Homily 2 — John 1, verse 1

“In the beginning was the Word.” [a]

If John were about to talk with us and to speak words of his own, we would have to describe his family, his country, and his education. But since it is not he but God through him who speaks to humankind, it seems to me unnecessary and distracting to look into these matters. And yet even so it is not unnecessary; in fact it is very necessary. For when you have learned who he was and where he came from, who his parents were and what he was like, and then hear his voice and all his heavenly wisdom, you will know very well that these teachings are not his own, but belong to the divine power stirring his soul.

What country, then, was he from? From no country at all, but from a poor village, in a land held in low esteem and producing nothing good. The scribes speak badly of Galilee, saying, “Search and look, for no prophet arises out of Galilee” (John 7, verse 52). And “the true Israelite” speaks badly of it too, saying, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” And though he came from this land, he was not even from any notable place in it, but from one not even known by name. That is where he came from. And his father was a poor fisherman, so poor that he brought his sons into the same work. Now you all know that no workman chooses to raise his son to follow him in his trade unless poverty presses him very hard, especially when the trade is a lowly one. But nothing is poorer or lowlier than fishermen — no, nor more ignorant. Yet even among them some are greater and some less, and even there our apostle held the lower rank, for he did not take his catch from the sea but spent his time on a certain little lake. He was at work there with his father and his brother James, and they were mending their broken nets — a thing that in itself showed extreme poverty — when Christ called him.

As for worldly education, we can gather from these facts that he had none at all. Besides, Luke testifies to this when he writes that he was not only ignorant but completely unlettered (Acts 4, verse 13). That is just what we would expect. For a man so poor, who never came into the public assemblies or mixed with respectable people, but was as good as nailed to his fishing — or if he ever did meet anyone, talked with fish sellers and cooks — how, I ask, was he likely to be in any better state than the animals that lack reason? How could he help copying the very speechlessness of his fish?

This fisherman, then, whose business was lakes and nets and fish; this native of Bethsaida in Galilee; this son of a poor fisherman — yes, poor to the last degree; this ignorant man, and ignorant to the last degree too, who never learned to read and write, either before or after he went with Christ — let us see what he says, and what subjects he talks with us about. Is it about things in the fields? About things in rivers? About the fish trade? For that, perhaps, is what one expects to hear from a fisherman. But do not be afraid: we will hear nothing of the kind. We will hear of things in heaven, things no one ever learned before this man. For as you would expect of one who speaks from the very treasuries of the Spirit, he has come bringing us lofty teachings and the best way of life and wisdom, as though he had just arrived from heaven itself — or rather, such things as it was not likely that even all who are there should know, as I said before. [d]

Tell me, do these things belong to a fisherman? Do they belong to a teacher of rhetoric at all? To a sophist or a philosopher? To anyone trained in the wisdom of the pagans? Not at all. The human soul is simply unable to philosophize in this way about that pure and blessed nature; about the powers that come next to it; about immortality and endless life; about the nature of mortal bodies, which will one day be immortal; about punishment and the judgment to come; about the inquiry that will be made into deeds and words, into thoughts and imaginings. It cannot say what a human being is, or what the world is; what a true human being is, and what the one is who seems to be human but is not; what the nature of virtue is, and what the nature of vice.

Some of these things, it is true, the followers of Plato and Pythagoras looked into. The other philosophers we need not mention at all; on this subject they have all been utterly ridiculous. And those among them who were held in higher esteem than the rest, and counted the leaders of this science, are more ridiculous than the others. They composed writings on how a people should order its way of life, and on doctrine, and in all of it they made themselves more shamefully ridiculous than children. They spent their whole lives making women common to all, overturning the very order of life, doing away with the honor of marriage, and making other ridiculous laws like these. As for their teachings on the soul, there is no disgrace they have left unsaid. They claim that human souls become flies and gnats and bushes, and that God himself is a soul, along with other indecencies of the same kind. [f]

Nor is this the only thing in them that deserves blame; so does their ever-shifting stream of words. Since they assert everything on uncertain and misleading arguments, they are like men swept back and forth in the Euripus, never staying in the same place.

Not so this fisherman. Everything he says is free from error, and as though standing on a rock, he never shifts his ground. Since he has been counted worthy to enter the most secret places, and has the Lord of all speaking within him, he is subject to nothing merely human. But they are like people who are not counted worthy even in a dream to set foot in the king’s palace, but spend their time in the public square with other men, guessing from their own imagination at what they cannot see. They have wandered far astray, and like blind or drunken men staggering about, they have crashed into each other — and not only into each other but into themselves, by constantly changing their opinions, and on the very same questions.

