Homily 66 — Matthew 20, verse 29, to 21, verse 11

“And as they were leaving Jericho, great crowds followed him. And look, two blind men sitting by the roadside, when they heard that Jesus was passing by, cried out, saying, ‘Have mercy on us, O Lord, Son of David.’” [a]

See where he came from on his way to Jerusalem, and where he had been staying before this. On that point it seems to me especially worth asking why, long before this, he did not go from there to Galilee, but went through Samaria. But we will leave this to those who love learning. For anyone willing to search the matter out carefully will find that John hints at it well and has stated the reason.

But let us keep to what is set before us, and let us listen to these blind men, who were better than many who can see. They had no one to guide them, and they could not see him when he came near; yet they strove to reach him, and began to shout at the top of their voices, and when they were rebuked for it, they shouted all the more. For that is the nature of a persistent soul: it is lifted up by the very things that stand in its way.

Christ let them be rebuked so that their eagerness might show all the more, and so that you might learn that they deserved the benefit of their healing. That is why he does not even ask them, “Do you believe?” as he does with many others. Their shouting and their coming to him were enough to make their faith plain.

Learn from this, beloved, that even if we are utterly worthless and outcast, yet come to God with eagerness, we will be able, even by ourselves, to obtain whatever we ask. Look at these men. They had none of the apostles to plead for them; on the contrary, many were trying to shut their mouths. Yet they were able to get past the obstacles and come to Jesus himself. And yet the evangelist does not testify that their way of life gave them any confidence; their eagerness was enough for them in place of everything.

Let us imitate these men too, then. Even if God puts off the gift, even if many are pulling us away, let us not stop asking. This above all is how we will win God over to us. See, even here, how nothing hindered their great eagerness: not poverty, not blindness, not the fact that no one listened to them, not the crowd’s rebukes, not anything else. Such is the nature of a fervent soul that works hard.

What does Christ say, then? “He called them and said, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ They said to him, ‘Lord, that our eyes may be opened.’” Why does he ask them? So that no one would think that they wanted to receive one thing and he gave them another. For it is his habit on every occasion first to bring out and show everyone the virtue of those he is healing, and only then to apply the cure. He does it for one reason, to lead the others on to imitate them, and for another, to show that those receiving the gift deserved it. He did this with the Canaanite woman, for instance, and with the centurion, and again with the woman who had the flow of blood — or rather, that remarkable woman even got ahead of the Lord’s question. Yet even so he did not pass her by, but after the cure he still made her known. So eager was he on every occasion to proclaim the good deeds of those who came to him, and to show them to be much greater than they are. He does the same here.

Then, when they had said what they wanted, “he had compassion on them and touched them.” This alone is the cause of their cure, and it is for this that he came into the world. Yet even so, though it is mercy and grace, it looks for those who are worthy.

That they were worthy is plain, both from what they cried out and from the fact that when they had received the gift they did not hurry away, as many do, ungrateful once they have been helped. They were not like that. They persevered before the gift and were grateful after it, for “they followed him.”

“And when he came near Jerusalem, and had come to Bethphage, to the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying, ‘Go into the village opposite you, and you will find a donkey tied up, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to me. And if anyone says anything to you, you are to say, “The Lord needs them,” and he will send them at once.’ This was done so that what was spoken by Zechariah the prophet might be fulfilled: ‘Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your King is coming to you, gentle, and sitting on a donkey, and a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”

And yet he had often entered Jerusalem before, but never with so much ceremony. What, then, is the reason? Then it was only the beginning of the plan of salvation. He was not yet very well known, and the time of his suffering was not near. So he mingled with them with less distinction and kept himself more hidden. Had he appeared in this way then, he would not have been admired, and he would have stirred them to greater anger. But once he had given them enough proof of his power, and the cross was at the door, he makes himself more conspicuous and does with greater ceremony all the things likely to inflame them. It would indeed have been possible to do this at the beginning too, but it was neither profitable nor fitting that it should be so.

But notice, I beg you, how many miracles are done here, and how many prophecies are fulfilled. He said, “You will find a donkey.” He foretold that no one would stop them, but that everyone, on hearing, would keep quiet.

And this is no small condemnation of the Jews. People who had never known him and had never seen him, he persuades to give up their own property and to say nothing against it — and that through his disciples — while the Jews, who were present with him as he worked his miracles, were not persuaded.

