Homily 27 — Hebrews 11, verses 28 to 36

“Through faith he kept the Passover and the sprinkling of blood, so that the one who destroyed the firstborn would not touch them. By faith they passed through the Red Sea as on dry land; when the Egyptians tried to do the same, they were drowned. By faith the walls of Jericho fell down, after they had been circled for seven days. By faith the prostitute Rahab did not perish with those who did not believe, when she had received the spies in peace.” [a]

Paul often settles many things in passing, and he is very full of thoughts. Such is the grace of the Spirit: he does not wrap a few ideas in a great many words, but packs great and varied thought into a few short phrases. Look, at least, how in the middle of his encouragement, while he is speaking about faith, he reminds us of a type and a mystery whose reality we now possess. “Through faith,” he says, “he kept the Passover and the sprinkling of blood, so that the one who destroyed the firstborn would not touch them.”

But what is “the sprinkling of blood”? A lamb was slaughtered in every household, and its blood was smeared on the doorposts, and this kept off the destruction that fell on Egypt. If, then, the blood of a lamb kept the Jews unharmed in the middle of the Egyptians, and under so great a destruction, much more will the blood of Christ save us, who have had it sprinkled not on our doorposts but in our souls. For even now the Destroyer is going about in this deep night; but let us be armed with that Sacrifice. (By “sprinkling” he means the smearing.) For God has brought us out of Egypt, out of darkness, out of idolatry.

What was done was nothing; what was achieved was great. What was done was blood; but what was achieved was salvation, and the halting and holding back of destruction. The angel feared the blood, for he knew what it was a type of. He shuddered, thinking of the Lord’s death, and so he did not touch the doorposts.

Moses said, “Smear it,” and they smeared it and were confident. And you, who have the blood of the Lamb himself, are you not confident?

“By faith they passed through the Red Sea as on dry land.” Here again he sets one whole people beside another, so that they could not say, “We cannot be like the saints.” [c]

“By faith,” he says, “they passed through the Red Sea as on dry land; when the Egyptians tried to do the same, they were drowned.” Here he also leads them to remember the sufferings in Egypt.

How was it “by faith”? Because they had hoped to pass through the sea, and so they prayed; or rather, it was Moses who prayed. Do you see that everywhere faith rises above human reasoning, above weakness and lowliness? Do you see that at one and the same time they both believed and feared punishment, both with the blood on the doors and at the Red Sea?

And he made it clear that it really was water, and not a mere appearance, by those who fell into it and were choked. In the case of the lions it was those who were devoured who proved that the facts were real, and in the case of the fiery furnace it was those who were burned; so here too you see the same things become salvation and glory to the one side and destruction to the other.

So great a good is faith. When we fall into perplexity, that is when we are delivered, even if we come to death itself, even if our situation is desperate. For what else was left for them? They were unarmed, hemmed in by the Egyptians and by the sea. If they fled, they must be drowned; if not, they must fall into the hands of the Egyptians. And yet he saved them out of impossibilities. What was spread under the one people as land overwhelmed the other as sea. In the first case the sea forgot its own nature; in the second it even armed itself against them (compare Wisdom 19, verse 20).

“By faith the walls of Jericho fell down, after they had been circled for seven days.” Certainly the sound of trumpets cannot throw down stones, not even if someone blew for ten thousand years; but faith can do all things. [e]

Do you see that in every case nothing came about by natural sequence, and nothing was changed by any law of nature, but everything was done against all expectation? So in this case too, everything is done against expectation. Since he had said again and again that we ought to trust in the hopes of what is to come, he was right to bring in this whole argument, showing that not only now, but from the very beginning, all the miracles have been accomplished and achieved by means of faith.

“By faith the prostitute Rahab did not perish with those who did not believe, having received the spies in peace.” It would be a disgrace, then, if you turned out to have less faith than even a prostitute. She merely heard what the men reported, and at once she believed. And the outcome followed: when everyone else perished, she alone was saved. She did not say to herself, “I will be with my many friends.” She did not say, “Can I really be wiser than these sensible men who do not believe? And am I to believe?” She said nothing of the kind, but believed what had happened, and what they were likely to suffer.

