Homily 26 — Hebrews 11, verses 20 to 27

“By faith Isaac blessed Jacob and Esau concerning things to come. By faith Jacob, when he was dying, blessed both the sons of Joseph, and worshiped, leaning on the top of his staff. By faith Joseph, when he died, spoke of the departure of the children of Israel, and gave orders concerning his bones.” [a]

“Many prophets and righteous men,” it says, “have longed to see the things you see, and did not see them, and to hear the things you hear, and did not hear them” (Matthew 13, verse 17). Did those righteous men, then, know all the things to come? Yes, most certainly. For if the Son was not revealed to some because of the weakness of those who could not receive him, it was with good reason that he was revealed to those who stood out in virtue. Paul says this too: that they knew “the things to come,” that is, the resurrection of Christ.

Or perhaps he does not mean this. Perhaps “by faith concerning things to come” means not the world to come, but “things to come” in this world. For how, except by faith, could a man living as a stranger in a foreign land give such blessings?

But then again, he obtained the blessing and yet did not receive it. You see that what I said about Abraham can be said of Jacob too: they did not enjoy the blessing; the blessings passed to his descendants, while he himself obtained “the things to come.” For we find that it was rather his brother who enjoyed the blessing. Jacob spent his whole time in servitude, working for wages, amid dangers and plots, deceptions and fears. When Pharaoh questioned him, he says, “Few and evil have my days been” (Genesis 47, verse 9). The other, meanwhile, lived as his own master in great ease, and later was a terror to Jacob. Where, then, were the blessings fulfilled, if not in the world to come?

Do you see that from the beginning the wicked have enjoyed the things here, and the righteous the opposite? Not all of them, though. Look: Abraham was a righteous man, and he enjoyed the things here as well, though with affliction and trials. Wealth was really all he had; everything else in his life was full of affliction. For it is impossible for the righteous man not to suffer affliction, even if he is rich. When he is willing to be cheated, to be wronged, to put up with everything else, he must suffer affliction. So even though he enjoys wealth, it is not without grief. Why, you ask? Because he is in affliction and distress. But if the righteous suffered affliction in those days, much more do they now.

“By faith,” he says, “Isaac blessed Jacob and Esau concerning things to come.” (And yet Esau was the elder; but he puts Jacob first because of his excellence.) Do you see how great his faith was? On what ground did he promise his sons such great blessings? Entirely from his faith in God.

“By faith Jacob, when he was dying, blessed both the sons of Joseph.” Here we ought to set out the blessings in full, so that both his faith and his prophecy may be made plain. “And he worshiped,” he says, “leaning on the top of his staff.” What he means is that Jacob did not only speak; he was so confident about what was to come that he showed it by an action as well. Since another king was going to arise from Ephraim, it says, “And he bowed himself on the top of his staff.” That is, though he was by now an old man, “he bowed himself” to Joseph, showing in advance the homage the whole people would pay to him. This had in fact already happened when his brothers “bowed down” to him; but it was to come about again later, through the ten tribes. Do you see how he foretold what was to happen afterward? Do you see how great their faith was? How they believed “concerning things to come”? [c]

Some of the examples here, the ones now before us, are examples only of endurance, of bearing ill-treatment and receiving nothing good — what is said of Abraham, for instance, and of Abel. Others are examples of faith, as in the case of Noah: faith that there is a God, and that there is a reward. (For faith here takes many forms: faith that there is a reward, faith that waits for it, though not under the same conditions, and faith that wrestles before the prizes are given.) And the things told of Joseph, too, are examples of faith alone.

Joseph had heard that God had made a promise to Abraham, that he had pledged his word: “To you and to your offspring I will give this land.” And though he was in a foreign land and did not yet see the pledge fulfilled, he never wavered even so. He believed so firmly that he even “spoke of the exodus and gave orders concerning his bones.” So he not only believed himself, but led the rest on to faith as well, so that, keeping the exodus always in mind, they might look for their return. For he would not have “given orders concerning his bones” unless he had been fully sure of it.

So when some people say, “Look! Even righteous men cared about their tombs!” let us answer them that it was for this reason. For Joseph knew that “the earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” (Psalm 24, verse 1). A man who lived in such philosophy could not have been unaware of this — a man who spent his whole life in Egypt. And yet, if he had wished, he could have gone back, and need not have grieved or troubled himself. But when he had carried his father up there, why did he order them to carry his own bones up from Egypt as well? Clearly, for this reason.

But what? Tell me, do not the bones of Moses himself lie in a foreign land? And those of Aaron, of Daniel, of Jeremiah? As for the apostles, we do not know where most of them lie. The tombs of Peter and Paul, of John and Thomas, are well known; but those of the rest, many as they are, have never become known anywhere. So let us not lament over this at all, or be so small-minded. Wherever we are buried, “the earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” (Psalm 24, verse 1). What must happen certainly does happen; but to mourn and lament and wail over the departed comes from smallness of mind.

