Homily 38 — Matthew 11, verses 25 to 30

“At that time Jesus answered and said, I acknowledge you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent, and have revealed them to babes. Yes, Father, for so it seemed good in your sight.” [a]

Do you see how many ways he leads them on to faith? First, by his praise of John. By pointing to him as a great and wonderful man, he made all John’s sayings believable too, the sayings by which John used to draw them on to know him. Second, by saying, “The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force”; for this is the language of someone pressing and urging them on. Third, by showing that the line of the prophets had come to its end; for this too made it plain that he himself was the one they had announced beforehand. Fourth, by pointing out that everything that was to be done on his part had all been carried out; it was then too that he spoke the parable of the children. Fifth, by reproaching those who had not believed, and alarming and threatening them severely. Sixth, by giving thanks for those who did believe. For the words “I acknowledge you” mean here “I thank you.” “I thank you,” he says, “because you have hidden these things from the wise and prudent.”

What then? Does he rejoice in their ruin, and in the others not having received this knowledge? Not at all. But this is his most excellent way of saving people: he does not force those who utterly reject his sayings and are unwilling to receive them. Since his call did not make them better, but they drew back and despised it, his casting them out might make them fall into a longing for these things. And in the same way the attentive would grow more earnest.

His being revealed to these was a fit cause for joy; but his being hidden from those was a cause not for joy but for tears. That, at any rate, is how he acts when he weeps over the city. So it is not for this that he rejoices, but because what wise men did not know, these knew. It is as when Paul says, “I thank God that you were slaves of sin, but you obeyed from the heart the form of teaching that was handed down to you.” You see, Paul too does not rejoice because they were “slaves of sin,” but because, though they were such, they had been so highly favored.

Now by “the wise” he means here the scribes and the Pharisees. He says these things to make the disciples more earnest, and to show what had been granted to the fishermen when all those others had missed it. And in calling them “wise,” he does not mean the true wisdom that deserves praise, but the kind they seemed to have through natural cleverness. That is why he did not say, “You have revealed it to fools,” but “to babes” — to the unsophisticated, that is, to simple-minded people. And he implies that the wise, far from missing these privileges undeservedly, got just what might be expected. Throughout, he teaches us to be free from pride and to pursue simplicity. That is why Paul also put it even more forcefully, writing like this: “If anyone among you seems to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, so that he may be wise.” For this is how God’s grace is shown.

But why does he give thanks to the Father, when of course it was he himself who did this? Just as he prays and intercedes with God to show his great love toward us, so he does this too; for this also comes from great love. And he shows that they had fallen away not from him only, but from the Father as well. So what he had told his disciples, “Do not give what is holy to the dogs,” he himself was the first to do.

Moreover, by this he shows both his own chief will and the Father’s: his own by giving thanks and rejoicing at what had happened; the Father’s by indicating that the Father too had not done this because someone asked him to, but of himself, by his own will. “For so,” he says, “it seemed good in your sight”; that is, “so it pleased you.”

And why was it hidden from them? Listen to Paul, who says that “seeking to establish their own righteousness, they did not submit to the righteousness of God.”

Now think how the disciples were likely to feel when they heard this: that what wise men did not know, they knew — knew while remaining babes, and knew by God’s revelation. Luke says that it was “in that very hour,” when the seventy came telling him about the demons, that he “rejoiced” and spoke these words. Besides making them more diligent, this would also lead them to be modest. Since they were likely to pride themselves on driving out demons, he holds them back on this ground among others: whatever had been done was a revelation, not the result of their own diligence. That is also why the scribes and the wise, thinking themselves clever by their own powers, fell away through their own vanity. Well then, if this is why it was hidden from them: “You too,” he says, “must fear, and remain babes.” For this is what let you enjoy the revelation, just as, on the other hand, the opposite deprived them of it. When he says, “You have hidden,” he by no means means that it is all God’s doing. When Paul says, “He gave them over to a debased mind,” and, “He has blinded their minds,” the words are not meant to bring God in as the one who did it, but those who gave the occasion for it. In the same way here too he uses the expression, “You have hidden.”

For he had said, “I thank you because you have hidden them, and have revealed them to babes.” So that you would not suppose he gives thanks as one who lacks this power himself and is unable to bring it about, he says, “All things have been handed over to me by my Father.” And to those who are rejoicing because the demons obey them, he says: “Why are you amazed that demons give way to you? All things are mine. ‘All things have been handed over to me.’”

But when you hear “have been handed over,” do not imagine anything human. He uses this expression to keep you from imagining two Gods who have no beginning. For in many ways, and in other places too, he makes it plain that he was at the same time both begotten and Lord of all.

