Homily 32 — Matthew 9, verse 27, to 10, verse 15

“And when Jesus departed from there, two blind men followed him, crying out and saying, ‘Son of David, have mercy on us.’ And when he had come into the house, the blind men came to him; and Jesus said to them, ‘Do you believe that I am able to do this?’ They said to him, ‘Yes, Lord.’ Then he touched their eyes, saying, ‘Let it be done to you according to your faith.’ And their eyes were opened.” [a]

Why does he put them off, when they are crying out to him? Here again he is teaching us to thrust away completely the glory that comes from the crowd. The house was near, and so he leads them there to heal them in private. This is clear from the fact that he also charged them to tell no one.

And this is no light charge against the Jews. These men, though their eyes had been put out, receive the faith by hearing alone; while the Jews, who saw the miracles and had their own eyes as witnesses of what was happening, do the exact opposite. Notice these men’s earnestness too, both from their cry and from the prayer itself. They did not simply come up to him; they came with loud cries, pleading for nothing but “mercy.”

They called him “Son of David” because the name was thought an honorable one. In many places, for instance, the prophets too called by this name the kings they wished to honor and to declare great. And once he has brought them into the house, he puts a further question to them. In many cases he made a point of healing only when he was asked, so that no one would suppose he was rushing into these miracles out of empty glory. Nor was that his only reason. He also meant to show that they deserved to be healed, and that no one could say, “If he saved people out of mere mercy, then everyone ought to be saved.” For even his love for humankind has a certain proportion: it depends on the faith of those who are healed.

But these are not the only reasons he requires faith of them. Since they had called him “Son of David,” he wanted to lead them up to something higher and to teach them to think of him as they ought, and so he says, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” He did not say, “Do you believe that I am able to ask my Father, that I am able to pray?” but, “that I am able to do this?”

And what is their answer? “Yes, Lord.” They no longer call him Son of David; they soar higher and acknowledge his lordship.

Then at last he, for his part, lays his hand on them, saying, “Let it be done to you according to your faith.” He does this to confirm their faith, to show that they share in the good work, and to bear witness that their words were not flattery. For he did not say, “Let your eyes be opened,” but, “Let it be done to you according to your faith.” He says this to many of those who came to him. Before he heals their bodies, he hurries to proclaim the faith in their souls, both to make them more highly regarded and to make others more earnest.

So it was with the paralyzed man as well. There too, before he put strength back into the body, he raised up the fallen soul, saying, “Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven.” The young girl, too, once he had raised her up, he kept there, and by the food he taught her who her benefactor was. With the centurion he did the same, leaving the whole matter to his faith. And again with his disciples, when he rescued them from the storm on the sea, he first rescued them from their lack of faith. It is just the same here. He knew the secrets of their minds even before they cried out; but in order to lead others on to the same earnestness, he makes them known to the rest as well, proclaiming their hidden faith by the outcome of their cure.

Then, after their cure, he commands them to tell no one; and he does not simply command it, but does so very strictly. “For Jesus,” it says, “sternly charged them, saying, ‘See that no one knows it.’ But they, when they had gone out, spread his fame through all that region.”

They could not bear it, but became preachers and evangelists; told to hide what had been done, they could not hold it in. And if elsewhere we find him saying, “Go, and declare the glory of God,” that is not contrary to this; it agrees with it completely. For he teaches us to say nothing ourselves about ourselves, and even to stop those who would praise us; but if the glory is given to God, then we are not only not to stop them, but to command people to do it.

“And as they were going out,” it says, “look, they brought to him a mute man possessed by a demon.” [d]

His affliction was not natural; it was the work of the evil spirit. That is why he needs others to bring him. He could neither plead for himself, since he could not speak, nor beg others to plead for him, since the evil spirit had bound his tongue and, along with his tongue, had shackled his soul.

For this reason Christ does not require faith of him either, but heals the disease at once. “For when the demon had been cast out,” it says, “the mute man spoke; and the crowds marveled, saying, ‘Nothing like this was ever seen in Israel.’”