Verse 23: “By faith Moses, when he was born, was hidden for three months by his parents.” Do you see that in this case they hoped for things on earth after their death? And many things were fulfilled after their death. This is said for the sake of some who say that these things were done for them after their death, things they did not obtain while alive, and which they did not believe would come about after their death either. [h]

Besides, Joseph did not say, “He did not give the land to me in my lifetime, nor to my father, nor to my grandfather, whose excellence also deserved to be honored. And will he grant to these wretched people what he did not grant to them?” He said nothing of the kind. By faith he overcame all these things and rose above them.

He has named Abel, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph, all famous and admirable men. Now he makes the encouragement stronger by bringing the matter down to ordinary people. For it is nothing wonderful that admirable men should feel this way, and to appear inferior to them is not so terrible; but to show oneself inferior even to people without names — that is the terrible thing. So he begins with the parents of Moses, obscure people who had nothing as great as their son had. And that is why he goes on to make what he says still more startling by listing even women who were prostitutes, and widows. For “by faith,” he says, “Rahab the prostitute did not perish with those who did not believe, because she had received the spies in peace.” And he mentions the rewards not only of belief but of unbelief too, as in the case of Noah.

But for the present we must speak of the parents of Moses. Pharaoh had ordered all the male children to be destroyed, and none had escaped the danger. Where did these parents get the hope of saving their child? From faith. What kind of faith? “They saw,” he says, “that he was a beautiful child.” The very sight of him drew them on to faith. So from the beginning, from his very swaddling clothes, great was the grace poured out on that righteous man — and this was not the work of nature. For notice: the child, immediately at birth, appears beautiful and pleasing to look at. Whose work was this? Not nature’s, but the grace of God, which also stirred up and strengthened that barbarian woman, the Egyptian, and took hold of her and drew her on.

And yet, truly, their faith did not have a sufficient foundation. For what was it to believe on the strength of a sight? But you, he would say, believe on the strength of facts, and you have many pledges of faith. For “accepting with joy the plundering of your goods” (Hebrews 10, verse 34), and other such things, were proofs of faith and of endurance. But since these Hebrews too had believed and afterward had lost heart, he shows that the faith of those holy men of old also held out a long time — Abraham’s, for instance — even though circumstances seemed to fight against it.

“And they were not afraid of the king’s command,” he says — though that command was in force, while their hope for their child was only a kind of bare expectation. This was the doing of his parents. But what did Moses himself contribute?

Next comes another example suited to them, or rather a greater one. For he says (verses 24 to 26): “By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, considering the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt; for he was looking ahead to the reward.” It is as though he had said to them, “None of you has left a palace — and a splendid palace at that — or such treasures. None of you, when he might have been a king’s son, has despised it, as Moses did.” And to show that he did not simply leave these things, he put it this way: “he refused” — that is, he hated them, he turned away from them. For when heaven was set before him, it was pointless to admire an Egyptian palace. [l]

And see how admirably Paul has put it. He did not say, “considering heaven and the things in heaven greater riches than the treasures of Egypt.” What, then? “The reproach of Christ.” For he counted being reproached for Christ’s sake better than being at ease like that; and this in itself was a reward.

“Choosing rather,” he says, “to suffer affliction with the people of God.” For you suffer on your own account, but he “chose” to suffer for others, and of his own will threw himself into so many dangers, when he could have lived devoutly and enjoyed good things as well.

“Than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season,” he says. He called it “sin” to be unwilling “to suffer affliction with” the rest: this, he says, is what Moses counted as “sin.” If, then, he counted it “sin” not to be ready to “suffer affliction with” the rest, it follows that suffering affliction must be a great good, since he threw himself into it from the royal palace.

But he did this because he saw great things ahead. “Considering the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt.” What is “the reproach of Christ”? It is being reproached in the ways you are, the reproach that Christ endured. Or it is the reproach Moses endured for Christ’s sake, for “that rock was Christ” (First Corinthians 10, verse 4): being reproached as you are.

But what is “the reproach of Christ”? It is being reproached because we reject the ways of our fathers; it is being mistreated because we have run to God. Moses too, it seems likely, was reproached, when it was said to him, “Do you mean to kill me, as you killed the Egyptian yesterday?” (Exodus 2, verse 14). This is “the reproach of Christ”: to be ill-treated to the end, to the last breath, just as he himself was reproached and heard the words “If you are the Son of God” (Matthew 27, verse 40) from those for whom he was being crucified, from those of his own race. This is “the reproach of Christ”: when a man is reproached by his own family, or by those he is doing good to. For Moses too suffered these things from the man he had helped.

