Homily 35 — Matthew 10, verses 34 to 42

“Do not think that I have come to send peace on earth. I have not come to send peace, but a sword.” [a]

Once again he sets out the more painful things, and with great intensity. And the objection they were sure to meet him with, he heads off by stating it himself. I mean, so that they would not hear this and say, “So this is why you have come — to destroy both us and those who obey us, and to fill the earth with war?” he first says himself, “I have not come to send peace on earth.”

How, then, did he command them to pronounce peace whenever they entered a house? And again, how did the angels say, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace”? And how is it that all the prophets too announced it as good news? Because this more than anything is peace: when what is diseased is cut away, when what is rebellious is removed. For this is how heaven can be united to earth. The physician, too, preserves the rest of the body in this way, when he amputates the part that cannot be cured; and so does the general, when he splits apart those who had agreed together to do harm. This is what happened in the case of that famous tower as well: their evil peace was ended by a good discord, and peace was made by it. This is how Paul too divided those who were conspiring against him. And in Naboth’s case, that agreement was at the same time more grievous than any war. For agreement is not a good thing in every case; even robbers agree with one another.

So the war is not the result of his purpose, but of their temper. His will was that all should agree in the word of godliness; but because they fell into dissension, war arises. Yet he did not put it that way. What does he say instead? “I have not come to send peace.” He says it to comfort them. It is as though he said: “Do not think that you are to blame for these things. I am the one who arranges them so, because people are disposed as they are. So do not be thrown into confusion, as though these events had happened against what you expected. This is why I have come: to send war among people. For this is my will. So do not be troubled when the earth is at war, as though it had fallen under some hostile plot. For when the worse part is torn away, then heaven is joined to the better.” He says these things to strengthen them against the evil suspicion of the crowd.

And he did not say “war,” but something more grievous than war: “a sword.” And if there is something painful in these expressions, something alarming in their force, do not be surprised. He meant to train their ears by the severity of his words, so that in their hard circumstances they would not swerve aside. That is why he shaped his discourse as he did: so that no one could say he won them over by flattery, by hiding the hardships. And so even to things that deserved to be put some other way, he gave in his words the more galling and painful turn. For it is better to see a person’s gentleness in deeds than in words.

That is why he was not satisfied with this either, but also unfolds the very nature of the war, showing it to be far more grievous even than a civil war. He says, “I have come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.” For he says: “Not friends only, nor fellow citizens, but even relatives will stand against one another, and nature will be divided against herself. For I have come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.” [c]

That is, the war is not merely among people of the same household, but among those who are dearest and closest of all to one another. And this more than anything shows his power: that when they heard these things, they both accepted him and set about persuading everyone else. Yet it was not he who did this — of course not — but the wickedness of the others. Nevertheless he says it is his own doing, for that is the custom of Scripture. Yes, and elsewhere too he says, “God has given them eyes so that they should not see.” And he speaks this way here so that, as I said before, having trained themselves on these words, they would not be thrown into confusion when they suffered reproaches and insults.

But if anyone thinks these things intolerable, let him be reminded of an ancient history. For in the old days too this came to pass, and this especially shows the old covenant to be akin to the new, and the one who is speaking here to be the same as the giver of those commands. I mean that in the case of the Jews too, it was when each man had killed his neighbor that he laid aside his anger against them — both when they made the calf and when they joined themselves to Baal of Peor. Where, then, are those who say, “That God is evil, and this one good”? For look: he has filled the world with blood, shed by relatives. And yet we declare even this to be a work of great love for humankind.

So, you see, showing that it was he who approved those other acts too, he also mentions a prophecy, which, even if it was not spoken for this purpose, still carries the same meaning. And what is it?

“A man’s enemies will be those of his own household.”

For something of this kind happened among the Jews too. There were prophets and false prophets; the people were divided, and families were at odds; some believed the one, and some the other. That is why the prophet warns, “Do not trust in friends; do not put your hope in guides. Even of her who lies in your embrace, beware, and tell her nothing.” And, “A man’s enemies are the men of his own house.”

