Homily 68 — Matthew 21, verses 33 to 46

“Hear another parable. There was a man, the master of a household, who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a winepress in it, built a tower, leased it to tenant farmers, and went away to a far country. When the time of the fruit drew near, he sent his servants to receive the fruits. And the tenants took the servants, and beat some, and killed some, and stoned some. [a]

“Again he sent other servants, more than the first, and they did the same to them. But last of all he sent his son to them, saying, ‘It may be they will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said among themselves, ‘This is the heir. Come, let us kill him, and let us seize his inheritance.’ And they threw him out of the vineyard and killed him. So when the lord of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants? They say to him, ‘He will destroy those wicked men miserably, and will lease his vineyard to other tenants, who will give him the fruits in their seasons.’ Jesus says to them, ‘Have you never read in the Scriptures, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the head of the corner”?’”

He hints at many things by this parable: God’s providence, which had been at work for them from the first; their murderous disposition from the beginning; that nothing had been left out of all that careful attention to them required; that even when the prophets had been killed, he had not turned away from them, but had sent his very Son; that the God of both the New and the Old Testament was one and the same; that his death would bring about great blessings; that they were to suffer the utmost punishment for the crucifixion and their crime; the calling of the Gentiles; and the casting out of the Jews.

That is why he places it after the former parable: to show by this too that the charge against them is heavier and utterly beyond pardon. How so, and in what way? Because although they had met with so much care, they were worse than the prostitutes and tax collectors, and by a long way.

Notice also both his great care and the extreme idleness of these men. What belonged to the tenants’ part, he did himself: the hedging around, the planting of the vineyard, and all the rest. He left them little to do: to look after what was there and to keep safe what had been given them. Nothing had been left undone; everything had been finished. And even so they did not profit by it, and that when they had enjoyed such great blessings from him. For when they had come out of Egypt, he gave them a law, set up a city, built a temple, and prepared an altar.

“And went away to a far country”: that is, he bore with them a long time, not always bringing the punishment close on the heels of their sins. By his going away to a far country he means his great patience.

And “he sent his servants,” that is, the prophets, “to receive the fruit,” that is, their obedience, the proof of it in their works. But here too they showed their wickedness. They not only failed to give the fruit after enjoying so much care, which was the sign of idleness, but they also turned their anger on those who came. People who had nothing to give when they owed should not have been indignant or angry; they should have pleaded. But these men were not only indignant; they even filled their hands with blood, and though they themselves deserved punishment, they inflicted punishment.

That is why he sent a second company, and a third: so that both the wickedness of these men and the love for humankind of the one who sent them might be shown.

And why did he not send his Son at once? So that they might condemn themselves for what they had done to the others, put away their anger, and respect him when he came. There are other reasons too, but for now let us go on to what comes next.

But what does “It may be they will respect” mean? These are not the words of someone who does not know — perish the thought! — but of someone who wants to show that the sin is great and without any excuse. He knew that they would kill him, and he sent him. But he says, “They will respect,” declaring what they ought to have done: it was their duty to respect him. Elsewhere too he says, “If perhaps they will listen,” and there too not because he does not know. It is so that none of the stubborn could say that his foretelling was what forced them to disobey. That is why he frames his words this way, saying, “Whether they will,” and, “It may be.” For even if they had been stubborn toward his servants, they ought to have respected the dignity of the Son.

And what do these men do? When they ought to have run to him, when they ought to have asked pardon for their offenses, they cling all the harder to their former sins and go on to add to their defilements, always casting their earlier offenses into the shade with their later ones. He himself declared as much when he said, “Fill up, then, the measure of your fathers.” From the first the prophets used to charge them with these very things, saying, “Your hands are full of blood,” and, “They mingle blood with blood,” and, “They build up Zion with blood.”

Yet they did not learn restraint, although the first command they received was this: “You shall not kill.” Because of it they had been commanded to keep away from countless other things, and by many different means they had been urged to keep this command.

Yet for all that, they did not put away that evil habit. What do they say when they see him? “Come, let us kill him.” With what motive? For what reason? What charge of any kind, small or great, did they have to bring against him? Was it that he honored you, and being God became man for your sakes, and worked his countless miracles? Or that he forgave your sins? Or that he called you to a kingdom?