Do not count what was done a small thing. Who persuaded these men not to forbid it when their own property was being taken from them — and they were perhaps poor men and farmers? But why do I say not to forbid it? Not even to ask; or, if they asked, to fall silent and give it up. Both were equally remarkable: whether they said nothing when their animals were being dragged off, or whether, having spoken and heard, “The Lord needs them,” they gave way and did not resist — and this when they did not see him, but only his disciples. [h]

By these things he teaches them that it was in his power to stop the Jews altogether, even against their will, when they were setting out to attack him, and to strike them speechless; but he would not. And together with this he teaches the disciples something else: to give whatever he should ask, and even if he should require them to give up their very life, to give that too and not argue. For if even strangers gave things up to him, how much more ought they to strip themselves of everything.

Besides what we have said, he was also fulfilling another prophecy, a twofold one: one part in words, the other in deeds. The part in deeds was his sitting on the donkey; the part in words was the prediction of Zechariah, since he had said that the King would sit on a donkey. And having sat on it and fulfilled the prophecy, he gave the prophecy a new beginning, foreshadowing by what he was doing the things to come.

How, and in what way? He proclaimed beforehand the calling of the unclean Gentiles: that he would rest upon them, and that they would yield to him and follow him. So prophecy followed on prophecy. But it seems to me that he sat on the donkey not for this purpose only, but also to give us a standard of self-denial. For he did not only fulfill prophecies, or only plant the teachings of the truth; by these very things he was also correcting our conduct, everywhere laying down rules for what we truly need to use, and in every way setting our life right.

That is why, I say, even when he was to be born he did not look for a splendid house, or a rich and distinguished mother, but a poor woman, one whose betrothed husband was a carpenter. He is born in a shed and laid in a manger. In choosing his disciples he did not choose orators and wise men, or the rich and wellborn, but poor men from poor families, undistinguished in every way. In providing his table, at one time he sets barley loaves before himself, and at another he tells the disciples to buy food at the market right then. When he makes his bed, he makes it of grass. When he puts on clothing, he dresses in what is cheap, no different from the common people. A house he did not even own. If he had to go from place to place, he did it on foot, and traveled so far as even to grow tired. When he sits, he needs no throne or cushion, but sits on the ground, sometimes on the mountain, sometimes by the well — and not merely by the well, but alone, and he talks with a Samaritan woman. Again, in setting limits to grief, when he had occasion to mourn, he weeps with restraint. Everywhere, as I have said, he sets us rules and limits for how far one ought to go and no further. So now too, for this purpose, since some happen to be weak and need animals to carry them, he fixes a measure in this as well. He shows that one ought not to harness horses or mules to be carried by them, but to use a donkey, and go no further, and everywhere to be limited by need.

But let us look also at the prophecy, the one in words and the one in deeds. What is the prophecy? “Look, your King is coming to you, gentle, and riding on a donkey, and a young colt.” He does not drive chariots like the other kings, does not demand tribute, does not push people aside or parade bodyguards around him, but even by this he displays his great gentleness.

Ask the Jew, then: what king ever came to Jerusalem riding on a donkey? He could not name any, only this one.

But he did these things, as I said, to foreshadow the things to come. For here the colt stands for the church, and for the new people, which was once unclean but became clean after Jesus sat on it. And see how the image is kept up throughout. The disciples untie the animals: for it was through the apostles that both they and we were called; through the apostles we were brought near. But because our acceptance stirred them to jealousy too, the donkey is seen following the colt. For after Christ has sat on the Gentiles, then they too will come, stirring us to jealousy. Paul makes this plain when he says, “A partial blindness has come upon Israel, until the full number of the Gentiles has come in; and so all Israel will be saved.” That it was a prophecy is clear from what is said. For the prophet would not have troubled to state the donkey’s age so exactly, unless this were so.

And not only are these things signified by what was said, but also that the apostles would bring them in with ease. For as here no one opposed them so as to keep the animals, so too in the case of the Gentiles no one of those who had been their masters before was able to stop them.

He does not sit on the bare colt, but on the apostles’ garments. For once they had taken the colt, they gave up everything, just as Paul also said, “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls.”

