Homily 25 — Hebrews 11, verses 17 to 19

John Chrysostom: Homilies on the New Testament

Homilies on Hebrews

Homily 25 — Hebrews 11, verses 17 to 19

Hebrews 11, verses 17 to 19

“By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac; and he who had received the promises offered up his only son, of whom it was said, ‘In Isaac your seed will be called.’ He reasoned that God was able to raise him up even from the dead; and from there he also received him back in a figure.”

Great indeed was Abraham’s faith. In the case of Abel, and of Noah, and of Enoch, there was only a conflict of reasonings, and they had to rise above human reasoning. In this case it was necessary not only to rise above human reasoning, but to show something more besides. For what came from God seemed to be opposed to what came from God: faith was set against faith, and command against promise.

Here is what I mean. God had said, “Leave your country and your relatives, and I will give you this land” (Genesis 12, verses 1 and 7). Yet “he gave him no inheritance in it, not even enough to set his foot on” (Acts 7, verse 5). Do you see how what happened was opposed to the promise? Again he said, “In Isaac your seed will be called” (Genesis 21, verse 12), and Abraham believed. And again he says: Sacrifice this one to me — the very one who was to fill the whole world from his seed. Do you see the opposition between the commands and the promise? He ordered things that contradicted the promises, and even so the righteous man did not waver, or say that he had been deceived.

For you, he means, could not even say this: that God promised ease and gave distress. In our case, the very things he promised are the things he carries out. How so? “In the world,” he says, “you will have distress” (John 16, verse 33). “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10, verse 38). “Whoever does not hate his life will not find it” (John 12, verse 25). And, “Whoever does not give up all that he has and follow after me is not worthy of me” (Luke 14, verses 27 and 33). And again, “You will be brought before rulers and kings for my sake” (Matthew 10, verse 18). And again, “A man’s enemies will be the members of his own household” (Matthew 10, verse 36). The things that belong to rest are there, in the other world. But with Abraham it was different. He was ordered to do what was opposed to the promises, and even so he was not troubled; he did not waver, or think he had been deceived. But you suffer nothing except what was promised, and still you are troubled.

He heard the opposite of the promises from the very one who had made them, and yet he was not disturbed. He carried out the command as if it were in harmony with the promises. And it was in harmony: opposed by human calculation, but in harmony when seen by faith. How this could be, the apostle himself has taught us, when he says, “He reasoned that God was able to raise him up even from the dead.” By the same faith, he means, by which he believed that God gave what did not exist and raised up the dead, by that same faith he was convinced that God would also raise Isaac up after he had been slain in sacrifice. For by human calculation, I mean, both were equally impossible: to give a child from a womb that was dead, grown old, and already useless for bearing, and to raise again someone who had been slain. But his earlier faith prepared the way for what was to come.

And look: for him the good things came first, and the hard things afterward, in his old age. But for you, he says, it is the other way around: the sad things come first and the good things last. This is said for those who dare to say: “He has promised us the good things after death. Perhaps he has deceived us.” He shows that “God is able to raise up even from the dead”; and if God is able to raise from the dead, then beyond all doubt he will pay everything he has promised. And if Abraham, so many years before, believed “that God is able to raise from the dead,” how much more ought we to believe it! You see what I said at the beginning: death had not yet entered in, and yet God drew them at once to the hope of the resurrection, and brought them to such full assurance that when they are commanded, they even slay their own sons, and readily offer up the very ones through whom they expected to fill the world with people.

And he shows something else too, by saying that “God tested Abraham” (Genesis 22, verse 1). What then? Did God not know that the man was noble and proven? Why, then, did he test him? Not so that he himself might learn, but so that he might show it to others and make his courage plain to all. And here too the apostle shows the reason for trials, so that his readers will not suppose they suffer these things because God has abandoned them. In their case it was necessary that they be tried, because there were many who persecuted them or plotted against them. But in Abraham’s case, what need was there to invent trials for him that did not exist? Now this trial, it is clear, came by God’s command. The others happened because he allowed them; this one came even by his command. If, then, trials make people proven, so much so that God exercises his own athletes even where there is no occasion for it, how much more ought we to bear everything nobly!

