confront those who are plotting against us; let us rather soothe their wound by giving way, and so relax the violence of their feeling.

But why did he not call him together with Peter and John and the rest? In their case he came at the time when he knew the men would obey him; in the same way he called Matthew when he was sure he would yield. That is also why he caught Paul, as a fisherman catches his prey, after the resurrection. For he who knows the hearts, and understands the secrets of each person’s mind, knew also when each of these would obey. So he did not call him at the beginning, while he was still somewhat hardened, but after his countless miracles and the great fame that had spread about him, when he knew that Matthew had actually become more ready to obey.

We have reason, too, to admire how little the evangelist spares himself. He does not disguise his own former life, but even adds his own name, when the others had hidden him under another name.

But why did he say that he was “sitting at the tax booth”? To show the power of the one who called him. He did not call him after he had left off or given up this wicked trade; he drew him up out of the very midst of the evils. In much the same way he converted blessed Paul while he was frantic and raging and breathing fire, and Paul himself makes this a proof of the power of the one who called him, saying to the Galatians, “You have heard of my way of life in the past in the Jews’ religion, how beyond measure I persecuted the church of God.” He called the fishermen too in the middle of their work. But theirs was a trade with no bad name, only one of men rather roughly brought up, who did not mix with others and had great simplicity. The occupation in question here was full of every kind of insolence and brazenness: a way of making money that no one could give a decent account of, a shameless traffic, robbery under cover of law. And yet the one who called him was ashamed of none of these things.

And why do I speak of his not being ashamed of a tax collector? Even with a woman who was a prostitute, far from being ashamed to call her, he actually let her kiss his feet and wet them with her tears. Yes, for this is why he came: not to cure bodies only, but to heal the wickedness of the soul as well. He did this in the case of the paralyzed man too. Only after he had shown plainly that he is able to forgive sins, and not before, does he come to the man we are now speaking of, so that they would no longer be troubled at seeing a tax collector chosen into the band of the disciples. For if he has power to undo all our offenses, why wonder if he makes even this man an apostle?

But as you have seen the power of the one who called, consider also the obedience of the one who was called. He did not resist. He did not argue and say, “What is this? Isn’t this a deceitful call he is calling me with, a man like me?” No — that kind of humility would have been out of season too. He obeyed at once. He did not even ask to go home and talk the matter over with his relatives, any more than the fishermen did. As they left their net and their boat and their father, so he left his tax booth and his profits and followed, showing a mind ready for anything. Breaking away at once from all worldly things, by his complete obedience he bore witness that the one who called him had chosen the right moment.

Someone may say: “Why is it that he has not told us how and in what way the others were called too, but only Peter and James, John and Philip, and nowhere the rest?”

Because these, more than the others, came from such strange and lowly ways of life. There is nothing worse than the tax collector’s business, and nothing more ordinary than fishing. And that Philip too was among the very humblest is plain from his home town. That is why they make these especially known to us, along with their ways of life: to show that we ought to believe them in the glorious parts of their accounts as well. For when they choose not to pass over any of the things counted shameful, but take more care to publish these than anything else, whether they concern the Teacher or the disciples, how can they be suspected in the parts that call for reverence? All the more so since they pass over many signs and miracles, while the events of the cross, which were counted a disgrace, they tell with exact care and out loud. The disciples’ trades too, and their faults, and those in their Master’s ancestry who were notorious for their sins, they reveal in a clear voice. From this it is plain that they cared greatly about the truth, and wrote nothing to win favor or for show.

Having called him, he also honored him with a very great honor by sitting down at his table at once. In this way he would both give him good hope for the future and lead him on to greater confidence. For he did not heal his vice over a long time, but at once. And he sits down to eat not with him alone but with many others too, although this very thing was counted a charge against him: that he did not drive the sinners away. But the evangelists do not hide this point either, or what sort of blame people tried to fasten on what he did. [e]

The tax collectors gathered as to one of their own trade; for Matthew, overjoyed that Christ had come into his house, had called them all together. The fact is, Christ used every kind of treatment. Not only when he was teaching, or healing, or refuting his enemies, but even at a morning meal he would often set right those who were in a bad way — teaching us by this that every occasion and every activity can bring us some profit. And yet what was set before them then surely came from injustice and greed. But Christ did not refuse to share it, because the gain that would follow was great. Indeed, he shares the same roof and table with people who had committed such offenses. For such is a physician: unless he puts up with the festering of the sick, he does not free them from their illness.