(Verse 32) “And what more shall I say? For time would fail me to tell…” After this he no longer sets down the names. He ended with a prostitute and put them to shame by the kind of person she was, and now he no longer enlarges on the stories, so as not to seem tedious. Yet he does not set them aside either; he runs over them quickly. In both he acts very wisely: he avoids wearying them, and he does not spoil the close ordering of his argument. He neither falls silent altogether nor speaks so as to annoy; he manages both. For when someone is arguing hard and keeps on arguing, he wears out the listener, annoying him when he is already persuaded, and he gets a name for an empty love of show. A speaker ought to fit himself to what is useful. [f]

“And what more shall I say?” he says. “For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, and of Barak, and of Samson, and of Jephthah, of David also, and Samuel, and the prophets.”

Some find fault with Paul for putting Barak and Samson and Jephthah in this place. What are you saying? After bringing in the prostitute, is he not to bring in these? Do not talk to me about the rest of their lives; tell me only whether they did not believe and shine in faith.

“And the prophets,” he says, (verse 33) “who through faith conquered kingdoms.” You see that here he is not bearing witness that their lives were outstanding; that was not the point in question. The question so far has been about their faith. Tell me, did they not accomplish everything by faith?

“By faith,” he says, “they conquered kingdoms”: that is, Gideon and his men.

“Worked righteousness”: who did? The same men. By righteousness here he plainly means kindness.

I think it is of David that he says, “they obtained promises.” And what sort of promises were these? Those in which he said that David’s “offspring” would “sit on” his “throne” (Psalm 132, verse 12).

“Shut the mouths of lions,” (verse 34) “quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword.” See how they were in the very face of death: Daniel surrounded by the lions, the three young men remaining in the furnace, the Israelites, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in all kinds of trials; and even so they did not despair. For this is faith: when things are going against us, that is when we ought to believe that nothing is going against us, but that all things are happening in their proper order.

“Escaped the edge of the sword”: I think he is again speaking of the three young men.

“Out of weakness were made strong.” Here he alludes to what happened at their return from Babylon, for “out of weakness” means out of captivity. When the condition of the Jews had become desperate, when they were no better than dead bones, who could have expected that they would return from Babylon, and not only return, but also “become mighty in war” and “put foreign armies to flight”? But someone says, “Nothing of the kind has happened to us.” But these things are foreshadowings of “the things to come.”

Verse 35: “Women received their dead raised to life again.” Here he is speaking of what happened in the days of the prophets Elisha and Elijah, for they raised the dead.

Verse 35: “And others were tortured, not accepting release, so that they might obtain a better resurrection.” “But we have not received any resurrection.” Yet I can show, he means, that these too were cut off, and did “not accept release, so that they might obtain a better resurrection.” Tell me, why did they not choose to live, when it was open to them? Were they not plainly looking for a better life? And those who had raised others chose to die themselves, in order “to obtain a better resurrection”: not one like that of those women’s children. [k]

Here I think he alludes both to John and to James, for beheading is called “torturing.” They could have gone on looking at the sun. They could have kept from rebuking sinners. And yet they chose to die; even they who had raised others chose to die themselves, “so that they might obtain a better resurrection.”

Verse 36: “And others experienced cruel mockings and floggings, and even chains and imprisonment.” He ends with these, with things that come closer to home. For these examples above all bring comfort when the suffering springs from the same cause; even if you mention something more extreme, unless it springs from the same cause you have accomplished nothing. That is why he closed his account with this, mentioning “chains, imprisonments, floggings, stonings,” alluding to the case of Stephen and also to that of Zechariah.

That is why he added, “They were killed with the sword.” What are you saying? Some “escaped the edge of the sword” (verse 34), and some “were killed with the sword.” What does this mean? Which do you praise? Which do you admire, the second or the first? No, he says: the first suits your case, and the second does too, because faith was strong even to death itself, and it is a type of things to come. For faith has two wonderful qualities: it both accomplishes great things and suffers great things, and counts itself to suffer nothing.

He says, “You cannot say that these were sinners and worthless people. For even if you set the whole world against them, I find that they weigh down the beam of the scale and are worth more.” What, then, were they to receive in this life? Here he lifts up their thoughts, teaching them not to be fastened to the things of the present, but to set their minds on things greater than everything in this present life, since “the world is not worthy” of them. What, then, do you want to receive here? It would be an insult to you if you received your reward here.