Now what especially galled the Pharisees was that the people ranked him above everyone — not only above those living then, but above everyone who had ever lived. And they ranked him higher not simply for healing, but for doing it easily and quickly, and for healing diseases without number, diseases no one could cure.

That was the crowd. The Pharisees did the very opposite: they not only belittled his works but said things that contradicted themselves, and were not ashamed. Such a thing is wickedness. For what do they say? “He casts out demons by the ruler of the demons.”

What could be more foolish than this? In the first place, as he himself says further on, it is impossible for a demon to cast out a demon; for that being is accustomed to shore up what belongs to him, not to pull it down. Then again, he did not only cast out demons. He also cleansed lepers, raised the dead, curbed the sea, forgave sins, preached the kingdom, and brought people to the Father — things a demon would never choose to do, and could never at any time accomplish. For the demons lead people to idols, draw them away from God, and persuade them not to believe in the life to come. The devil does not do kindnesses when he is insulted; why, even when he is not insulted, he harms those who court and honor him. But Christ does the opposite. For after these insults and slanders of theirs —

“he went around,” it says, “all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every sickness and every disease.” [e]

Far from punishing them for their lack of feeling, he did not even simply rebuke them. In this way he showed his gentleness and at the same time refuted their slander; and he meant, too, to give a fuller proof by the signs that followed, and only then to bring in the refutation by words as well. So he went about in the cities and in the countryside and in their synagogues, teaching us to repay those who slander us not with fresh slanders but with greater kindnesses. If you do good to your fellow servants for God’s sake and not for man’s, then whatever they do, do not stop doing them good, so that your reward may be greater. For the one who stops doing good when he is slandered shows that he gives himself to that kind of virtue for the sake of their praise, not for God’s sake.

That is why Christ, to teach us that he had taken this work on out of sheer goodness, did not even wait for the sick to come to him, but hurried to them of his own accord, bringing them two of the greatest blessings: one, the good news of the kingdom; the other, the complete cure of all their diseases. He did not overlook a single city or hurry past a single village, but visited every place.

And he does not stop even here, but shows yet another instance of his forethought. “When he saw the crowds,” it says, “he was moved with compassion for them, because they were troubled and scattered, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest truly is plentiful, but the laborers are few. So pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.’” See again how free he is from empty glory. So as not to draw everyone to himself, he sends out his disciples. [f]

Nor was that his only aim. He also meant to teach them, after practicing in Palestine as in a kind of training school, to strip for their contests with the world. For this purpose he makes the exercises even more demanding than the actual contests, as far as their own virtue was concerned, so that they might more easily take on the struggles that were to follow — like tender nestlings he was now at last leading out to fly. For the present he makes them physicians of bodies; later he entrusts them with the cure of the soul, which is the main thing.

And notice how he shows both how easy the work is and how necessary. What does he say? “The harvest truly is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” That is: “I am sending you not to the sowing, but to the reaping.” In John he expressed this by saying, “Others have labored, and you have entered into their labors.”

He said these things to curb their pride, and at the same time to prepare them to take courage, and to show that the greater part of the labor had come first.

And see him here too beginning from love for humankind, not from any repayment. “For he was moved with compassion, because they were troubled and scattered, like sheep without a shepherd.” This is his charge against the rulers of the Jews: that though they were shepherds, they played the part of wolves. Far from setting the crowd right, they even spoiled its progress. For instance, when the crowds were marveling and saying, “Nothing like this was ever seen in Israel,” the Pharisees were declaring the opposite: “He casts out demons by the ruler of the demons.”

But which laborers is he speaking of here? The twelve disciples. What then? Having said, “But the laborers are few,” did he add to their number? Not at all; he sent out the twelve alone. Why, then, did he say, “Pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest,” and make no addition to their number? Because though they were only twelve, from that time on he made them many — not by adding to their number, but by giving them power.

