Homily 11 — Hebrews 6, verses 13 to 20

“For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he could swear by no one greater, he swore by himself, saying, ‘I will surely bless you, and I will surely multiply you.’ And so, after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise. For people swear by someone greater than themselves, and for them an oath given as confirmation puts an end to every dispute.” [a]

Having boldly confronted the Hebrews with their faults and alarmed them enough, he now comforts them: first with praise, and second, which is the stronger ground, with the thought that they would certainly reach what they hoped for. What is more, he draws his comfort not from things to come but, once again, from the past, which would persuade them all the more. For just as with punishment he alarms them chiefly by things to come, so with the prizes set before them he encourages them by things past, and shows in them God’s way of dealing with people. And his way is this: not to bring what he has promised at once, but after a long time. He does this both to give the greatest proof of his power and to lead us to faith, so that those who are living in distress without yet having received the promises or the rewards may not lose heart under their troubles.

And passing over all the rest, though he had many he could have mentioned, he brought forward Abraham, both because of the dignity of the man and because this had happened to him in a special way. And yet at the end of the letter he says that “all these, having seen the promises from far off and having welcomed them, did not receive them, so that they would not be made perfect apart from us” (Hebrews 11, verse 13). “For when God made a promise to Abraham,” he says, “since he could swear by no one greater, he swore by himself, saying, ‘I will surely bless you, and I will surely multiply you.’ And so, after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise.” How, then, does he say at the end of the letter that “he did not receive the promises” (Hebrews 11, verses 39 and 40), and here that “after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise”? How did he not receive? How did he obtain? He is not speaking of the same things in this place and in the other; he is making the comfort twofold. God made promises to Abraham, and after a long stretch of time he gave the things spoken of in this place; but those others he has not yet given.

“And so, after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise.” Do you see that the promise alone did not accomplish the whole, but the patient waiting as well? Here he alarms them, showing that a promise is often thwarted through faintheartedness. He had already shown this through the example of the Jewish people: because they lost heart, they did not obtain the promise. But now he shows the opposite through Abraham. Afterward, near the end of the letter, he proves something more as well: that even though they had patiently endured, they did not obtain; and yet even so they are not grieved.

“For people swear by someone greater, and for them an oath given as confirmation puts an end to every dispute. But God, since he could swear by no one greater, swore by himself.” Well then, who is it that swore to Abraham? Is it not the Son? “No,” someone says. It certainly was he; but I will not argue the point. So when he, the Son, swears the same oath, “Truly, truly, I say to you,” is it not plain that it was because he could not swear by anyone greater? For as the Father swore, so the Son also swears by himself, saying, “Truly, truly, I say to you.” Here he also reminds them of the oaths of Christ, which he was constantly making: “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will never die” (John 11, verse 26). [e]

What does “an oath given as confirmation puts an end to every dispute” mean? It is the same as saying, “By this every doubtful question is settled”: not this one or that one, but every one.

God, however, ought to have been believed even without an oath. Verse 17: “In this,” he says, “God, wanting to show even more fully to the heirs of the promise how unchangeable his purpose was, confirmed it with an oath.” In these words he includes the believers as well, and that is why he speaks of this “promise” as one made to us in common with them. “He mediated,” he says, “with an oath.” Here again he says that the Son was the mediator between human beings and God.

Verse 18: “So that by two unchangeable things, in which it was impossible for God to lie.”

What are these two? The speaking and promising, and the adding of an oath to the promise. For since among people what is confirmed by an oath is thought more worthy of belief, he added that too for this reason. Do you see that he does not consider his own dignity, but only how he may persuade people, and that he puts up with having things said of him that are beneath him? That is, he wants to give them full assurance. And in Abraham’s case the apostle shows that the whole was God’s doing, not the result of Abraham’s patient endurance, since God was even willing to add an oath. For the one by whom people swear is the one by whom God also “swore,” that is, “by himself.” They swear by him as by one greater; he does not swear by himself as by one greater. And yet he did it. For it is not the same thing for a man to swear by himself as for God to do so, since a man has no power over himself. You see, then, that this is said not more for Abraham’s sake than for ours: “so that we,” he says, “might have strong comfort, we who have fled for refuge to take hold of the hope set before us.” Here, too, again: “after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise.”

He means “now,” and he did not say “when he swore.” But what the oath is, he showed by speaking of swearing by someone greater. Yet since the human race is slow to believe, God stoops down to meet us on our own level. So, just as he swears for our sake, although it is unworthy of him not to be believed, so the apostle also made that other statement, “He learned from the things which he suffered” (Hebrews 5, verse 8), because people think that going through something by experience is more worthy of trust.