So let us not set our minds on worldly things, or look for our reward here, or be so beggarly. If “the” whole “world is not worthy of” them, why do you chase after a part of it? And rightly so, for they are friends of God. [o]

Now by “the world” does he mean the people, or the creation itself? Both, for Scripture usually uses the word of both. If the whole creation, he means, with the human beings who belong to it, were put on the scale, it still would not be equal in value to these men, and rightly so. Ten thousand measures of chaff and hay would not equal the value of ten pearls, and no more would they. For “one who does the will of the Lord is better than ten thousand transgressors” (Sirach 16, verse 3), meaning by “ten thousand” not merely many, but a countless multitude.

Consider how great the worth of a righteous man is. Joshua the son of Nun said, “Let the sun stand still at Gibeon, and the moon at the valley of Aijalon” (Joshua 10, verse 12), and it was so. Now let the whole world come, or rather two or three or four or ten or twenty worlds, and let them say this and do it; they will not be able to. But the friend of God gave orders to the creatures of his Friend, or rather he begged his Friend, and the servants yielded, and the one below gave commands to those above. Do you see that these created things exist to serve, running their appointed course?

This was greater than the miracles of Moses. Why, I ask? Because commanding the sea is not the same as commanding the bodies of heaven. That too was a great thing, yes, very great; but it was not at all equal to this.

Why did this happen? The name of Joshua, which is Jesus, was a type. For this reason, then, and because of the very name, the creation showed him reverence. What then? Was no one else called Jesus? Yes, others were; but this man was called so as a type, for he used to be called Hoshea. That is why his name was changed: it was a prediction and a prophecy. He brought the people into the promised land, as Jesus does into heaven; it was not the law that brought them in, since Moses did not bring them in either, but stayed outside. The law has no power to bring anyone in; grace does. Do you see the types that were sketched out beforehand from the very beginning? He laid his commands on the creation, or rather on the chief part of the creation, on its very head, while he stood below, so that when you see Jesus in the form of a man saying the same things, you would not be troubled or think it strange. Even while Moses was alive, he turned back wars. So too, even while the law is alive, he directs all things, but not openly.

But let us consider how great the virtue of the saints is. If here they accomplish such things, if here they do what the angels do, what will it be above? How great is the splendor they have? [s]

Perhaps each of you would like to be able to command the sun and the moon. (At this point, what would they say who claim that the heavens are a sphere? Why did he not simply say, “Let the sun stand still,” but added, “Let the sun stand still at the valley of Aijalon,” that is, he will make the day longer? This was done also in the time of Hezekiah: the sun went back. And this again is more wonderful than the other, that it should go the opposite way before it had completed its course.)

We will attain to greater things than these, if we want to. For what has Christ promised us? Not that we will make the sun or the moon stand still, nor that the sun will retrace its steps. What, then? “I and the Father will come to him,” he says, “and we will make our home with him” (John 14, verse 23). What need do I have of the sun and the moon, and of these wonders, when the Lord of all himself comes down and stays with me? I do not need them. What need do I have of any of these things? He himself will be my sun and my light. Tell me: if you had gone into a palace, which would you choose, to be able to rearrange some of the things that are fixed in place there, or to make the king so close a friend that you could persuade him to come and live with you? Far rather the second than the first.

But someone says, “What is so wonderful about Christ commanding what a man commanded?” But Christ, you say, does not need the Father, and acts on his own authority. Good. Then first confess it, and say that he does not need the Father and acts on his own authority; and then I will ask you whether his prayer was not a matter of stooping down to meet us and of arrangement (for surely Christ was not inferior to Joshua the son of Nun), and so that he might teach us. [u]

When you hear a teacher talking like a little child and reciting the alphabet, you do not say that he is ignorant. And when he asks, “Where is such and such a letter?” you know that he does not ask out of ignorance, but because he wants to lead the pupil on. In the same way Christ did not pray as one who needed prayer, but because he wanted to lead you on, so that you would keep applying yourself to prayer, and pray without ceasing, soberly, and with great watchfulness.

And by watchfulness I do not mean only getting up at night, but also being sober in our prayers during the day; such a person, too, is called watchful. For it is possible both to be asleep while praying at night and to be awake while praying by day: when the soul is stretched out toward God, when it considers with whom it is speaking and to whom its words are addressed, when it keeps in mind that angels stand by in fear and trembling, while the man himself comes forward yawning and scratching himself.