Then, to show how great the gift is, he says, “Pray the Lord of the harvest,” and indirectly declares that this is his own prerogative. For after saying, “Pray the Lord of the harvest,” when they had made no request and offered no prayer, he himself at once appoints them. He reminds them too of John’s sayings about the threshing floor, and the one who winnows, and the chaff, and the wheat. From this it is clear that he himself is the farmer, he himself the Lord of the harvest, he himself the master and owner of the prophets. For if he sent them to reap, clearly it was not to reap what belonged to someone else, but what he himself had sown through the prophets.

But it was not only by calling their ministry a harvest that he was quietly encouraging them; he also made them able for the ministry. “And when he had called his twelve disciples to him,” it says, “he gave them power over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal every kind of sickness and every kind of disease.”

Yet the Spirit had not yet been given. For “there was not yet a Spirit,” it says, “because Jesus was not yet glorified.” How, then, did they cast out the spirits? By his command, by his authority.

And notice, I ask you, how well timed the mission was. He did not send them out at the beginning. Only when they had enjoyed enough of the benefit of following him — when they had seen a dead person raised, the sea rebuked, demons driven out, a paralyzed man given new strength, sins forgiven, a leper cleansed, and had received sufficient proof of his power in both deeds and words — only then does he send them out. And he does not send them into dangerous undertakings, for as yet there was no danger in Palestine; they had only to stand up against slander. Even so, he warns them in advance about this too — I mean about their dangers — preparing them before the time and making them feel already in the fight by repeatedly foretelling such things.

The evangelist had told us of two pairs of apostles, Peter’s pair and John’s, and after those he had described the calling of Matthew; but he had said nothing to us of the calling or the names of the other apostles. So here he has to set down the list of them and their number, and he makes their names known, saying: “Now the names of the twelve apostles are these: first, Simon, who is called Peter.” [i]

For there was also another Simon, the Canaanite; and there were Judas Iscariot and Judas the brother of James, and James the son of Alphaeus and James the son of Zebedee.

Now Mark lists them according to their rank: after the two leaders, he counts Andrew next. Our evangelist does not; he lists them without distinction. Or rather, he even puts Thomas ahead of himself, though Thomas fell far short of him.

But let us look at the list from the beginning. “First, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother.” Even this is no small praise. The one he named from his virtue; the other from his noble kinship, which matched his character. Then, “James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother.” Do you see how he does not arrange them according to their rank? To me, John seems to be greater not only than the others, but even than his brother.

After this, when he had said, “Philip and Bartholomew,” he added, “Thomas, and Matthew the tax collector.” Luke does not do this, but uses the opposite order and puts Matthew before Thomas. Next, “James the son of Alphaeus” — for, as I have already said, there was also the son of Zebedee. Then, after mentioning “Lebbaeus, whose surname was Thaddaeus,” and “Simon” the Zealot, whom he also calls “the Canaanite,” he comes to the traitor.

And he has described him not as an enemy or a foe, but as someone writing a history. He does not say, “the unholy one, the utterly unholy one,” but names him from his city: “Judas Iscariot.” For there was also another Judas, “Lebbaeus, whose surname was Thaddaeus,” whom Luke calls the brother of James, saying, “Judas the brother of James.” So, to distinguish him from this man, it says, “Judas Iscariot, who also betrayed him.” And he is not ashamed to say, “who also betrayed him.” So far were they from ever hiding anything, even of the things that seem to bring reproach. And the first of all, the leader of the choir, is “the unlearned, the uneducated man.”

But let us see where, and to whom, he sends them. “These twelve,” it says, “Jesus sent out.”

What kind of men were they? The fishermen, the tax collectors. For four were fishermen and two were tax collectors, Matthew and James, and one was even a traitor. And what does he say to them? He charges them at once, saying, “Do not go into the way of the Gentiles, and do not enter any city of the Samaritans; but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

“Do not think at all,” he says, “that because they insult me and call me demon-possessed, I hate them and turn away from them. No: just as I earnestly tried to set them right first, so now I keep you away from all the rest and send you to them as teachers and physicians. And I not only forbid you to preach to others before them; I do not allow you even to set foot on the road that leads there, or to enter such a city.”

