Homily 87 — Matthew 27, verses 27 to 44

“Then the governor’s soldiers took Jesus into the governor’s hall and gathered the whole company of soldiers around him. They stripped him and put a purple robe on him; and when they had woven a crown of thorns, they put it on his head, and a reed in his right hand. And they bowed the knee before him and mocked him, saying, ‘Hail, king of the Jews!’” [a]

It was as though, at some signal, the devil was then making his triumphal entry into them all. Grant that the Jews, wasting away with envy and jealousy, were raging against him. But the soldiers — where did their rage come from, and from what sort of cause? Is it not clear that it was the devil who was then storming in fury into the hearts of all? They even made a pleasure of their insults against him, savage and ruthless lot that they were. I mean that when they should have been struck with awe, when they should have wept, as even the people did, they did not do this. On the contrary, they were spiteful and insulting. Perhaps they too were trying to please the Jews; or perhaps they were doing it all in keeping with their own evil nature.

And the insults were many and varied. That divine head they now struck with their fists, now mocked with the crown of thorns, now beat with the reed — unholy and accursed men that they were!

What excuse will we have, after this, for being stung by the wrongs done to us, when Christ suffered these things? For what was done was the very limit of insult. Not one part only, but the whole body, from end to end, was made a target of insult: the head, by the crown, the reed, and the blows; the face, by being spat upon; the cheeks, by being slapped with open hands; the whole body, by the scourging, by being wrapped in the robe, and by the mock worship; the hand, by the reed they gave him to hold in place of a scepter; the mouth, again, by the vinegar offered to it. What could be more painful than this? What more insulting?

For what was done goes beyond all words. It was as though they were afraid of seeming to fall short in any part of the crime: the prophets they had killed with their own hands, but this man by a judge’s sentence. So in every act they do the same, and make it the work of their own hands. They condemn and sentence him, both among themselves and before Pilate, saying, “His blood be on us and on our children.” They insult him and treat him with contempt themselves. They bind him, lead him away, make themselves the authors of the outrages the soldiers committed, nail him to the cross, revile him, spit at him, and mock him. For Pilate contributed nothing in this business; they did everything themselves, becoming accusers, judges, executioners, and all.

And these things are read among us when everyone gathers together. The pagans must not be able to say that you display to peoples and nations the glorious and splendid things, such as the signs and the miracles, but hide these things that bring reproach. So the grace of the Spirit has arranged that at the full festival, when men and women are present in crowds — everyone, one might say, on the great eve of the Passover — all these things should then be read. When the whole world is present, then all these acts are proclaimed in a clear voice. And when they have been read and made known to all, Christ is believed to be God and, besides all the rest, is worshiped, for this very reason: that he consented to stoop so low for us as actually to suffer these things, and to teach us all virtue.

So let us read these things constantly, for great is the gain and great the benefit to be had from them. When you see him, by gestures and by deeds, mocked and worshiped with so much derision, beaten and suffering the utmost insults, then even if you are a very stone you will become softer than any wax, and you will throw all arrogance out of your soul.

Listen, then, to what follows as well. For after “they had mocked him, they led him to crucify him,” it says. And when they had stripped him, they took his clothes, and sat down and watched him, waiting for him to die. And they divide his clothes among themselves — the kind of thing done in the case of the vilest and most despised criminals, those who have no one belonging to them and are utterly alone.

They divided the clothes through which such great miracles had been done. But the clothes did none now, for Christ was holding back his power, which is beyond words. And this was no small addition to the insult. As though he were a base and despised man, as I said, and the lowest of all, so they dared to do everything. To the thieves, at any rate, they did nothing of the kind; but to Christ they dare it all. And they crucified him between them, so that he would share in their reputation.

And they gave him gall to drink, this too to insult him; but he would not drink it. Another evangelist, however, says that when he had tasted it, he said, “It is finished.” And what does “It is finished” mean? That the prophecy about him had been fulfilled: “They gave me gall for my food,” it says, “and for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.” But not even that evangelist shows that he drank. For merely to taste is no different from not drinking; it means one and the same thing.

Yet not even here does their contempt stop. After stripping him, crucifying him, and offering him vinegar, they went further still. Seeing him fixed to the cross, they revile him, both they themselves and the passers-by. And this was more painful than all the rest: that he suffered these things on the charge of being an impostor and a deceiver, a boaster making empty claims in what he said. That is why they crucified him publicly, to make a show of it in the sight of all; and that is also why they did it by the hands of the soldiers, so that, with these things carried out by the public court itself, the insult might be greater.

