Homily 74 — Matthew 23, verses 29 to 39

“Woe to you, because you build the tombs of the prophets and decorate their graves, and say, ‘If we had lived in the days of our fathers, we would not have taken part with them in the blood of the prophets.’” [a]

It is not because they build, or because they blame the others, that he says “woe.” It is because, while they do both these things and by what they say pretend to condemn their fathers, they are doing worse. As proof that the condemnation was a pretense, Luke says that because they build, they approve. “Woe to you,” he says, “for you build the tombs of the prophets, and your fathers killed them. So you are witnesses, and you approve the deeds of your fathers; for they killed them, and you build their tombs.” Here he is reproving the purpose with which they built. It was not to honor those who had been killed. They were making a show of the murders. They were afraid that when the tombs crumbled with time, the proof and the memory of such daring would fade away. So they put up these splendid buildings as a kind of trophy, taking pride in the daring deeds of those men and putting them on display.

“What you now dare to do shows that you do these things too in this spirit. You say the opposite,” he says, “as though you were condemning them — for instance, ‘If we had lived in their days, we would not have taken part with them’ — and yet the attitude with which you say it is plain.” That is why he also brought it into the open, and though he did it darkly, he still expressed it. When he had said that they say, “If we had lived in the days of our fathers, we would not have taken part with them in the blood of the prophets,” he added, “So you are witnesses against yourselves that you are the children of those who killed the prophets.” And yet what blame is there in being a murderer’s son, if one does not share one’s father’s mind? None. So it is plain that he brings this against them for this very reason: he is hinting at their kinship in wickedness.

This is clear from what follows as well. He goes on, at least, “You serpents, you brood of vipers.” For as those creatures are like their parents in the deadliness of their venom, so you too are like your fathers in murderousness.

Then, because he was searching out their state of mind, which is hidden from most people, he confirms his words from the things they were about to do as well, which would be plain to everyone. He had said, “So you are witnesses against yourselves that you are the children of those who killed the prophets,” making it clear that he was speaking of their kinship in wickedness, and that it was a pretense to say, “We would not have taken part with them.” So he added, “Fill up, then, the measure of your fathers.” He is not commanding this. He is declaring beforehand what was going to happen: his own murder.

So, having brought in the proof against them, and having shown that what they said in their own defense — “We would not have taken part with them” — was a pretense (for those who do not keep their hands off the Lord, how would they have kept them off the servants?), he now makes his language more condemning. He calls them “serpents” and “brood of vipers,” and says, “How will you escape the judgment of hell?” — you who do such things, and at the same time deny them, and hide what you intend.

Then, rebuking them still more severely on another count too, he says, “I will send you prophets and wise men and scribes, and some of them you will kill and crucify, and some of them you will flog in your synagogues.” This was so that they could not say, “Though we crucified the Lord, we would have kept our hands off the servants, if we had lived then.” “Look,” he says, “I am sending you servants as well — prophets themselves, like the others — and you will not spare them either.” He says these things to show that it was nothing strange for him to be murdered by those sons, since they were murderous and deceitful, full of guile, and outdid their fathers in their outrages.

Besides what has been said, he shows that they were also full of empty glory. When they say, “If we had lived in the days of our fathers, we would not have taken part with them,” they were speaking out of empty glory. They practiced virtue in words only, while in their deeds they did the opposite.

“You serpents, you brood of vipers”: that is, wicked sons of wicked men, and more wicked than those who fathered them. For he shows that they are committing greater crimes: both because they commit them after those others did, and because they do far worse things than they did — and this while flatly declaring that they would never have fallen into the same things. They add what is both the end and the crown of their evil deeds. The others killed those who came to the vineyard; but these killed both the son and those who were inviting them to the wedding.

He says these things to cut them off from kinship with Abraham, and to show that they gained nothing from it unless they followed his works. That is why he adds, “How can you escape the judgment of hell,” when you follow those who have done such things?

And here he recalls John’s accusation to their memory, for John too called them by this name and reminded them of the judgment to come. Then, because they are not at all alarmed by judgment and hell — since they do not believe in them, and since the thing lies in the future — he frightens them with things present, and says, “Therefore, look, I am sending you prophets and scribes, and some of them you will kill and crucify, and flog, so that on you may come all the righteous blood shed on the earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah son of Barachiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar. Truly I tell you, all these things will come upon this generation.”

