Homily 40 — Matthew 12, verses 9 to 24

“And when he had gone on from there, he went into their synagogue. And look, there was a man whose hand was withered.” [a]

Again he heals on a Sabbath day, defending what his disciples had done. The other evangelists say that he “set” the man “in the middle” and asked them “whether it was lawful to do good on the Sabbath.”

See the tender compassion of the Lord. He “set him in the middle” so that the sight might subdue them; so that, overcome by what they saw, they might throw off their wickedness, and out of a kind of shame before the man, give up their savage ways. But they, harsh and inhuman, would rather damage Christ’s good name than see this man made whole. In both ways they betray their wickedness: by making war on Christ, and by doing it with such contentiousness that they even treat with contempt his mercies to other people.

The other evangelists say that he asked the question; this one says it was asked of him. “And they asked him,” the text reads, “saying, ‘Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?’ so that they might accuse him.” It is likely that both took place. Being unholy wretches, and well aware that he would certainly go on to heal, they hurried to get in first with their question, thinking this would hold him back. That is why they asked, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?” — not to learn, but “so that they might accuse him.” Surely the deed itself was enough, if they really wanted to accuse him. But they wanted to find a handle in his words too, laying up a good supply of charges for themselves in advance.

But he, in his love for humankind, does this too. He answers them, teaching his own gentleness and turning the whole thing back on them, and he shows up their inhumanity. And he “sets” the man “in the middle” — not because he feared them, but trying to do them good and move them to pity.

But when not even this won them over, then, it says, he was grieved and angry with them for the hardness of their hearts, and he said, “What man among you, if he has one sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will not take hold of it and lift it out? How much more valuable, then, is a man than a sheep! So it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.”

So that they would have no ground for stubbornness, or for accusing him again of breaking the law, he convicts them by this example. And please notice how varied and how fitting, in each case, are the reasons he gives for breaking the Sabbath. First, in the case of the blind man, when he made the clay, he does not even defend himself to them — and yet then too they were blaming him. The very manner of that act of creation was enough to point to the Lord and Owner of the law. Next, in the case of the paralyzed man, when the man carried his bed and they were finding fault, he defends himself now as God and now as man. As man, when he says, “If a man receives circumcision on the Sabbath so that the law will not be broken” — and he did not say “so that a man may be benefited” — “are you angry with me because I made a man completely well on the Sabbath?” As God, again, when he says, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.”

But when he was blamed on account of his disciples, he said, “Have you not read what David did when he was hungry, he and those who were with him — how he went into the house of God and ate the consecrated bread?” He brings forward the priests too.

And here again: “Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath, or to do evil? Which of you who has one sheep…?” For he knew their love of money, and that they were all taken up with that rather than with love for their fellow human beings. And the other evangelist says that he also looked around at them as he asked these questions, so that by his very look he might win them over. But not even so did they become better.

Here he only speaks, while elsewhere he often heals by laying on his hands as well. Yet none of these things made them gentle. On the contrary, while the man was healed, they were made worse by his health.

His wish was to cure them first, before the man, and he tried countless ways of healing them, both by what he did in their sight and by what he said. But since their disease was, after all, incurable, he went on to the deed. “Then he said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ And he stretched it out, and it was restored whole, like the other.”

What did they do then? They go out, it says, and plot together to kill him. For “the Pharisees,” says the Scripture, “went out and held a council against him, how they might destroy him.” They had suffered no injury, and yet they set about killing him. So great an evil is envy! It is always at war, not only with strangers, but even with our own. And Mark says that they made this plot with the Herodians. [e]

What, then, does the gentle and meek one do? When he became aware of it, he withdrew. “But when Jesus knew their schemes,” it says, “he withdrew from them.” Where now are those who say that miracles ought to be done? By these things he showed that an unfair-minded soul is not persuaded even by miracles; and he made it plain that his disciples too were being blamed by them for no reason. But we should notice this: they grow fierce especially at the good done to their neighbors. When they see anyone freed from disease or from wickedness, that is the moment they find fault and turn into wild beasts. This is how they slandered him when he was about to save the prostitute, and when he was eating with tax collectors, and now again when they saw the hand restored.