What is “the hope set before us”? From these past events, he says, we infer the future. For if these things came to pass after so long a time, the others will certainly come to pass too. So the things that happened to Abraham give us confidence about the things to come as well.

Verses 19 and 20: “This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and it enters into what is within the veil, where the forerunner has entered for us, Jesus, made a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.” [i]

He shows that while we are still in the world, and have not yet departed from this life, we are already among the promises. For through hope we are already in heaven. He had said, “Wait, for it will surely come.” Afterward, giving them full assurance, he says, “No, rather, by hope.” And he did not say, “We are within,” but, “It has entered within,” which was both more true and more persuasive. For as an anchor dropped from a ship does not let it drift about, even if ten thousand winds are stirring it, but, as the ship hangs from it, keeps it steady, so does hope.

And see how very fitting an image he has found! He did not say “foundation,” which would not have suited, but “anchor.” For what is on the tossing sea, and seems not to be very firmly fixed, stands on the water as if on land: it is shaken, and yet it is not shaken. For of those who are very firm and live by philosophy, Christ rightly said, “Whoever has built his house on a rock” (Matthew 7, verse 24). But of those who are giving way, and who need to be carried through by hope, Paul has fittingly set down this image. For the waves and the great storm toss the boat, but hope does not let it be carried here and there, though countless winds stir it up; so that if we did not have this hope, we would have sunk long ago.

And it is not only in spiritual things but in the affairs of this life too that you can find how great the power of hope is. Whatever it may be, in trade, in farming, in a military campaign, unless a person sets hope before himself, he would not even touch the work. But he did not simply say “anchor,” but “sure and steadfast,” that is, not shaken. “And it enters into what is within the veil”: this is instead of saying, “which reaches all the way to heaven.”

Then after this he led them on to faith as well, so that there might not only be hope, but a very true hope. For after the oath he sets down another thing too, proof by facts: “the forerunner has entered for us, Jesus.” But a forerunner is the forerunner of someone, as John was of Christ. [l]

Now he did not simply say, “He has entered,” but, “where he has entered as a forerunner for us,” as though we too must arrive there. For there is no great distance between the forerunner and those who follow; otherwise he would not be a forerunner. The forerunner and those who follow must be on the same road, and arrive one after the other.

“Made a high priest forever,” he says, “after the order of Melchizedek.” Here is yet another comfort: our high priest is on high, and far better than those among the Jews, not only in the kind of priesthood, but also in the place, the tabernacle, the covenant, and the person. And this too is said of him according to the flesh.

Those, then, whose high priest he is ought to be far superior. As great as the difference is between Aaron and Christ, so great should it be between us and the Jews. For see: we have our victim on high, our priest on high, our sacrifice on high. Let us bring such sacrifices as can be offered on that altar: no longer sheep and oxen, no longer blood and fat. All these things have been done away with, and in their place has been brought in “the rational service” (Romans 12, verse 1). But what is “the rational service”? The offerings made through the soul, those made through the spirit. (“God is spirit,” it says, “and those who worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth”: John 4, verse 24.) These are things that need no body, no instruments, no special places, things in which each person is himself the priest: such as moderation, self-control, mercy, enduring mistreatment, patience, and humility. [m]

These sacrifices can be seen sketched out in advance in the Old Testament as well. “Offer to God,” it says, “a sacrifice of righteousness” (Psalm 4, verse 5); “Offer a sacrifice of praise” (Psalm 50, verse 14); and, “A sacrifice of praise will glorify me” (Psalm 50, verse 23); and, “The sacrifice of God is a broken spirit” (Psalm 51, verse 17); and, “What does the Lord require of you but” to listen to him? (Micah 6, verse 8). “In burnt offerings and sacrifices for sin you have taken no pleasure. Then I said, ‘Here I am, I have come to do your will, O God’” (Psalm 40, verses 6 and 7). And again: “Why do you bring incense from Sheba?” (Jeremiah 6, verse 20). “Take away from me the noise of your songs, for I will not listen to the music of your harps” (Amos 5, verse 23). But instead of these: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice” (Hosea 6, verse 6). You see with what kind of “sacrifices God is well pleased” (Hebrews 13, verse 16). You see also that already from the beginning the one kind gave way and these came in their place.

So let us bring these. For the others are offerings of wealth, and of people who have possessions, but these are offerings of virtue; those come from outside, these from within; those anyone at all could perform, these only a few. And as much as a human being is superior to a sheep, so much is this sacrifice superior to that one; for here you offer your own soul as the victim.

