Homily 55 — Matthew 16, verses 24 to 27

“Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone wants to come after me, let him renounce himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.’” [a]

“Then.” When? When Peter had said, “Far be it from you; this will not happen to you,” and had been told, “Get behind me, Satan.” For he was by no means satisfied with the bare rebuke. He wanted to show still more fully both how wildly wrong Peter’s words were and how much good his own suffering would bring. So he says: “Your word to me is, ‘Far be it from you; this will not happen to you.’ But my word to you is this: not only is it harmful and ruinous for you to stand in my way and to be displeased at my suffering, but you cannot even be saved unless you yourself too are always prepared for death.”

So that they would not think his suffering unworthy of him, he teaches them what is gained by it — not only from what had gone before, but also from what was about to come. In John he says first, “Unless the grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” But here he works it out more fully, and puts forward the statement that it is right to die not about himself only, but about them too: “For so great is the profit of it that for you too, being unwilling to die is a grievous thing, and being ready for it is good.”

He makes this clear, however, by what follows; for the present he works it out on one side only. And see how he also makes his teaching beyond objection. He does not say at all, “Whether you want to or not, you must suffer this.” But how does he put it? “If anyone wants to come after me.” “I do not force you, I do not compel you; I make each one master of his own choice. That is why I say, ‘If anyone wants to.’ For I am calling you to good things, not to evil or burdensome ones; not to punishment and vengeance, that I should have to compel you. No, the nature of the thing is enough by itself to draw you.”

By speaking this way he drew them to himself all the more. For the one who uses compulsion often turns people away, but the one who leaves the hearer free to choose draws him more. Gentle persuasion is a stronger thing than force. That is why he himself said, “If anyone wants to.” He says: “For great are the good things I give you — so great that people should run to them even of their own accord. If someone were giving away gold and offering a treasure, he would not invite people by force. And if that invitation comes without compulsion, much more this one, to the good things in heaven. If the nature of the thing does not persuade you to run, you are not worthy to receive it at all; and even if you did receive it, you would not really know what you had received.”

That is why Christ does not compel, but urges, sparing us. For since they seemed to be muttering a good deal, quietly troubled by what he had said, he says: “There is no need to be troubled or upset. If you do not count what I have spoken of as the cause of countless blessings, even when it happens to you yourselves, I use no force and I do not compel you. But if anyone is willing to follow, him I call.”

“Do not by any means imagine that this is what following me is — I mean, what you are doing now, going around with me. You need many labors, many dangers, if you are to come after me. You must not, Peter, expect only crowns because you have confessed me as Son of God, and suppose that this is enough for your salvation, and that from now on you can live in security, as though you had done everything. For although it is in my power, as Son of God, to keep you from any experience of those hardships at all, that is not my will, for your own sake — so that you too may contribute something yourself and be more highly approved.”

Think of a judge at the games who has a friend among the competitors. He would not want to crown him by favor alone, but for his own efforts as well — and for this reason above all, because he loves him. Christ is the same. Those he loves most are the very ones he most wants to prove themselves by their own efforts too, and not by his help alone.

But see how at the same time he keeps his saying from being a harsh one. He does not surround them alone with these fearful words; he sets the teaching out for the whole world, saying, “If anyone wants to” — woman or man, ruler or subject — let him come this way.

And though he seems to have said only one thing, there are three sayings here: “Let him renounce himself,” and “Let him bear his cross,” and “Let him follow me.” Two of them are joined together, and one stands by itself. [b]

But let us see first what it can mean to deny oneself. Let us first learn what it is to deny someone else, and then we will know what it may be to deny oneself. What, then, is it to deny someone else? A person who denies someone else — a brother, say, or a servant, or whoever you like — if he sees him beaten, or bound, or led off to execution, or suffering anything at all, does not stand by him, does not help him, is not moved, feels nothing for him, because he has cut himself off from him once and for all. In the same way, then, he wants us to disregard our own body, so that whether people flog it, or banish it, or burn it, or do anything else to it, we do not spare it. For this is really to spare it. Fathers, too, spare their children most when they hand them over to teachers and tell them not to spare them.

So it is with Christ. He did not say, “Let him not spare himself,” but, much more strictly, “Let him renounce himself” — that is, let him have nothing to do with himself, but give himself up to every danger and struggle, and let him feel as though someone else were suffering it all. And he did not say, “Let him deny,” but, “Let him renounce,” hinting once more, even by this small addition, how very far it goes. For the second is more than the first.