But please notice how he neither gives up his tender care for the sick, nor fails to calm their envy. “And great crowds followed him, and he healed them all; and he ordered those who were healed not to make him known to anyone.” For while the crowds everywhere admire him and follow him, these men do not give up their wickedness.

Then, so that you would not be thrown into confusion by what is happening and by their strange madness, he brings in the prophet too, foretelling all this. So exact were the prophets that they do not leave out even these things. They foretell his very journeys and changes of place, and the purpose with which he made them, so that you might learn that they spoke everything by the Spirit. For if people’s secrets cannot be known by any skill, much less could anyone have learned Christ’s purpose unless the Spirit revealed it.

What, then, does the prophet say? It is added at once: “So that what was spoken through Isaiah the prophet might be fulfilled, which says, ‘Look, my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved, in whom my soul is well pleased. I will put my Spirit on him, and he will proclaim judgment to the Gentiles. He will not quarrel or cry out, and no one will hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and smoldering flax he will not quench, until he sends forth judgment to victory. And in his name the Gentiles will trust.’”

The prophet celebrates his gentleness and his power beyond words, and he opens to the Gentiles “a great and effective door.” He also foretells the troubles that are to overtake the Jews, and shows his oneness of mind with the Father. For “look,” he says, “my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved, in whom my soul is well pleased.” Now if the Father chose him, then Christ does not set the law aside as an adversary, or as an enemy of the Lawgiver, but as one who has the same mind with him and the same aims.

Then, proclaiming his gentleness, he says, “He will not quarrel or cry out.” For his wish was to heal in their presence; but since they pushed him away, he did not fight even this.

And pointing to both his might and their weakness, he says, “A bruised reed he will not break.” For it would have been easy to break them all to pieces like a reed — and not just a reed, but one already bruised.

“And smoldering flax he will not quench.” Here he sets out both their anger, now kindled, and his might, which is able to put down their anger and quench it with all ease. By this his great mildness is shown. What then? Will these things go on forever? Will he put up with them endlessly while they form such frantic plots against him? Far from it. When he has done his own part, then he will carry out his other purposes too. This is what he declared by saying, “Until he sends forth judgment to victory; and in his name the Gentiles will trust.” As Paul also says, “being ready to punish all disobedience, when your obedience is complete.”

But what does “when he sends forth judgment to victory” mean? When he has fulfilled all his own part, then, we are told, he will bring his vengeance down on them as well — and a complete vengeance. Then they will suffer his terrors, when his trophy has been gloriously set up, and the ordinances that come from him have prevailed, and he has left them no ground for contradicting him, however shameless they are. For it is his habit to call righteousness “judgment.”

Yet his plan of salvation will not stop at this, at the punishment of unbelievers only; he will also win the whole world to himself. That is why he added, “And in his name the Gentiles will trust.”

Then, to let you know that this too is according to the Father’s purpose, the prophet had assured us of this at the very beginning, along with what went before, when he said, “My well-beloved, in whom my soul is well pleased.” For it is quite plain of the well-beloved that he did these things too according to the mind of the one who loves him.

“Then they brought to him a man possessed by a demon, blind and mute, and he healed him, so that the blind and mute man both spoke and saw.” [k]

O the wickedness of the evil spirit! He had barred up both entrances through which that man might have believed, sight as well as hearing. Yet Christ opened both.

“And all the people were amazed, and said, ‘Is this not the Son of David?’ But the Pharisees said, ‘This man does not drive out demons except by Beelzebub, the ruler of the demons.’”

And yet what great thing had been said? Even so, they could not bear even this — so constantly, as I have already said, are they stung by the good done to their neighbors, and nothing grieves them so much as people’s salvation. He had actually withdrawn and given room for their passion to die down; but the evil flared up again, because a kindness had been done again. And the evil spirit was not as indignant as they were. He left the body, gave way, and fled without making a sound; but these men were trying now to kill him, now to defame him. That is, when their first aim did not succeed, they wanted to damage his good name.