And he said this to prepare the one who would receive the word to rise above everything. For dying is not evil; dying an evil death is. That is also why he said, “I have come to cast fire upon the earth.” He said this to show how intense and ardent the love he required was. Because he loved us very much, he wants to be loved by us in the same way. And these sayings would also strengthen those who were present, and lift them higher. “For if those others,” he says, “are to despise relatives, and children, and parents, imagine what kind of people you, their teachers, ought to be. For the hardships will not stop with you; they will pass on to the rest as well. Since I have come bringing great blessings, I also demand great obedience and resolve of heart.”

“He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and he who does not take his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.” Do you see the dignity of a teacher? Do you see how he shows himself a true Son of the one who begot him, commanding us to let go of everything below and to prefer the love of him? [g]

“And why do I speak of friends and relatives?” he says. “Even if it is your own life that you prefer to my love, your place is far from my disciples.”

What then? Are these things not contrary to the Old Testament? Far from it; they are very much in harmony with it. There too he commands us not only to hate the worshipers of idols, but even to stone them. And in Deuteronomy again, admiring such people, he says, “Who said to his father and to his mother, ‘I have not seen you’; and he did not acknowledge his brothers, and he disowned his own sons: he kept your words.” And if Paul gives many directions about parents, commanding us to obey them in everything, do not be surprised; he means us to obey only in those things that do not hinder godliness. It is a sacred duty to give them every other honor; but when they demand more than is due, one ought not to obey.

That is why Luke says, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brothers, and sisters, yes, and his own life too, he cannot be my disciple.” He is not commanding us simply to hate them, since that would be entirely contrary to the law, but: “When someone wants to be loved more than I am, hate him in this respect. For this ruins both the one who is loved and the one who loves.”

He said these things both to make the children more resolute and to make the fathers who would hinder them more gentle. For when the fathers saw that he had such strength and power as to separate their children from them, they would give up, since they would be attempting the impossible. That is also why he leaves the fathers aside and addresses his words to the children, teaching the fathers not to make the attempt, since it could not succeed.

Then, so that they would not be indignant or think it hard, see the direction he gives his argument. Having said, “Whoever does not hate father and mother,” he adds, “and his own life.” “Why do you talk to me of parents,” he says, “and brothers, and sisters, and wife? Nothing is nearer to anyone than his own life. Yet if you do not hate this too, your lot will be in every way the opposite of the one who loves me.”

And he did not command us simply to hate it, but to hate it so as to expose it to war, and battles, and slaughter, and blood. “For whoever does not bear his cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” So he did not say merely that we must stand firm against death, but against a violent death; and not violent only, but shameful too.

And he says nothing as yet of his own suffering, so that when they had been trained in these things for a time, they might more easily accept his word about it. Is it not, then, a cause for amazement that when they heard these things their souls did not take wing from their bodies, with hardships on every side and the good things still only hoped for? How is it, then, that they did not flee? Great was the power of the one speaking, and great the love of those who heard. That is why, though they heard things far more unbearable and galling than those great men Moses and Jeremiah heard, they went on obeying and said nothing against it.

“He who finds his life,” he says, “will lose it; and he who loses his life for my sake will find it.” Do you see how great the loss is for those who love it wrongly, and how great the gain for those who hate it? I mean, since the commands were unwelcome — for he was telling them to set themselves against parents, and children, and nature, and kin, and the world, and their very life — he sets out the profit too, and it is very great. So he says: “These things, far from harming you, will benefit you greatly; and their opposites will injure you.” He urges them, as he always does, by the very things they desire. Why are you willing to despise your life? Because you love it? Then for that very reason despise it, and so you will do it the greatest good and act the part of one who loves it. And notice an instance of consideration beyond words. He does not use this reasoning only about our parents, or about our children, but about our life, which is nearer than all of them. In this way the other point would be beyond question from then on, and they would learn that by this means they would also do their relatives all the good they could, since it is so even with our life, which is closer to us than anything.

These things were enough to persuade people to receive them, the healers appointed for them. Indeed, who would not choose to receive with all eagerness men so noble, such true heroes, running over the earth like lions, despising everything that belonged to themselves so that others might be saved? Yet he offers another reward as well, showing that here he cares for the hosts more than for the guests. [k]

And the first honor he confers is in saying, “He who receives you receives me, and he who receives me receives him who sent me.”

What can compare with this — that a person should receive the Father and the Son!

But along with this he holds out another reward too.