And yet he certainly got a bad name from this: first for eating with him, then for doing it in Matthew’s house, and third for doing it in the company of many tax collectors. See, at any rate, how they reproach him for it: “Look, a man who is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.” Let all those listen who are trying to deck themselves with great honor for their fasting, and let them consider that our Lord was called “a glutton and a drunkard,” and was not ashamed, but overlooked all these things so that he might accomplish what he had set out to do. And it was indeed accomplished: the tax collector was truly converted, and so became a better man.

And so that you may learn that this great thing was brought about by his sharing the man’s table, listen to what Zacchaeus says, another tax collector. When he heard Christ say, “Today I must stay at your house,” his delight gave him wings, and he says, “Half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have taken anything from anyone by false accusation, I pay him back four times over.” And Jesus says to him, “Today salvation has come to this house.” So true is it that instruction can be given by every means.

But someone may say: “How is it, then, that Paul commands, ‘If anyone who is called a brother is sexually immoral or greedy, do not even eat with such a person’?”

In the first place, it is not yet clear whether he gives this charge to teachers too, and not rather to the brothers only. Next, these men were not yet among the mature, nor among those who had become brothers. And besides, even with regard to those who had become brothers, Paul commands us to shun them only when they go on as they were; but these men had now stopped, and were converted.

But none of these things made the Pharisees ashamed. Instead they accuse him to his disciples, saying, “Why does your Teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” [i]

When it is the disciples who seem to be doing wrong, they take it up with him, saying, “Look, your disciples are doing what is not lawful to do on the Sabbath.” But here they run him down to the disciples. All this was the work of men acting craftily and wanting to separate the band of disciples from their Master.

What, then, does the Wisdom that has no limits say? “Those who are well have no need of a physician,” he says, “but those who are sick.”

See how he turned their reasoning around to the opposite conclusion. They made it a charge against him that he kept company with these men. He, on the contrary, says that not to be with them would be unworthy of him and of his love for humankind, and that to set such people right is not only blameless but excellent and necessary, and deserving of every kind of praise.

After this, so that he would not seem to shame those who had been invited by saying “those who are sick,” see how he makes up for it by rebuking the others instead, saying, “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’” He said this to reproach them for their ignorance of the Scriptures. That is also why he frames his words more sharply — not that he himself was angry, far from it, but so that the tax collectors would not be left in utter confusion.

And of course he might have said, “Didn’t you notice how I forgave the sins of the paralyzed man, how I made his body strong again?” But he says nothing of the kind. He argues with them first from ordinary human reasoning, and then from the Scriptures. Having said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick,” and having hinted that he himself was the Physician, he then said, “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’” Paul does the same. First he established his reasoning with examples from everyday things, saying, “Who tends a flock and does not drink the milk of the flock?” Then he brings in the Scriptures as well, saying, “It is written in the law of Moses, ‘You shall not muzzle an ox while it treads out the grain,’” and again, “In the same way the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the good news should live by the good news.”

With his disciples he does not do this; he reminds them of his signs, speaking this way: “Do you not yet remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets you took up?” Not so with these men. He reminds them of our common weakness, and shows them at any rate to be among the weak — men who did not even know the Scriptures, but made light of the rest of virtue and put all the weight on their sacrifices. He hints at this earnestly too when he sums up in brief what all the prophets had affirmed, saying, “Learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’”

The fact is, he is showing by this that it was not he who was breaking the law, but they. It is as if he had said, “Why do you accuse me? Because I bring sinners to set their lives right? Then you must accuse the Father too for this.” So too he said elsewhere, establishing this very point, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” So here again: “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’” “For as this is his will,” Christ is saying, “so it is mine as well.” Do you see how the one is superfluous and the other necessary? For he did not say, “I desire mercy and sacrifice,” but, “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.” That is, the one he allowed, the other he cast out. And he proved that what they blamed, far from being forbidden, was actually commanded by the law, and more so than sacrifice; and he brings in the Old Testament speaking words and laying down laws in harmony with himself.