And here he said with emphasis, “By faith, when he was tested, he offered up Isaac,” for there was no other reason for his bringing the offering but that.

After this he pursues the same thought. No one, he says, could claim that Abraham had another son and expected the promise to be fulfilled through him, and therefore offered up this one with confidence. “And he offered up his only son,” are his words, “he who had received the promises.” “Why do you say ‘only son’? What then? Whose son was Ishmael?” He would answer: “I mean ‘only son’ as far as the word of the promise is concerned.” So after saying “only son,” to show that this is why he says it, he added, “of whom it was said, ‘In Isaac your seed will be called’” — that is, from him. Do you see how he admires what the patriarch did? “In Isaac your seed will be called” — and that is the son he brought to be sacrificed.

Then, so that no one may suppose that Abraham did this in despair, and that because of this command he had thrown away that earlier faith, but may understand that this too was truly an act of faith, he says that Abraham held on to that faith as well, even though it seemed to be at odds with this one. But it was not at odds with it. For he did not measure the power of God by human reasoning, but entrusted everything to faith. That is why he was not afraid to say that God was “able to raise him up even from the dead.”

“And from there he also received him back in a figure”: that is, in idea, by means of the ram, he means. How? The ram was slain, and Isaac was saved; so through the ram Abraham received him again, having slain it in his place. But these things were types, for here it is the Son of God who is slain. And notice, I beg you, how great is God’s love for humankind. A great favor was about to be given to human beings, and he wanted to give it not as a favor, but as one who owed it. So he arranges that a man should first give up his own son because of God’s command, so that God himself might seem to be doing nothing great in giving up his own Son, since a man had done it before him; so that he might be thought to do it not out of grace, but out of debt. We too like to show this kindness to those we love: we want to appear first to have received some small thing from them, and so give them everything. And we boast more of receiving than of giving; we do not say, “We gave him this,” but, “We received this from him.”

“And from there,” are his words, “he also received him back in a figure”: that is, as in a riddle, for the ram was, so to speak, a figure of Isaac; or, as in a type. For since the sacrifice had been completed, and Isaac had been slain in intention, God gave him back to the patriarch.

Opposites by Means of Opposites

Do you see that what I am always saying is shown in this case too? When we have proved that our mind has reached maturity, and have shown that we care nothing for earthly things, then earthly things are given to us as well — but not before, in case, being bound to them already, we should be bound still more by receiving them. Free yourself from your slavery first, he says, and then receive, so that you may receive no longer as a slave, but as a master. Despise riches, and you will be rich. Despise glory, and you will be glorious. Despise taking revenge on your enemies, and then you will have it. Despise rest, and then you will receive it, so that in receiving you may receive not as a prisoner, nor as a slave, but as a free man.

It is like little children. When a child eagerly wants childish toys — a ball, for instance, and things like that — we take great care to hide them from him, so that he will not be kept from necessary things. But when he thinks little of them and no longer longs for them, we give them to him without fear, knowing that from now on they can do him no harm, since the desire is no longer strong enough to draw him away from necessary things. In the same way God, when he sees that we no longer eagerly desire the things of this world, from then on allows us to use them. For we possess them as free men and grown men, not as children.

For proof that if you despise taking revenge on your enemies you will then have it, listen to what he says: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.” And he added, “For by doing this you will heap burning coals on his head” (Romans 12, verse 20). And again, for proof that if you despise riches you will then gain them, listen to Christ saying, “There is no one who has left father, or mother, or house, or brothers, who will not receive a hundred times as much, and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19, verse 29). And for proof that if you despise glory you will then gain it, listen again to Christ himself saying, “Whoever wants to be first among you, let him be your servant” (Matthew 20, verse 26). And again, “For whoever humbles himself will be exalted” (Matthew 23, verse 12).