“He who receives a prophet in the name of a prophet,” he says, “will receive a prophet’s reward; and he who receives a righteous man in the name of a righteous man will receive a righteous man’s reward.” Just as before he threatens punishment to those who do not receive them, so here he also appoints a kind of refreshment for the good. And to teach you how much greater his care for them is, he did not say simply, “He who receives a prophet,” or “He who receives a righteous man,” but added, “in the name of a prophet” and “in the name of a righteous man.” That is, if someone receives him not for any worldly advancement, nor for any other passing thing, but because he is a prophet or a righteous man, he will receive a prophet’s reward and a righteous man’s reward: either the reward fitting for one who has received a prophet or a righteous man, or the very reward that the other is to receive himself. Paul said something of this kind too: “That your abundance may supply their need, so that their abundance may also supply your need.”

Then, so that no one could plead poverty, he says, “Or whoever gives one of these little ones only a cup of cold water to drink in the name of a disciple, truly I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward.”

“Even if a cup of cold water is your gift, which costs you nothing, even for this a reward will be stored up for you. For I do everything for the sake of you who receive them.”

Do you see what powerful persuasions he used, and how he opened the houses of the whole world to them? Yes, he showed that people are in their debt. First, by saying, “The worker is worthy of his wages.” Second, by sending them out with nothing. Third, by giving them up to wars and fights on behalf of those who receive them. Fourth, by entrusting them with miracles as well. Fifth, in that through their lips he brought peace, the cause of all blessings, into the houses of those who receive them. Sixth, by threatening things more grievous than Sodom’s fate to those who do not receive them. Seventh, by showing that all who welcome them are receiving both himself and the Father. Eighth, by promising both a prophet’s and a righteous man’s reward. Ninth, by undertaking that the rewards would be great even for a cup of cold water. Each one of these, even by itself, would be enough to draw them. For tell me: if a commander of armies came in sight, wounded in countless places and stained with blood, returning from war and battle after raising many trophies, who would not receive him, throwing open every door of his house?

Someone may say: “But who is like this now?” That is why he added, “in the name of a disciple,” and “of a prophet,” and “of a righteous man”: to teach you that the reward is set not by the worth of the visitor but by the intention of the one who welcomes him. For though here he speaks of prophets, and righteous men, and disciples, elsewhere he tells us to receive the very lowest outcasts, and punishes those who fail to. For he says, “Since you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me”; and he says the reverse about the same people. For even if a man is doing no great work, he is a human being, living in the same world as you, looking at the same sun, having the same soul, the same Lord; he shares the same mysteries with you and is called to the same heaven as you. And he has a strong claim: his poverty, and his lack of the food he needs. [n]

But as it is, those who wake you with flutes and pipes in the winter season, and disturb you to no purpose and no profit, go away from you with many gifts. And those who carry swallows around, and smear themselves with soot, and abuse everyone, receive a reward for this conjuring of theirs. But if a poor man comes to you wanting bread, there is no end of abuse and reproaches, and charges of idleness, and scolding, and insults, and jeers. And you do not reflect that you too are idle, and yet God gives you his gifts. Do not tell me that you too are doing something; show me instead whether what you do and are busy with is anything really needed. And if you tell me about making money, and trade, and looking after your property and increasing it, I in turn would say to you: not these, but almsgiving, and prayers, and protecting the wronged, and all such things are truly works — and in these we live in complete idleness. Yet God never said to us: “Because you are idle, I will not light the sun for you. Because you do nothing of real importance, I will put out the moon, I will strike the womb of the earth barren, I will hold back the lakes, the springs, the rivers, I will blot out the air, I will withhold the yearly rains.” No, he gives us everything in abundance. And to some who are not merely idle but even doing evil, he freely gives the benefit of these things.

So when you see a poor man and say: “It chokes me that this fellow, young and healthy as he is, with nothing to his name, wants to be fed in idleness. He must be some slave and runaway who has deserted his rightful master” — I tell you to say these same words to yourself. Or rather, let him say them freely to you, and he will say them with more justice: “It chokes me that you, healthy as you are, are idle and do none of the things God has commanded. You have run away from the commands of your Lord, and you go about living in wickedness as in a foreign land: in drunkenness, in gluttony, in theft, in extortion, in overturning other people’s households. You charge me with idleness; I charge you with evil deeds: your scheming, your swearing, your lying, your plundering, your doing countless things like these.”