But notice how tame the colt was: though it was unbroken and had never known the bridle, it did not balk, but went along in good order. This too was a prophecy of the future, pointing to the Gentiles’ readiness to obey and their sudden turn to good order. For that word did it all, the word that said, “Untie him and bring him to me,” so that the unmanageable became orderly, and the unclean was clean from then on.

But see how base the Jews were. He had worked so many miracles, and they were never so amazed at him; but when they saw a crowd running together, then they marvel. “For the whole city was stirred, saying, ‘Who is this?’ And the crowds said, ‘This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth of Galilee.’” And even when they thought they were saying something great, their thoughts were earthly and low, dragging along the ground. But he did these things not to put on a show of pomp, but, as I have said, at once to fulfill a prophecy, to teach self-denial, and at the same time to comfort his disciples, who were grieving over his death, and to show them that he suffers all these things willingly. [k]

And notice, I beg you, how exact the prophet was, how he foretold everything. Some things David had proclaimed beforehand, and some Zechariah. Let us do the same: let us sing hymns, and give up our garments to those who carry him. For what would we deserve? Some put their clothes on the donkey he sat on, and others spread their garments even under her feet; but we, seeing him naked, and not even commanded to strip ourselves, only to spend from what we have laid by, are not generous even so. They attended him in front and behind; but we, when he comes to us, send him away, push him off, and insult him. What severe punishment these things deserve, what great vengeance! Your Lord comes to you in need, and you are not willing even to listen to his plea, but you blame him and scold him — and this after hearing such words as these. If you are so stingy, and haughty, and reluctant in giving one loaf and a little money, what would you become if you had to empty out everything?

Do you not see those who show off their lavishness in the theater, how much they give away to the prostitutes? But you do not give even half as much, and often not even the smallest part. The devil urges you to give to whoever happens along, and so prepares hell for us, and you give. Christ urges you to give to the needy, and promises a kingdom, and you, far from giving, insult them instead. You choose to obey the devil and be punished rather than submit to Christ and be saved.

What could be worse than this madness? One offers hell, the other a kingdom, and you leave the second and run to the first. The one you send away when he comes to you; the other, when he is far off, you call to you. What you do is as if a king wearing a royal robe and offering you a crown did not win your choice, while a robber brandishing a sword at you and threatening death won it.

Considering these things, then, beloved, let us see the truth at last, however late, and let us come to our senses. I am ashamed now to speak about almsgiving, because though I have often spoken on this subject, I have achieved nothing worthy of the appeal. There has been some increase, but not as much as I wished. I see you sowing, but not with a generous hand. So I am afraid that you too may “reap sparingly.” To prove that we do sow sparingly, let us ask, if you like, which are more numerous in the city, the poor or the rich, and which are those who are neither poor nor rich but hold a middle place. For example, a tenth are rich, a tenth are poor who have nothing at all, and the rest are of the middle sort.

Let us, then, share out the whole population of the city among the poor, and you will see how great the disgrace is. The very rich are few, but those who come next to them are many; and again, the poor are much fewer than these. Yet although there are so many able to feed the hungry, many go to sleep hungry — not because those who have cannot easily help them, but because of their great savagery and inhumanity. For if both the wealthy and those next to them were to divide among themselves those who need bread and clothing, hardly one poor person would fall to the share of fifty men, or even a hundred. Yet even so, with such a great abundance of people to help them, they are wailing every day.

And so that you may learn how inhuman the others are, consider this. The church has an income equal to that of one of the lowest among the wealthy, not one of the very rich. Yet think how many widows it helps every day, how many virgins; indeed, the list of them has already reached three thousand. Along with these, it helps those in prison, the sick in the hostels, the healthy, those who are away from home, those crippled in body, those who serve at the altar, and, with food and clothing, those who happen to come each day; and its means are not diminished at all. So if only ten men were willing to spend like this, there would be no poor.

“And what are our children to inherit?” someone will say. The capital remains, and the income grows more abundant again, since the goods are stored up for them in heaven. [n]

Are you not willing to do this? Then at least do it by half; at least by a third; at least by a quarter; at least by a tenth. By God’s favor, our city could feed the poor of ten cities. If you like, let us make a calculation to prove it — or rather, there is no need even of reckoning, for the ease of the thing is plain by itself. See, at least, how much a single household has often been ready to spend on public occasions, without feeling the cost even a little. If each of the rich were willing to perform that service for the poor, he would take hold of heaven in a brief moment of time.