For the Samaritans too were at enmity with the Jews. And yet it would have been easier to deal with the Samaritans, since they were much better disposed toward the faith, while the case of the Jews was harder. Even so, he sends the apostles on the harder task. He shows his protective care for the Jews, and stops their mouths, and prepares the way for the apostles’ teaching, so that no one could blame them later for “going in to uncircumcised men,” or think they had just cause to avoid and loathe them. And he calls them “lost” sheep, not “strayed” ones, in every way seeking grounds to excuse them and winning their minds over to himself.

“And as you go,” he says, “preach, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’” [n]

Do you see how great their ministry is? Do you see the dignity of the apostles? They are told to speak of nothing that the senses perceive, nor of such things as Moses and the prophets before them spoke of, but of things new and strange. The earlier ones preached nothing of this kind, but the earth and the good things of the earth; these preached the kingdom of heaven and all that is there.

And it was not only in this that they were greater, but also in their obedience. They do not shrink back or hold back, as those of old did. Though they are warned of dangers and wars and those unbearable evils, they receive his commands with great obedience, as heralds of a kingdom.

“What wonder is it,” someone will say, “if they obeyed readily, when they had nothing gloomy or painful to preach?”

What are you saying? Nothing painful was laid on them? Do you not hear of the prisons, the executions, the civil wars, the hatred of all people? All this, he told them a little later, they would have to undergo.

True, for others he sent them out to provide and proclaim countless blessings; but for themselves he said and declared beforehand that they would suffer terrible evils past all remedy. After this, to make them worthy of trust, he says, “Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.”

See how he provides for their conduct no less than for their miracles, implying that without it the miracles are nothing. By saying, “Freely you have received, freely give,” he both curbs their pride and arranges for them to be clean of greed. Again, so that they would not think the work their own and be puffed up by the signs that were done, he says, “Freely you have received.” “You are doing no favor to those who receive you. You did not receive these things for a price, or by your own toil; the grace is mine. So give to them in the same way, for no price could be found that is worth them.”

After this, pulling up the root of the evils at once, he says, “Provide neither gold, nor silver, nor copper in your purses, nor a bag for your journey, nor two coats, nor shoes, nor a staff.” He did not say, “Do not take them with you,” but: “Even if you could get them from someone else, flee that evil disease.” [o]

You see that by this he was achieving many good purposes. First, he put his disciples above suspicion. Second, he freed them from every care, so that they could give all their leisure to the word. Third, he taught them his own power. That is why he speaks of it to them quite openly afterward: “Did you lack anything when I sent you out naked and without shoes?”

He did not say “Provide nothing” right away. Only when he had said, “Cleanse the lepers, cast out demons,” did he then say, “Provide nothing; freely you have received, freely give.” By the order in which he arranged things, he looked out at once for their interest, their good name, and their ability.

But perhaps someone will say: “The rest may be understandable. But why did he command them not to have a bag for the journey, or two coats, or a staff, or shoes?”

Because he wanted to train them for complete perfection. Even earlier, after all, he had not allowed them to worry even about the next day. For he was going to send them out as teachers to the whole world. So from men he makes them angels, so to speak, releasing them from every worldly care, so that they would be taken up with one care alone, their teaching. Or rather, he releases them even from that, saying, “Do not worry about how or what you are to speak.”

So what seems very hard and galling, he shows to be especially light and easy for them. For nothing makes people so cheerful as being free of anxiety and care — especially when, being free of it, they are granted to lack nothing, because God is with them and becomes everything to them.

Next, so that they would not say, “Then where are we to get the food we need?” he does not tell them, “You have heard me say before, ‘Look at the birds of the air’” — for they were not yet able to carry out this command in practice. Instead he added something that fell far short of it, saying, “For the worker deserves his food.” By this he declared that they must be fed by their disciples, so that they would not be haughty toward those they were teaching, as though giving everything and receiving nothing from them, and so that the ones taught would not in turn break away, as though their teachers looked down on them.