See by how many things he has warned them. He said, “You condemn your fathers when you say, ‘We would not have taken part with them’”; and that is no small thing to shame them. He said, “While you condemn them, you yourselves do worse things”; and that is enough to cover them with disgrace. He said, “These things will not go unpunished”; and by this he plants in them a fear beyond words. He reminded them of hell, at any rate. Then, because that was still to come, he brought the terrors home to them as though they were already here: “All these things will come upon this generation,” he says. [g]

He also made the punishment unspeakably severe, saying that they would suffer worse things than anyone. Yet none of these things made them any better. But if someone says, “And why do they suffer more severely than anyone?” we would answer: because they first committed worse things than anyone, and nothing that was done to them brought them to their senses.

Have you not heard Lamech saying, “Vengeance will be taken for Lamech seventy times seven”? That is, “I deserve more punishment than Cain.” Why was that? He had not killed his brother. It was because not even Cain’s example brought him to a better mind. And this is what God says elsewhere: “Repaying the sins of fathers on children to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me.” This does not mean that one person is to be punished for crimes others committed. It means that those who have seen many sin and be punished, and yet have not grown better but have committed the same offenses, justly deserve to suffer their punishments too.

But see how fittingly he mentioned Abel too, showing that this murder also springs from envy. What do you have to say, then? Do you not know what Cain suffered? Did God keep silent at what he did? Did he not exact the severest penalty? Have you not heard what your fathers suffered when they killed the prophets? Were they not handed over to punishments and penalties without number? How is it, then, that you have not become better? And why do I speak of your fathers’ punishments and what they suffered? You who condemn your fathers yourself — how is it that you do worse? What is more, you yourselves declared that “he will put those wicked men to a miserable death.” What pardon will you have after this, then, when you do such things after such a sentence?

But who is this Zechariah? Some say the father of John; some, the prophet; some, a priest with two different names, whom Scripture also calls the son of Jehoiada.

But you, mark this: the outrage was twofold. They not only killed holy men, but killed them in a holy place as well. And in saying these things he was not only alarming them, but also comforting his disciples, by showing that the righteous men who came before them had suffered these things too. But these men he alarmed by foretelling that just as their fathers paid the penalty, so these too would suffer the very worst. That is why he calls them “prophets and wise men and scribes,” once again taking away every excuse of theirs by this very thing. “For you cannot say,” he says, “‘You sent them from among the Gentiles, and that is why we took offense.’” No, they were led on to this by being murderous and thirsting for blood. That is why he also said beforehand, “For this reason I am sending prophets and scribes.” The prophets too laid this to their charge, saying, “They mingle blood with blood,” and that they are men of blood. That is also why he commanded that blood be offered to him: to show that if it is so precious in an animal, it is far more so in a man. He says the same to Noah: “I will require all blood that is shed.” And one could find ten thousand other such commands of his aimed at keeping them from committing murder. That is why he commanded them not even to eat what had been strangled.

Oh, God’s love for humankind! Though he knew beforehand that they would gain nothing from it, he still does his part. “I will send,” he says, and he said it knowing that they would be killed. So even by this they were convicted of speaking idly when they said, “We would not have taken part with our fathers.” For these men too killed prophets, even in their synagogues, and had no reverence either for the place or for the rank of the persons. It was not ordinary people they killed, but prophets and wise men, men against whom they had nothing to charge. By these he means the apostles and those who came after them, for many did in fact prophesy.

Then, wanting to heighten their fear, he says, “Truly, truly I tell you, all these things will come upon this generation.” That is: I will bring it all down on your heads, and I will make the punishment severe. For the man who knew that many had sinned and was not sobered by it, but committed the same sins again himself — and not only the same, but far worse ones — would justly deserve to suffer a far heavier punishment than they did. Just as he would have gained a great deal, if he had been willing, by growing better from their examples, so, since he went on without amending, he is liable to a heavier punishment. He had the benefit of more warning from those who had sinned before him and been punished, and he took no profit from it.

Then he turns his words to the city, wanting to correct his hearers this way as well, and says, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem!” What does the repetition mean? It is the way of someone who pities her, mourns over her, and loves her greatly. It is as though he were pleading with a woman he loved — one who had always been loved, but who had despised the one who loved her and was therefore about to be punished — and he pleads with her now that he is on the point of inflicting the punishment. He does this in the prophets too, using these words: “I said, ‘Turn to me,’ and she did not return.” [m]

Then, having called to her, he tells her blood-stained deeds as well: “You who kill the prophets and stone those who are sent to you, how often I wanted to gather your children together, and you would not!” In this way he is also pleading for the way he has dealt with her. “Not even by these things have you turned me aside,” he is saying, “or drawn me back from my great affection for you. Even so, it was my desire — not once or twice, but often — to draw you to myself.” “How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks, and you would not.” He says this to show that they were always scattering themselves by their sins. And he points to his affection by the comparison, for that creature is warm in its love for its brood. Everywhere in the prophets you find this same image of the wings — in the song of Moses, and in the Psalms — pointing to his great protection and care.