But see how great their folly was, along with their ungodliness, and how the reason they gave for his murder was full of madness. For, “Let us kill him,” it says, “and the inheritance will be ours.”

And where do they plan to kill him? “Outside the vineyard.”

Do you see how he foretells even the place where he was to be killed? “And they threw him out, and killed him.” [e]

Luke, indeed, says that it was he who declared what these men would suffer, and that they said, “God forbid!” and he added the testimony of Scripture. For “he looked at them and said, ‘What then is this that is written: “The stone that the builders rejected has become the head of the corner”? Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken.’” Matthew, on the other hand, says that they pronounced the sentence themselves. But this is no contradiction. Both things happened: they passed the sentence on themselves, and then, when they saw what they had said, they added, “God forbid!” and he set the prophet against them, to convince them that this would certainly come to pass.

Even so, he did not reveal the Gentiles plainly, so as to give them no pretext, but hinted at them darkly by saying, “He will give the vineyard to others.” This was the reason he spoke in a parable: so that they would pass the sentence themselves. The same thing was done in David’s case too, when he passed judgment on Nathan’s parable. But notice, I beg you, how just the sentence is even from this, when the very people who are to be punished condemn themselves.

Then, so that they might learn that not only does justice by its very nature require these things, but that from the beginning the grace of the Spirit had foretold them and God had so decreed, he both added a prophecy and rebuked them in a way meant to shame them, saying, “Have you never read, ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the head of the corner; this is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes’?” By everything he was showing that they would be thrown out for their unbelief, and the Gentiles brought in. He hinted at this darkly by the Canaanite woman too; again by the donkey, and by the centurion, and by many other parables; and he does so now as well.

That is why he added, “This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes,” declaring beforehand that the Gentiles who believed, and as many of the Jews as would also believe, would be one, although the difference between them had been so great before.

Then, so that they might learn that nothing that was happening was against God’s will, but that the event was even highly acceptable to him, beyond expectation, and amazing to every one of those who saw it (for the miracle was indeed far beyond words), he added, “It is the Lord’s doing.” By the stone he means himself, and by the builders the teachers of the Jews, as Ezekiel also says: “Those who build the wall and coat it with whitewash.” And how did they reject him? By saying, “This man is not from God”; “This man deceives the people”; and again, “You are a Samaritan and have a demon.”

Then, so that they might know that the penalty does not stop at their being thrown out, he added the punishments too, saying, “Everyone who falls on this stone will be broken; but on whomever it falls, it will grind him to powder.” He speaks here of two ways of being destroyed. One comes from stumbling and being made to stumble, for that is what “whoever falls on this stone” means. The other comes from their capture, their disaster, and their utter destruction, which he also foretold clearly, saying, “It will grind him to powder.” By these words he hinted darkly at his own resurrection as well.

In the prophet Isaiah, he blames the vineyard; but here he accuses the rulers of the people in particular. There he says, “What more ought I to have done to my vineyard that I did not do?” and elsewhere again, “What wrong have your fathers found in me?” and again, “O my people, what have I done to you? How have I grieved you?” He is showing their ungrateful spirit: when they enjoyed every good thing, they repaid it with the opposite. But here he puts it with still greater force. He does not plead his case himself, saying, “What ought I to have done that I have not done?” but brings them in to judge for themselves that nothing was lacking, and to condemn themselves. For when they say, “He will destroy those wicked men miserably, and will lease the vineyard to other tenants,” they are saying nothing other than this, and pronouncing their sentence with far greater force.

Stephen too reproaches them with this, and it stung them more than anything: that after always enjoying so much providential care, they repaid their benefactor with the opposite. And this very thing was the greatest sign that it was not the one who punished but those who were punished who were the cause of the vengeance brought on them.

This is shown here as well, by the parable and by the prophecy. He was not content with a parable alone, but added a twofold prophecy as well, one from David and the other his own.

What, then, ought they to have done on hearing these things? Should they not have worshiped him, and marveled at his tender care, both what he had shown before and what he showed afterward? And if none of these things made them better, should not the fear of punishment at any rate have brought them to self-control?