But this unlettered man, the ignorant man, the native of Bethsaida, the son of Zebedee — even though the Greeks mock the roughness of these names ten thousand times over, I will speak them all the more boldly. For the more barbarous his nation seems to them, and the further he seems from Greek learning, the more brightly what we have shines. When a barbarian, an untaught person, utters things that no one on earth ever knew — and not only utters them (though if that were all, it would be a great marvel), but beyond this gives another and stronger proof that what he says is inspired by God, namely, that he convinces all his hearers through all time — who will not wonder at the power that lives in him? For this, as I said, is the strongest proof that he lays down no laws of his own. [g]

This barbarian, then, by writing his Gospel, has taken hold of the whole inhabited world. With his body he has taken possession of the center of Asia, where long ago all the Greek schools did their philosophizing. There he shines out in the middle of his enemies, scattering their darkness and tearing down the stronghold of the demons. But in his soul he has gone away to the place fit for one who has done such things.

As for the writings of the Greeks, they have all been snuffed out and have vanished, but this man’s shine brighter day by day. For from the time he and the other fishermen appeared, the teachings of Pythagoras and Plato, which seemed to prevail before, have ceased to be talked about, and most people do not know them even by name. Yet Plato, they say, was invited to be the companion of kings, had many friends, and sailed to Sicily. And Pythagoras took hold of Magna Graecia and practiced ten thousand kinds of sorcery there. For to talk with oxen, as they say he did, was nothing but a piece of sorcery. That is quite clear from this: the man who talked in this way with dumb animals did nothing at all for the human race, but even did it the greatest wrong. Surely human nature was better suited to the reasoning of philosophy; yet, as they say, he talked with eagles and oxen, using sorceries. He did not make their unreasoning nature reasoning — that was impossible for a man — but by his magic tricks he deceived the foolish. And while he neglected to teach people anything useful, he taught that eating beans was no different from eating the heads of one’s own parents. And he persuaded his followers that their teacher’s soul had actually been at one time a bush, at another a girl, at another a fish. [i]

Are not these things rightly extinct and utterly vanished? Rightly, and with good reason. But not so the words of the man who was ignorant and unlettered. Syrians and Egyptians and Indians and Persians and Ethiopians, and ten thousand other nations, have translated the teachings he brought into their own languages, and barbarians though they are, they have learned to philosophize. So it was not idly that I said the whole world has become his theater. For he did not leave his own kind and waste his labor on unreasoning creatures — an act of excessive empty glory and extreme folly. Free of this, as of every other passion, he was eager for one thing only: that the whole world might learn something of what would benefit it, and that he might be able to carry it from earth to heaven.

That is also why he did not hide his teaching in mist and darkness, as they did, who threw obscure language like a kind of veil over the evils stored up inside. This man’s teachings are clearer than the sun’s rays, and that is why they have been laid open to everyone throughout the world. He did not teach as Pythagoras did, ordering those who came to him to keep silent for five years, or to sit like senseless stones. Nor did he invent fables declaring that the universe consists of numbers. He threw away all this demonic rubbish and mischief, and spread such simplicity through his words that everything he said was plain, not only to the wise but also to women and to the young. For he was convinced that his words were true and profitable to all who would listen to them. And all the time since then is his witness, for he has drawn the whole world to himself, and when we have listened to these words, he has freed our life from every monstrous show of wisdom. That is why we who hear them would rather give up our lives than the teachings he has handed down to us.

From this, then, and from every other circumstance, it is plain that nothing of this man’s is human; the lessons that come to us through this divine soul are divine and heavenly. For we will find here no resounding phrases, no grand diction, no excessive and useless ordering and arranging of words and sentences — these things are far from all true wisdom — but strength unconquerable and divine, the irresistible force of right teaching, and a rich supply of countless good things. Their overcare about style was so excessive, so fit for mere sophists — or rather not even for sophists but for silly boys — that even their own chief philosopher brings in his master as deeply ashamed of this art. He has him say to the judges that what they will hear from him will be spoken plainly and without preparation, not dressed up with rhetoric or decorated with fine phrases and words; since, he says, it would surely not be fitting, gentlemen, for a man of my age to come before you like a boy making up speeches. And see how utterly absurd the thing is: what he described his master avoiding as disgraceful, unworthy of philosophy, and fit only for boys, this is the very thing he himself cultivated above all. So completely were they given over to the mere love of distinction. [m]

If you uncover those tombs that are whitewashed on the outside, you will find them full of decay and stench and rotten bones. In the same way, if you strip the philosopher’s teachings of their flowery language, you will see that they are full of much that is detestable, especially when he philosophizes about the soul, which he both honors and speaks badly of beyond all measure. And this is the devil’s snare: never to keep a proper balance, but by going too far in one direction or the other to lead those caught in it into speaking evil. At one time he says that the soul is of the substance of God. At another, after exalting it so immoderately and impiously, he goes too far again the other way and treats it with insult, making it pass into pigs and donkeys and other animals of even less value than these.