And yet who would not have been moved by the crowd that was following him and weeping for him? Not these wild beasts. That is also why he gives the crowd an answer, but not these men. For having done what they wanted, they try also to damage his good name, because they fear his resurrection. That is why they say these things publicly, and crucified thieves with him. And wanting to prove him a deceiver, they say, “You who destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross.” They had told Pilate to remove the charge — this was the inscription, “The King of the Jews” — and they did not prevail; he held firm, saying, “What I have written, I have written.” So now they try by their mockery to show that he is not a king. That is why they said those things, and these as well: “If he is the King of Israel, let him come down now from the cross. He saved others; himself he cannot save.” By this they meant to discredit even his earlier miracles. And again: “If he is the Son of God, and God will have him, let God save him.” [i]

Detestable men, utterly detestable! Were the prophets not prophets, then, or the righteous not righteous, because God did not rescue them from their dangers? No — they certainly were, even though they suffered these things. What, then, could match your folly? If the dangers that came upon them did not damage their standing in your eyes, how much more wrong was it for you to take offense in this man’s case, when by everything he did and everything he said he was always correcting this suspicion of yours in advance? Yet even when these things were said and done, they achieved nothing, not even at that very time. At any rate, the man who was sunk in such great wickedness, who had spent his whole life in murders and burglaries, confessed him at the very moment these things were being said, and spoke of a kingdom; and the people wept for him. To those who did not know the hidden plan of salvation, the things that were done seemed to testify the opposite — that he was weak and powerless. Nevertheless, the truth prevailed even through what seemed to tell against it.

So when we hear these things, let us arm ourselves against all rage and all anger. If you feel your heart swelling, set the cross on your breast as a seal. Call to mind one of the things that happened then, and by the memory of what was done you will shake off all your rage like dust. Think of the words and the actions; think that he is Lord, and you are a servant. He is suffering for you; you for yourself. He on behalf of those he had done good to and who had crucified him; you on your own behalf. He on behalf of those who had treated him with contempt; you, often, at the hands of those who have been wronged. He in the sight of the whole city — or rather of the whole Jewish people, visitors and residents alike, before whom he had spoken those merciful words; you in the presence of a few. And what was more insulting to him, even his disciples abandoned him. Those who had paid him attention before had deserted him, while his enemies and foes, having him in their midst on the cross, insulted, reviled, mocked, jeered, and scoffed at him: Jews and soldiers from below, and from above the thieves on either side. For the thieves did insult him, and both of them taunted him.

How, then, does Luke say that one of them “rebuked” the other? Both things happened. At first both taunted him, but afterward one did so no longer. For so that you would not think the thing had been done by some agreement, or that the thief was not really a thief, he shows you by his insults that up on the cross he was still a thief and an enemy — and all at once he was changed.

Think over all these things, then, and control yourself. What are you suffering that compares with what your Lord suffered? Were you insulted in public? But not like this. Are you mocked? Yet not your whole body; you were not scourged like this, and stripped. And even if you were struck with fists, it was not like this.

And add to this, I beg you: by whom, and why, and when, and who it was. And — the most painful thing of all — while these things were being done, no one found fault, no one blamed what was done. On the contrary, all approved instead, and joined in mocking him and jeering at him, and they reviled him as a boaster, an impostor, and a deceiver, unable to prove by his works the things he said. But he kept silent before them all, preparing for us the most powerful incentives to patience. [l]

But we, though we hear such things, cannot be patient even with our servants. At wrongs done to ourselves we rush and kick worse than wild donkeys, savage and inhuman, while wrongs done to God we hardly take into account. And toward friends we have the same temper: if anyone annoys us, we do not bear it; if he insults us, we become more savage than wild beasts — we who read these things every day!

A disciple betrayed him; the rest abandoned him and fled; those he had done good to spat at him; the high priest’s servants struck him with the palms of their hands; the soldiers beat him with their fists; the passers-by jeered at him and reviled him; the thieves accused him. And to no one did he say a word, but by silence he overcame them all. By his actions he was teaching you that the more gently you endure, the more you will prevail over those who wrong you, and the more you will be admired by all. For who will not admire the man who patiently bears the insults of those who treat him with contempt? A man may suffer justly, yet if he bears the wrong gently, most people think he suffers unjustly. So too a man may suffer unjustly, yet if he turns violent, he will be suspected of suffering justly, and will become a laughingstock, dragged off captive by his anger and losing his own nobility. Such a man we must not even call free, though he be master of ten thousand slaves.

But did someone provoke you beyond measure? What of it? That is the very time to show self-control. When there is no one to annoy them, we see even wild beasts gentle; they are not always savage, but only when someone rouses them. So if we are quiet only when no one is provoking us, what advantage do we have over them? And they often have just cause for their fury and every excuse, for they are roused by being stirred up and goaded; and besides, they lack reason and have savagery in their nature.