But they did not become so. What do they do after this? “When they had heard it,” it says, “they perceived that he was speaking about them. And when they sought to lay hands on him, they were afraid of the crowds, because they held him to be a prophet.” They realized afterward that they themselves were the ones meant. Sometimes, when they were seizing him, he passes through the middle of them and is not seen; sometimes, while he is in plain view, he holds back their straining eagerness, so that people marveled and said, “Is not this Jesus? Look, he speaks boldly, and they say nothing to him.” But in this case, since they were held back by fear of the crowd, he is content with that, and does not work miracles as before, passing through the middle of them and not being seen. For he did not wish to do everything in a way beyond what is human, so that the plan of salvation might be believed.

But they were not brought to a sound mind either by the crowd or by what had been said. They paid no heed to the prophet’s testimony, nor to their own sentence, nor to the mood of the people; so completely had the love of power and the craving for empty glory blinded them, together with the chase after things that pass away.

For nothing drives people so headlong and hurls them over the cliff, nothing makes them miss the things to come so surely, as being riveted to these perishing things. And nothing so surely makes them enjoy both the one and the other as valuing the things to come above everything. “Seek,” says Christ, “the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you.” Indeed, even if this promise were not attached, we ought not to aim at present things even then. But as it is, by gaining the things to come we may gain both; and even so some are not persuaded, but are like senseless stones and chase after shadows of pleasure. [m]

For what is there that is pleasant among the things of this present life? What is delightful? I want to speak with you more freely today. But bear with me, so that you may learn that this life which seems to you galling and wearisome — I mean the life of the monks, of those who are crucified — is far sweeter and more to be desired than the life that seems easy and luxurious.

You yourselves are witnesses of this. Many times, in the setbacks and bouts of despair that have come upon you, you have asked for death, and have counted happy those who live in the mountains, those who live in caves, those who have not married, those who live the life set apart from the world — you who work at trades, you who serve in the army, you who live without aim or rule and spend your days in the theaters and on the dancing floors. For though countless springs of pleasure and merriment seem to gush up from these, countless arrows still more bitter come out of them.

If a man is seized with a passion for one of the girls who dance there, he will suffer a torture more grievous than ten thousand campaigns, ten thousand journeys far from home, and be in a more wretched state than any city under siege.

But let us not look into those things for now. Let us leave them to the consciences of those who have been taken captive, and come, let us talk about the life of ordinary people. We will find the difference between the two kinds of life as great as that between a harbor and a sea forever lashed by winds.

Look at the places they live, and you see at once the first signs of their calm. They have fled from marketplaces and cities and the uproar among people, and have chosen the life in the mountains, which has nothing in common with the things of this present life and suffers none of the ills of human life: no worldly sorrows, no grief, no care so great, no dangers, no plots, no envy, no jealousy, no lawless desires, nor anything else of this kind. Here and now they are already meditating on the things of the kingdom, keeping company with groves and mountains and springs, with deep quiet and solitude, and before all these, with God. Their cell is clear of all turmoil, and their soul is free of every passion and sickness, refined and light, far purer than the finest air.

Their work is the same as Adam’s in the beginning, before his sin, when he was clothed with glory, talked freely with God, and lived in that place so full of blessedness. For in what way are they worse off than he was when, before his disobedience, he was set to till the garden? Had he no worldly care? Neither have these. Did he talk to God with a pure conscience? These do too; or rather, they have a greater boldness than he had, since they enjoy greater grace through the supply of the Spirit.

You ought to take these things in with your own eyes. But since you are not willing, and pass your time in turmoil and in the marketplaces, let us at least teach you by word, taking one part of their way of living, for it is impossible to go through their whole life. These men, who are the lights of the world, as soon as the sun is up, or rather long before it rises, get up from their beds healthy, wakeful and clear-headed. For no sorrow or care troubles them, no headache or toil or mass of business, nor anything else of the kind; they live as the angels live in heaven. So, rising at once from their beds cheerful and glad, they form a single choir, and with bright consciences, all with one voice, as if from one mouth, they sing hymns to the God of all, honoring him and thanking him for all his benefits, both those given to each and those given to all.