Having rebuked them, then, both with everyday examples and from the Scriptures, he adds again, “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

He says this to them in irony, as when he said, “Look, Adam has become like one of us,” and again, “If I were hungry, I would not tell you.” For Paul declared that no one on earth was righteous, saying, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” And by this the others were comforted too — I mean the guests. “Why, I am so far from loathing sinners,” he says, “that it is for their sake alone that I have come.” Then, so as not to make them more careless, he did not stop at the word “sinners,” but added, “to repentance.” “For I have not come so that they should go on being sinners, but so that they should change and set their lives right.”

So he had stopped their mouths in every way, both from the Scriptures and from the natural course of things. And they had nothing to say. They had been shown to be guilty themselves of the charges they had brought against him, and to be opponents of the law and of the Old Testament. So they leave him, and once again shift their accusation onto the disciples. [m]

Luke says that the Pharisees said this, while this evangelist says it was the disciples of John; but it is likely that both said it. Being, as one would expect, at a complete loss, the Pharisees take the others along with them, as they did later with the Herodians too. For John’s disciples were always inclined to be jealous of him, and argued against him. They were humbled only at the time when John was first held in prison. Then, at least, they came “and told Jesus”; but afterward they went back to their former envy.

What, then, do they say? “Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but your disciples do not fast?”

This is the disease Christ had been uprooting long before, when he said, “When you fast, anoint your head and wash your face,” since he foresaw the evils that spring from it. Yet even now he does not rebuke these men, or say, “You lovers of empty glory, you busybodies!” He talks with them in all gentleness, saying, “The wedding guests cannot fast as long as the bridegroom is with them.” So when others needed to be spoken for — the tax collectors, I mean — he was more severe in rebuking those who reviled them, to soothe their wounded souls. But when these men were mocking himself and his disciples, he makes his reply in all gentleness.

Their meaning is something like this: “Granted, you do this as a physician. But why do your disciples too give up fasting and cling to tables like these?” Then, to make the accusation heavier, they put themselves first and then the Pharisees, wanting to make the charge worse by the comparison. For “both we,” it says, “and the Pharisees fast often.” And they really did fast, the one group having learned it from John, the other from the law, just as the Pharisee said, “I fast twice a week.”

What, then, does Jesus say? “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them?” Before, he called himself a physician; here, a bridegroom — revealing by these names his mysteries that are beyond words. And of course he might have said to them more sharply, “These things do not depend on you, that you should make laws like these. What use is fasting when the mind is full of wickedness — when you blame others, when you condemn them, carrying beams around in your own eyes, and do everything for show? No, before all this you ought to have cast out empty glory and become skilled in all the other duties: in love, in gentleness, in love for your brothers.” But he says nothing of this kind. With all gentleness he says, “The wedding guests cannot fast as long as the bridegroom is with them,” reminding them of John’s words when he said, “He who has the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom’s voice.”

His meaning is this: the present time is one of joy and gladness, so do not bring in gloomy things. For fasting is a gloomy thing — not by its own nature, but to those who are still somewhat weak. To those who are willing to practice self-control, the observance is very pleasant and desirable. For as spirits are high when the body is healthy, so the pleasure is greater when the soul is in good condition. But he says this in keeping with the way they already thought of it. So too Isaiah, speaking of fasting, calls it “an afflicting of the soul,” and Moses likewise.

But he does not stop their mouths by this alone, but by another point as well, saying, “The days will come when the bridegroom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast.”

By this he shows that what his disciples did was not from gluttony, but belonged to a wonderful arrangement of God’s. At the same time he lays the foundation in advance for what he was going to say about his suffering. In his disputes with others he was teaching his disciples, and training them even now to be familiar with things counted sorrowful. For to have this said to them directly would already have been hard and galling — we know that later, when it was spoken, it troubled them — but said to others, it would be somewhat less unbearable to them. And since it was natural for John’s disciples to pride themselves on John’s misfortune, he puts down this self-satisfaction of theirs too from the same point. But he does not yet add the teaching about his resurrection, for it was not yet time. It was natural enough that one thought to be a man should die; but that other thing was beyond nature.

