Homily 44 — Matthew 12, verse 46, to 13, verse 9

“While he was still talking to the people, look, his mother and his brothers were standing outside, wanting to speak with him. Then someone said to him, ‘Look, your mother and your brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak with you.’ But he answered the one who had told him, ‘Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?’ And he stretched out his hand toward his disciples and said, ‘Look: my mother and my brothers.’” [a]

What I was saying a little while ago, that where virtue is missing everything else is useless, is being shown again now, and very fully. I was saying that age and nature, living in the wilderness, and all such things are equally worthless where the mind is not good. Today we learn something more besides: that even to have carried Christ in the womb, and to have given birth to that marvelous birth, brings no profit if there is not virtue.

And this is especially plain from what follows. “For while he was still talking to the people,” it says, “someone told him, ‘Your mother and your brothers are looking for you.’ But he says, ‘Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?’”

He said this not because he was ashamed of his mother, nor to deny the one who bore him. If he had been ashamed of her, he would not have passed through that womb. He said it to declare that she gains nothing from this unless she does everything that ought to be done. For what she had tried to do came from excessive vanity. She wanted to show the people that she had power and authority over her Son, since she did not yet imagine anything great about him; and that is why she came at the wrong moment.

Look, at any rate, at her overconfidence and theirs. They ought to have gone in and listened with the crowd; or if they did not want to, they ought to have waited for him to finish speaking and then come near. Instead they call him outside, and they do it in front of everyone, showing excessive vanity and wanting it to look as though they give him orders with great authority. The evangelist shows that he is finding fault with this too. It was with this very point in mind that he put it this way: “While he was still talking to the people.” It is as if he were saying: “What? Was there no other opportunity? Why, couldn’t they have spoken with him in private?”

And what was it they wanted to say? If it was about the teachings of the truth, they ought to have raised it publicly and put it before everyone, so that the others too might benefit. But if it was about other matters that concerned themselves, they ought not to have been so insistent. For if he did not allow a man even to bury his father, so that following him would not be interrupted, much less ought they to have broken off his teaching of the people for things of no importance. From this it is clear that nothing but empty glory led them to do it.

John too makes this plain when he says, “For not even his brothers believed in him.” He also reports some sayings of theirs full of great foolishness, and tells us that they were trying to drag him to Jerusalem for no other purpose than to reap glory for themselves from his miracles. “For if you do these things,” it says, “show yourself to the world. For no one does anything in secret while he himself seeks to be known openly.” And he himself rebuked them for this, putting it down to their fleshly way of thinking. The reason was this: the Jews were reproaching him and saying, “Is this not the carpenter’s son, whose father and mother we know? And his brothers, are they not with us?” So his brothers, wanting to throw off the slight that his birth brought on them, kept calling him to put his miracles on display.

That is why he pushes them away completely: he means to heal their weakness. For surely, if he had wanted to deny his mother, he would have denied her then, when the Jews were reproaching him. But as it is, we see him taking such great care of her that even on the cross itself he entrusted her to the disciple he loved most of all, and gave him a great charge concerning her.

Now, though, he does not do so, and it is out of care for her and for his brothers. I mean that because they regarded him as a mere man, and were full of empty glory, he casts out the disease, not insulting them but correcting them. So I ask you to look not only at the words, which contain a moderate rebuke, but also at the unfitting behavior of his brothers and the presumption they had shown; at who it was that rebuked it, no mere man but the only Son of God; and at the purpose with which he rebuked it. It was not to throw them into confusion, but to free them from a most tyrannical passion, to lead them little by little to the right idea of himself, and to convince her that he was not only her Son but also her Lord. Then you will see that the rebuke was entirely fitting for him and most profitable for her, and full of great gentleness besides.

For he did not say, “Go and tell my mother, ‘You are not my mother.’” He speaks to the person who told him, saying, “Who is my mother?” And along with the reasons already mentioned, he was providing for another purpose too. What is that? That neither they nor anyone else should trust in their family ties and neglect virtue. For if it did her no good to be his mother, were it not for that quality in her, hardly will anyone else be saved by his relatives. For there is only one nobility: to do the will of God. This kind of noble birth is better than the other, and more real.

Knowing these things, then, let us not pride ourselves on children who are well spoken of unless we have their virtue, nor on noble fathers unless we are like them in character. For it is possible both for the man who fathered someone not to be his father, and for the man who did not father him to be his father. That is why on another occasion too, when a woman said, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts you nursed at,” he did not say, “The womb did not bear me, and I did not nurse at the breasts,” but this: “Rather, blessed are those who do the will of my Father.” Do you see how on every occasion he does not deny the relationship that comes by nature, but adds the one that comes by virtue? [g]

His forerunner too, when he says, “You brood of vipers, do not think to say, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’” does not mean that they were not descended from Abraham by nature, but that it does them no good to be descended from Abraham unless they have the kinship that comes by character. Christ made this plain as well when he said, “If you were Abraham’s children, you would do the works of Abraham.” He was not taking from them their kinship according to the flesh, but teaching them to seek after the kinship that is greater than it, and more real.