Then he says something even greater than this, lifting your mind higher: “And no one knows the Son except the Father; nor does anyone know the Father except the Son.” To the ignorant this seems unconnected with what came before, but it fits it completely. It runs like this: having said, “All things have been handed over to me by my Father,” he adds, so to speak: “And what wonder is it if I am Lord of all? I have another, greater privilege as well: I know the Father, and I am of the same substance.” Yes, he hints at this too, by being the only one who knew him in this way. For this is what he means when he says, “No one knows the Father except the Son.” [h]

And notice when he says this. It was when they had received sure proof of his power through his works, not only seeing him work miracles, but having been given such great powers themselves in his name. Then, since he had said, “You have revealed them to babes,” he shows that this too belongs to him. For “no one knows the Father,” he says, “except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” — not “anyone to whom he may be instructed to,” not “anyone to whom he may be ordered to.” And if he reveals the Father, he reveals himself too. This, however, he passed over as something granted; the other he has stated. And he affirms this everywhere, as when he says, “No one comes to the Father except through me.”

By this he also establishes another point: that he is in harmony with the Father and of one mind with him. “Why,” he says, “I am so far from fighting and warring with him that no one can even come to him except through me.” What offended them most was that he seemed to be a rival God. So he removes this idea by every possible means, and took no less trouble over it than over his miracles — even more.

But when he says, “Nor does anyone know the Father except the Son,” he does not mean that all people were ignorant of him, but that no one knows him with the knowledge with which he knows him. The same may be said of the Son too. For he was not speaking of some unknown God, revealed to no one, as Marcion says. It is the perfection of knowledge he is pointing to here, since we do not know the Son as he should be known either. And this very thing, to say no more, Paul was declaring when he said, “We know in part, and we prophesy in part.”

Next, having brought them by his words to an eager desire, and having shown his power beyond words, he then invites them, saying: [j]

“Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Not this person or that, but all who are anxious, all who are in sorrow, all who are in sin. “Come, not so that I may call you to account, but so that I may take away your sins. Come, not because I want your honor, but because I want your salvation. For I,” he says, “will give you rest.” He did not say only, “I will save you,” but something much greater: “I will set you in complete security.”

“Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” “So do not be afraid,” he says, “when you hear of a yoke, for it is easy. Do not fear because I said ‘a burden,’ for it is light.”

How then did he say before, “The gate is narrow and the way is hard”? That is while you are careless, while you are lazy. But if you carry out his words as you should, the burden will be light; that is why he has now called it so. But how are they carried out as they should be? If you have become lowly, and meek, and gentle. For this virtue is the mother of all disciplined living. That is why, when he began those divine laws, he began with this. And here again he does the very same, and the reward he appoints is exceedingly great. “For you are not only useful to someone else,” he says, “but above all you refresh yourself. ‘For you will find rest for your souls.’”

Even before the things to come, he gives you your reward here and bestows the prize already. He makes the saying welcome both by this and by putting himself forward as an example. “What are you afraid of?” he says. “That you will be the loser by being lowly? Look at me and at everything that is mine. Learn from me, and then you will know clearly how great your blessing is.”

Do you see how in every way he is leading them to humility? By his own conduct: “Learn from me, for I am meek.” By what they themselves will gain: “You will find,” he says, “rest for your souls.” By what he gives them: “I too will refresh you,” he says. By making it light: “For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Paul does the same when he says, “For our present light affliction, which lasts only a moment, is producing a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”

And someone may say: “How is the burden light, when he says, ‘Unless one hates father and mother,’ and, ‘Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me,’ and, ‘Whoever does not give up all that he has cannot be my disciple’ — when he commands us to give up even our very life?”

Let Paul teach you, when he says, “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will affliction, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?” and, “The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” Let those teach you who came back from the council of the Jews after many lashes, and “rejoiced that they had been counted worthy to suffer shame for the name of Christ.”

If you are still afraid, and tremble when you hear of the yoke and the burden, the fear does not come from the nature of the thing but from your own slackness. If you are prepared and in earnest, everything will be easy and light for you. That is why Christ too, to show that we must also labor ourselves, did not mention only the pleasant things and then fall silent, nor only the painful things, but set down both. He spoke of “a yoke” and called it “easy”; he named a burden and added that it was “light”; so that you would neither run from them as toilsome nor despise them as too easy.