With these words he encouraged them, by showing that Christ too suffered these things, and Moses also, two illustrious persons. So this is “the reproach of Christ” rather than of Moses, since Christ suffered these things from “his own” (John 1, verse 11). Yet neither did the one send down lightning, nor did the other feel any anger; he was insulted and endured everything while they “wagged their heads” (Matthew 27, verse 39). Since it was likely, then, that his readers too would hear such things and would long for the reward, he tells them that even Christ and Moses had suffered the same. So ease belongs to sin, and reproach to Christ. Which, then, do you want? “The reproach of Christ,” or ease?

Verse 27: “By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the anger of the king; for he endured as seeing him who is invisible.” What are you saying — that he did not fear? And yet Scripture says that when he heard, he “was afraid” (Exodus 2, verse 14), and for this reason looked to his safety by flight, stole away and withdrew in secret; and afterward he was extremely afraid. Weigh the words carefully. He said “not fearing the anger of the king” with reference to his presenting himself again. For it would have been the part of a man who was afraid not to take up their cause a second time, and to have nothing more to do with the matter. That he did take it up again was the part of a man who entrusted everything to God. For he did not say, “He is looking for me and is busy searching, and I cannot bear to take up this matter again.” [o]

So even his flight was an act of faith. Why, then, did he not stay, you ask? So as not to throw himself into a danger he could see coming. For that would have been nothing less than putting God to the test: to leap into the middle of dangers and say, “Let us see whether God will save me.” That is what the devil said to Christ: “Throw yourself down” (Matthew 4, verse 6). Do you see that it is a devilish thing to throw ourselves into danger without cause and for no purpose, and to try whether God will save us? Moses could no longer champion them when those he was helping were so ungrateful. So it would have been a foolish and senseless thing to stay there. But all these things were done because “he endured as seeing him who is invisible.”

If we too, then, always see God with our mind, if we always keep him in remembrance, everything will seem endurable to us, everything bearable; we will bear it all easily, we will rise above it all. For if a person who sees someone he loves — or rather, who only remembers him — is lifted in spirit and raised in thought, and bears everything easily while he delights in the remembrance, then the one who keeps in mind the One who saw fit to love us in deed, and who remembers him — when will he feel anything painful, or dread anything fearful or dangerous? When will he be cowardly in spirit? Never. [p]

Everything seems hard to us because we do not remember God as we ought, because we do not carry him about with us always in our thoughts. Surely he might justly say to us, “You have forgotten me; I also will forget you.” And so the evil becomes twofold: we forget him, and he forgets us. These two things are bound up with each other, and yet they are two. For great is the effect of God’s remembrance, and great too the effect of his being remembered by us. The result of the one is that we choose good things; of the other, that we carry them out and bring them to completion. That is why the prophet says, “I will remember you from the land of the Jordan, and from the little hill of Hermon” (Psalm 42, verse 6). The people who were in Babylon say this: even here, I will remember you.

So let us do the same, as people living in Babylon. For though we are not sitting among enemies at war, still we are among enemies. Some of those in Babylon sat there as captives; but others did not even feel their captivity — Daniel, for instance, and the three young men (compare Psalm 137, verse 1). Even while in captivity, in that very country, they became more glorious than the king who had carried them off. And the man who had taken them captive bows down to the captives. [r]

Do you see how great virtue is? While they were actual captives, he waited on them as his masters. So he was the captive rather than they. It would not have been so wonderful if he had come and paid them homage in their own land, or if they had been rulers there. The wonderful thing is that after he had bound them, carried them off and had them in his own country, he was not ashamed to pay them homage in the sight of everyone, and to order “an offering” to be made (Daniel 2, verse 46).

Do you see that the truly splendid things are the things of God, while human things are a shadow? He did not know, it seems, that he was leading away masters for himself, and that he was casting into the furnace the very men he was about to worship. But to them these things were like a dream.

Let us fear God, beloved, let us fear him. Even if we are in captivity, we are more glorious than all people. Let the fear of God be with us, and nothing will be hard to bear — speak of poverty, or disease, or captivity, or slavery, or any other hard thing you like. No, these very things will turn around and work together for our good. These men were captives, and the king worshiped them. Paul was a tentmaker, and they offered sacrifice to him as a god.

Here a question arises. Why, you ask, did the apostles stop the sacrifices, tear their clothes, turn the people from what they were attempting, and say with earnest lamentation, “What are you doing? We too are men, of the same nature as you” (Acts 14, verse 15), while Daniel did nothing of the kind? For that he too was humble, and gave the glory to God no less than they did, is clear from many passages. It is clearest of all from the very fact that he was loved by God. If he had claimed for himself the honor that belongs to God, God would not have let him live, much less be held in honor. Second, he said with great boldness, “As for me, O king, this secret has not been revealed to me through any wisdom that is in me” (Daniel 2, verse 30). And again: he was in the den for God’s sake, and when the prophet brought him food, he says, “For God has remembered me” (Bel and the Dragon, verse 38). So humble was he, so crushed in heart. [s]

He was in the den for God’s sake, and yet he counted himself unworthy of God’s remembrance and of being heard. Yet we, who dare countless defilements and are the most defiled of all people, draw back if we are not heard at our first prayer. Truly, the distance between them and us is as great as between heaven and earth, or greater, if there is any greater.