What plea will there be, then? What shadow of a defense? We do not share with the needy as generously as others do with those on the stage, not even from things we must certainly be parted from when we are taken away from here — and this when we are to reap so many benefits from it! Even if we were to stay here forever, we ought not to be sparing, even so, in this good spending. But when after a little while we are to be removed from here and dragged away naked from everything, what kind of defense will we have for not giving to the hungry and distressed even out of our income?

I am not forcing you to reduce your property. It is not that I do not wish it, but I see that you are very reluctant. So that is not what I am saying. But spend from your produce, and hoard none of it. It is enough for you to have the money of your income pouring in on you as from a spring. Make the poor your partners, and become a good steward of what God has given you.

“But I pay taxes,” someone may say. Is that why you look down on this, then — because here no one demands it of you? The other, who seizes by force and extorts whether the land produces or not, you do not dare to refuse; but him who is so mild, who demands only when the land produces, you do not answer with so much as a word? And who will rescue you from those unbearable punishments? No one. For if you are prompt about that payment because a very heavy penalty will follow if you do not give, consider that here too there is a heavier one: not to be put in chains, not to be thrown into prison, but to depart into the eternal fire.

For every reason, then, let us pay these taxes first. The ease is great and the reward greater; the gain is more abundant, and the punishment worse for us if we are stubborn. For a punishment comes upon us that has no end.

But if you tell me about the soldier who fights the barbarians for you, here too there is an army, the army of the poor, and a war which the poor are waging for you. For when they receive, they make God favorable by their prayers; and by making him favorable, they drive back not barbarians but the attacks of demons. They do not let the evil one be violent or attack us continually; they weaken his power.

Seeing, then, these soldiers fighting for you against the devil every day with their petitions and prayers, levy on yourself this good contribution: their food. For this King is mild, and he has not appointed anyone to demand it from you; he wants you to give it willingly. Even if you pay little by little, he accepts it; even if you are in difficulty and pay after a long time, he does not press the one who has nothing. [o]

Let us not, then, despise his patience. Let us store up for ourselves not wrath but salvation, not death but life, not punishment and vengeance but honors and crowns. Here there is no need to pay for hauling what is contributed; there is no need here to toil at turning it into money. If you give it up, the Lord himself carries it into heaven; he himself makes the trade more profitable for you.

There is no need here to find someone to carry in what you have contributed. Only contribute, and at once it goes up — not so that others may be maintained as soldiers, but so that it may remain yours with great profit. For in this world, whatever you have paid you can never get back; but there you will receive it again with great honor, and you will make greater and more spiritual gains. Here the gifts are a levy; there they are a loan, money at interest, a debt.

More than that, God has given you written bonds. For “whoever shows mercy to a poor man,” it says, “lends to the Lord.” He has also given you a deposit, and a guarantor — and the one who gives them is God! What sort of deposit? The things of the present life, the visible things, the spiritual things, the foretaste of the things to come.

Why, then, do you delay? Why are you reluctant, when you have already received so much and are looking for so much more?

For this is what you have received. He himself made your body; he himself put a soul in you; of all things on earth he honored you alone with speech; he gave you the use of everything that is seen; he granted you the knowledge of himself; he gave up his Son for you; he gave you a baptism full of so many good things; he gave you a holy table; he promised a kingdom, and good things beyond telling. Having received so many good things, with so many still to receive — I say the same thing again — are you making petty calculations about riches that perish? What excuse will you have?

Or are you looking entirely at your children, and holding back for their sake? Rather, teach them too to make gains like these. If you had money lent out and earning interest, with a grateful debtor, you would ten thousand times rather leave your child the bond than the gold, so that he would have a large income from it and not be forced to go around looking for others to borrow it. So now give this bond to your children, and leave God as their debtor. You do not sell your lands and give the money to your children; you leave the lands to them, so that the income may continue and they may have a greater increase of wealth from it. But this bond, more productive than any land or revenue, bearing so much fruit — are you afraid to leave this to them? What great folly and madness this must be! And this when you know that even if you leave it to them, you yourself will also take it away with you.

Spiritual things are like this: they are wonderfully generous. So let us not be beggarly, or inhuman and savage toward ourselves, but let us trade in that good merchandise, so that we may take it away with us when we depart and also leave it to our own children, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, might, and honor to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.