Homily 90 — Matthew 28, verses 11 to 20

“Now while they were going, look, some of the guard came into the city and reported to the chief priests all the things that had happened. And when they had gathered with the elders and taken counsel, they gave a large sum of money to the soldiers, saying, ‘Say, his disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep.’ And if this comes to the governor’s ears, we will persuade him and keep you out of trouble.” [a]

It was for the sake of these soldiers that the earthquake took place: to shake them, and so that the testimony would come from them. And that is how it turned out. In this way the report was beyond suspicion, since it came from the guards themselves. For of the signs, some were displayed publicly to the whole world, and others privately to those who were present on the spot. The darkness was public, for the world; the appearance of the angel and the earthquake were private. So when the guards came and reported it — for the truth shines out when its enemies are the ones proclaiming it — the chief priests again gave money, so that the soldiers would say, as the text puts it, “that his disciples came and stole him.”

How did they steal him? You most foolish of all men! The truth is so clear and so conspicuous that they cannot even make up a lie. What they said was completely unbelievable; the falsehood did not even look plausible. For how, I ask you, did the disciples steal him — poor, uneducated men who did not dare so much as show their faces? What? Had a seal not been put on the tomb? What? Were there not all those watchmen and soldiers and Jews posted around it? What? Had those very men not suspected this exact thing, and given it thought, and lost sleep, and stayed anxious about it? And besides, why would the disciples steal the body? So that they could invent the teaching of the resurrection? And how could it enter their heads to invent such a thing, men who were well content to stay hidden and stay alive? How could they have moved the stone that had been made secure? How could they have slipped past so many eyes? No — even if they had despised death, they would not have tried to take such a pointless and fruitless risk in defiance of so many men on watch.

And that they were timid, what they had done earlier plainly showed: when they saw him arrested, they all ran away from him. If at that time they did not dare even to stand their ground when they saw him alive, how could they not have feared so large a number of soldiers once he was dead? What? Was it a door to be burst open? Was it a matter of one man slipping by unnoticed? A great stone lay on the tomb, and it took many hands to move it.

They were right when they said, “So the last error will be worse than the first.” They were pronouncing sentence on themselves. After so much madness they ought to have repented; instead they strive to outdo their earlier deeds by inventing absurd fictions. While he was alive they bought his blood; now that he was dead and risen again, they were once more trying with money to undermine the evidence of his resurrection.

But notice, I beg you, how they are caught everywhere by their own actions. If they had not gone to Pilate and asked for the guard, they would have been better able to lie so shamelessly. As it was, they could not. They did everything as though they were working hard to stop their own mouths. If the disciples did not have the strength to stay awake with him, even when he rebuked them for it, how could they have dared to do such things? And why did they not steal him before this, rather than after you had come? If they had meant to do it, they would have done it on the first night, when the tomb was not yet guarded, when it could have been done without danger and in safety. For it was on the Sabbath that they came and asked Pilate for the guard and kept watch; during the first night none of them was at the tomb.

And what about the grave cloths, stuck to the body with the myrrh? Peter saw them lying there. If the disciples had meant to steal, they would not have stolen the body naked. That is not only because it would have dishonored it, but so as not to delay and waste time stripping it, and so as not to give anyone who was inclined to do so the chance to wake up and seize them. All the more so since it was myrrh, a substance that sticks so closely to the body and clings to the clothes that it was not easy to get the clothes off the body; whoever did it would have needed a great deal of time. So from this too the story of the theft is improbable. [d]

What? Did they not know how enraged the Jews were, and that they would vent their anger on them? And what good would it have done them at all, if he had not risen again?

So these men, knowing full well that they had made up this whole story, gave money and said, “Say this, and we will persuade the governor.” They want the report spread abroad. They are fighting against the truth in vain, and by the very efforts they made to obscure it, they caused it, against their will, to shine out clearly. For even this establishes the resurrection — I mean their saying that the disciples stole him. That is the language of men who admit that the body was not there. So when they admit that the body was not there, and the theft is shown to be false and unbelievable by their own watch at the tomb, by the seals, and by the timidity of the disciples, then from this too the proof of the resurrection is beyond dispute.

Nevertheless these shameless and reckless men, though so many things stopped their mouths, say, “Say this” — these are their words — “and we will persuade him, and keep you out of trouble.” Do you see them all corrupted? Pilate, since he let himself be persuaded? The soldiers? The Jewish people? But do not be surprised that money got the better of soldiers. If it showed such great power over his own disciple, much more over these men.

“And this story,” it says, “has been spread about until this day.” Do you see again the disciples’ love of truth? They are not ashamed to say even this, that such a report prevailed against them.

“Then the eleven disciples went away into Galilee; and some worshiped, and some, when they saw him, doubted.”