“But you would not,” he says. “Look, your house is left to you desolate” — stripped of the help that comes from me. Clearly it was he himself who had protected them before, holding them together and preserving them; clearly it was he who was always disciplining them. And he appoints a punishment they had always dreaded above everything, for it announced the complete overthrow of their way of life. “For I tell you, you will not see me from now on, until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’” And this is the language of one who loves earnestly, earnestly drawing them to himself by what is to come, and not only warning them by what is past. For it is of the future day of his second coming that he speaks here.

What then? Did they not see him after that time? But in saying “from now on” he does not mean that very hour, but the time up to his crucifixion.

They were forever accusing him of being a kind of rival to God and an enemy of God. So he moves them to love him by this very thing: by showing himself to be of one mind with his Father. And he makes it known that he is the same one who spoke in the prophets. That is also why he uses the same words the prophets used.

By these words he hinted at both his resurrection and his second coming, and made it plain even to the utterly unbelieving that then, most surely, they would worship him. And how did he make this plain? By speaking of many things that were to happen first: that he would send prophets; that they would kill them; that it would be in the synagogues; that they would suffer the very worst; that their house would be left desolate; that they would undergo things more terrible than anyone, such as had never been undergone before. All these things are enough to give even the most senseless and quarrelsome a clear proof of what will happen at his coming.

For I will ask them: Did he send the prophets and wise men? Did they kill them in their synagogue? Was their house left desolate? Did all the punishment come upon that generation? It is perfectly plain that it did, and no one disputes it. So, just as all these things came to pass, those too will come to pass, and then, most surely, they will submit.

But they will gain no advantage from it for their defense, any more than those will who repent of the way they have lived only then.

So let us do what is good while there is time. For just as they gained no advantage from their knowledge from then on, neither will we gain any from our repentance for our wickedness. When a ship has sunk in the sea through the pilot’s carelessness, there is nothing more the pilot can do; nor the physician, once the sick man has died. Each of them must plan and carry out everything before the end, so as to fall into neither danger nor disgrace. After that, everything is useless. So let us too, while we are sick, send for physicians, spend money, and take unceasing pains, so that we may rise from our sickness and depart from here in health.

As much care as we take over our servants when their bodies are sick, let us show at least as much for ourselves when our soul is diseased. We are, after all, nearer to ourselves than our servants are, and our souls are more necessary than those bodies. Still, it would be well if we showed at least equal diligence. For if we do not do it now, once we have departed we will have no further plea to make.

“Who is so wretched,” someone will say, “as not to show even that much thought?” [p]

Why, this is the astonishing thing: we hold ourselves so cheap that we despise ourselves more than our servants. When our servants are sick with a fever, we send for physicians, set them apart in a room of the house, and make them obey the rules of that art. If those rules are neglected, we are angry with them, and we post people to watch them who will not let them satisfy their cravings even if they want to. If the ones treating them say that medicines must be bought at great cost, we give in. Whatever they order, we obey, and we pay them fees for their orders.

But when we are sick — or rather, there is no time when we are not sick — we do not so much as call in the physician, we do not spend money. We neglect our soul as though it belonged to some thug, some enemy and foe. I do not say these things to find fault with the care we give our servants, but because I think it right to take at least as much care of our souls.

“And how are we to do it?” someone will say.

Show it to Paul while it is sick. Call in Matthew. Let John sit beside it. Hear from them what we ought to do when we are this ill. They will surely tell you, and they will not hide it. They are not dead; they live and speak. But does the soul pay them no attention, weighed down by its fever? Then compel it, and wake up its power of reasoning. Call in the prophets.

There is no need to pay money to these physicians. They do not ask fees for themselves, and they do not force you into any expense for the medicines they prepare, except for giving alms. In everything else they actually add to your possessions. For example, when they require you to live with self-control, they free you from untimely and wrong expenses; when they tell you to keep away from drunkenness, they make you wealthier. Do you see the skill of these physicians, who supply you with riches as well as health?

