Homily 71 — Matthew 22, verses 34 to 36

“But when the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together; and one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him, saying, ‘Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?’” [a]

Once again the evangelist states the reason they ought to have kept quiet, and by this too he points out their brazenness. How so, and in what way? Because when those others had been silenced, these men attack him again. When this alone should have made them keep quiet, they press on with their earlier efforts. They put the lawyer forward, not because they wanted to learn but to test him, and they ask, “Which is the first commandment?”

For the first commandment was “You shall love the Lord your God,” and they put the question expecting him to give them some handle against him by amending it, in order to show that he himself was God too. What, then, does Christ say? He shows what had driven them to this: they had no love, they were wasting away with envy, they were in the grip of jealousy. So he says, “You shall love the Lord your God. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

But why “like it”? Because the second paves the way for the first, and in turn is made firm by it. “For everyone who does evil hates the light and does not come to the light.” And again, “The fool has said in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” And what follows from this? “They are corrupt, and have become abominable in their ways.” And again, “The love of money is the root of all evils; some who craved it have wandered from the faith.” And, “Whoever loves me will keep my commandment.” [c]

But his commandments, and the sum of them, are these: “You shall love the Lord your God, and your neighbor as yourself.” So if loving God means loving one’s neighbor — for he says, “If you love me, Peter, feed my sheep” — and if loving one’s neighbor produces the keeping of the commandments, then he has good reason to say, “On these hang all the law and the prophets.”

So what he did before, he does here as well. I mean that there, when he was asked about the manner of the resurrection, he also taught that there is a resurrection, instructing them … “For love does not envy.” By this he shows that he submits both to the law and to the prophets.

But why does Matthew say that the man asked to test him, while Mark says the opposite? “When Jesus saw that he answered wisely,” Mark says, “he said to him, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God.’” They do not contradict each other; in fact they agree completely. At the start the man asked to test him, but he gained from the answer and was commended. For Jesus did not commend him at the start, but only when he had said that “to love one’s neighbor is more than whole burnt offerings.” Then he says, “You are not far from the kingdom,” because the man had passed over the lesser things and taken hold of the first principle of virtue. And in fact all those things — the Sabbath and all the rest — exist for the sake of this. Yet even then Jesus did not give him full praise, but praise with something still lacking. For his saying “You are not far” shows that the man still fell short, so that he would go on to seek what he lacked. [f]

And if Jesus commended him when he said, “There is one God, and there is no other but he,” do not be surprised. Notice in this too how he answers people according to the views of those who come to him. For although people say countless things about Christ that are unworthy of his glory, this at least they will not dare to say: that he is not God at all. Why, then, does he praise the man who said that there is no other God besides the Father?

It was not to exclude himself from being God — far from it! But since it was not yet time to reveal his divinity, he lets the man remain in the earlier teaching, and praises him for knowing the ancient principles well, so as to make him ready for the teaching of the new covenant, which he was bringing in at its proper time. [g]

Besides, the saying “There is one God, and there is no other but he,” in the Old Testament and everywhere else, is not spoken to reject the Son, but to set God apart from idols. So when he praises this man for what he said, it is in that sense that he praises him. Then, since he had given his answer, he asks a question in his turn: “What do you think about the Christ? Whose son is he? They said to him, ‘The son of David.’”

See: after so many miracles, after so many signs, after so many questions, after so great a display of his oneness of mind with the Father, in words and in deeds alike, and after praising this man for saying that there is one God — only then does he ask the question. He does it so that they could not say that he did indeed work miracles, but was an opponent of the law and an enemy of God.

So after so many things he asks these questions, quietly leading them on to confess that he is God as well. With the disciples he first asked what others were saying, and then what they themselves said. But with these men he does not do it that way, for they would certainly have said “a deceiver” and “a wicked man,” since they said whatever they liked without any fear. That is why he asks for the opinion of these men themselves. [h]

For since he was now about to go on to his suffering, he sets before them the prophecy that plainly proclaims him Lord. And he does not come to this without occasion, nor as if he had made it his set aim, but for good reason.

For he had asked them first, and since they did not answer the truth about him — they said he was a mere man — he brings in David proclaiming his divinity, to overturn their mistaken opinion. They supposed that he was only a man, which is why they said, “The son of David.” But to correct this he brings in the prophet bearing witness that he is Lord, that he is truly the Son, and that he is equal in honor with his Father.