“And let him take up his cross.” This grows out of the first. So that you would not suppose that words, insults and abuse are the limits of our renouncing ourselves, he also says how far one ought to renounce oneself: to the point of death, and a shameful death at that. That is why he did not say, “Let him renounce himself to the point of death,” but, “Let him take up his cross,” setting before us the shameful death, and showing that one must do this not once or twice, but all through life. He says: “Yes, carry this death around with you continually, and be ready day by day to be slaughtered. For many have looked down on riches and pleasure and glory, but they did not despise death; they were afraid of danger. But I want my champion to wrestle even to the point of blood, and the course of his race to reach as far as slaughter. So even if one must undergo death — a death with disgrace, the accursed death, and that on an evil suspicion — we are to bear it all nobly, and rather to rejoice in being suspected.”

“And let him follow me.” It is possible to suffer and yet not follow him, when one does not suffer for his sake. Robbers, for example, often suffer terribly, and those who break into tombs, and sorcerers. So that you would not suppose that the mere nature of your troubles is enough, he adds the reason for these troubles.

And what is that reason? That in doing and suffering all this you may follow him; that you may undergo everything for his sake; that you may have the other virtues as well. For this too is meant by “Let him follow me”: that we show not only courage, the kind that is exercised in our troubles, but also self-control, and moderation, and every kind of restraint. For this is what “following” properly is: to give attention to the other virtues as well, and to suffer everything for his sake.

For there are people who follow the devil even to the point of enduring all this, and give up their own lives for his sake. We do it for Christ — or rather for our own sakes. They do it to harm themselves, both here and there; we, so that we may gain both lives. How, then, is it not the height of sluggishness if we do not show even the same courage as those who are perishing — and this when we are to reap so many crowns from it? And yet Christ himself is with us to help us, while no one is with them.

He had in fact already given this very command when he sent them out, saying, “Do not go into the way of the Gentiles” — for he says, “I send you out as sheep in the middle of wolves,” and, “You will be brought before kings and governors.” But now he gives it with more intensity and severity. Then he spoke of death only; here he has mentioned a cross as well, and a continual cross. For he says, “Let him take up his cross” — that is, let him carry it continually and bear it. And this is what he usually does in everything: he brings in the greater commandments not at the first, not from the beginning, but quietly and little by little, so that his hearers will not find them strange.

Then, because the saying seemed harsh, see how he softens it by what follows. He sets out rewards that surpass our labors — and not rewards only, but also the penalties of wickedness. In fact he dwells on these more than on the rewards, since it is not so much his giving of blessings as his threat of hard things that usually brings ordinary people to their senses. See, at any rate, how he both begins here with this and ends with it. [e]

“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it,” he says, “but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what does a man profit if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?”

What he is saying amounts to this: “I give you these commands not because I have no wish to spare you, but because I spare you very much indeed. For the one who spares his child ruins it; but the one who does not spare it keeps it safe.” A certain wise man said the same thing: “If you beat your son with a rod, he will not die, but you will deliver his soul from death.” And again: “He who pampers his son will bind up his wounds.”

The same thing happens in an army too. If the general, to spare his soldiers, orders them to stay inside the walls all the time, he will destroy the inhabitants along with them. He says: “So that this does not happen to you too, you must be drawn up in battle order to face continual death. For even now a terrible war is about to break out. So do not sit inside; go out and fight. And if you fall at your post, then you have won life.”

For in the wars we can see, the man who is killed at his post is more honored than the rest, and harder to conquer, and more fearsome to the enemy — even though we know that after his death the king for whom he took his stand cannot raise him up again. How much more, in these wars, when there are such hopes of resurrection besides, will the one who exposes his own life to death find it! In one sense, because he will not be quickly taken; in another, because even if he falls, God will lead his life on to a higher life.

Then, because he had said, “Whoever wants to save it will lose it, but whoever loses it will save it,” and had set a saving and a losing on one side and a saving and a losing on the other, he wanted to keep anyone from imagining that the one losing and saving are the same as the other. He wanted to teach you plainly that the difference between this saving and that one is as great as the difference between losing and saving. So, arguing from the opposites, he draws a conclusion that settles these points once and for all.

“For what does a man profit,” he says, “if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul?”