This, then, is what he establishes here too, but in a way less likely to give offense and more measured, as was fitting when he was speaking to his mother. He did not say at all, “She is not my mother, and those are not my brothers, because they do not do my will.” He did not declare it or pass sentence against them. He still left it in their own power to choose, speaking with the gentleness that becomes him.

“For whoever does the will of my Father,” he says, “is my brother, and sister, and mother.”

So if they want to be such, let them come by this road. And when the woman again cried out, “Blessed is the womb that bore you,” he did not say, “She is not my mother,” but, “If she wants to be blessed, let her do the will of my Father. For such a person is brother, and sister, and mother.”

What honor! What virtue! To what a height she leads the one who follows after her! How many women have called that holy Virgin blessed, and her womb, and prayed that they might become such mothers, and would have given up everything for it! What, then, is there to stop them? For look, he has marked out a wide road for us, and it is granted not to women only but to men too to be of this rank, or rather of one far higher still. For this makes a person his mother much more than those birth pains did. So if that was a reason to call her blessed, this is much more so, since it is also more real. So do not merely desire it; walk with great diligence along the road that leads you to what you desire.

Having said these words, “he went out of the house.” Do you see how he both rebuked them and did what they wanted? He did the same at the wedding. There too he at once rebuked her for asking at the wrong time, and yet he did not refuse her: by the first he corrected her weakness, and by the second he showed his kindness toward his mother. So too on this occasion he both healed the disease of empty glory and paid his mother the honor due to her, even though her request came at the wrong time. For “that same day,” it says, “Jesus went out of the house and sat by the seaside.” [j]

It is as though he says: “Well, if you want to see and hear, look, I am coming out to speak to you.” So, after working many miracles, he gives them the benefit of his teaching again. And he “sits by the sea,” fishing, and drawing into his net those who are on the land.

But he “sat by the sea” not without a purpose, and the evangelist has hinted at this very thing. He wants to show that his reason for doing so was a wish to arrange his hearers carefully, to leave no one behind his back and to have everyone face to face. So he says, “And great crowds gathered around him, so that he got into a boat and sat down, and the whole crowd stood on the shore.”

Having sat down there, he speaks in parables. “And he told them many things in parables,” it says.

And yet on the mountain, as we know, he did no such thing, nor did he weave so many parables into his teaching. For then there were only crowds, simple people; but here there are also scribes and Pharisees.

But notice, I ask you, what kind of parable he tells first, and how Matthew sets them out in order. Which does he tell first, then? The one it was most necessary to tell first, the one that makes the hearer more attentive. Because he was going to speak to them in riddles, he first thoroughly rouses his hearers’ minds by his parable. That is why another evangelist says that he rebuked them for not understanding: “How did you not understand the parable?” But it is not only for this reason that he speaks in parables. He does it also to make his teaching more vivid, to fix the memory of it more firmly in them, and to set the things before their eyes. The prophets do the same.

What, then, is the parable? “Look,” he says, “a sower went out to sow.” Out from where did he go, he who is present everywhere, who fills all things? And how did he go out? Not in place, but in his condition and in his plan of salvation toward us, coming nearer to us by clothing himself with flesh. Since we could not go in, because our sins fenced us out from the entrance, he comes out to us. And why did he come out? To destroy the ground that was teeming with thorns? To take vengeance on the farmers? Not at all. He came to till it and tend it, and to sow the word of godliness. For by the seed here he means his teaching; by the ground, the souls of human beings; and by the sower, himself. [m]

What becomes of this seed, then? Three parts are lost, and one is saved.

“And as he sowed,” he says, “some seeds fell by the wayside, and the birds came and devoured them.”

He did not say that he threw them there, but that “they fell.”

“And some fell on rock, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up at once because they had no depth of soil. And when the sun rose they were scorched, and because they had no root they withered away. And some fell among the thorns, and the thorns sprang up and choked them. But others fell on the good ground and produced fruit, some a hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear.”

A fourth part is saved, and not all of it alike; even here the difference is great.

He said these things to show that he taught everyone without grudging anyone. For just as the sower makes no distinction in the land in front of him, but simply sows his seed everywhere alike, so he himself makes no distinction between rich and poor, wise and foolish, lazy and diligent, brave and cowardly. He speaks to everyone, doing his part even though he knows the outcome in advance, so that he may be able to say, “What ought I to have done that I have not done?” The prophets speak of the people as a vine: “My beloved had a vineyard,” it says, and, “He brought a vine out of Egypt.” But he speaks of them as seed. What does this show? That obedience will now be quick and easier, and will soon bear its fruit.