But if even after all this virtue seems a wearisome thing to you, consider that vice is more wearisome still. This is the very thing he was hinting at when he did not say first, “Take my yoke upon you,” but before that, “Come, you who labor and are heavy laden,” implying that sin too has its labor, and a burden that is heavy and hard to bear. For he did not say only, “you who labor,” but also, “who are heavy laden.” The prophet too was speaking of this when he described its nature: “Like a heavy burden they have weighed heavily on me.” And Zechariah too, describing it, says it is “a lead weight of about seventy-five pounds.”

Experience itself proves this as well. Nothing weighs on the soul and presses it down so much as the awareness of sin; nothing gives it wings and lifts it up so much as the gaining of righteousness and virtue.

And look: what, I ask you, is harder than to own nothing? Than to turn the cheek, and when struck not to strike back? Than to die a violent death? Yet if we practice self-mastery, all these things are light and easy and pleasant.

But do not be troubled. Instead, let us take up each of these and examine it carefully — and, if you like, first the one that many consider the most painful. Tell me, which of the two is hard and burdensome: to care for one belly, or to be anxious about ten thousand? To be clothed in one cloak and look for nothing more, or to have many cloaks in the house and lament every day and night in fear and trembling over keeping them safe — grieving, and ready to choke at the loss of them — afraid that one will be eaten by moths, that a servant will steal them and make off with them?

But whatever I may say, my words will give no such proof as actual experience. That is why I wish one of those who have reached that summit of self-mastery were here with us now; then you would know for certain how delightful it is, and that none of those who love voluntary poverty would accept wealth, even if ten thousand people offered it. [n]

You say: “But would the rich ever agree to become poor and throw away the worries they have?” And what of that? That is only proof of their madness and their grievous sickness, not of anything very pleasant in the thing itself. They themselves would bear witness to this for us, since every day they lament over these worries of theirs and count their life not worth living. But not so those others: they laugh, they leap for joy, and those who wear the diadem do not glory in it as these glory in their poverty.

Again, to anyone who pays attention, turning the cheek is less painful than striking another. For with striking the fight begins; with turning the cheek it ends. By striking you have set the other man’s pile of wood alight as well; by turning the cheek you have put out even your own flames. And that not being burned is more pleasant than being burned is surely plain to everyone. If this holds for bodies, it holds much more for a soul.

And which is lighter: to compete, or to be crowned? To fight, or to have the prize? To endure the waves, or to run into harbor? That is why dying is also better than living. The one takes us away from waves and dangers; the other adds to them, and makes a person subject to countless plots and troubles, which have made life not worth living in your own reckoning.

If you do not believe what we say, listen to those who have seen the faces of the martyrs in the time of their contests: how, when they were whipped and flayed, they were full of joy and gladness, and when they were laid on red-hot irons, they rejoiced and were glad of heart, more than people who lie on a bed of roses. That is why Paul too, when he was about to depart from here and end his life by a violent death, said, “I rejoice, and rejoice with you all; for the same reason you also should rejoice, and rejoice with me.” Do you see with what overwhelming force of language he invites the whole world to share his gladness? So great a good did he know his departure from here to be — so desirable, so lovely, so worth praying for — that dreaded thing, death.

That virtue’s yoke is sweet and light is plain in many other ways too. But to finish, if you will, let us look also at the burdens of sin. Let us bring forward the greedy, the peddlers and secondhand dealers in shameless bargains. What could be a heavier burden than dealings like these? How many sorrows, how many anxieties, how many disappointments, how many dangers, how many plots and wars spring up every day from these profits? How many troubles and upheavals? Just as you can never see the sea without waves, so you can never see a soul like that without anxiety and gloom and fear and turmoil. The second wave overtakes the first, and still others come up, and before these have died down, others come to a head. [p]

Or would you like to see the souls of the abusive and the hot-tempered? What is worse than this torture? Than the wounds they carry inside? Than the furnace that is always burning, and the flame that is never put out?

Or the souls of the sensual, and of those who cling to this present life? What is harder than this slavery? They live the life of Cain, living in constant trembling and fear at every death that happens. The relatives of the dead do not mourn as much as these people mourn for their own end.

And what again is more full of turmoil, or more frantic, than those who are puffed up with pride? “For learn from me,” he says, “for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” For patience is the mother of all good things.

So do not be afraid, and do not shrink back from the yoke that lightens you of all these things. Put yourself under it with all eagerness, and then you will know well the pleasure of it. For it does not bruise your neck at all; it is put on you only for the sake of good order, to persuade you to walk rightly, to lead you onto the royal road, to rescue you from the cliffs on either side, and to make you walk with ease along the narrow way.

Since, then, its benefits are so great, its security so great, its gladness so great, let us draw this yoke with all our soul and with all our diligence, so that we may both “find rest for our souls” here and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.