Do you see how saving it wrongly is losing it — and worse than any loss, since it is past remedy, because there is nothing more with which to buy it back? For he says: “Do not tell me that the man who has escaped such dangers has saved his life. Put the whole world alongside his life too: what profit does he have from it, if the soul perishes?” Tell me, if you saw your servants living in luxury and yourself in the direst misery, would you gain anything by being their master? Not at all. Make the same reckoning, then, about your soul, when the flesh lives in luxury and wealth while the soul waits for the destruction to come.

“What will a man give in exchange for his soul?”

Again he dwells on the same point. He says: “What? Do you have another soul to give for this soul?” If you lose money, you can give money for it; or a house, or slaves, or any other kind of possession. But for your soul, if you lose it, you will have no other soul to give. Yes, even if you had the world, even if you were king of the whole earth, you could not buy back even one soul by paying down all the goods of the earth, and the earth itself with them.

And what wonder if it is so with the soul, when one can see it turn out the same way even with the body? Though you wear ten thousand diadems, if you have a body that is sickly by nature and past curing, you will not be able to restore that body even by giving your whole kingdom — no, not even if you add countless people, and cities, and goods.

I urge you, then, to reason this way about your soul too — or rather, much more so about the soul. Leave everything else and spend all your care on it. Do not look after other people’s things and neglect yourself and what is your own. Yet that is what everyone does now, like those who work in the mines. They get no profit from their labor, or from the wealth; rather, great harm, because they run a useless risk, and run it for others, reaping no benefit from all their toil and dying. Many even now imitate them, digging up wealth for others. Or rather, we are more wretched even than they, since hell itself awaits us after all our labors. For death brings their toil to an end, but for us death turns out to be the beginning of countless evils.

But if you say that you have the fruit of your labors in your wealth, show me your soul made glad, and then I will be convinced. For of everything in us, the soul is chief. If the body is fattened while the soul is wasting away, this prosperity is nothing to you — just as, when the maid is glad, the servant’s happiness is nothing to her mistress if the mistress is dying, and a fine robe is nothing compared with sick flesh. No, Christ will say to you again, “What will a man give in exchange for his soul?” — commanding you on every side to be busy about that, and to take account of it alone.

Having alarmed them by these words, then, he also comforts them with his good things. [g]

“For the Son of Man will come,” he says, “in the glory of his Father with his holy angels, and then he will repay each person according to his works.”

Do you see that the glory of the Father and of the Son is one and the same? But if the glory is one, it is quite plain that the substance is one too. For if within one substance there is a difference of glory — “for there is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differs from another star in glory,” although the substance is one — how can the substance of those whose glory is one be different? For he did not say at all, “In glory like the Father’s,” which might again lead you to suppose some difference. No, to show complete perfection, he says he will come “in that same glory,” so that it would be taken as one and the same.

“Now why are you afraid, Peter,” he says, “when you are told of death? Why, then you will see me in the glory of the Father. And if I am in glory, so are you. Your concerns are in no way bounded by the present life; another kind of lot, a better one, will receive you.”

Yet when he had spoken of the good things, he did not stop there, but mixed in the fearful things too, bringing before them that judgment seat, the account no one can escape, the sentence that cannot be bent, and the judgment that cannot be deceived.

Still, he did not let his words seem only gloomy; he tempered them with good hopes too. For he did not say, “Then he will punish those who have sinned,” but, “He will repay each person according to what he has done.” And he said this to remind not only the sinners of punishment, but also those who have done well of prizes and crowns.

He said it, indeed, partly to refresh the good. But I always shudder when I hear it, for I am not one of those who are crowned; and I suppose others share our fear and anxiety too. For whom is this saying not enough to startle, once he has gone into his own conscience? Whom does it not make shudder, and convince that we need sackcloth and long fasting more than the people of Nineveh did? For our concern is not the overthrow of a city and the end that comes to everyone, but eternal punishment and the fire that is never put out. [h]

That is why I praise and admire the monks who have taken over the desert places — for everything else, and for this saying too. After they have had their dinner — or rather, after supper, for they never know what dinner is, because they know that the present time is a time of mourning and fasting — after supper, then, when they sing certain hymns of thanksgiving to God, they mention this saying too. And if you would like to hear the hymns themselves, so that you too may say them continually, I will recite the whole of that sacred song for you. These are its words:

“Blessed God, you who feed me from my youth, who give food to all flesh: fill our hearts with joy and gladness, so that, always having all sufficiency, we may abound to every good work in Christ Jesus our Lord; with whom be glory, honor and might to you, with the Holy Spirit, forever. Amen. Glory to you, O Lord; glory to you, O Holy One; glory to you, O King, because you have given us food to make us glad. Fill us with the Holy Spirit, so that we may be found well-pleasing before you, not put to shame, when you repay each one according to his works.”