Then he does here again what he had done before. When they tried to prove him blameworthy for eating with sinners, he proved to them on the contrary that what he did was not only no blame, but outright praise to him. So here too, when they wanted to show that he did not know how to manage his disciples, he shows that such talk was the mark of people who did not know how to manage their own conclusions, but found fault at random. [t]

“For no one,” he says, “puts a patch of new cloth on an old garment.”

Again he is establishing his argument with examples from everyday life. What he says is something like this: “The disciples have not yet become strong, but still need a great deal of stooping down to meet them. They have not yet been renewed by the Spirit, and on people in that state one should not lay any burden of commands.”

He said these things to set laws and rules for his own disciples, so that when they would have to take as disciples people of every kind coming from the whole world, they would deal with them very gently.

“Neither do people put new wine into old wineskins.”

Do you see how his examples resemble those of the Old Testament — the garment, the wineskins? For Jeremiah too calls the people “a belt,” and speaks again of “wineskins” and of “wine.” And so, since the talk was about gluttony and a table, he takes his examples from those same things.

But Luke adds something more: that the new is torn too, if you put it on the old. Do you see that far from any gain resulting, the damage is actually increased?

And while he speaks of the present, he also foretells the future: that they will later be new, but that until that happens, nothing harsh and burdensome ought to be laid on them. For, Christ is saying, whoever tries to instill the high teachings before the proper time will not find them fit for his purpose afterward either, even when the time calls for it, because he has made them useless once and for all. And this comes about not through any fault of the wine, nor of the vessels that receive it, but from the ill-timed act of those who pour it in.

By this he has also taught us the reason for those lowly expressions he was constantly using when speaking with them. Because of their weakness he said many things far beneath his true dignity. John points this out too, reporting that he said, “I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” There, so that they would not suppose that the things he had spoken were all there was, but would picture to themselves other things as well, and far greater ones, he set before them their own weakness, with a promise that when they had become strong he would tell them the rest too. He says the same thing here: “The days will come when the bridegroom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast.”

So let us not demand everything of everyone at the start either, but as much as is possible, and we will soon have made our way to the rest. But if you are pressing and in a hurry, for that very reason I tell you not to press — because you are in a hurry. And if the saying seems a riddle to you, learn it from the very nature of things, and then you will see its full force. [w]

And do not let any of those who find fault out of season move you. Here too the critics were Pharisees and those reproached were disciples; yet none of these things persuaded Christ to change his judgment. He did not say, “It is a disgrace for these men to fast and for those not to fast.” But as a perfect pilot pays no attention to the churning waves, but only to his own skill, so did Christ then. For the real disgrace was not that they should go without fasting, but that because of the fast they should be wounded in their vital parts, and be cut off, and break away.

Let us bear these things in mind too, and treat all our own people accordingly. Suppose you have a wife who loves finery, who gapes after the ways of painting her face and is eager for them, who is dissolved in great luxury, and talkative, and foolish. (Of course it is not possible for all these faults to come together in one woman; still, let us shape such a woman in our talk.)

Someone may say: “Why is it, then, that you shape a woman and not a man?” There are men too who are worse than this woman. But since authority has been entrusted to men, that is why we are shaping a woman for the present — not as though vice were more common among women. For there are many things found among men that are not found among women: murder, for instance, breaking open tombs, fighting with wild beasts, and many things like these. So do not think we are doing this because we think less of women. It is not that, it is not that at all; it simply suited the present purpose to sketch the picture this way.

Let us suppose such a woman, then, and let her husband try in every way to reform her. How will he reform her? Not by ordering everything at once, but the easier things first, and in matters that do not have a strong hold on her. For if you rush to reform her completely at the beginning, you have ruined everything. So do not take off her gold jewelry at once. Let her have it and wear it for a time, for this seems a lesser evil than her paints and shadings. Take these away first — and not even these by fear and threats, but by persuasion and mildness, by finding fault with other women, and by your own opinion and judgment.