But where, I ask you, can you find an excuse for being savage and fierce? What hardship have you suffered? Were you robbed? For that very reason you ought to endure it, so as to gain all the more. Were you robbed of your good name? And what is that? Your condition is no worse for it, if you practice mastery of yourself. And if you have suffered no harm, why are you angry with the man who has done you no harm, but has even done you good? For those who honor us make the careless more conceited, while those who insult and despise us make those who watch over themselves more steady. The careless are harmed more by being honored than by being insulted. The ones who insult us, if we are sober-minded, become the source of our self-control; the others stir up our pride, fill us with boasting, empty glory, and folly, and make our soul weaker.

Fathers bear witness to this. They do not flatter their own children as much as they scold them, for fear the praise might do them some harm; and their teachers use the same remedy with them. So if we are to avoid anyone, it should be those who flatter us rather than those who insult us. For to those who are not on their guard this bait does more damage than insult, and this feeling is harder to master than that one. The reward from it is far richer, too, and the admiration greater. For it is more admirable to see a man insulted and not moved than beaten and struck and not falling.

“But how is it possible not to be moved?” Has someone insulted you? Make the sign on your breast; call to mind everything that was done then, and all is quenched. Think not only of the insults, but also of any good that the man who insulted you has ever done you, and at once you will become gentle. Or rather, think before everything else of the fear of God, and you will soon be mild and gentle.

Along with these things, take a lesson on this from your own servants too. When you see yourself insulting and your servant keeping silent, consider that it is possible to practice self-control, and condemn yourself for being violent. At the very time you are giving insults, learn not to insult; and so you will not be annoyed even when you are insulted. Consider that the man who insults you is beside himself and mad, and you will not be indignant when insulted. People possessed by demons strike us, and far from being provoked, we pity them instead. Do the same yourself: pity the man who insults you, for he is held in subjection by a terrible monster, rage, by a cruel demon, anger. Set him free, since he is being driven by a cruel demon and is rushing quickly to ruin. So great is this disease that it does not even need time to destroy the one it seizes. That is why someone said, “The sway of his fury will be his downfall.” By this above all he showed its tyranny: in a short time it works great evils and does not need to stay with us long. If, on top of its strength, it were also inclined to last, it would be hard indeed to fight against. [m]

I would like to show you what the man who insults is like, and what the man who practices self-control is like, and to lay bare before you the soul of each. You would see the one like a sea tossed by a storm, and the other like a harbor free from disturbance. For that soul is not troubled by these evil blasts, but calms them easily. Those who insult do everything they can to make it sting. So when they are disappointed of that hope, even they are at peace from then on, and go away better men. For it is impossible for a man who is angry not to condemn himself thoroughly, just as, on the other hand, it is impossible for one who is not angry to condemn himself. Even if it is necessary to retaliate, it is possible to do it without anger — and that would be easier and wiser than doing it with anger — and to feel no pain. For if we are willing, the good things will come from ourselves, and with the grace of God we will be sufficient for our own safety and honor.

Why do you look for the glory that comes from someone else? Honor yourself, and no one will be able to insult you. But if you dishonor yourself, then though all should honor you, you will not be honored. For just as no one else puts us in a bad state unless we put ourselves in one, so no one else can put us to shame unless we insult ourselves.

Let a man be great and admirable, and let everyone call him an adulterer, a thief, a grave robber, a murderer, a robber; and let him be neither provoked nor indignant, and be conscious of none of these crimes in himself. What disgrace will he suffer from it? None. “What, then, if many hold such an opinion of him?” Not even so is he disgraced. They bring shame on themselves, by counting a man to be what he is not. Tell me: if someone thinks the sun is dark, does he bring a bad name on that heavenly body, or on himself? On himself, surely, earning the reputation of being blind or mad. So too those who count wicked men good, and those who make the opposite mistake, disgrace themselves.

So we ought to take all the more care to keep our conscience clear, and to give no handle against ourselves and no ground for evil suspicion. But if others insist on raving even when this is our disposition, we should not care very much, nor grieve. For the good man who has gotten the reputation of a wicked one is not harmed at all in being what he is; but the man who suspects another idly and without cause receives the greatest harm. So, on the other hand, the wicked man, if he is thought to be the opposite, will gain nothing from it, but will face a heavier judgment and be led into greater carelessness. For the man who is wicked and is suspected of it may perhaps be humbled and acknowledge his sins; but when he escapes notice, he falls into a state where he feels nothing at all. If wrongdoers are hardly stirred to heartfelt sorrow even when everyone is accusing them, then when some, far from accusing them, even praise them, when will those who live in vice ever be able to open their eyes? Do you hear how Paul also finds fault with the Corinthians for this very thing? Far from letting the man guilty of sexual immorality acknowledge his own sin, they applauded and honored him, and so urged him on in his vice.

So, I beg you, let us leave behind the suspicions of the crowd, their insults and their honors, and let us be diligent about one thing only: to be conscious of nothing evil in ourselves, and not to insult ourselves. For so we will enjoy great glory, both here and in the world to come. May we all attain it, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.