After this, so that they would not say, “Are you telling us to live by begging, then?” and be ashamed of it, he shows that the thing is a debt, both by calling them “workers” and by calling what was given “wages.” “Do not think,” he says, “that because the labor is in words, the benefit you confer is small. No, the thing takes much toil. And whatever those who are taught may give, it is not a free gift they bestow but a payment they render: ‘for the worker deserves his food.’”

But he said this not as though declaring that this was what the apostles’ labors were worth — far from it, God forbid! He said it to make it a law for them to seek nothing more, and to convince the givers that what they do is not an act of generosity but the paying of a debt.

“And whatever city or town you enter, find out who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave.” [q]

What he means is this: “It does not follow from my saying, ‘The worker deserves his food,’ that I have opened every door to you. Here too I require you to use great care. This will help you both in your good name and in your very support. For if the man is worthy, he will certainly give you food, especially when you ask for nothing beyond what you need.”

And he not only requires them to look for worthy people, but also tells them not to move from house to house. That way they would not offend the one who had taken them in, nor get a name for gluttony and self-indulgence. He made this plain by saying, “Stay there until you leave.” You can see this from the other evangelists too. Do you see how by this, too, he made them respected, and made those who received them careful, by showing that it is the hosts who gain more, both in honor and in benefit?

Then, pursuing the same subject again, he says, “And when you come into a house, greet it. If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you.”

Do you see how far he goes with his instructions, holding nothing back? And very fittingly. For he was training them as champions of godliness and preachers to the whole world. With that in view, shaping them to be modest and making them people others would love, he says, “And whoever will not receive you or listen to your words, when you leave that house or city, shake the dust off your feet. Truly I tell you, it will be more bearable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that city.”

What he means is this: “Do not wait to be greeted by others just because you are teachers. Be the first to show that respect.” Then, to show that this is not a mere greeting but a blessing, he says, “If the house is worthy, it will come upon it.” “But if it treats you with insolence, its first punishment will be not to have the benefit of your peace, and the second, that it will suffer the fate of Sodom.” Someone will ask: “And what is their punishment to us?” You will have the houses of those who are worthy. But what does “Shake the dust off your feet” mean? It is either to show that they received nothing from those people, or to be a witness to them of the long journey the apostles had made for their sake.

But notice, please, how he does not yet give them everything. He does not yet grant them foreknowledge, so that they could tell who is worthy and who is not. He tells them to inquire and to wait for the test. How then did he himself stay with a tax collector? Because the man had become worthy by turning his life around.

And notice, please, how after stripping them of everything he gave them everything, by letting them stay in the houses of those who became disciples, and go in there with nothing. In this way they themselves were set free from worry, and they would convince the others that they had come only for their salvation: first, by bringing nothing in with them; then, by asking for nothing more than necessities; and last, by not going into every house without distinction.

For he wanted them to shine not only by their signs, but, even before the signs, by their own virtue. Nothing marks a strict life so much as being free of luxuries and, as far as possible, of needs. Even the false apostles knew this. That is why Paul also said, “so that in what they boast of, they may be found to be just as we are.” But if, when we are in a foreign country and going to people we do not know, we must look for nothing more than our food for the day, how much more when we are staying at home!

Let us not only hear these things but also imitate them. For they were not said of the apostles alone, but also of the saints who came after. So let us make ourselves worthy to take them into our homes. For this peace comes, or flies away again, depending on the disposition of those who take them in. The result depends not only on the bold speaking of those who teach, but also on the worthiness of those who receive them. [v]

And let us not think it a small loss not to enjoy such a peace. The prophet too proclaimed this peace long ago, saying, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news of peace!” Then, to explain its worth, he added, “who bring good news of good things.”

Christ too declared this peace to be great when he said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” And we should do everything we can to enjoy it, both at home and in church. For in church, too, the one presiding gives the peace, and the peace we are speaking of here is the pattern for that one. You should receive it with all eagerness, in your heart, before the communion itself. For if it is disgusting not to share it after the communion, how much more disgusting to push away the one who speaks it!