This hymn deserves admiration in every part, but especially its ending. Because meals and food tend to make people careless and weigh them down, they put this saying on the soul like a bridle, reminding it of the time of judgment at the very time of indulgence. For they have learned what happened to Israel through a lavish table. “My beloved,” it says, “ate, and grew fat, and kicked.” That is why Moses also said, “When you have eaten and drunk and are full, remember the Lord your God.” For it was after that feast that they dared those lawless deeds.

So you too, watch out that nothing like it happens to you. For though you do not sacrifice sheep or bulls to stone or to gold, see that you do not sacrifice your own soul to anger, or your own salvation to sexual immorality or other passions like it. Yes, that is why, afraid of these falls, when they have enjoyed their meal — or rather their fast, for their meal is really fasting — they remind themselves of the terrible judgment seat and of that day. And if those who discipline themselves with fasting, with nights spent on the ground, with keeping watch, with sackcloth, and by ten thousand other means, still need this reminder too, when will it be possible for us to live virtuously — we who set out tables loaded with countless shipwrecks, and do not even pray at all, either at the beginning or at the end?

So, to put an end to these shipwrecks, let us set that hymn before us and unfold the whole of it, so that when we see how much good it does, we too may sing it constantly at our table and calm the unruly stirrings of the belly, bringing the ways and the laws of those angels into our own houses. You really ought to go out there and gather these fruits yourselves; but since you are not willing, at least hear this spiritual song through our words, and let each of you say these words after his meal, beginning like this. [j]

“Blessed God.” Right away they fulfill the apostle’s law, which commands, “Whatever we do in word or in deed, we are to do it in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, giving thanks to God and the Father through him.”

Next, the thanksgiving is given not for that one day only, but for the whole of their life. For it says, “you who feed me from my youth.” And a lesson in self-mastery is drawn from this: when God is the one who feeds us, we must not be anxious. For if a king promised to supply your daily food from his own stores, you would feel confident about the future. How much more, when God gives and everything pours down on you as if from springs, should you be free from all anxiety! Indeed, this is the very reason they speak this way: to persuade both themselves and those they are training as disciples to put away all worldly care.

Then, so that you will not suppose they offer this thanksgiving for themselves only, they go on to say, “who give food to all flesh,” giving thanks on behalf of the whole world. Like fathers of the whole earth, they offer their praises for everyone, and train themselves in sincere brotherly love. For they cannot possibly hate those on whose behalf they thank God that they are fed.

Do you see how love is brought in by their thanksgiving, and worldly care driven out, both by the words before and by these? For if he feeds all flesh, much more those who are devoted to him; if he feeds those who are tangled up in worldly cares, much more those who are free of them. To establish this, Christ himself said, “How many sparrows are you worth more than?” He said it to teach them not to put their confidence in wealth and land and seed; for it is not these that feed us, but the word of God.

By this they shut the mouths of the Manichaeans, and of the followers of Valentinus, and of all who are sick with the same disease. For surely this Being is not evil, who sets out his own stores before everyone, even before those who blaspheme him.

Then comes the petition: “Fill our hearts with joy and gladness.” What kind of joy does it mean? The joy of this world? Far from it! If they had meant this, they would not have taken over the mountaintops and the deserts, or wrapped themselves in sackcloth. No, they mean the joy that has nothing in common with this present life: the joy of angels, the joy above.

And they do not simply ask for it, but ask for it in overflowing measure. They do not say “give,” but “fill”; and they do not say “us,” but “our hearts.” For this above all is joy of the heart: “For the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace.” So, since sin brought in sorrow, they ask that through joy righteousness may be planted in them; for in no other way could joy be born.

“So that, always having all sufficiency, we may abound to every good work.” See how they fulfill that word of the Gospel which says, “Give us this day our daily bread,” and how they seek even this for spiritual ends. For what they say is, “so that we may abound to every good work.” They did not say, “so that we may do only our duty,” but “even more than what is commanded” — for that is what “so that we may abound” means. And while they ask God for enough of what is needful, they themselves are willing to obey not just enough, but in great abundance, and in everything. This is the mark of well-disposed servants, of people strict in goodness: to abound always, and in everything.