So sit down beside them, and learn from them the nature of your sickness. Do you love wealth and greedy gain, for instance, the way a man in a fever loves water? Listen, at any rate, to their warnings. Just as the physician says to you, “If you give in to your craving, you will perish, and suffer this or that,” so Paul says, “Those who want to be rich fall into temptation and a snare of the devil, and into foolish and harmful cravings, which drown people in destruction and ruin.”

Are you impatient? Hear him saying, “Yet a little while, and he who is coming will come and will not delay.” “The Lord is near; do not be anxious about anything.” And again: “The outward form of this world is passing away.”

For he does not only give orders; he also soothes, as a physician should. And just as physicians think up something else to give in place of cold things, so this man turns the desire off in another direction. “Do you want to be rich?” he says. “Let it be in good works.” Do you want to store up treasure? I do not forbid it at all; only let it be in heaven.

And just as the physician says that cold things are harmful to the teeth, to the sinews, and to the bones, so he too says — more briefly, to be sure, since he is careful to be brief, but far more clearly and powerfully — “For the love of money is the root of all evils.”

What, then, should one use instead? He tells this too: contentment instead of greed. “For contentment with godliness,” he says, “is great gain.” But if you are dissatisfied and want more, and are not yet strong enough to throw away everything superfluous, he tells the one who is sick in this way how he ought to handle these things too: “That those who rejoice in wealth should be as though they did not rejoice, and those who have as though they did not possess, and those who use this world as not abusing it.” Do you see what kind of things he prescribes?

Would you like to call in another physician as well? I, at least, think it a good idea. These physicians are not like the physicians of the body, who often compete with one another and finish off the sick man. These are not like that. They look to the health of the sick, not to their own empty glory. So do not be afraid of how many of them there are. One Master speaks in them all, that is, Christ.

Here, for instance, is another coming in and saying severe things about this disease — or rather, it is the Master speaking through him: “For you cannot serve God and mammon.” [u]

“Yes,” he says, “but how will this come about? How are we to stop desiring?” We can learn this from here too. And how will we know? Hear him saying this as well: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.”

Do you see how, by pointing to the place and to the things that waste away there, he draws people away from the desire that is here, and fastens them to heaven, where everything is safe from attack? If you move your wealth to the place where neither rust nor moth destroys, and where thieves do not break in and steal, you will drive out this disease and settle your soul in the greatest abundance.

And along with what we have said, he brings in an example too, to teach you moderation. Just as the physician, to frighten the sick man, says that so-and-so died from drinking cold water, so he too brings in the rich man, who struggled and longed for life and health but could not attain it, because his heart was set on greed, and who went away empty. And besides this man, another evangelist shows you another: the one who was in torment, and did not have so much as a drop of water at his command. Then, showing that his commands are easy, he says, “Look at the birds of the air.” But because he is compassionate, he does not let even the rich despair. “What is impossible with men is possible with God,” he says. So even if you are rich, the physician is able to cure you. It was not wealth that he took away, but being a slave to riches and a lover of greedy gain.

How, then, is it possible for the rich man to be saved? By sharing his goods with those in need, being such a man as Job was, rooting the desire for more out of his soul, and in nothing going beyond real need.

Along with these, he shows you this very tax collector too, who was grievously held down by the fever of greed and was quickly set free from it. What was more sordid than a tax collector? Yet the man became indifferent to wealth by obeying the physician’s rules. He has men like this for his disciples: people who were sick with the same diseases we are, and quickly regained their health. And he shows us each one, so that we will not despair. Look at this tax collector, at least. Mark another as well, a chief tax collector, who promised to pay back fourfold everything he had extorted, and half of all he possessed, so that he might receive Jesus.

But are you on fire with an excessive desire for riches? Have everyone’s possessions instead of your own. “For I give you more than you are looking for,” he says, “when I open to you the houses of the wealthy throughout the world.” “For whoever has left father or mother, or lands, or house, will receive a hundredfold.” In this way you will not only enjoy more abundant possessions, but you will also rid yourself of this grievous thirst altogether, and you will bear everything easily — so far from desiring more that often you will not even seek what is necessary. This is how Paul goes hungry, and is held in greater honor than when he ate. For a wrestler, too, while he is competing and winning crowns, would not choose to give up and rest; and a merchant who has taken to sea voyages would not want to sit idle afterward.

So we too, if we taste spiritual fruits as we ought, will from then on count the things of this life as nothing, seized by the desire for the things to come as if by a most noble kind of drunkenness.

Let us taste them, then, so that we may be delivered from the turmoil of the things of this life and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.