For your sake the presbyter sits; for your sake the teacher stands, laboring and toiling. What excuse will you have, then, if you do not give him even the welcome of listening to him? The church is the common home of all. When you have taken your places in it first, we come in, keeping strictly to the pattern the apostles set. That is why, as soon as we come in, we too say “Peace” to all together, according to that law.

So let no one be careless, no one inattentive, when the priests have come in and are teaching, for no small punishment is set for this. Indeed, for my part I would rather go into any of your houses ten thousand times and be rebuffed than not be listened to when I speak here. This is harder for me to bear than that, just as this house is of greater dignity. For here our great possessions are truly stored up; here are all our hopes. What is there here that is not great and awe-inspiring? This table is far more precious and delightful than the one at home, and this lampstand than the lampstand there. All who have driven off diseases by anointing themselves with oil, in faith and at the right time, know this. This chest, too, is far better and more necessary than that other chest at home, for it holds not clothes but alms shut up inside it, even though those who own them are few. Here too is a couch better than the one at home, for the rest the divine Scriptures give is more delightful than any couch.

If we had reached excellence in harmony, we would have no other home but this. And that there is nothing too heavy in this saying, the “three thousand” bear witness, and the “five thousand,” who had only one home, one table, one soul. For “the whole company of those who believed,” we read, “were of one heart and one soul.” But since we fall far short of their virtue and live scattered in our separate homes, let us at least be earnest about this when we meet here. For though in everything else we are destitute and poor, in these things we are rich. So here, at least, receive us with love when we come in to you. And when I say, “Peace be with you,” and you answer, “And with your spirit,” do not say it with the voice only, but with the mind as well; not with the mouth only, but with the understanding too. But if here you say, “Peace to your spirit too,” and outside you are my enemy, spitting at me and slandering me, and secretly spattering me with countless insults, what kind of peace is that?

For my part, even if you speak ill of me ten thousand times, I give you that peace with a pure heart and an honest purpose, and I can never say anything bad about you, for I have a father’s tender heart. And if I ever rebuke you, I do it out of concern for you. But as for you, with your secret sniping at me and your refusal to receive me in the Lord’s house, I fear you may add to my discouragement in return. It is not that you insult me, not that you throw me out, but that you reject our peace and bring that heavy punishment down on yourself.

For even if I do not shake off the dust, even if I do not turn away, what was threatened stays the same. I often speak peace to you, and I will not stop saying it again and again. And if, on top of your insults, you do not receive me, even then I do not shake off the dust — not because I disobey our Lord, but because my heart burns for you. Besides, I have suffered nothing at all for you. I have not come a long journey, nor have I come in that dress and that chosen poverty — so we blame ourselves first — nor without shoes and a second coat. And perhaps that is why you too fail in your part. Yet this is no sufficient excuse for you. Our condemnation is greater, but that gives you no excuse.

Then houses were churches; now the church has become a house. Then one could say nothing worldly in a house; now one may say nothing spiritual in a church. Even here you bring in the business of the marketplace, and while God is speaking, you stop listening to his words in silence and bring in the very opposite, and make an uproar. I wish it were at least your own affairs; but as it is, the things you talk and hear about are nothing to you. [aa]

For this I grieve, and I will not stop grieving. I have no power to leave this house; here we must stay until we depart this present life. So “receive us,” as Paul commanded. For what he said there had nothing to do with a meal, but with the temper of the heart and mind. This is what we ask of you too: love, that warm and genuine affection. But if you will not put up with even this, at least love yourselves, and lay aside your present slackness. It is enough to comfort us if we see you proving yourselves and becoming better. Then I myself will show you still more love, even “though the more I love you, the less I am loved.”

For there are many things to bind us together. One table is set before all; one Father gave us birth; we are all the offspring of the same birth pains; the same drink has been given to all — or rather, not only the same drink, but to drink from one cup. For our Father, wanting to lead us to warm affection, devised this too, that we should drink from one cup, which is what intense love does.

“But there is no comparison between the apostles and us.” I admit it too, and I would never deny it. For I say that we are not comparable, not merely to them, but not even to their shadows.

