Homily 23 — Hebrews 11, verses 7 to 12

John Chrysostom: Homilies on the New Testament

Homilies on Hebrews

Homily 23 — Hebrews 11, verses 7 to 12

Hebrews 11, verses 7 to 12

“By faith Noah, being divinely warned about things not yet seen, moved with fear, prepared an ark for the saving of his household; by which he condemned the world, and became heir of the righteousness which is by faith.”

“By faith,” he says, “Noah, being divinely warned.” The Son of God, speaking of his own coming, said, “In the days of Noah they were marrying and being given in marriage” (Luke 17, verses 26 and 27). So the apostle too called to their minds a fitting picture. For the example of Enoch was an example of faith only; Noah’s, on the other hand, was an example of unbelief as well. And this is complete comfort and encouragement: when not only are believers found approved, but unbelievers also suffer the opposite.

So what does he say? “By faith, being divinely warned.” What does “being divinely warned” mean? It means that it had been foretold to him. But why is the expression “divine communication” used? In another place, too, it says, “And it had been divinely communicated to him by the Spirit” (Luke 2, verse 26); and again, “But what does the divine communication say?” (Romans 11, verse 4). Do you see that the Spirit has equal dignity? For as God reveals, so does the Holy Spirit too. But why did he speak this way? Because a prophecy is called “a divine communication.”

“About things not yet seen,” he says — that is, about the rain. “Moved with fear, he prepared an ark.” Reason certainly suggested nothing of the kind. For “they were marrying and being given in marriage”; the sky was clear; there was no sign of any change. And yet he feared. “By faith,” he says, “Noah, being divinely warned about things not yet seen, moved with fear, prepared an ark for the saving of his household.”

What does “by which he condemned the world” mean? He showed that they deserved punishment, since not even his preparing the ark brought them to their senses.

“And he became,” he says, “heir of the righteousness which is by faith.” That is, by believing God he was shown to be righteous. For this is the mark of a soul sincerely disposed toward God, a soul that counts nothing more reliable than his words, just as unbelief is the very opposite. Faith, it is plain, produces righteousness. For as we have been divinely warned about hell, so was he. And yet at that time he was laughed at; he was insulted and mocked; but he paid no attention to any of it.

Verses 8 and 9: “By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he would afterward receive as an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he lived as a foreigner in the land of promise, as in a strange country, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise.”

“By faith”: for tell me, whom did he see, that he might imitate him? His father was a pagan and an idolater; he had heard no prophets; he did not know where he was going. The believing Hebrews looked to these patriarchs as men who had enjoyed countless blessings, so he shows that none of them had yet obtained anything. All are still unrewarded; not one has yet received his reward. He escaped from his country and his home, and “went out, not knowing where he was going.”

And what wonder is it that he himself lived this way, when his descendants also lived in the same way? For, seeing the promise disproved — since God had said, “To you I will give this land, and to your offspring” (Genesis 12, verse 7; 13, verse 15) — he saw his son living there, and his grandson in turn saw himself living in a land not his own; and yet he was not troubled at all.

In Abraham’s case, things turned out as one might have expected, since the promise was to be fulfilled afterward in his descendants — although it was said to him personally too: “To you, and to your offspring”; not “to you through your offspring,” but “to you and to your offspring.” Still, neither he, nor Isaac, nor Jacob enjoyed the promise. One of them served for wages; another was driven out; and Abraham himself was even sinking under fear. Some things, it is true, he took in war; but others would have been destroyed if he had not had God’s help. That is why the apostle says, “with the heirs of the same promise”: not he alone, he means, but the heirs as well.

Verse 13: “These all died in faith,” he says, “not having obtained the promises.” Here it is worth raising two questions. He has said that God “took Enoch away, and he was not found, so that he did not see death”; how, then, does he say, “These all died in faith”? And again: he has declared that Noah received a reward, “for the saving of his household”; that Enoch was taken away; that Abel “still speaks”; and that Abraham gained a hold on the land. And yet he says, “These all died in faith, not having obtained the promises.” What, then, does he mean?

We must resolve the first difficulty first, and then the second. “These all,” he says, “died in faith.” He says “all” here, not because every one of them had died, but meaning “all these had died” — that one exception aside — all these whom we know to be dead.