And I say this not to make a law in favor of idleness — far from it. I very much want everyone to be at work, for laziness is the teacher of all wickedness. But I beg you not to be unmerciful or cruel. For Paul too, after making endless complaints and saying, “If anyone will not work, let him not eat,” did not stop there, but added, “But you, do not grow weary in doing good.” “But these things contradict each other. If you have commanded that they are not to eat, how can you urge us to give?” “I do,” he says, “for I have also commanded you to avoid them, and ‘to have no company with them’; and again I said, ‘Do not count them as enemies, but admonish them.’ I am not making laws that contradict each other, but laws that are entirely in harmony. For if you are ready to show mercy, the poor man will soon be rid of his idleness, and you of your cruelty.”

“But he has plenty of lies and tricks,” you reply. Well, this again is why he deserves pity: he has fallen into such distress that he has grown hardened even to doing such things. But far from pitying him, we add those cruel words too: “Haven’t you received once already, and again?” That is how we talk. What then? Because he was fed once, does he not need to be fed again? Why don’t you make these laws for your own belly too, and say to it as well, “You were filled yesterday and the day before; don’t ask for anything now”? But while you fill that beyond measure, even to bursting, you turn away from him when he asks for only a modest amount — when you ought to pity him for the very reason that he is forced to come to you every day. Yes, if nothing else moves you toward him, you should pity him for this: the pressure of his poverty forces him into these things, and so he does them. And you do not pity him because, when he is spoken to like that, he feels no shame; but the reason is that his need is too strong for him.

No, instead of pitying him, you even make a spectacle of him. God has commanded us to give in secret, and you stand there exposing in public the man who approached you, and reproaching him for the very thing that ought to move your pity. Why, if you do not mean to give, why add reproach, and bruise that weary and wretched soul? He came to you as into a harbor, looking for help at your hands; why stir up waves and make the storm worse? Why condemn him for meanness? What? If he had expected to hear such things, would he have come to you? Or if he did come foreseeing this, that is all the more reason both to pity him and to shudder at your own cruelty: that even so, when you see an inescapable necessity laid on him, you do not become gentler, nor judge that the dread of hunger is excuse enough for his persistence, but accuse him of shamelessness. And yet you have often shown greater shamelessness yourself, and in grievous matters too. For here the very shamelessness brings with it grounds for pardon; but we, often doing things that deserve punishment, brazen it out. And when we ought to keep all that in mind and be humble, we even trample on these miserable people, and when they ask for medicine, we add to their wounds. I say, if you will not give, why strike him? If you will not be generous, why be insolent?

“But he will not let himself be put off any other way.” Well then, do as that wise man commanded: “Answer him with peaceable words in gentleness.” For surely he is not so very persistent of his own free will. There is no one — there cannot be anyone — who wants to be put to shame for its own sake. However much anyone may argue, I can never be persuaded that a man living in plenty would choose to beg.

So let no one lead us astray with arguments. Paul does say, “If anyone will not work, let him not eat”; but he says it to them. To us he does not say this, but the opposite: “Do not grow weary in doing good.” We do the same thing at home: when two people are quarreling, we take each one aside and give them opposite advice. God did this too, and so did Moses. For to God Moses said, “If you will forgive them their sin, forgive it; if not, blot me out too”; but the people, on the contrary, he commanded to kill one another and everyone belonging to them. These are contrary things; yet both looked to one end. [r]

Again, God said to Moses in the hearing of the Jews, “Let me alone, so that I may consume the people.” (For though they were not there when God said this, they were to hear it afterward.) But privately he gives him directions of the opposite kind. And Moses, under pressure, revealed this afterward, saying, “What? Did I conceive them, that you say to me, ‘Carry them, as a nurse carries a nursing child in her bosom’?”

These things are done in households too. A father will often scold the tutor in private for treating his son abusively, saying, “Don’t be rough or harsh,” while to the boy he speaks the opposite way: “Even if you are insulted unjustly, bear it.” Out of those opposites he produces one wholesome result. So too Paul said to those who are healthy and beg, “If anyone will not work, let him not eat,” to push them into work; but to those who can show mercy, “As for you, do not grow weary in doing good,” to lead them to give alms.

So too when he was warning the Gentiles, in his letter to the Romans, not to be arrogant toward the Jews, he brought in the wild olive as well; and he seems to be saying one thing to these and another to those.

