Homily 86 — Matthew 27, verses 11 to 26

“And Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ And Jesus said to him, ‘You say so.’ And when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he answered nothing.” [a]

Do you see what he is asked first? The very thing they kept bringing forward above all, in every way they could? Since they saw that Pilate took no account of matters of the law, they turn their accusation to political charges. They did the same with the apostles too. They were always bringing these things forward, saying that the apostles went around proclaiming a certain Jesus as king — speaking of him as of a mere man — and so they cast on them the suspicion of trying to seize the throne.

From this it is plain that both the tearing of the robe and the astonishment were a pretense. They contrived everything and pressed everything, all to bring him to his death.

This, at any rate, is what Pilate asked then. And what did Christ say? “You say so.” He admitted that he was a king, but a heavenly king. Elsewhere he said this more clearly, answering Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world,” so that neither they nor this man would have any excuse for accusing him of such things. And he gives a reason that cannot be contradicted: “If I were of this world, my servants would fight, so that I would not be handed over.” It was for this very purpose, I say — to refute this suspicion — that he both paid the tax and commanded others to pay it, and that when they wanted to make him king, he fled.

“Then why did he not bring these things forward at that time, when he was accused of trying to seize the throne?” Because they had proofs beyond number from his own deeds — of his power, his gentleness, his mildness — and still they were willfully blind and acted unjustly, and the court was corrupt. For these reasons he answers nothing, but keeps silent. He did answer briefly, so as not to gain a reputation for arrogance by constant silence, when the high priest put him under oath and when the governor questioned him. But to their accusations he no longer says anything, for there was no longer any chance of persuading them. This is the very thing the prophet declared long ago: “In his humiliation his judgment was taken away.”

At this the governor marveled. And it truly was worth marveling at, to see him showing such great forbearance and keeping silent, when he had countless things to say. For they did not accuse him because they knew of any evil in him, but only out of jealousy and envy. Why else, when they had put up false witnesses and had nothing to say, did they still press their case? And when they saw that Judas was dead, and that Pilate had washed his hands of the matter, why were they not stung with remorse? For he did many things even at that very time to bring them to their senses, but nothing made them better.

What then does Pilate say? “Do you not hear how many things they testify against you?” He wanted him to defend himself and be acquitted; that is why he said this. But since he answered nothing, Pilate thinks up another plan.

What was it? It was their custom to release one of the condemned, and by this means he tried to set him free. “If you are not willing to release him as innocent, then pardon him as guilty, for the sake of the feast.”

Do you see the order turned upside down? The custom was for the people to ask on behalf of the condemned, and for the rulers to grant it. But now the opposite has happened: the ruler asks the people. And not even so do they grow gentle; they become more savage and bloodthirsty, driven to frenzy by the passion of envy. For they had nothing to accuse him of, even though he kept silent. Even then they were refuted by the sheer number of his righteous deeds, and by keeping silent he overcame people who were saying ten thousand things in their fury.

“And while he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent to him, saying, ‘Have nothing to do with this righteous man, for I have suffered many things today in a dream because of him.’” See what happens again, something enough to call them all back! For besides the proof from what had been done, the dream too was no small thing. And why does he not see it himself? Either because she was more worthy, or because, if he had seen it, he would not have been believed as readily — or would not even have told it. So it was arranged that his wife should see it, so that it would be plain to all. And she does not merely see it; she also suffers many things, so that out of his feeling for his wife the man might be made more reluctant to commit the murder. The timing, too, counted for a good deal: it was that very night that she saw it.

“But it was not safe for him to let him go, because they said he made himself a king.” Then he should have looked for proofs and a conviction, and for everything that is a sure sign of trying to seize the throne: for instance, whether he raised troops, whether he collected money, whether he had weapons made, whether he tried anything else of the kind. But Pilate lets himself be carried along blindly. That is why Christ does not clear him of blame either, when he says, “The one who handed me over to you has the greater sin.” So it was out of weakness that he gave in, had him scourged, and handed him over.

He, then, was unmanly and weak; but the chief priests were wicked and criminal. For since he had found a way out — the law of the feast, which required him to release a condemned man — what do they contrive against it? “They persuaded the crowd,” it says, “to ask for Barabbas.”

See how much care he takes to free them from blame, and how hard they worked to leave themselves not even the shadow of an excuse. For which was right: to let the admitted criminal go, or the man whose guilt was in question? If a release was fitting for admitted offenders, much more was it fitting for those about whom there was doubt. Surely this man did not seem to them worse than admitted murderers! That is why it does not simply say they had a robber, but a notorious one — that is, one infamous for his wickedness, who had committed countless murders. And yet even him they preferred to the Savior of the world. They had no reverence for the season, holy as it was, nor for the laws of humanity, nor for anything else of the kind; envy had blinded them once and for all. And besides their own wickedness, they corrupt the people too, so that for deceiving them as well they might suffer the most extreme punishment. [i]

So, since they ask for the other man, Pilate says, “What then shall I do with the Christ?” In this way he wanted to shame them by giving them the power to choose, so that out of shame at least they might ask for him, and the whole thing would be their own generous gift. For to say that he had done no wrong only made them more contentious; but to ask that he be spared out of kindness carries a persuasion and an appeal that cannot be refused.