That is what envy is, and there can be no worse evil than it. The adulterer at least enjoys some pleasure, such as it is, and commits his particular sin in a short time. But the envious man punishes himself, and takes vengeance on himself more than on the person he envies. He never stops his sin, but is continually engaged in committing it. As a pig delights in mud, and demons in our harm, so he delights in his neighbor’s misfortunes. If anything painful happens, then he is refreshed and breathes again, counting the disasters of others as his own joys, and the blessings of others as his own misfortunes. He does not consider what pleasure might come to himself, but what pain to his neighbor. Would it not be right, then, to stone such men and beat them to death, like mad dogs, like destroying demons, like the very Furies?

As beetles feed on dung, so these men feed on the disasters of others; they are a kind of common foe and enemy of our nature. The rest of humankind pity even an animal when it is slaughtered — and do you, when you see a man receive kindness, turn into a wild beast, tremble, and go pale? What could be worse than this madness? That is why, you see, the sexually immoral and the tax collectors were able to enter the kingdom, while the envious, who were inside it, went out. For “the children of the kingdom,” it says, “will be cast out.” The first, once freed from their present wickedness, reached things they never expected, while the second lost even the good things they had. And that was entirely reasonable. For this makes a man a devil; this turns him into a savage demon. This is how the first murder came about; this is how nature was forgotten; this is how the earth was defiled; this is how, afterward, the earth opened its mouth to take in, still alive, and utterly destroy Dathan and Korah and Abiram and all that crowd.

But someone may say: “Declaiming against envy is easy. We ought also to consider how people are to be freed from the disease.” How, then, are we to be rid of this wickedness? By keeping in mind that just as the man who has committed fornication may not lawfully enter the church, neither may the man who envies — in fact, much less the second than the first. As things are, envy is counted a matter of no importance, and that is why it is thought little of; but if its real badness were made plain, we would easily keep away from it. So weep and groan; lament, and plead with God. Learn to feel it, and to repent of it as of a grievous sin. If you are of this mind, you will quickly be rid of the disease. [l]

Someone may say: “And who does not know that envy is an evil thing?” No one, of course, is unaware of it. Yet people do not rate this passion as they rate adultery and fornication. When, at any rate, has anyone condemned himself bitterly for having envied? When has anyone pleaded with God about this plague, asking him to be merciful to him? Never. But if a man fasts and gives a little money to a poor person, he thinks he has done nothing dreadful, though he is envious a thousand times over and held in subjection by the most accursed passion of all. What, for example, made Cain what he became? What made Esau? What made the sons of Laban? The sons of Jacob? Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with their company? What made Miriam? What made Aaron? What made the devil himself?

Consider this too: you do not injure the one you envy; you are driving the sword into yourself. How did Cain injure Abel? Did he not, even against his own will, send him more quickly into the kingdom, while he pierced himself through with countless evils? How did Esau harm Jacob? Did Jacob not grow wealthy and enjoy countless blessings, while Esau himself became an outcast from his father’s house and wandered in a foreign land after that plot of his? And how did Jacob’s sons, in their turn, make Joseph worse off — and that although they went as far as blood? Did they not have to endure famine and face the utmost danger, while he became king of all Egypt? For the more you envy, the more you become the means of greater blessing for the one you envy. There is a God who sees these things; and when he sees the one who does no wrong being wronged, he raises him higher and so makes him glorious — but you he punishes.

If he does not let those who gloat over their enemies go unpunished — for “Do not rejoice,” it says, “when your enemies fall, lest the Lord see it and it displease him” — much less those who envy people who have done no wrong.

So let us root out this many-headed wild beast, for the kinds of envy are indeed many. If the man who loves someone who is his friend has no more than the tax collector, where will the man stand who hates someone who does him no wrong? And how will he escape hell, when he has become worse than the pagans? That is why I grieve so deeply that we, who are commanded to imitate the angels — or rather the Lord of the angels — imitate the devil. For there is much envy even in the church, and more among us than among those under authority. That is why we must speak to ourselves as well.

Tell me, then, why do you envy your neighbor? Because you see him reaping honor and a good name? Then do you not keep in mind how much harm honors bring on the unguarded — lifting them up to pride, to empty glory, to arrogance, to contempt for others, and making them more careless? And besides these evils, they also wither away easily. The most grievous thing is this: the evils that come from them last and never die, while the pleasure flies away at the very moment it appears. Is it for these things that you envy him? Tell me. [p]

“But he has great influence with the ruler. He leads and drives everything wherever he likes, he hurts those who offend him and benefits his flatterers, and he has a great deal of power.” These are the sayings of worldly people, of men riveted to the earth. Nothing will be able to hurt the spiritual man.