Prayer is a mighty weapon, if it is offered with the right frame of mind. And so that you may learn its strength: persistent asking has overcome shamelessness, and injustice, and savage cruelty, and reckless arrogance. For he says, “Hear what the unjust judge says” (Luke 18, verse 6). Again, it has overcome laziness too, and what friendship did not accomplish, persistent asking did: “Even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend,” he says, “yet because of his persistence he will get up and give him” (Luke 11, verse 8). And persistence made a woman worthy who was unworthy. “It is not right,” he says, “to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” “Yes, Lord,” she says, “for even the dogs eat the crumbs from their master’s table” (Matthew 15, verses 26 and 27). [v]

Let us apply ourselves to prayer. It is a mighty weapon if it is offered with earnestness, if without empty glory, if with a sincere mind. It has turned back wars; it has benefited a whole nation, undeserving as it was. “I have heard their groaning,” he says, “and have come down to deliver them” (Acts 7, verse 34). It is itself a medicine that saves, and it has power to prevent sins and to heal wrongdoing. The widow left all alone was devoted to it (First Timothy 5, verse 5). If, then, we pray with humility, beating our breasts like the tax collector, if we say what he said, “Be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18, verse 13), we will obtain everything. For even if we are not tax collectors, we have other sins no smaller than his.

Do not tell me that you have gone wrong only in some small matter, for the thing has the same nature. A man is called a murderer equally whether he has killed a child or a grown man; so too a man is called greedy whether his greed reaches for much or for little. Yes, and remembering wrongs is no small matter either, but a great sin. For it is said, “The ways of those who remember wrongs lead to death” (Proverbs 12, verse 28, in the Greek Old Testament). And, “Whoever is angry with his brother without a cause will be in danger of hell,” and whoever “calls his brother a fool” (Matthew 5, verse 22), or senseless, and countless things like these.

But we even share in the awesome mysteries unworthily, and we envy, and we insult. Some of us have often even been drunk. Yet each one of these things, even by itself alone, is enough to throw us out of the kingdom; and when they all come together, what comfort will we have? We need much repentance, beloved, much prayer, much endurance, much perseverance, so that we may be able to attain the good things that have been promised to us.

So let us say it too: “Be merciful to me, a sinner.” Or rather, let us not only say it, but also think it; and if someone else calls us that, let us not be angry. The tax collector heard the words, “I am not like this tax collector” (Luke 18, verse 11), and he was not provoked by them, but was pierced with heartfelt sorrow. He accepted the reproach, and he put the reproach away. The other spoke of the wound, and he looked for the medicine. So let us say, “Be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18, verse 13); but even if someone else calls us that, let us not be indignant. [x]

But if we say ten thousand bad things about ourselves, and are annoyed when we hear them from others, then it is no longer humility or confession, but showing off and empty glory. You say, “Is it showing off to call oneself a sinner?” Yes. For we get the credit for humility; we are admired, we are praised; whereas if we said the opposite about ourselves, we would be despised. So we do this too for the sake of reputation. But what is humility? It is bearing it when someone else insults us, admitting our fault, putting up with abuse. And yet even this would be a mark not of humility but of honesty. But as it is, we call ourselves sinners, unworthy, and ten thousand other such names; yet if someone else applies one of them to us, we are annoyed, we turn savage. Do you see that this is not confession, nor even honesty? You said of yourself that you are such a person; do not be indignant if you hear others say it too, and are rebuked.

In this way your sins are made lighter for you, when others reproach you. They lay a burden on themselves, but you they lead onward into philosophy. Listen to what the blessed David says when Shimei cursed him: “Let him alone,” he says, “for the Lord has told him to, so that he might look on my humiliation; and the Lord will repay me with good for his cursing this day” (Second Samuel 16, verses 11 and 12).

But you, while you say bad things about yourself, even to excess, fly into a rage if you do not hear from others the praise that belongs to the most righteous. Do you see that you are playing with things that are not to be played with? We even refuse praise because we want other praise, so that we may win still higher tributes and be admired all the more. So when we decline to accept praise, we do it in order to increase it. Everything we do is done for reputation, not for truth. That is why everything is hollow, everything useless. So I beg you, now at least, to draw back from this mother of evils, empty glory, and to live by what God approves, so that you may attain the good things to come, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom be glory to the Father, together with his Holy and good Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.