“What are you saying? If I give my enemy a drink, do I then punish him? If I give up my goods, do I then possess them? If I humble myself, will I then be exalted?” “Yes,” he says, “for such is my power: to give opposites by means of opposites. I am rich in resources and in ways of working; do not be afraid. The ‘nature of things’ follows my will; I do not wait on nature. I do all things; I am not controlled by them. That is why I am also able to change their form and order.”

And why are you surprised that it is so in these instances? You will find the same in all the others too. If you do harm, you are harmed; if you are harmed, then you are unharmed; if you punish, you have not punished another, but have punished yourself. For “whoever loves wrongdoing,” it says, “hates his own soul” (Psalm 11, verse 5, in the Greek). Do you see that you do not harm, but are harmed? That is why Paul too says, “Why not rather be wronged?” (First Corinthians 6, verse 7). Do you see that this is not to be wronged?

When you insult, then you are insulted. And most people partly know this, as when they say to one another, “Come away, do not disgrace yourself.” Why? Because the difference between you and him is great; however much you insult him, he counts it an honor. Let us keep this in mind in every case, and rise above insults. I will tell you how. If we should have a dispute with someone who wears the purple, let us consider that in insulting him we insult ourselves, for we become deserving of disgrace. Tell me, what do you mean by it? You are a citizen of heaven, you have the philosophy that is from above — and you disgrace yourself with one “whose mind is on earthly things” (Philippians 3, verse 19)? For though he possesses countless riches, though he is in power, he does not yet know the good that lies there. Do not insult yourself by insulting him. Spare yourself, not him. Honor yourself, not him. Is there not a proverb like this: “Whoever honors, honors himself”? And rightly so, for he honors not the other, but himself. Listen to what a certain wise man says: “Honor your soul according to its worth” (Sirach 10, verse 28).

“According to its worth”: what does that mean? If he has cheated, it means, you must not cheat; if he has insulted, you must not insult.

Tell me, I beg you: if some poor man took away clay thrown out in your yard, would you summon a court of law over it? Surely not. Why not? So as not to disgrace yourself, so that everyone would not condemn you. The same thing happens in this case. For the rich man is poor; the richer he is, the poorer he is in what is truly poverty. Gold is clay thrown out in the yard, not lying in your house, for your house is heaven. Will you summon a court of law over this, then? And will the citizens on high not condemn you? Will they not throw you out of their country, you who are so mean, so shabby, as to choose to fight over a little clay? Even if the world were yours, and then someone had taken it, should you pay any attention to it?

Do you not know that if you were to take the world ten times, or a hundred times, or ten thousand times, and twice that again, it could not be compared with the least of the good things in heaven? So whoever admires the things here slights the things there, since he judges these worthy of effort, though they are so far beneath the others. Or rather, he will not even be able to admire those others. How can he, while he is passionately stirred up over these earthly things? Let us cut through the cords and the tangles, for that is what earthly things are.

How long will we stoop toward the ground? How long will we plot against one another, like wild beasts, like fish? Or rather, the wild beasts do not plot against each other, but against animals of a different kind. A bear, for instance, does not readily kill a bear, nor a snake a snake, out of respect for their own kind. But you — with one of your own kind, who has countless claims on you: a common origin, the power of reason, the knowledge of God, ten thousand other things, the force of nature itself — him, your kinsman, who shares the same nature, you kill, and entangle in countless evils. For what if you do not thrust in your sword, or plunge your right hand into his neck? You do other things more painful than this when you entangle him in countless evils. If you had done the other, you would have freed him from anxiety. But as it is, you surround him with hunger, with slavery, with discouragement, with many sins.

I say these things, and I will not stop saying them — not to prepare you to commit murder, nor to urge you on to some crime short of that, but so that you will not feel confident, as though you were not going to give an account. For, it says, “whoever takes away a livelihood…” (Sirach 34, verse 22) — and “asks for bread,” it says.

The Tables of the Greedy

Let us at last keep our hands to ourselves — or rather, let us not keep them back, but stretch them out honorably, not for grabbing, but for almsgiving. Let us not have a hand that bears no fruit, or a withered one. For the hand that does not give alms is withered; and the hand that also grabs is polluted and unclean.