This seems to me to be the last appearance, the one in Galilee, when he sent them out to baptize. And if “some doubted,” here again admire their truthfulness: they do not hide even their own failings, right up to the last day. Even so, these too are made sure by what they saw.

What, then, does he say to them when he sees them? “All power has been given to me in heaven and on earth.” Again he speaks to them more in a human way, for they had not yet received the Spirit, who was able to lift them up on high. “Go, make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things whatever I have commanded you.” The one charge concerns teaching, the other the commandments. He makes no mention of the Jews. He does not bring up what had been done; he does not reproach Peter for his denial, nor any of the others for their flight. Instead, having put into their hands a summary of the teaching — the one expressed in the form of words used in baptism — he commands them to spread out over the whole world.

Then, because he had laid great things on them, he raises their courage by saying, “Look, I am with you always, even to the end of the world.” Do you see his own power again? Do you see how those other words, too, were spoken in stooping down to meet them? And he did not promise to be with those men only, but also with all who believe after them. For plainly the apostles were not going to remain here “to the end of the world”; he is speaking to the believers as to one body.

For he says: “Do not tell me how hard these things are, for I am with you, and I make all things easy.” He said this to the prophets too in the Old Testament, over and over: to Jeremiah when he pleaded his youth, and to Moses and Ezekiel when they shrank from the task — “I am with you.” And he says it here also to these men. And notice, I beg you, how excellent these men were. The prophets, when they were sent to one nation, often made excuses; these men said nothing of the kind, though they were sent to the world. He also reminds them of the end of all things, to draw them on all the more, so that they would look not only at the present dangers but also at the good things to come, which have no end.

He says: “For the hardships you will go through come to an end together with this present life, since even this world itself will come to an end. But the good things you will enjoy remain undying, as I have often told you before.” So, having strengthened and roused their minds with the remembrance of that day, he sent them out. For to those who live in good works that day is something to long for, just as, on the other hand, to those in sin it is as terrible as it is to condemned men.

But let us not only fear and shudder. Let us also change while there is opportunity, and rise up out of our wickedness; for we can, if we are willing. If many did this before grace came, much more can we after grace.

For what hard things are we commanded? To split mountains apart? To fly through the air? To cross the Tuscan Sea? Not at all. We are commanded a way of life so easy that it needs no tools at all, only a soul and a will. For what tools did these apostles have, who accomplished such things? Did they not go about with a single garment and no shoes? And yet they got the better of everyone. [j]

What is hard among the commandments? Have no enemy. Hate no one. Speak ill of no one. No — the opposite of these things is the greater hardship. But you reply: “He said, ‘Throw away your money.’” Is that the hard thing? In the first place, he did not command it; he advised it. But even if it were a command, what is hard about not carrying around burdens and needless cares?

Oh, greed! Everything has become money, and that is why everything is turned upside down. If anyone calls another man happy, this is what he mentions; if he calls him wretched, this is where the description of wretchedness comes from. All the calculations are about this: how so-and-so gets rich, how so-and-so becomes poor. Whether it is military service, or marriage, or a trade, or anything else a man takes in hand, he does not set about the thing proposed until he sees that riches will come pouring in on him quickly.

After this, will we not come together and consult how to drive away this plague? Will we not be ashamed when we look at the good deeds of our fathers — of the three thousand, of the five thousand, who held everything in common? What profit is there in this present life, if we do not use it for our future gain? How long will you not make a slave of mammon, which has made a slave of you? How long will you be slaves of money? How long will you have no love for freedom, and not tear up the contracts of greed? If you had become slaves of men, you would do anything if someone promised you freedom. Yet as captives of greed you do not even consider how you might be set free from this bitter bondage. And yet the one would be nothing terrible; the other is the most bitter tyranny.

Think how great a price Christ paid for us. He shed his own blood; he gave himself up. But you, even after all this, have grown slack. And the most grievous thing of all is that you even take delight in the slavery; you revel in the disgrace; and the thing you ought to flee has become the object of your desire.

But since it is right not only to lament and to blame, but also to correct, let us see why this passion and this evil have become the object of your desire. Where, then, where has this desire come from? You say: “Because it gives me honor and security.” What kind of security, I ask you? The confidence of not suffering hunger or cold, of not being harmed, of not being despised. Then if we promise you this security, will you stop being rich? For if this is why riches are desired, and it is in your power to have the security without them, what further need do you have of them? You say: “And how is it possible for someone who is not rich to have this?” No — how is it possible, I say the opposite, if one is rich? The rich man has to flatter many people, both rulers and subjects. He has to beg countless people, and be a mean slave, and live in fear and trembling, and watch the eyes of the envious with suspicion, and fear the tongues of false accusers and the desires of other greedy men. But poverty is not like this; it is altogether the opposite. It is a place of refuge and security, a calm harbor, a wrestling ground and a training school for learning mastery of oneself, an imitation of the life of the angels.