And “not having obtained the promises” is true as well. For certainly the promise made to Noah was not to be this. But further, what kind of “promises” does he mean? Isaac and Jacob received the promises of the land; but Noah and Abel and Enoch — what kind of promises did they receive? Either, then, he is speaking about these three; or, if he means the others as well, the promise was not this: that Abel should be admired, or that Enoch should be taken away, or that Noah should be preserved. These things came to them because of their virtue, and were a kind of foretaste of what was to come.

For from the beginning God knew that the human race needs him to stoop down a great deal to meet it, and so he gives us not only the things of the world to come, but also the things here. For instance, Christ said even to the disciples, “Whoever has left houses, or brothers, or sisters, or father, or mother, will receive a hundredfold, and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19, verse 29). And again, “Seek the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6, verse 33). Do you see that he gives these things as an addition, so that we will not lose heart? Athletes have the benefit of careful attention even while they are engaged in the contest; but they do not enjoy complete ease then, since they live under rules. Afterward they enjoy it completely. In the same way God does not let us share in complete ease here. Yet even here he does give some.

“But having seen them far off,” he says, “and embraced them.” Here he hints at something hidden and sacred: that they received beforehand everything that has been said about the things to come — about the resurrection, about the kingdom of heaven, about the other things Christ proclaimed when he came. For these are “the promises” he is speaking of. Either he means this, or else that they did not actually receive them, but died confident about them, and were confident through faith alone.

“Having seen them far off”: four generations beforehand, for it was after that many generations that they went up out of Egypt.

“And embraced them,” he says — and were glad. They were so convinced of them that they even “embraced” them. The picture is of people on board ship who see from far off the cities they long for, and before they enter them, take hold of them and make them their own with words of greeting.

Verse 10: “For they looked,” he says, “for the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God.” Do you see that they received the promises in this sense: by already accepting them and being confident about them? If, then, to be confident is to receive, it is in your power too to receive. For though these men did not enjoy those blessings, they still saw them by their longing.

Why, then, do these things happen? So that we might be put to shame. For they, when the things of earth were promised them, paid no attention to them, but sought the city to come; while God speaks to us again and again of the city above, and yet we seek the one here. He said to them, “I will give you the things of this present world.” But when he saw — or rather, when they showed themselves worthy of greater things — he no longer lets them receive these, but those greater ones. He wanted to show us that they were worthy of greater things, since they were unwilling to be tied to these. It is as if someone promised toys to a sensible child — not so that he would take them, but to put his philosophy on display when he asks for more important things. For this shows that they held back from the land so earnestly that they did not even accept what was given. That is why their descendants received it, for this reason: they themselves had been worthy of the land.

What is “the city which has foundations”? Do these cities we see not have foundations? Compared with that one, they do not. “Whose builder and maker is God.” Oh, what praise of that city!

Verse 11: “By faith also Sarah herself,” he says. Here he began in a way meant to put them to shame, in case they should show themselves more faint-hearted than a woman. But perhaps someone might say: “How was it ‘by faith,’ when she laughed?” No: her laughter came from unbelief, but her fear came from faith. For saying “I did not laugh” (Genesis 18, verse 15) came from faith. From this, then, it appears that once unbelief had been cleared out, faith came in to take its place.

“By faith also Sarah received strength to conceive seed, even when she was past the age.” What does “to conceive seed” mean? She who had become dead, who was barren, received power to hold the seed, to conceive. For her disability was twofold: first from her time of life, for she was truly old; second from nature, for she was barren.

Verse 12: “So even from one they all sprang, as the stars of the sky, and as the sand by the seashore.” “So,” he says, “even from one they all sprang.” Here he says not only that she bore a child, but that she became the mother of more than even fruitful wombs bear.

“As the stars,” he says. How is it, then, that God often numbers them, when he said, “As the stars of heaven will not be numbered, so neither will your offspring” (Genesis 15, verse 5)? Either he means the great excess, or else he is speaking of those who are continually being born. For tell me, is it possible to number their forefathers within a single family, this way: so-and-so son of so-and-so, and so-and-so son of so-and-so? But such are God’s promises here; so skillfully are his undertakings arranged.