And there are other sacrifices too, which are truly whole burnt offerings: the bodies of the martyrs. There both soul and body are offered. These give off a rich and sweet aroma. You too are able, if you are willing, to bring such a sacrifice. [o]

For what if you do not burn your body in the fire? You can still burn it in a different fire: for instance, in the fire of voluntary poverty, or in that of hardship. For when it is in your power to spend your days in luxury and lavish spending, and yet you take up a life of toil and bitterness and put your body to death, is that not a whole burnt offering? Put your body to death and crucify it, and you too will receive the crown of this martyrdom. For what the sword accomplishes in the other case, let a willing mind bring about in this one. Do not let the love of wealth burn you or take hold of you; instead, let this unreasoning appetite itself be consumed and quenched by the fire of the Spirit; let it be cut to pieces by the sword of the Spirit.

This is an excellent sacrifice, needing no priest but the one who brings it. This is an excellent sacrifice, performed here below but at once taken up on high. Do we not marvel that in the old days fire came down and consumed everything? Now too a fire far more wonderful than that can come down and consume all the offerings presented; or rather, not consume them, but carry them up to heaven. For it does not reduce them to ashes; it offers them as gifts to God.

Such were the offerings of Cornelius. For, it says, “your prayers and your alms have come up as a memorial before God” (Acts 10, verse 4). You see a most excellent union. We are heard when we ourselves also hear the poor who come to us. “Whoever stops his ears so as not to hear the poor” (Proverbs 21, verse 13): God will not listen to his prayer. “Blessed is the one who considers the poor and needy; the Lord will rescue him in the evil day” (Psalm 41, verse 1). But what day is evil except the one that is evil to sinners? [q]

What does “the one who considers” mean? The one who understands what it is to be poor, who has thoroughly learned the poor man’s distress. For whoever has learned his distress will certainly and at once have compassion on him. When you see a poor man, do not hurry past; reflect at once what you would have been if you had been he. What would you not have wanted everyone to do for you? “The one who considers,” he says. Reflect that he is a free man like you, that he shares the same noble birth with you and has everything in common with you; and yet often he is not even on a level with your dogs. On the contrary, while they are fed to the full, he often lies there, sleeps there, hungry, and the free man has become less honored than your slaves.

“But they do necessary work for me.” What work is that? Do they serve you well? Suppose, then, I show that this poor man too does necessary work for you, far greater than theirs. For he will stand by you on the day of judgment and will rescue you from the fire. What do all your slaves do to compare with this? When Tabitha died, who raised her up? The slaves who stood around, or the poor? But you are not even willing to put the free man on an equal footing with your slaves.

The frost is hard, and the poor man is thrown out in rags, nearly dead, his teeth chattering, his looks and his whole bearing enough to move you; and you pass by, warm and full of drink. And how do you expect God to rescue you when you are in misfortune? And often you say this too: “If it had been me, and I had found someone who had done many wrong things, I would have forgiven him. And does God not forgive?” Do not say this. The one who has done you no wrong, the one you are able to rescue, you neglect. How will God forgive you, when you are sinning against him? Does this not deserve hell? And how astonishing it is! Often you dress a dead body, senseless and no longer aware of the honor, in countless garments of many colors, woven with gold, while the one who is in pain, lamenting, tormented, racked by hunger and frost, you neglect; and you give more to empty glory than to the fear of God.

And I wish it stopped there! But at once accusations are brought against the one who asks. “Why does he not work?” you say. “And why should he be kept in idleness?” But tell me, is it by working that you have what you have? Did you not receive it as an inheritance from your fathers? And even if you do work, is that a reason to reproach someone else? Do you not hear what Paul says? After saying, “If anyone will not work, let him not eat” (Second Thessalonians 3, verse 10), he says, “But you, do not grow weary in doing good” (Second Thessalonians 3, verse 13).

But what do they say? “He is an impostor.” What are you saying, my friend? Do you call him an impostor for the sake of a single loaf or a piece of clothing? “But he will sell it right away,” you say. And do you manage all your own affairs well? But what? Are all people poor through idleness? Is no one poor from shipwreck? None from lawsuits? None from being robbed? None from dangers? None from illness? None from any other hardships? Yet if we hear someone bewailing such troubles, crying out aloud, looking up naked toward heaven, with long hair and dressed in rags, at once we call him “The impostor! The deceiver! The swindler!” Are you not ashamed? Whom are you calling an impostor? Give him nothing, but do not accuse the man.

“But he has means, and he is pretending,” you say. That is a charge against you, not against him. He knows that he has to deal with cruel people, with wild beasts rather than human beings, and that even if he tells a pitiful story he will catch no one’s attention. That is why he is forced to put on an even more miserable appearance, so as to melt your soul. If we see someone coming to beg in decent clothes, “This is an impostor,” you say, “and he comes like this so that people will take him for a man of good family.” If we see one dressed the opposite way, we reproach him too. What are they to do, then? Oh, the cruelty! Oh, the inhumanity!