Then, reminding themselves again of their own weakness, and that nothing noble can be done without the help that comes from above, after saying, “so that we may abound to every good work,” they add, “in Christ Jesus our Lord; with whom be glory, honor and might to you forever. Amen.” So they make this ending like their beginning, weaving it with a thread of thanksgiving.

After this they seem to begin all over again, but they are keeping to the same thread. Paul does the same at the beginning of a letter: he closes with a doxology, saying, “according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be glory forever. Amen,” and then takes up again the subject he was writing about. And in another place, after saying, “They worshiped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Amen,” he did not end his discussion there, but begins again. So let us not blame these angels of ours either, as if they were acting out of order, because after closing with a doxology they begin the sacred hymns again. For they are following the apostles’ laws: beginning with a doxology, ending with one, and after that end making a fresh start. [n]

So they say, “Glory to you, O Lord; glory to you, O Holy One; glory to you, O King, because you have given us food to make us glad.” For we ought to give thanks not only for the greater things but also for the lesser. And they give thanks for these too, putting to shame the heresy of the Manichaeans and of all who say that our present life is evil. So that you would not suspect them, because of their great self-mastery and their contempt for the belly, of loathing food like the heretics I have mentioned, who choke themselves to death, they teach you by their prayer that they abstain from most of God’s creatures not out of loathing for them, but as a way of practicing self-restraint.

And see how, after giving thanks for his past gifts, they press their requests for the greater things too. They do not linger over the affairs of this life, but climb above the heavens and say, “Fill us with the Holy Spirit.” For it is not even possible to prove oneself as one should without being filled with that grace — just as there is no doing anything noble or great without the help that comes from Christ. So just as, after saying “so that we may abound to every good work,” they added, “in Christ Jesus,” so here too they say, “Fill us with the Holy Spirit, so that we may be found to have been well-pleasing before you.”

Do you see how they do not pray for the things of this life, but only give thanks for them, while for the things of the Spirit they both give thanks and pray? For he says, “Seek the kingdom of heaven, and all these things will be added to you.”

And notice another kind of strict goodness in them, in their saying, “so that we may be found to have been well-pleasing in your sight, not put to shame.” They are saying: “We do not care about the shame that comes from the crowd. Whatever people may say about us, laughing at us or abusing us, we do not even give it a thought. Our whole effort is not to be put to shame then.” And in these words they also bring in the river of fire, and the prizes, and the rewards. They did not say, “so that we may not be punished,” but, “so that we may not be put to shame.” “For to us this is far more fearful than hell: to be seen to have offended our Lord.”

But since most people, and the coarser sort, are not afraid of this, they add, “when you repay each one according to his works.” Do you see how much these strangers and pilgrims have helped us, these citizens of the wilderness — or rather, citizens of heaven? For while we are strangers to heaven and citizens of the earth, they are just the opposite.

After this hymn, filled with deep heartfelt sorrow and with many hot tears, they go off to sleep, snatching only as much of it as will refresh them a little. And again they turn the nights into days, spending them in thanksgiving and the singing of psalms. And not only men, but women too practice this self-denial, overcoming the weakness of their nature by the abundance of their zeal.

Let us who are men be put to shame by their earnestness, then. Let us stop being fastened to the things of the present — to shadow, to dreams, to smoke. For the greater part of our life is spent in a kind of numbness. The first stage of life is full of great foolishness; the stage that travels on toward old age makes all the feeling in us wither away; and small is the space in between that is able to enjoy pleasure with full feeling. Or rather, not even that has an unmixed share in it, because of the countless cares and labors that harass it. So I beg you, let us seek the goods that cannot be shaken and last forever, and the life that never grows old.

For even someone who lives in a city can imitate the self-denial of the monks. Yes, someone who has a wife and is busy with a household can pray, and fast, and learn heartfelt sorrow. Those who were first taught by the apostles lived in cities, and yet they showed the devotion of those who live in the deserts; and so did others who had workshops to run, like Priscilla and Aquila. And the prophets, too, all had wives and households — Isaiah, Ezekiel, the great Moses — and suffered no harm from it as far as virtue is concerned.

Let us imitate these, then. Let us continually give thanks to God and continually sing hymns to him. Let us give our attention to self-control and to all the other virtues, and bring into our cities the self-denial that is practiced in the deserts, so that we may be seen to be well-pleasing before God and approved before people, and may attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory, honor and might to the Father, together with the holy and life-giving Spirit, now and always and forever and ever. Amen.