So let us not slide into cruelty. Let us listen to Paul saying, “Do not grow weary in doing good”; let us listen to the Lord, who says, “Give to everyone who asks you,” and, “Be merciful, as your Father is.” And though he has spoken of many things, nowhere has he used this expression except with regard to our acts of mercy. For nothing makes us so equal with God as doing good.

“But nothing is more shameless than a poor man,” someone says. Why, I ask you? Because he runs up to you and shouts after you? Shall I show you, then, how we are more persistent than they are, and very shameless? Remember, I say, how often now, in the season of the fast, when your table was set in the evening and you called the servant who waits on you, and he moved rather slowly, you overturned everything — kicking, insulting, abusing him — over a little delay, even though you knew perfectly well that if not at once, then a little later, you would enjoy your food. You do not call yourself shameless for that, though you have turned into a wild beast over nothing. But the poor man, frightened and trembling over something far more serious — for all his fear is not about delay, but about starving — him you call bold, and shameless, and impudent, and every most insulting name? Surely this is nothing but the height of shamelessness.

But we do not consider these things, and that is why we find such people troublesome. If we examined our own conduct at all and compared it with theirs, we would not have thought them unbearable.

So do not be a harsh judge. Why, even if you were free of all sins, not even then would the law of God allow you to be strict in searching out other people’s sins. And if the Pharisee perished for this reason, what defense will we find? If he does not allow those who have done well to be bitter in searching out other people’s conduct, much less will he allow those who have done wrong.

So let us not be savage, nor cruel, nor without natural feeling, nor unforgiving, nor worse than wild beasts. For I know many who have gone so far in brutishness that, to spare themselves a little trouble, they slight starving people and say these words: “I have no servant with me now; we are far from home; there is no moneychanger here that I know.” What cruelty! Did you promise the greater, and do you not fulfill the less? To save you walking a little way, is he to die of hunger? What insolence! What pride! Why, even if it meant walking a mile and a quarter, ought you to hang back? Does it not even come into your mind that this makes your reward greater? For when you give, you receive a reward for the gift only; but when you go yourself as well, a further reward is appointed you for that. Yes, we admire the patriarch himself for this: that in his own person he ran to the herd and caught up the calf — and that when he had three hundred and eighteen servants born in his house. But now some are so full of pride that they do these things through servants and are not ashamed. [w]

“But do you require me to do these things myself?” someone may say. “Then how will I not seem to be seeking empty glory?” No — as things are, it is another kind of empty glory that leads you to this: you are ashamed to be seen talking with a poor man.

But I am not at all strict about this. Only give, whether you choose to do it yourself or through someone else; and do not accuse, do not strike, do not abuse. It is medicine, not wounds, that the one who comes to you needs; mercy, not a sword. For tell me: if someone struck with a stone, with a wound in his head, were to pass by everyone else and run to your knees, drenched in his blood, would you strike him with another stone and give him another wound? I, for my part, think not; even as things were, you would try to heal it. Why, then, do you do the opposite with the poor? Do you not know how much power a word has, both to raise up and to cast down? For “a word,” it is said, “is better than a gift.”

Do you not see that you are driving the sword into yourself, and receiving a worse wound, when he, having been abused, goes away in silence, groaning and weeping many tears? For he is sent to you by God. Consider, then, on whom the insult falls when you insult him: God sends him to you and commands you to give, but you, far from giving, even insult him when he comes. And if you do not see how very wrong this is, look at it as it would be among people, and then you will fully understand how great the sin is. Suppose a servant of yours had been told by you to go to another servant who held money of yours, to collect it, and he came back not only empty-handed but treated with contempt as well. What would you not do to the one who had done the insult? What penalty would you not exact, as though after this it were you yourself who had been mistreated? Make this same reckoning with God too. For truly it is he who sends the poor to us, and it is from what is his that we give, if indeed we do give. But if, besides not giving, we also send them away insulted, consider how many thunderbolts, how many thunders, what we are doing deserves.

Weighing all these things, then, let us bridle our tongue and put away inhumanity. Let us stretch out our hand to give alms, and let us relieve those in need not with money only but with words too, so that we may both escape the punishment for abuse and inherit the kingdom that is the reward of kind words and almsgiving, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.