But even then they said, “Crucify him!” “But he said, ‘Why, what evil has he done?’ But they cried out exceedingly, ‘Let him be crucified!’ And when he saw that he was getting nowhere, he washed his hands, saying, ‘I am innocent.’” Then why did you hand him over? Why did you not rescue him, as the centurion rescued Paul? That man, too, knew that he could please the Jews; a riot had broken out on Paul’s account, and an uproar; and yet he stood firm against them all. Not so this man. He was thoroughly unmanly and weak, and all of them were corrupt together. He did not stand firm against the crowd, nor the crowd against the Jews, and so in every way every excuse was taken from them. For they “cried out exceedingly” — that is, they shouted all the more — “Let him be crucified!” They wanted not only to put him to death, but to have it done on a charge of wickedness; and though the judge was contradicting them, they kept shouting the same thing.

Do you see how many things Christ did to bring them back? Just as he often checked Judas, so he restrained these men too, all through his preaching of the good news and at the very time of his condemnation. For surely, when they saw the ruler and judge washing his hands of it and saying, “I am innocent of this blood,” they should have been pierced to the heart, both by what was said and by what was done — as they should have been when they saw that Judas had hanged himself, and when they saw Pilate himself begging them to take another man in his place. When the accuser and traitor condemns himself, and the one passing sentence puts the guilt away from himself, and such a vision appears that very night, and Pilate begs him off as though he were a condemned man, what kind of plea will they have? Even if they were not willing to have him innocent, they should not have preferred to him even a robber — an admitted robber, and a notorious one at that.

What did they do then? When they saw the judge washing his hands and saying, “I am innocent,” they cried out, “His blood be on us and on our children!” Then at last, when they had pronounced sentence against themselves, he gave way and let everything be done.

See here, too, their great madness! For that is what passion and wicked desire are like: they do not let people see anything of what is right. Granted that you curse yourselves — why do you bring down the curse on your children too?

Nevertheless the one who loves humankind, though they acted with such madness against themselves and against their children, did not confirm their sentence on their children — no, not even on them. From both the one and the other he received those who repented, and he counts them worthy of blessings beyond number. For Paul himself was one of them, and so were the thousands who believed in Jerusalem: “You see, brother,” it says, “how many thousands of Jews there are who believe.” And if some continued in their sin, let them blame their punishment on themselves.

“Then he released Barabbas to them, but Jesus, when he had scourged him, he handed over to be crucified.”

And why did he scourge him? Either as a condemned man, or because he wanted to give the trial its proper form, or to please them. And yet he ought to have resisted them. For even before this he had said, “You take him and judge him according to your law.” And there were many things that might have held back both him and those men: the signs and the miracles, the great patience of the one who was suffering these things, and above all his silence beyond words. For since he had shown his humanity both by his defense of himself and by his prayers, he now shows his exaltation and the greatness of his nature, both by his silence and by his disregard for what was said, leading them by everything to marvel at him. But to none of these things did they give way.

For once the powers of reason are swamped, as if by drunkenness or some wild insanity, it is hard for the sinking soul to rise again, unless it is very noble. [o]

It is a fearful thing, a fearful thing, to give way to these wicked passions. That is why we should in every way ward them off and keep them from getting in. For when they have laid hold of the soul and gained the mastery over it, they kindle the flame into a blaze, like fire falling on a wood. So I beg you to do everything to fence off their entrance, and not to bring every kind of wickedness on yourselves by comforting yourselves with this lazy reasoning: “What does this matter? What does that matter?” For countless evils are born from it. The devil is wicked, and he uses great craft and effort, and stoops very low, to ruin people; and he begins his attack on them with smaller matters.

Notice this. He wanted to bring Saul into the superstition of witchcraft. But if he had advised this at the start, Saul would not have listened. How could he, when he was actually driving such people out? So he leads him on to it gently, little by little. When Saul had disobeyed Samuel and had the burnt offering offered while Samuel was not there, and was blamed for it, he said, “The pressure from the enemy was too great”; and when he should have mourned, he felt as though he had done nothing.

Again, God gave him the commands about the Amalekites, and he broke these too. From there he went on to his crimes against David, and so, slipping easily and little by little, he did not stop until he came to the very pit of destruction and threw himself in. It was the same with Cain. The devil did not urge him straight away to kill his brother, since he would not have persuaded him. First he worked on him to offer things of poorer quality, saying, “This is no sin.” Second, he kindled envy and jealousy in him, saying, “There is nothing in this either.” Third, he persuaded him to kill and to deny the murder. And he did not leave him until he had crowned him with the worst of evils.

So we must resist the beginning. Even if the first sins stopped where they were, it would still not be right to think little of them. But as it is, they go on to greater ones when the mind is careless. That is why we must do everything to root out their beginnings.

Do not look only at the nature of the sin, that it is small, but at how, when neglected, it becomes the root of a great sin. If I may say something surprising, great sins do not need as much vigilance as the small ones of little account. The very nature of the great sins makes us loathe them; but the small ones, just because they are small, make us slack and do not let us rouse ourselves wholeheartedly to get rid of them. That is why they quickly grow great while we sleep. You can see this happening in bodies too.