But even so, do your part. This will not disgrace you at all; it will benefit you all the more. For when you show so much love and obedience even to unworthy people, then you will receive the greater reward.

For the words we speak are not our own, since you have no teacher at all on earth. What we have received, that we also give; and in giving we ask nothing else of you but to be loved. And if we are unworthy even of this, yet by loving you we will quickly become worthy. And after all, we are commanded to love not only those who love us, but even our enemies. Who then is so hard-hearted, who so savage, that after receiving such a law he should loathe and hate even those who love him, full as he may be of countless faults?

We have shared a spiritual table; let us share a spiritual love as well. For if robbers, once they have shared salt, forget their nature, what excuse will we have, who continually share the Lord’s body and do not imitate even their gentleness? For many, not one table only, but even belonging to one city has been enough for friendship. But we have the same city, and the same house and table and way and door and root and life and head, the same shepherd and king and teacher and judge and maker and father; everything is common to us. What leniency can we deserve if we are divided from one another?

But perhaps what you are looking for is miracles, such as they worked when they came in: lepers cleansed, demons driven out, the dead raised? No. This is the great proof of your noble birth and of your love: that you believe God without pledges. In fact this, and one other thing, are the reasons God made miracles cease. I mean this. Even when no miracles are worked, those who pride themselves on other advantages — on the word of wisdom, for instance, or on a show of piety — grow full of empty glory, get puffed up, and split off from one another. If miracles happened as well, how could there fail to be violent divisions? And that what I say is not guesswork, the Corinthians bear witness, who for this very reason were split into many parties. [ac]

So do not look for signs, but for the health of the soul. Do not look to see one dead man raised, for you have learned that the whole world is rising. Do not look to see a blind man healed, but see how all are now restored to that better and more useful sight; and you too learn to look chastely, and set your own eye right.

For truly, if we all lived as we ought, the children of the pagans would not admire miracle workers as much as they would admire us. For signs often bring with them either the idea that they are mere illusion, or some other evil suspicion, though ours are not of that kind. But a pure life leaves no room for any such reproach; no, the gaining of virtue stops everyone’s mouth.

So let virtue be our study, for her riches are abundant, and the wonder worked in her is great. She gives true freedom, and makes it visible even in slavery. She does not release people from slavery, but while they remain slaves she shows them to be more honorable than free men, which is much more than giving them freedom. She does not make the poor man rich, but while he remains poor she shows him to be wealthier than the rich.

And if you want to work miracles too, be rid of your sins, and you have done it completely. For sin is a great demon, beloved; and if you root it out, you have done a greater thing than those who drive out ten thousand demons. Listen to Paul, how he speaks and prefers virtue to miracles. “But earnestly desire the best gifts,” he says, “and yet I show you a more excellent way.” And when he was about to set out this “way,” he did not speak of raising the dead, or of cleansing lepers, or of anything else of the kind; in place of all these he set love.

Listen to Christ too, saying, “Do not rejoice that the demons obey you, but that your names are written in heaven.” And again, before this: “Many will say to me on that day, ‘Did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons, and do many mighty works?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I do not know you.’” And when he was about to be crucified, he called his disciples and said to them, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples” — not “if you cast out demons,” but “if you have love for one another.” And again: “By this all people will know that you have sent me” — not “if these men raise the dead,” but “if they are one.”

For as for miracles, they have often, while helping someone else, harmed the one who had the power, by lifting him up to pride and empty glory, or perhaps in some other way. But in our works there is no room for any such suspicion; they help both those who practice them and many others.

So let us do these works with great diligence. For if you change from cruelty to almsgiving, you have stretched out the hand that was withered. If you leave the theaters and go to church, you have healed the lame foot. If you draw your eyes back from a prostitute, and from beauty that is not yours, you have opened them when they were blind. If instead of satanic songs you have learned spiritual psalms, you were mute and have spoken.

These are the greatest miracles; these are the wonderful signs. If we go on working these signs, we will ourselves be great and admirable people through them, we will win over all the wicked to virtue, and we will enjoy the life to come. May we all attain it, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might forever and ever. Amen.