What are you saying? After so many achievements, after the miracle worked in the den, do you think so humbly of yourself? “Yes, for whatever we have done, ‘we are worthless servants’ (Luke 17, verse 10).” So he fulfilled the command of the good news ahead of time, and counted himself nothing. “For God has remembered me,” he said. And his prayer, again — how full of lowliness of mind it is! And again, the three young men spoke this way: “We have sinned, we have done wrong” (Song of the Three Young Men, verse 6). Everywhere they show their humility.

And yet Daniel had countless occasions for growing proud. But he knew that these too had come to him because he was not proud, and he did not throw away his treasure. He was famous among all people, in the whole world — not only because the king fell on his face and offered sacrifice to him and counted him a god, a king who was himself honored as a god in every part of the world. For he ruled over the whole earth. This is clear from Jeremiah: “He puts on the earth,” he says, “like a garment” (see Jeremiah 43, verse 12, and Psalm 104, verse 2); and again, “I have given it to Nebuchadnezzar my servant” (Jeremiah 27, verse 6); and again from what the king himself says in his letter. Daniel was famous also because he was admired not only where he was but everywhere — and this was greater than if all the other nations had been present and seen him — since the king confessed his submission and the miracle even in letters. And again, he was admired for his wisdom, for it is said, “Are you wiser than Daniel?” (Ezekiel 28, verse 3). And after all these things he was this humble, dying ten thousand times for the Lord’s sake. Why, then, you ask, if he was so humble, did he not refuse either the worship the king paid him or the offerings?

This I will not tell you. It is enough for me simply to raise the question, and the rest I leave to you, so that in this way at least I may stir up your thoughts. (This much, though, I beg of you: with such examples before you, choose everything for the fear of God; for truly we will obtain the things here too, if we sincerely lay hold of the things to come.) That he did not do this out of arrogance is clear from his saying, “Keep your gifts for yourself” (Daniel 5, verse 17). [x]

For besides this there is yet another question: how, while he refused the honor in words, he accepted it in deed and wore the gold chain (Daniel 5, verse 29).

Moreover, when Herod heard the shout, “It is the voice of a god and not of a man,” then, because “he did not give God the glory,” he “burst open, and all his bowels gushed out” (Acts 12, verses 22 and 23; see Acts 1, verse 18). Yet this man received even the honor that belongs to God, not words only.

But we must say what the answer is. In that case, at Lystra, the people were falling into greater idolatry; in this case, not so. How? Because Daniel’s being thought of so highly was an honor to God. That is why he said beforehand, “As for me, it was not through any wisdom that is in me” (Daniel 2, verse 30). Besides, he does not even seem to have accepted the offerings. The king ordered, as it is written, that they should offer sacrifice, but it does not appear that the deed followed. But there, at Lystra, they went as far as sacrificing the bulls, and “they called” the one “Zeus” and the other “Hermes” (Acts 14, verse 12).

The chain, then, he accepted, so as to make himself known. But the offering — why does it not appear that he rejected it? For in the other case too the people did not carry it out; they attempted it, and the apostles stopped them. So here too he ought to have rejected the worship at once. And there it was the whole people; here, the king. Why he did not turn the king from it, Daniel made clear beforehand: the king was not making an offering to him as to a god, to the overthrow of true worship, but to make the wonder greater. How so? It was for God’s sake that Nebuchadnezzar made the decree; that is why Daniel did not cut short the honor offered. But the people at Lystra did not act that way; they supposed the apostles really were gods. That is why they were refused.

And here the king does these things after paying him homage, for he did not pay him homage as a god, but as a wise man. But it is not clear that he made the offering; and even if he did make it, it is not clear that it was with Daniel’s consent.

And what of the fact that he called him “Belteshazzar, the name of” his own “god”? It seems they thought their gods nothing so wonderful, when he gave that name even to a captive — he who commands all people to worship the image, many-formed and many-colored, and who worships the dragon. Besides, the Babylonians were much more foolish than the people of Lystra, so it was not possible to lead them on to this all at once. Much more might be said, but this is enough for now.

If, then, we want to obtain all good things, let us seek the things of God. For just as those who seek the things of this world fail to get both these and the others, so those who put the things of God first obtain both. So let us not seek these but those, so that we may also attain the good things promised in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power and honor, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.