Let no one eat with such hands, for it is an insult to the guests. Tell me: suppose a man had us recline on tapestries, on a soft couch, on linen woven with gold, in a great and splendid house; suppose he had set a great crowd of attendants beside us, and prepared a tray of silver and gold, and filled it with many costly delicacies of every kind; and then urged us to eat, on the one condition that we put up with his smearing his hands with mud or with human dung, and sitting down to the meal with us like that. Would anyone put up with such treatment? Would he not rather think it an insult? I certainly think he would, and would have left at once. But as things are, you see not hands full of what is truly filth, but the very food itself, and yet you do not leave, or run away, or complain. On the contrary, if he is a person in authority, you even count it a grand affair, and destroy your own soul by eating such things.

For greed is worse than any mud. It pollutes not the body but the soul, and makes it hard to wash clean. So then: you see the man at table defiled with this filth on his hands and his face, his house full of it, yes, and his table full of it too — for dung, or anything more unclean than that if there is such a thing, is not as unclean and polluted as those dishes — and do you really feel highly honored, as though you were about to enjoy yourself?

And are you not afraid of Paul? He allows us to go freely to the tables of the pagans if we wish, but not even if we wish to those of the greedy. For he says, “If anyone who is called a brother” (First Corinthians 5, verse 11) — meaning here by “brother” simply everyone who is a believer, not one who lives the solitary life. For what is it that makes a brotherhood? The washing of new birth; being enabled to call God our Father. So a monk who is still a catechumen is not a brother, but the believer, even if he lives in the world, is a brother. “If anyone,” he says, “who is called a brother” (First Corinthians 5, verse 11). For at that time there was not yet a trace of anyone living the monastic life; this blessed apostle addressed his whole message to people living in the world. “If anyone,” he says, “who is called a brother is sexually immoral, or greedy, or a drunkard, do not even eat with such a person.” But it is not so with the pagans. Instead: “If any of those who do not believe” — meaning the pagans — “invites you, and you want to go, eat whatever is set before you” (First Corinthians 10, verse 27).

“If anyone who is called a brother,” he says, “is a drunkard.” Oh, what strictness! Yet we not only do not avoid drunkards; we even go to their houses and share in what they set before us.

That is why everything is upside down, everything is in confusion, overthrown and ruined. Tell me: if someone like that invited you to a banquet — you, who are counted poor and of no account — and then heard you say, “Since what is set before me is the fruit of grabbing what belongs to others, I will not stand for defiling my own soul,” would he not be stung? Would he not be thrown into confusion? Would he not be ashamed? This alone would be enough to correct him, and to make him call himself wretched for his wealth and admire you for your poverty, if he saw himself despised by you so earnestly.

But we “have become” — I do not know why — “slaves of men” (First Corinthians 7, verse 23), though Paul cries out everywhere, “Do not become slaves of men.” How, then, did we become “slaves of men”? Because first we became slaves of the belly, and of money, and of glory, and of all the rest. We gave up the freedom that Christ gave us.

What, then, awaits the one who has become a slave? Tell me. Listen to Christ saying, “The slave does not remain in the house forever” (John 8, verse 35). There you have a statement complete in itself: that he never enters the kingdom, for that is what “the house” means. For he says, “In my Father’s house are many rooms” (John 14, verse 2). “The slave,” then, “does not remain in the house forever.” By a slave he means the one who is “the slave of sin.” But whoever “does not remain in the house forever” remains in hell forever, with no comfort from any side.

Yes, things have come to such a pitch of wickedness that people even give alms out of these ill-gotten gains, and many accept them. That is why our boldness has broken down, and we are unable to rebuke anyone. But all the same, from now on at least, let us flee the harm that comes from this. And you who have rolled yourselves in this mud, stop defiling yourselves, and curb your mad passion for such banquets, so that even now we may somehow be able to have God gracious to us, and attain the good things that have been promised. May we all obtain them in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.