That is how, in the case of Judas, that great wickedness was born. If it had not seemed a small thing to him to steal the money of the poor, he would not have been led on to this betrayal. If it had not seemed a small thing to the Jews to be taken captive by empty glory, they would not have run onto the rock of becoming Christ’s murderers. Indeed we can see all evils arising this way.

No one rushes into vice quickly and all at once. For the soul has — yes, it has — a sense of shame planted in us, and a reverence for what is right. It would not become so shameless all at once as to throw everything away in a single act; it perishes slowly, little by little, when it is careless. This is how idolatry came in: people were honored beyond measure, both the living and the dead. This is how idols came to be worshiped; this is how sexual immorality took hold, and the other evils.

And look. One man laughed at the wrong moment; another rebuked him; a third took away the fear by saying, “Nothing comes of this. What is laughing? What harm can it do?” From this, foolish jesting is bred; from that, filthy talk; then filthy deeds.

Again, another man is rebuked for slandering his neighbors, abusing them and maligning them, and he shrugs it off, saying, “Speaking ill of people is nothing.” By this he breeds hatred beyond words and abuse without end; from the abuse come blows, and from the blows, often, murder.

So from these small things that wicked spirit brings in the great sins, and from the great sins, despair — a second trick he has invented, no less harmful than the first. For sinning does not destroy as much as despairing does. The one who has sinned, if he is watchful, quickly puts right what he has done by repentance. But the one who has learned to despair, and does not repent, misses this amendment, because he does not apply the remedies that come from repentance. [s]

He has a third grievous snare as well: when he dresses sin up with a show of piety. And where has the devil prevailed so far as to deceive people to this degree? Listen, and beware of his schemes. Christ, through Paul, commanded “that a wife not leave her husband,” and “do not deprive one another, except by consent.” But some women, supposedly out of love for self-control, have withdrawn from their own husbands as though they were doing something devout, and have driven them to adultery. Think what an evil it is that after so much hard effort they are blamed as having done the greatest wrong, and suffer the extreme punishment, and drive their husbands into the pit of destruction.

Others again, abstaining from foods under a rule of fasting, have gradually gone so far as to loathe them — and that in itself brings a very great punishment.

This happens when people cling to their own notions against what the Scriptures approve. Some among the Corinthians, too, thought it was part of perfection to eat everything without distinction, even forbidden things. But this was not perfection; it was the height of lawlessness. That is why Paul rebukes them sharply and declares them worthy of extreme punishment. Others again think it a sign of piety to wear long hair. And yet this is among the things forbidden, and it brings great disgrace with it.

Others again pursue excessive grief for their sins as something profitable. But this too comes from the devil’s tricks, as Judas showed: as a result of it he even hanged himself. That is why Paul, again, was afraid for the man who had committed sexual immorality, that something like this might happen to him, and he urged the Corinthians to set him free quickly, “so that such a man may not be swallowed up by too much sorrow.” Then, showing that such an outcome comes from the snares of the wicked one, he says, “so that Satan may not gain an advantage over us, for we are not ignorant of his schemes” — meaning that he attacks us with great craft. If he fought against us plainly and openly, victory would be ready and easy. Or rather, even now, if we are watchful, victory will be ready. For God has armed us against each one of these ways.

To persuade us not to despise even these small things, listen to the warning he gives us: “Whoever says to his brother, ‘You fool,’ will be in danger of hell.” And the one who has looked with unchaste eyes is a complete adulterer. On those who laugh he pronounces a woe. Everywhere he removes the beginnings and the seeds of evil, and he says that we will have to give an account for an idle word. That is why Job applied a remedy even to his children’s thoughts. And about not despairing it says, “Does he fall and not get up? Does he turn away and not come back?” And, “I do not desire the death of the sinner so much as that he should turn and live.” And, “Today, if you will hear his voice.” Many other such sayings and examples are set down in Scripture. And so that we are not ruined under the guise of godly fear, listen to Paul saying, “so that such a man may not be swallowed up by too much sorrow.”

Knowing these things, then, let us set up the wisdom drawn from the Scriptures as a barrier across every path that leads the unwary astray. Do not say, “Why, what does it matter if I gaze curiously at a beautiful woman?” For if you commit adultery in your heart, you will soon venture on it in the flesh too. Do not say, “Why, what does it matter if I pass by this poor man?” For if you pass this one by, you will pass the next one too; and if him, then the third.

Nor again say, “Why, what does it matter if I desire my neighbor’s goods?” This, this is what ruined Ahab. Though he would have paid a price, he still took it from an unwilling owner. A man ought not to buy by force, but by persuasion. And if he, who would have paid the fair price, was punished like that because he took from an unwilling man, then what punishment will the one not deserve who does not even do that much, but seizes by violence from the unwilling — and that while living under grace?

So that we may not be punished, then, let us keep ourselves completely pure from all violence and plunder, guarding against the sources of sins along with the sins themselves, and let us give ourselves to virtue with great diligence. For so we will also enjoy the eternal good things, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.