So, if you like, let us leave Adam aside and ask what difference there is between the angels and this company who on earth sing and say, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

Their dress suits their manliness. They are not dressed like those in trailing robes, soft and mincing, but like those blessed angels Elijah, Elisha and John, like the apostles. Their clothes are made for them, for some of goat’s hair, for some of camel’s hair, and for some skins alone are enough, and those long worn. Then, after they have sung those songs, they kneel and ask the God they have been praising for things that some people do not easily even think of. They ask for nothing of this present life, for they care nothing for it. They ask that they may stand with boldness before the fearful judgment seat, when the only Son of God comes to judge the living and the dead; that no one may hear that tearful voice that says, “I do not know you”; and that with a pure conscience and many good deeds they may pass through this toilsome life and sail across the angry sea with a favorable wind. And the one who is their father and their head leads them in their prayers.

After this, when they have risen and finished those holy and unceasing prayers, and the sun has come up, they go off each to his work, and from it they gather a large supply for the needy.

Where now are those who give themselves to the devil’s choruses and the songs of prostitutes, and sit in the theaters? I am ashamed even to mention them; nevertheless, because of your weakness, I must do even this. For Paul too says, “Just as you presented your members as slaves to uncleanness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness for holiness.” [q]

Come, then, let us too compare the company made up of prostitutes and of boys who sell themselves on the stage with this company of blessed men, on the score of pleasure, since it is by pleasure above all that many careless young men are caught in their snares. We will find the difference as great as if someone heard the angels above singing that perfectly harmonious melody of theirs, and dogs and pigs howling and grunting on the dunghill. For Christ speaks through the mouths of these men, and the devil through the tongues of those. And what of the sound of the pipes that goes with them — a meaningless noise and an ugly sight, with cheeks puffed out and strings stretched to breaking? Here, instead, the grace of the Spirit pours out its sound, using the lips of the saints in place of flute or lyre or pipes.

Or rather, whatever we say, it is impossible to set out the pleasure of it, because we speak to people riveted to their clay and their brick-making. That is why I would like to take one of those who are mad about these shows, lead him off there, and show him the choir of those saints; then I would need no more of these words. Still, though we are speaking to people stuck in the mud, we will try, even if only by word, to draw them little by little out of the slime and the marshes.

There, the listener catches the fire of unlawful love at once. As if the sight of the prostitute were not enough to set the mind on fire, they add the harm that comes from the voice as well. But here, even if the soul has anything of the kind, it lays it aside at once. And it is not only their voice and their face; their clothes, even more than these, throw the onlookers into turmoil. And if it is some poor man of the coarser and more thoughtless kind, he will cry out again and again at the sight in bitter despair, and say to himself: “The prostitute and the boy who sells himself, children of cooks and cobblers, and often even of slaves, live in such luxury, and I, a free man, born of free parents, who have chosen honest work, cannot even dream of such things!” And so he goes on his way burning with resentment.

But with the monks nothing of the kind happens; quite the opposite. When he sees sons of rich men and descendants of famous ancestors dressed in clothes that not even the poorest of the poor would wear, and glad of it, think how much comfort in his poverty he will take away with him! And if he is rich, he goes home sobered and a better man. In the theater, on the other hand, when they see the prostitute decked in gold ornaments, the poor man will lament and moan, seeing that his own wife has nothing like it; and the rich, as a result of the spectacle, will look down on their wives and despise them. For when the prostitute shows the spectators a dress and a look, a voice and a walk that are all voluptuous, they leave on fire, and go into their own homes captives from then on.

From this come the insults and the affronts, the hostilities, the wars, the daily deaths. Because of this, life becomes unbearable to those taken captive, their wife is no longer pleasing to them, their children are not loved as they were, everything in their houses is turned upside down, and from then on even a ray of sunlight seems to upset them.

But from these choirs no such discontent arises. Instead, the wife will receive her husband calm and gentle, freed from every unlawful desire, and will find him kinder to her than before. Such are the evils the one choir produces, and such the good things the other: the one makes wolves of sheep, the other lambs of wolves. And yet perhaps we have so far said nothing about the pleasure itself.