What We Lose

But if the things he promised as an addition are so admirable, so far beyond expectation, so magnificent, what will those be to which these are an addition, to which these are something over and above? What, then, can be more blessed than those who attain them? What more wretched than those who miss them? If a man driven out of his native country is pitied by everyone, and a man who has lost an inheritance is looked on by all as deserving compassion, with what tears should we weep over the one who misses heaven and the good things stored up there?

Or rather, he is not even to be wept for. A person is wept for when he suffers something he did not cause himself; but when he has tangled himself in evil by his own choice, he deserves not tears but wailing — or rather, mourning. For even our Lord Jesus Christ mourned and wept over Jerusalem, ungodly as it was. Truly, we deserve countless tears, countless wailings. If the whole world received a voice — stones and wood, trees and wild animals, birds and fish; in a word, the whole world — if it received a voice and wept over us who have missed those good things, it would not weep and lament enough.

For what tongue, what mind, can describe that blessedness and virtue, that pleasure, that glory, that happiness, that splendor? “What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and what has not entered into the heart of man” (First Corinthians 2, verse 9) — he did not say that they simply surpass what we imagine, but that no one has ever conceived them — “the things which God has prepared for those who love him.” What kind of good things must those be, of which God is the one who prepares and establishes them?

For if, immediately after he made us, when we had not yet done anything, he freely gave us such great gifts — paradise, close companionship with himself — and promised us immortality, a happy life free from cares, what will he not give to those who have labored and struggled so greatly and endured on his behalf? For us he did not spare his only Son; for us, when we were enemies, he gave up his own Son to death. What will he not count us worthy of, now that we have become his friends? What will he not share with us, now that he has reconciled us to himself?

He is abundantly, infinitely rich; and he longs and works earnestly to win our friendship. We do not work that earnestly. Why do I say, “do not work earnestly”? We do not want to obtain the good things as much as he wants it for us. And what he has done shows that he wants it more than we do. For while we, for our own sake, can hardly bring ourselves to think little of a small amount of gold, he for our sake gave even his own Son.

Let us make use of God’s love as we ought; let us reap the fruits of his friendship. “For you are my friends,” he says, “if you do what I tell you” (John 15, verse 14). How wonderful! His enemies, who stood an infinite distance away from him, whom he surpasses in every respect beyond all comparison — these he has made his friends, and he calls them friends. What, then, should we not choose to suffer for the sake of this friendship? For the friendship of human beings we often run into danger, but for God’s friendship we do not even give up money.

Our condition does indeed call for mourning — for mourning and tears and wailing, for loud lament and beating of the breast. We have fallen from our hope; we have been brought down from our high place; we have shown ourselves unworthy of the honor God gave us. Even after his kindnesses we have become unfeeling and ungrateful. The devil has stripped us of all our good things. We who were counted worthy to be sons, we his brothers and fellow heirs, have come to differ in nothing from his enemies who insult him.

From now on, what comfort will there be for us? He called us to heaven, and we have thrust ourselves down into hell. “Swearing and lying and stealing and adultery are poured out over the earth” (Hosea 4, verse 2). Some “mix blood with blood”; others do deeds worse than bloodshed. Many of those who are wronged, many of those who are cheated, would rather die ten thousand deaths than suffer such things; and if they did not fear God, they would even have killed themselves, so murderously were they turned against themselves. Are not these things, then, worse than bloodshed?

“Woe is me, my soul! For the godly man has perished from the earth, and there is no one upright among men” (Micah 7, verses 1 and 2, in the Greek Old Testament). Let us too cry this out now — first over ourselves. But help me in my lament. Perhaps some are even disgusted, and laugh. For this very reason we ought to make our lament all the more intense: because we are so mad and so out of our minds that we do not know we are mad, but laugh at things over which we ought to groan.

My friend, “wrath is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men” (Romans 1, verse 18). “God will come openly; a fire will burn before him, and around him will be a mighty storm” (Psalm 50, verse 3). “A fire will burn before him, and consume his enemies on every side” (Psalm 97, verse 3). “The day of the Lord is like a burning oven” (Malachi 4, verse 1). And no one lays these things up in his mind. These tremendous and fearful teachings are despised more than fables, and trampled underfoot. The one who listens? There is no one. Those who laugh and joke? Everyone.