“And why do they display their maimed limbs?” you say. Because of you. If we were compassionate, they would have no need of these tricks; if they persuaded us the first time they asked, they would not have devised these schemes. Who is so wretched as to be willing to cry out so much, to be willing to behave so shamefully, to be willing to lament in public, with his wife without clothing, with his children, sprinkling ashes on himself? How much worse than poverty are these things? Yet because of them they are not only not pitied but are even accused by us.

Shall we, then, still be indignant that when we pray to God we are not heard? Shall we still be annoyed that when we plead we do not persuade? Do we not tremble with fear, my beloved?

“But I have often given,” you say. But do you not always eat? And do you drive your children away because they often beg from you? Oh, the shamelessness! Do you call a poor man shameless? You are not shameless when you plunder, but he is shameless when he begs for bread! Do you not consider how great the demands of the belly are? Do you not do everything for its sake? Do you not neglect spiritual things for it? Is not heaven set before you, and the kingdom of heaven? And yet, fearing the tyranny of that appetite, you put up with everything, and think little of that kingdom. This is shamelessness.

Do you not see old men who are maimed? But oh, what trifling! “So-and-so,” you say, “lends out so many gold coins, and so-and-so so many, and yet he begs.” You are repeating children’s stories and trifles; for children too are always hearing such stories from their nurses. I am not persuaded of it. I do not believe it. Far from it! Does a man lend money, and beg when he has plenty? For what purpose, tell me? And what is more disgraceful than begging? It would be better to die than to beg. Where will our inhumanity stop? What then? Do all of them lend money? Are all impostors? Is no one really poor? “Yes,” you say, “and many.” Then why do you not help those people, since you are such a strict inquirer into their lives? This is an excuse and a pretext.

“Give to everyone who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you” (Matthew 5, verse 42). Stretch out your hand; do not let it be closed. We have not been appointed examiners of people’s lives, since then we would have compassion on no one. When you call on God, why do you say, “Do not remember my sins”? So, even if that person is a great sinner, make the same allowance for him too, and do not remember his sins. It is the season for kindness, not for strict examination; for mercy, not for accounting. He wants to be fed: if you are willing, give; if you are not willing, send him away without raising doubts about him. Why are you wretched and miserable? Why do you not pity him yourself, and why do you also turn away those who would? For when someone hears from you, “This fellow is a cheat, that one a hypocrite, and the other lends money,” he gives neither to the one nor to the other, because he suspects them all of being such. For you know that we suspect evil easily, but good not so easily.

Let us “be merciful,” not just in any way, but “as our heavenly Father is” (Luke 6, verse 36). He feeds even adulterers, the sexually immoral, and sorcerers, and what shall I say? People with every kind of wickedness. For in so large a world there are bound to be many such. Yet he feeds them all; he clothes them all. No one has ever died of hunger, unless he did so by his own choice. So let us be merciful. If someone is in want and in need, help him. [s]

But now we have come to such a pitch of unreasonableness that we act this way not only toward the poor who walk up and down the alleys, but even toward those who live alone in the religious life. “So-and-so is an impostor,” you say. Did I not say this at the start: that if we give to everyone without distinction, we will always be compassionate, but if we begin to make overcurious inquiries, we will never be compassionate? What do you mean? Is a man an impostor to get a loaf of bread? If he were asking for talents of gold and silver, or costly clothes, or slaves, or anything else of that kind, one might rightly call him a swindler. But if he asks for none of these things, only food and shelter, things suited to a life of philosophy, tell me, is that the part of a swindler? Let us stop this untimely love of meddling, which is satanic, which is destructive.

For indeed, if a man says he is on the roll of the clergy, or calls himself a priest, then busy yourself, inquire, make a fuss about it, since in that case to share communion with him without inquiry is not without danger. For the danger concerns matters of great importance: there you are not giving but receiving. But if he wants food, make no inquiry.

Inquire, if you like, how Abraham showed hospitality to all who came to him. If he had been overcurious about those who came to him for refuge, he would not have “entertained angels” (Hebrews 13, verse 2). For perhaps, not thinking they were angels, he would have pushed them away too along with the rest. But since he used to receive everyone, he received even angels. What? Does God grant you your reward according to the lives of those who receive your gifts? No, it comes from your own intention, from your abundant generosity, from your kindness to others, from your goodness. Let this be found in you, and you will obtain all good things; which may we all obtain, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.