What could be more pleasant than to be untroubled and ungrieved in mind, with no despair and no groaning? Still, let us carry the discussion further and examine the enjoyment of each kind of song and spectacle. We will see that the one lasts until evening, as long as the spectator sits in the theater, but afterward pains him more sharply than any sting; while the other stays forever fresh in the souls of those who have seen it. For the bearing of the men, the charm of the place, the sweetness of their way of life, the purity of their rule, and the grace of that most beautiful and spiritual song stay fixed in them forever. Those, at least, who continually enjoy those havens flee from then on from the uproar of the crowd as they would from a storm.

And they are a pleasing sight to those who see them, not only when they are singing and praying, but also when they are riveted to their books. For after they have ended the choir, one takes Isaiah and converses with him, another talks with the apostles, and another goes through the labors of other men and seeks wisdom about God, about this universe, about the things that are seen and the things that are not seen, about the things perceived by the senses and the things grasped by the mind, about how worthless this present life is and how great the life to come.

And they are fed on the finest food. They do not set before themselves the cooked flesh of animals, but the sayings of God, sweeter than honey and the honeycomb: a marvelous honey, far better than the honey John once ate in the wilderness. No wild bees gather this honey by settling on flowers, nor do they store it in hives by working the dew into it. The grace of the Spirit forms it and stores it in the souls of the saints, in place of honeycombs and hives and hive tubes, so that whoever wishes may eat of it continually and safely. These men imitate those bees, hovering around the honeycombs of the holy books and reaping great pleasure from them. [s]

If you want to know about their table, come close to it, and you will see them pouring out words all gentle and sweet and full of a spiritual fragrance. Those spiritual mouths cannot bring out a foul word, nothing of foolish joking, nothing harsh, but everything worthy of heaven. One would not be wrong to compare the mouths of those who crawl about the marketplaces and are mad after worldly things to ditches of mud, and the lips of these men to fountains flowing with honey and pouring out pure streams.

If anyone was offended that I called the mouths of the crowd ditches of mud, let him know that in saying it I spared them a great deal. Scripture has not used this measure, but a far stronger comparison: “The poison of adders,” it says, “is under their lips, and their throat is an open grave.” But the mouths of these men are not like that; they are full of great fragrance.

Such is their state here. But their state hereafter — what words can set it before us? What mind can grasp it? The lot of the angels, blessedness beyond words, good things beyond telling!

Perhaps some of you are warmed now, and have been moved to long for this good way of life. But what is the use, if you have this fire only while you are here, and when you have gone out you put out the flame and this desire fades? What, then, will keep that from happening? While this desire is warm in you, go to those angels and kindle it further. For our account cannot set you on fire the way the sight of the things themselves can. Do not say, “I will talk with my wife, and settle my affairs first.” This delay is the beginning of slackness. Listen to how a man wanted to say goodbye to the people at his house, and the prophet would not allow it. And why do I speak of saying goodbye? The disciple wanted to bury his father, and Christ did not allow even this. Yet what seems to you as necessary as a father’s funeral? But not even this did he permit.

Why was this? Because the devil stands close by, fierce, looking for some secret way in; and even if all he gets hold of is a small hindrance or delay, he produces great slackness. That is why someone advises, “Do not put it off from day to day.” In this way you will be able to succeed in most things, and in this way the affairs of your household will also be put in good order for you.

“For seek,” it says, “the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you.” If we ourselves give full security to those who neglect their own interests and put the care of ours first, how much more will God, who cares for us and provides for us even without these things!

So do not be anxious about your affairs; leave them to God. If you are anxious about them, you are anxious as a man; but if God provides, he provides as God. Do not be so anxious about them that you let go of the greater things, for then he will not provide much for them. So that he may provide for them fully, leave them to him alone. For if you take them in hand yourself and let go of spiritual things, he will not make much provision for them.

So, that both these things may be well arranged for you, and that you may be free of all anxiety, hold fast to spiritual things and look past the things of the world. In this way you will have earth as well as heaven, and will attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.