Hear these things, all of you who are poor — or rather, all of you who want to be rich as well. It is not poverty that is to be feared, but being unwilling to be poor. Consider poverty nothing to fear, and it will not be a thing to fear for you. This fear is not in the nature of the thing, but in the judgment of feeble-minded people. Or rather, I am ashamed even to have to say so much about poverty, to show that it is nothing to be feared. For if you practice mastery of yourself, it is even a fountain of countless blessings to you. If someone were to offer you royal rule, and political power, and wealth, and luxury, and then set poverty against them and give you your choice of whichever you wished, you would seize poverty at once — if, that is, you knew its beauty.

And I know that many laugh when these things are said. But we are not troubled. We ask you to wait, and soon you will give your verdict with us. To me, poverty seems like a comely, beautiful, graceful young woman, and greed like a woman shaped like a monster — some Scylla or Hydra, or some other such monster invented by the writers of fables. Do not bring forward, I beg you, those who accuse poverty, but those who have shone through it. Raised in poverty, Elijah was caught up into heaven in that blessed way. Through it Elisha shone; through it John; through it all the apostles. But through the other, Ahab, Jezebel, Gehazi, Judas, Nero and Caiaphas were condemned. [m]

But if you like, let us look not only at those who have been glorious in poverty, but at the beauty of this young woman herself. Her eye is clear and piercing, with nothing muddied in it. It is not like the eye of greed, which is at one moment full of anger, at another glutted with pleasure, at another troubled by lack of self-control. The eye of poverty is not like that. It is mild and calm, looking kindly on everyone, gentle, kind, hating no one, shunning no one. For where there are riches, there is material for hostility and for countless wars. Again, the mouth of the other is full of insults, of a kind of haughtiness, of much boasting, of cursing and deceit. But the mouth and the tongue of poverty are healthy, filled with constant thanksgiving and blessing, with words of gentleness, affection, courtesy, praise and commendation. And if you want to see the proportion of her limbs as well, she is of fine stature, and far taller than wealth. And if many run from her, do not be surprised; fools run from the rest of virtue too.

But you will say: “The poor man is insulted by the rich man.” Again you are telling me the praise of poverty. For who, I ask you, is blessed — the one who insults, or the one who is insulted? Obviously the one who is insulted. And besides, greed urges the one to insult; poverty persuades the other to endure. You will say: “But the poor man goes hungry.” Paul also went hungry, and knew famine. “But he has no rest.” Neither did “the Son of Man have anywhere to lay his head.”

Do you see how far the praises of poverty have gone, and where it places you, to what men it leads you, and how it makes you a follower of the Lord? If it were good to have gold, Christ, who has blessings beyond words, would have given it to his disciples. But as it is, far from giving it to them, he forbade them to have it. That is why Peter too, far from being ashamed of poverty, even glories in it, saying, “Silver and gold I have none; but what I have, I give you.” And which of you would not have wanted to speak these words? Perhaps someone may say: “We all would, very much.” Then throw away your silver; throw away your gold. You will say: “And if I throw it away, will I receive the power of Peter?” Why, tell me, what made Peter blessed? Was it really lifting up the lame man? Not at all. It was not having these riches; that is what won him heaven. For of those who worked such miracles, many fell into hell; but those who did those good things attained a kingdom. You can learn this from Peter himself. He said two things: “Silver and gold I have none,” and, “In the name of Jesus Christ, rise up and walk.”

Which of these, then, made him glorious and blessed: raising up the lame man, or throwing away his money? You can learn this from the one who presides over the contest himself. What does he say to the rich man who was seeking eternal life? He did not say, “Raise up the lame,” but, “Sell your goods, and give to the poor, and come, follow me, and you will have treasure in heaven.” And again, Peter did not say, “Look, in your name we cast out demons,” although he was casting them out, but, “Look, we have left everything and followed you. What will we have?” And again, Christ, in answering this apostle, did not say, “If anyone raises up the lame,” but, “Whoever has left houses or lands will receive a hundredfold in this world, and will inherit eternal life.”

Let us too, then, imitate this man, so that we will not be put to shame, but may stand with confidence at the judgment seat of Christ, and may win him to be with us, just as he was with his disciples. For he will be with us as he was with them, if we are willing to follow them and to imitate their life and way of living. It is for these things that God crowns and praises people. He does not require you to raise the dead or to cure the lame. It is not these things that make someone like Peter, but throwing away one’s goods; this was the apostles’ achievement.

But do you find it impossible to throw them away? In the first place, I say that it is possible. But I do not force you if you are unwilling, nor compel you to it. This much I do beg of you: spend at least a part on the needy, and seek nothing more for yourself than what is necessary. For in this way we will both live our life here free of trouble and in security, and enjoy eternal life. May we all attain it, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.