But when you hear, “The sower went out to sow,” do not think it a needless repetition. The sower often goes out for some other task too: to plow, or to cut out weeds, or to pull up thorns, or to see to some other such thing. But this one went out to sow.

Tell me, then, how was the greater part of the seed lost? Not through the sower, but through the ground that received it; that is, through the soul that did not listen.

And why does he not say, “Some the careless received and lost; some the rich received and choked; some the shallow received and betrayed”? He does not want to rebuke them harshly, in case he throws them into despair. He leaves the rebuke to the conscience of his hearers. And this was true not only of the seed but also of the net, for that too brought up much that was useless.

He tells this parable as though anointing his disciples, to teach them that even if those who are lost outnumber those who receive the word, they must not lose heart. For this was how it went even with their Lord; and he who knew fully beforehand that these things would happen did not stop sowing. [q]

But someone says: “And how can it be reasonable to sow among thorns, on rock, on the wayside?” As regards seeds and soil, it cannot be reasonable; but in the case of human souls and the teaching they are given, it is praiseworthy, and highly so. A farmer would rightly be blamed for doing it, since rock cannot become soil, nor the wayside stop being a wayside, nor thorns stop being thorns. But with beings that have reason it is not so. The rock can change and become rich land. The wayside can stop being trampled and lying open to everyone who passes by, and become a fertile field. The thorns can be destroyed, and the seed enjoy full safety. If it had been impossible, this Sower would not have sown. And if the change did not take place in all of them, the fault is not the Sower’s, but theirs who are unwilling to be changed. He has done his part; and if they betrayed what they received from him, he is blameless, he who has shown such love for humankind.

But notice this, I ask you: the road to destruction is not just one. There are different roads, and far apart from one another. Those like the wayside are the coarse-minded, the indifferent, and the careless; but those on the rock are the ones who fail from weakness only. “For what was sown on the rocky places,” he says, “is the one who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. Yet he has no root in himself but lasts only for a while; and when trouble or persecution comes because of the word, he immediately stumbles. When anyone,” he says, “hears the word of truth and does not understand it, then the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in his heart. This is the one sown by the wayside.”

Now it is not the same thing for the teaching to wither when no one is mistreating it or shaking its foundations, as when trials press hard on a person. But those likened to the thorns are far less excusable than these.

So that none of these things may happen to us, then, let us cover over what we are told with zeal and constant remembrance. For though the devil snatches it away, it rests with us whether it is snatched away. Though the plants wither, it is not the heat that causes it; for he did not say, “it withered because of the heat,” but, “because it had no root.” Though his sayings are choked, it is not because of the thorns, but because of those who let them spring up. For there is a way, if you are willing, to check this evil growth and to make the right use of our wealth. That is why he did not say “the world,” but “the care of the world”; not “riches,” but “the deceitfulness of riches.” [r]

So let us not blame the things, but the corrupt mind. For it is possible to be rich and not be deceived, and to be in this world and not be choked by its cares. Riches carry two opposite drawbacks: one is care, which wears us out and brings darkness over us; the other is luxury, which makes us soft.

And he has put it well: “the deceitfulness of riches.” For everything that belongs to riches is deceit. They are names only, not attached to real things. Pleasure and glory, splendid dress, and all these things are a kind of empty show, not a reality.

Having spoken, then, of the ways to destruction, he goes on to mention the good ground. He does not let them despair, but gives them hope of repentance, and shows that it is possible to change from the kinds just described into this one.

And yet, if the land is good, and the Sower one, and the seed the same, why did one bear a hundred, one sixty, one thirty? Here again the difference comes from the nature of the ground; for even where the ground is good, the difference within it is great. Do you see that it is not the farmer who is to blame, nor the seed, but the land that receives it? Not for its nature, but for its disposition. And here too his mercy toward humankind is great: he does not require one single measure of virtue, but welcomes the first, does not cast out the second, and makes room for the third as well. And he says these things so that those who followed him would not suppose that hearing is enough for salvation.

Someone may say: “And why did he not name the other vices too, such as lust and empty glory?” In speaking of “the care of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches,” he set them all down. Yes, empty glory and all the rest belong to this world and to the deceitfulness of riches: pleasure, gluttony, envy, empty glory, and everything like them.

But he added the “wayside” and the “rock” as well, to show that it is not enough to be free of riches alone; we must cultivate the other parts of virtue too. For what if you are free of riches, but are soft and unmanly? And what if you are not unmanly, but are slack and careless about hearing the word? No, no one part is enough for our salvation. What is needed first is careful hearing and constant remembering; then courage; then contempt for riches, and freedom from all worldly things.

In fact, his reason for putting this one before the others is that it is required first; for “How will they believe unless they hear?” In the same way, unless we pay attention to what is said, we will not be able even to learn what we ought to do. After that come courage and contempt for the things of the present.