What resource will there be for us? Where will we find safety? “We are lost, we are utterly destroyed” (Numbers 17, verse 12). We have become a laughingstock to our enemies, a mockery to the pagans and the demons. Now the devil is greatly elated; he boasts and is glad. The angels to whom we had been entrusted are all ashamed and sad. There is no one to turn you back. Every means has been tried by us in vain, and we seem to you mere idle talkers. It is fitting even now to call on heaven, since there is no one who listens — to call the elements to witness: “Hear, O heaven, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord has spoken” (Isaiah 1, verse 2).

Give a hand, stretch it out — you who have not yet been swept under — to those who are ruined by their drunkenness: you who are well, to those who are sick; you who are of sound mind, to those who are raving and spinning dizzily around.

Let no one, I beg you, put his friend’s goodwill ahead of that friend’s salvation; let force and rebuke look to one thing only — his good. When a man has been seized by a fever, even his slaves take hold of their master. For when the fever presses on him and throws his mind into confusion, and a swarm of slaves stands around him, they do not keep the rule of master and slave in their master’s calamity.

Let us pull ourselves together, I urge you. There are wars every day, towns swallowed up by the waters, countless destructions all around us; on every side the wrath of God is closing in on us as in a net. And we, as though we were pleasing to him, are at ease. We all have our hands ready for unjust gain, none for helping others; all for plundering, none for protecting. Each one is eager to increase his possessions, no one to help the needy. Each one is deeply anxious to add to his wealth, no one to save his own soul. One fear grips everyone: that we might become poor, you say. No one is in anguish and trembling that we might fall into hell. These things call for lament; these call for accusation; these call for condemnation.

A Father’s Tears

I do not want to speak of these things, but my grief compels me. Forgive me: sorrow forces me to say many things, even things I do not want to say. I see that our wound is serious, that our calamity is beyond comfort, that the woes which have overtaken us are greater than any consolation. We are lost. “Oh, that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears” (Jeremiah 9, verse 1), that I might lament! Let us weep, beloved; let us weep, let us groan.

Perhaps there are some here who say: “He talks to us of nothing but lament, nothing but tears.” It was not my wish, believe me, it was not my wish; I would rather have gone through a course of commendation and praise. But now is not the time for that. Beloved, it is not lamenting that is hard to bear, but doing things that call for lament. It is not sorrow we should shrink from, but committing things that call for sorrow. Do not be punished, and I will not mourn. Do not die, and I will not weep. If a body lies dead, you call on everyone to grieve with you, and you think those who do not mourn are without feeling. And when the soul is perishing, do you tell us not to mourn?

But I cannot be a father if I do not weep. I am a father full of tender affection. Listen to how Paul cries out: “My little children, for whom I am in labor again” (Galatians 4, verse 19). What mother in childbirth utters cries as bitter as his? If only you could see the very fire that is in my heart! Then you would know that I burn with grief more fiercely than any woman, or any young girl widowed before her time. No woman mourns so over her husband, no father over his son, as I mourn over this multitude here with us.

I see no progress. Everything turns into slander and accusation. No one makes it his business to please God; instead, someone says, “Let us speak evil of so-and-so, or so-and-so.” “So-and-so is unfit to be among the clergy.” “So-and-so does not lead a respectable life.” When we ought to be grieving over our own evils, we judge others — which we ought not to do even when we are clean of sins. “For who makes you different?” he says. “And what do you have that you did not receive? And if you received it, why do you boast as though you had not received it?” (First Corinthians 4, verse 7). “And you, why do you judge your brother?” (Romans 14, verse 10) — you who are yourself full of countless evils?

When you say, “So-and-so is a bad man, a spendthrift, a wicked man,” think of yourself; examine your own condition closely, and you will regret what you said. For there is nothing — nothing at all — that spurs us on to virtue so powerfully as remembering our sins.

If we turn these two things over in our minds, we will be able to attain the promised blessings; we will be able to cleanse ourselves and wipe away what is wrong. Only let us give the matter serious thought at last; let us be anxious about it, beloved. Let us grieve here in our thoughts, so that we may not grieve there in punishment, but may enjoy the everlasting blessings, where “pain and sorrow and sighing have fled away” (Isaiah 35, verse 10) — so that we may attain the good things that surpass human understanding, in Christ Jesus our Lord, for to him belong glory and power forever and ever. Amen.