And he does not stop even there. To move them to fear, he adds the words that follow as well: “Until I make your enemies your footstool” — so that at least in this way he might win them over. [i]

And so that they could not say that David called him this out of flattery, and that it was a merely human judgment, see what he says: “How then does David, in the Spirit, call him Lord?” See with what restraint he brings in the verdict and judgment about himself. First he had said, “What do you think? Whose son is he?” — using a question to bring them to an answer. Then, since they said, “The son of David,” he did not say, “And yet David says these things,” but again in the form of a question: “How then does David, in the Spirit, call him Lord?” — so that his words would not offend them. That is also why he did not say, “What do you think of me?” but “of the Christ.” For the same reason the apostles too argued with restraint, saying, “Let us speak freely about the patriarch David: he both died and was buried.”

He himself, for this reason, brings in the teaching in the same way, by question and inference, saying, “How then does David, in the Spirit, call him Lord, saying, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, until I make your foes your footstool’?” And again, “If David then calls him Lord, how is he his son?” He is not denying that he is David’s son — far from it! Otherwise he would not have reproved Peter for this. He means to correct their hidden thoughts. So when he says, “How is he his son?” he means this: not in the way you say. For they said that he is only a son, and not Lord as well. And he says this after bringing the testimony, and even then with restraint: “If David then calls him Lord, how is he his son?”

Yet even when they had heard these things they answered nothing, for they did not want to learn anything they needed to know. So he himself adds and says that “he is his Lord.” Or rather, he does not say even this without support, but takes the prophet along with him, because they distrusted him so deeply and spoke so badly of him among themselves. We ought to pay special attention to this, and if he says anything lowly and restrained, we must not be offended. For the reason, among many others, is this: he is talking with them by stooping down to meet them.

That is why here too he delivers his teaching by question and answer; yet even in this way he hints at his dignity. For to be called Lord of the Jews was not so great a thing as to be called Lord of David. [m]

And notice too, I beg you, how well-timed this is. When he had said, “There is one Lord,” then he spoke of himself as Lord, and proved it from prophecy, no longer from his works alone. And he shows the Father himself taking vengeance on them on his behalf, for he says, “Until I make your enemies your footstool.” By this too he shows the great oneness of mind that the one who begot him has toward him, and the honor he gives him. And he sets this lofty and great conclusion on his debates with them, enough to shut their mouths for good.

For from then on they were silent — not willingly, but because they had nothing to say. They received so deadly a blow that they no longer dared to try the same things again. “For no one,” it says, “dared from that day on to ask him any more questions.”

And this was no small gain for the crowds. That is why from then on he turns his words to them, having driven off the wolves and beaten back their plots. [n]

Those men gained nothing, for they had been taken captive by empty glory and had fallen into this terrible passion. And a terrible passion it is, and one with many heads. For its sake some set their hearts on power, some on wealth, some on strength. And as it advances step by step, it reaches even to almsgiving, and fasting, and prayers, and teaching. Many are the heads of this monster.

To seek empty glory from those other things is nothing surprising. But to seek it from fasting and prayer — that is strange, and something to weep over.

But so that we are not only blaming once again, come, let us tell the means by which we will escape it. Whom should we get ready to fight first? Those who seek glory from money, or from clothes, or from positions of power, or from learning, or from their craft, or from their bodies, or from their beauty, or from their finery, or from their cruelty, or from their kindness and almsgiving, or from their wickedness, or from their death, or even after death? For, as I have said, this passion has many links, and it reaches beyond our life. People say, “So-and-so has died, and so that he would be admired, he left orders for this and that to be done.” And for this reason one man is poor, another rich. For the grievous thing is that it is made up even of opposites. Whom, then, should we stand against and draw up our battle line against first? For one and the same sermon will not do against all of them. Would you like it to be against those who seek glory from their almsgiving?

It seems best to me, at least. For I love this thing very much, and it pains me to see it spoiled, with empty glory plotting against it like a nurse who acts as a pimp plotting against a king’s daughter. She does feed her, but for disgrace and ruin: she prostitutes her, and tells her to despise her father and to dress herself up to please wicked and often contemptible men. She puts her in the kind of clothes strangers want, shameful and dishonorable, not the kind her father wants. [p]

Come, then, let us take aim at these people. Suppose a lavish gift of alms is made for show before the crowd. First of all, empty glory leads her out of her Father’s chamber. And though her Father will not have her show herself even to the left hand, empty glory parades her before the slaves and the common crowd, who have never even known her.

Do you see the prostitute and the pimp, throwing her into the passion of foolish men, so that she dresses herself however they demand? Would you like to see how it makes such a soul not only a prostitute but insane as well? Look at her state of mind. She leaves heaven behind and runs after runaways and menial slaves. Through the streets and alleys she chases those who hate her — ugly, deformed people, people who will not so much as look at her, people who hate her while she burns with love for them. What could be more insane than this? For the crowd hates no one so much as those who crave the glory it has to give. At any rate, they invent countless accusations against them. It is just as if someone brought a king’s virgin daughter down from the royal throne and demanded that she prostitute herself to gladiators who loathed her.