Tell her constantly that to you a face made up like that is not lovely, but on the contrary very unpleasant, and above all persuade her that it upsets you. And after your own verdict, bring in the judgment of others too, and say that even beautiful women are usually disfigured by it, so that you may root out the passion. Say nothing yet of hell or of the kingdom, for you will talk of these things in vain. But persuade her that she pleases you more by showing the work of God undisguised, while the woman who tortures and strains and daubs her face does not look fair and beautiful even to people in general. First drive out the plague by ordinary reasoning and the verdict of everyone; and when you have softened her with these words, add the other considerations as well. And if you speak once and do not persuade her, do not grow tired of pouring in the same words a second and a third time and often — not in a tiresome way, though, but playfully. Now turn away from her; now flatter her and court her.

Don’t you see painters, how much they rub out and how much they put in when they are making a beautiful portrait? Well, then, do not fall short of them. For if they take such great pains in drawing the likeness of a body, how much more fitting is it for us to use every means in shaping a soul! If you shape the form of this soul well, you will not see the face of the body looking unsightly: no stained lips, no mouth like a bear’s mouth dyed with blood, no eyebrows blackened as with soot from some kitchen pot, no cheeks whitened with dust like the walls of tombs. For all these things are soot and ashes and dust, and signs of the utmost ugliness.

But wait — I have been carried away without noticing, I do not know how, into these expressions; and while urging another to teach with gentleness, I have been swept into anger myself. So let us go back to the gentler way of correction, and let us bear with all our wives’ faults, so that we may succeed in what we want. Don’t you see how we bear with children’s crying when we want to wean them from the breast — how we put up with everything for this one purpose, to persuade them to despise their former food? Let us do the same here: let us bear with everything else, so that we may accomplish this. For when this has been set right, you will see the other following in due order too. You will come back to the gold jewelry and reason about it in the same way. And so, bringing your wife little by little to the right rule, you will be a fine painter, a faithful servant, an excellent farmer.

Along with these things, remind her also of the women of old — of Sarah, of Rebekah, both of the beautiful and of those who were not — and point out how all of them alike practiced modesty. Leah, the patriarch’s wife, was not beautiful; yet she was not driven to devise anything of the kind. Though she was plain, and not much loved by her husband, she neither devised anything like this nor spoiled her face, but kept its features unmarred — and this though she was brought up among Gentiles.

But you, a believing woman, you who have Christ for your head — are you bringing a satanic art in among us? Do you not remember the water that streamed over your face, the sacrifice that adorns your lips, the blood that has reddened your tongue? If you would consider all these things, then even if you loved finery ten thousand times over, you would not dare or bear to put that dust and those ashes on yourself. Learn that you have been joined to Christ, and keep away from this unsightliness. For he takes no delight in these colorings. He seeks another beauty, of which he is an exceedingly great lover — I mean the beauty of the soul. The prophet too has charged you to cherish this, saying, “So the King will desire your beauty.”

So let us not go to great lengths to make ourselves unsightly. None of God’s works is imperfect, or needs to be put right by you. Why, if someone tried to add his own work to an image of the emperor after it had been set up, the attempt would not be safe; he would run into the utmost danger. Well, then: a human being does the work, and you add nothing; God does the work, and do you correct it? Do you not think of the fire of hell? Do you not think of the starving of your soul? For that is why the soul is neglected: all your care is wasted on the flesh.

But why do I speak of the soul? Even for the flesh itself everything turns out the opposite of what you women are after. Think about it. Do you want to look beautiful? This makes you look ugly. Do you want to please your husband? This rather grieves him, and makes not only him but strangers too your accusers. Do you want to look young? This will quickly bring you to old age. Do you want to adorn yourself with honor? This makes you ashamed. For such a woman is ashamed not only before women of her own rank, but even before those of her maids who are in on her secret, and those of her servants who know — and above all, before herself.

But why do I need to say these things? The most grievous thing of all I have left out until now: that you offend God. You undermine modesty, you kindle the flame of jealousy, you imitate the prostitutes in their brothel.

So consider all these things, you women, and laugh to scorn the pomp of Satan and the craft of the devil. Let go of this adorning — or rather, this disfiguring — and cultivate in your own souls that beauty which is lovely even to angels, desired by God, and delightful to your husbands, so that you may attain both the glory of the present and the glory to come. May we all attain it, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.