What serious harm will he do him? Vote him out of his office? And what of it? If it is done justly, he even gains by it, for nothing so provokes God as for someone to hold the priesthood unworthily. And if unjustly, the blame falls in turn on the other man, not on him; for the one who has suffered something unjustly and borne it nobly gains in this way all the greater confidence before God.

So let us not aim at how we may hold places of power and honor and authority, but at how we may live in virtue and self-denial. For positions of authority persuade people to do many things that God does not approve, and great strength of soul is needed to use authority rightly. The man who is deprived of it practices self-restraint, whether he wants to or not; but the man who enjoys it is in much the same position as if someone living with a graceful and beautiful young woman were given rules never to look at her with unchaste eyes. That is the kind of thing authority is. That is why it has led many, even against their will, to insult others. It rouses anger, takes the bridle off the tongue, and tears the door off the lips; it fans the soul like a wind, and sinks the boat in the lowest depth of evils. Do you admire the man who is in such great danger, and say he is to be envied? What great madness this is! Consider, at any rate — besides what we have mentioned — how many enemies and accusers, and how many flatterers, besiege this man. Are these, I ask you, reasons for calling a man happy? Who could say so?

You say: “But the people think highly of him.” And what is that? The people are surely not God, to whom he must give account. So in naming the people you are speaking of nothing else than more breakers and rocks, shoals and hidden reefs. For the more favor with the people makes a man famous, the more dangers, cares, and discouragements it brings with it. Such a man has no chance at all to take breath or stand still, since he has so harsh a master. And why do I say “stand still and take breath”? Even if such a man has ever so many good works, he will hardly enter the kingdom. For nothing so commonly brings men down as the honor that comes from the crowd, which makes them cowardly, mean-spirited, flatterers, hypocrites.

Why, for instance, did the Pharisees say that Christ was possessed? Was it not because they were greedy for the honor of the crowd?

And how did the crowd come to judge him rightly? Was it not because this disease had no hold on them? For nothing — nothing — makes people so lawless and foolish as gaping after the honor of the crowd; and nothing makes them glorious and unshakable like despising it.

That is why great strength of soul is needed in the man who is to hold out against such a pull and so violent a gale. When things go well for him he puts himself above everyone, and when the opposite happens he would gladly bury himself alive. Once he has been overwhelmed by this passion, it becomes both his hell and his kingdom.

Is all this, I ask you, cause for envy, and not rather for lament and tears? Anyone can see that. But when you envy someone in that kind of standing, you are doing the same as a man who saw another bound and flogged and torn by countless wild beasts, and envied him his wounds and his lashes. For as many people as the crowd contains, so many chains, so many tyrants, this man has. And what is still more grievous, each of them has a different mind, and they all judge whatever comes into their heads about the one who is their slave, without examining anything; whatever this or that person decides, the rest confirm it.

What waves, then, what storm could be as grievous as this? Such a man is puffed up in a moment by pleasure, and easily goes under again; he is always tossed about, never at rest. Before the time of the assembly and the contests in speaking, he is gripped by anxiety and fear; after the assembly he is either dead with discouragement or, on the contrary, rejoices beyond measure — a worse thing than sorrow. That pleasure is no less an evil than sorrow is plain from the effect it has on the soul: how light it makes it, how unsteady and fluttering.

One can see this even from those of earlier times. When, for instance, was David to be admired — when he rejoiced, or when he was in anguish? When were the people of the Jews — when they groaned and called on God, or when they made merry in the wilderness and worshiped the calf? That is why Solomon too, who knew better than anyone what pleasure is, says, “It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of laughter.” That is why Christ too blesses the one, saying, “Blessed are those who mourn,” but grieves over the other, saying, “Woe to you who laugh, for you will weep.” And very rightly. For in delight the soul is slacker and softer, but in mourning it is braced, grows sober, is freed from the whole swarm of passions, and becomes loftier and stronger.

Knowing all these things, then, let us flee the glory that comes from the crowd and the pleasure that springs from it, so that we may win the real and everlasting glory. 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.