The more you chase these people, the more they turn away from you. But God, if you seek the glory that comes from him, draws you all the more to himself, and commends you, and great is the reward he gives you.

But if you want to see its harm another way too, think how great a sorrow comes over you when you give for display and show, and how constant the dejection, while Christ’s voice sounds in your ears: “You have lost your whole reward.” In every matter empty glory is a bad thing, but most of all in doing good to others. For it is the height of cruelty: it makes a show of other people’s misfortunes and all but taunts the poor. If merely to mention your own good deeds is to reproach someone, what do you think it is to broadcast them to many others besides? [q]

How, then, will we escape the danger? If we learn how to give alms, and if we see whose good opinion we should seek. Tell me, who has the skill of almsgiving? Clearly God, who made the practice known, who knows it best of all, and who practices it without limit. What then? If you are learning to be a wrestler, whom do you look to? To whom do you show off your moves in the wrestling school — to the vegetable seller and the fishmonger, or to the trainer? And yet they are many, and he is one. What then? If he admires you while the others laugh at you, will you not laugh at them along with him?

And if you are learning to box, will you not look in the same way to the man who knows how to teach it? And if you are practicing public speaking, will you not accept the praise of the teacher of rhetoric and look down on the rest? [r]

How then is it anything but absurd to look to the teacher alone in the other arts, but here to do the opposite? And the loss is not the same. There, if you wrestle to please the crowd and not the teacher, the loss is in the wrestling; here it is in eternal life. In giving alms you have become like God; then be like him in not making a display. For even he, when he healed, told them to tell no one. But do you long to be called merciful among people? And what is the gain? There is no gain at all, but the loss is without limit. For the very people you call in as witnesses become robbers of your treasures in heaven — or rather, not they, but we ourselves, who plunder our own possessions and scatter what we have stored up above.

What a new kind of disaster! What a strange passion! Where moth does not destroy and thief does not break in, empty glory scatters. This is the moth of the treasures there; this is the thief of our wealth in heaven; this steals away the riches that cannot be plundered; this spoils and destroys everything. For the devil saw that that place is out of reach of thieves and of the worm and of every other threat, and so he steals the wealth by means of empty glory. But do you want glory? Is the glory given by the receiver himself not enough for you — the glory that comes from our gracious God? Must you set your heart on the glory that comes from people as well? Be careful that the opposite does not happen to you: that some condemn you as someone who is not showing mercy but making a display and looking for honor, making a show of other people’s misfortunes. [s]

For showing mercy is a mystery. So shut the doors, so that no one sees what it is not holy to display. For our mysteries too are, above all, a showing of God’s mercy and love for humankind. “According to his great mercy” he had mercy on us when we were disobedient. The first prayer too is full of mercy, when we pray for those possessed by demons; and the second again, for others, the penitents, who ask for great mercy; and the third for ourselves, and in this one the innocent children of the people are put forward to plead with God for mercy. For since we condemn ourselves for our sins, we ourselves cry out for those who have sinned much and deserve blame; but for us, the children cry out, for the kingdom of heaven is kept for those who imitate their simplicity. For this picture shows that those who are like those children, humble and simple, are the ones above all who can rescue the guilty by their prayers. But the mystery itself — how full it is of mercy, how full of love for humankind — the initiated know.

So when you are showing mercy to someone as far as you are able, shut the doors. Let only the one you are helping see it — and if possible, not even him. But if you throw the doors open, you are profaning your mystery by exposing it.

Consider that the very person whose praise you are seeking will himself condemn you. If he is a friend, he will blame you in his own mind; if he is an enemy, he will mock you to others as well. And you will get the opposite of what you want. You want him to call you the merciful man; but he will not call you that. He will call you a seeker of empty glory, a people-pleaser, and other names far worse than these.

But if you hide it, he will call you everything opposite to this: merciful, kind. For God does not let it stay hidden. If you conceal it, the other man will make it known, and the admiration will be greater and the gain more abundant. So even for the very purpose of being praised, making a display works against us. In the very thing we most hurry and strive after, this is what works against us most of all. Far from gaining a name for mercy, we gain the opposite, and on top of that we suffer a great loss. For every reason, then, let us keep away from this, and set our love on God’s praise alone. For in this way we will both win honor here and enjoy the eternal blessings, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.