Hearing these things, then, let us fortify ourselves on every side, paying heed to his instructions, striking our roots deep, and cleansing ourselves of all worldly things. But if we do one and neglect another, we will be no better off; for though we do not perish in one way, we will perish in some other. What does it matter that we are not ruined by riches, if we are ruined by laziness? Or not by laziness, if we are ruined by softness? The farmer mourns just the same, whichever way he loses his crop. So let us not comfort ourselves that we are not perishing in all these ways, but let it grieve us in whatever way we are perishing. [t]

And let us burn up the thorns, for they choke the word. The rich know this, those who prove useless not only for these matters but for others as well. Having become slaves and captives of their pleasures, they are useless even for public affairs; and if for those, much more for the affairs of heaven. Yes, in two ways our thoughts are corrupted by this: by the luxury, and by the anxiety too. Either of these alone would be enough to swamp the boat; but when both come together, imagine how high the wave rises.

And do not be surprised that he calls our luxury “thorns.” You are not aware of it, drunk as you are with your passion; but those who are in sound health know that it pricks more sharply than any thorn, that luxury wastes the soul worse than care does, and that it causes more grievous pains to body and soul alike. A person is not struck so hard by anxiety as by overeating. When sleepless nights, throbbing temples, a heavy head, and pains in the bowels take hold of such a man, you can imagine how far these surpass any thorns in painfulness. And just as thorns draw blood from the hands that grab them, whichever side they are grabbed from, so luxury torments feet and hands, head and eyes, and all our members generally. It is withered too, and fruitless, like the thorn, and it hurts far more than the thorn does, and in our vital parts. Yes, it brings on old age before its time, dulls the senses, darkens our reasoning, blinds the keen-sighted mind, and bloats the body, making its waste excessive and piling up a great heap of evils. It makes the burden too great and the load overwhelming; and so our falls are many and continual, and our shipwrecks frequent.

Tell me, why do you fatten your body? What? Are we going to slaughter you as a sacrifice, to set you on the table? It is fine for you to fatten birds; or rather, it is not so fine even for them, since when they are fattened they are no good as wholesome food. So great an evil is luxury that its harm shows even in creatures without reason. By luxury we make even them useless, both to themselves and to us. Their surplus flesh is hard to digest, and that kind of fatness breeds the wetter sort of corruption. But the creatures that are not fed that way, and live, so to speak, in abstinence and a moderate diet, in labor and hardship, are the most useful both to themselves and to others, for food and for everything else. Those who live on them, at any rate, are healthier; but those who are fed on the other kind become like them, growing dull and sickly and making their chain heavier. For nothing is so hostile and harmful to the body as luxury; nothing tears it to pieces, overloads it, and corrupts it so much as lack of self-control.

So this above all might make one amazed at their folly: they are not willing to show themselves even as much care as others show their wineskins. The wine merchants do not let those take in more than is right, in case they burst; but these men do not grant their own wretched belly even that much forethought. When they have stuffed it and stretched it, they fill everything up to the ears, up to the nostrils, to the very throat, and so crowd into half its room the spirit and the power that directs the living creature. What? Was your throat given you for this, that you should fill it to the very mouth with soured wine and every other corruption? Not for this, my friend, but that above all you should sing to God, offer up the holy prayers, read aloud the divine laws, and give your neighbors useful advice. But you, as if you had received it for the other purpose, do not let it have leisure for that service even for a short while, but for your whole life you subject it to this wicked slavery.

It is as if someone were given a lyre with golden strings, beautifully made, and instead of drawing from it the most harmonious music, covered it over with heaps of dung and mud. That is what these men do. Now I use the word “dung” not of ordinary living, but of luxurious living and that great self-indulgence. For what is more than necessary is not nourishment; it is simply harmful. In truth, the belly alone was made merely to receive food; but the mouth, the throat, and the tongue were made for other things as well, far more necessary than this. Or rather, not even the belly was made simply to receive food, but to receive food in moderation.

And the belly makes this plain by crying out loudly against us when we harass it with this greed. Nor does it only clamor against us; it avenges the wrong and exacts the severest penalty from us. First it punishes the feet, which carry us and bring us to those wicked revels; then the hands that serve it, binding them up for having brought it such quantities and kinds of food. And many have had even their mouths, eyes, and heads twisted. And as a servant given an order beyond his strength often grows desperate and turns insolent toward the one who gave it, so the belly too, overstrained, often ruins and destroys, along with these members, the very brain itself. And God has arranged this well, that so much harm should come from excess, so that when you will not practice self-restraint of your own accord, you may at least learn moderation against your will, for fear of such great ruin.

Knowing these things, then, let us flee luxury and practice moderation, so that we may enjoy health of body, and, having freed our soul from every weakness, may attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.