But enough of this — or rather, even this is more than enough. If it were possible to learn anything profitable from these things, we would have had to spend longer on them; but if the only point is to see how indecent and absurd they are, we have already said more than was needed. So we will leave their fables and hold fast to our own teachings, which have been brought to us from above by the tongue of this fisherman, and which have nothing human in them.

Let us bring forward his words, then, now that I have reminded you, as I urged you at the start, to pay close attention to what is said. What does this evangelist say at the very outset? [o]

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God” (verse 1). Do you see the great boldness and power of the words? He says nothing in doubt or by guesswork, but declares everything plainly. That is the teacher’s part: not to waver in anything he says. For if the one who is to guide the rest needs someone else who can make him sure, he would rightly be ranked not among teachers but among disciples.

But suppose someone says:

“Why has he passed over the first cause and spoken to us at once about the second?”

We will decline to speak of “first” and “second,” for the divine nature is above number and the succession of times. That is why we decline these expressions. But we confess that the Father is from no one, and that the Son is begotten of the Father. Yes, it may be said:

“But why, then, does he leave the Father aside and speak about the Son?”

Why? Because the Father was known to all, if not as Father, at least as God; but the only Son was not known. So with good reason he hurried, from the very beginning, to plant the knowledge of him in those who did not know him.

Besides, in writing on these matters he has not been silent about the Father. And notice, I beg you, his spiritual wisdom. He knows that people give the highest honor to the eldest of beings, the one that was before all things, and count this to be God. So he makes this his starting point, and as he goes on, he declares that God is. And he does not, like Plato, say sometimes that God is mind and sometimes that he is soul. These things are far removed from that divine and unmixed nature, which has nothing in common with us but is set apart from any fellowship with created things — in its being, I mean, though not in its relationship with them.

That is why he calls him “the Word.” He is about to teach that this Word is the only Son of God. So that no one would imagine that his birth involved suffering, he gives him the name “the Word,” and so anticipates and removes that wrong suspicion in advance, showing that the Son is from the Father, and that without his undergoing any suffering or change.

Do you see, then, that, as I said, he has not been silent about the Father in what he says about the Son? And if these points are not enough to explain the whole matter fully, do not be surprised. Our subject is God, whom it is impossible to describe or to imagine as he deserves. That is why this man nowhere gives a name to his essence — for it is not possible to say what God is in his essence — but everywhere he makes him known to us by his workings. This “Word” you will see called “Light” a little further on, and the “Light” in turn named “Life.” [p]

Yet this was not the only reason he gave him that name. This was the first reason; the second was that he was going to declare to us the things of the Father. “All things,” he says, “that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you” (John 15, verse 15). He calls him both “Light” and “Life,” because he has freely given us the light that comes from knowledge and the life that follows from it. In short, one name is not enough to teach us what belongs to God, nor two, nor three, nor more. We must be content if, even by means of many, we can grasp his attributes, though only dimly.

And he has not called him simply “Word,” but has added the article, setting him apart from the rest in this way too. Do you see, then, that I did not say without reason that this evangelist speaks to us from heaven? Only look where he has drawn the soul up to from the very beginning, having given it wings, and how he has carried up with him the minds of his hearers. He sets the soul higher than all the things of the senses, higher than earth, than sea, than heaven, and leads it by the hand above the very angels, above cherubim and seraphim, above thrones and rulers and powers. In a word, he persuades it to travel beyond all created things.

What then? When he has brought us to such a height, is he really able to stop us there? Not at all. Think of someone standing on the beach and looking at cities and shores and harbors. If you carry him out into the middle of the sea, you take him away from those earlier sights, yet you do not let his gaze rest anywhere; you bring him to a view without any boundary. In the same way this evangelist, having brought us above all creation and escorted us toward the eternal ages that lie beyond it, leaves our sight hanging there, not allowing it to arrive at any upper limit — as indeed there is none.

For the mind climbs up to “the beginning” and asks, “What beginning?” Then, finding the “was” always running ahead of its imagining, it has nowhere to rest its thought. It gazes intently onward, and being unable to stop at any point, it grows exhausted and turns back to the things below. For this “was in the beginning” expresses nothing other than being forever and being without limit.

Do you see true philosophy and divine teaching? Not like the teaching of the Greeks, who assign times and say that some of the gods are younger and some older. There is nothing of this with us. For if God is, as he certainly is, then nothing was before him. If he is the Creator of all things, he must be first; if he is Master and Lord of all, then all things, both creatures and ages, come after him.

I had wanted to enter the contest over still other difficulties, but perhaps our minds are worn out. So when I have given you some advice on points that will help us in listening, both to what has been said and to what is still to be said, I will fall silent once more. What are these points? I know that many have become confused because of the length of what has been said. This happens when the soul is weighed down with the many burdens of this life. When the eye is clear and transparent, it is sharp-sighted and does not easily tire, even in making out the tiniest objects. But when some bad humor has flowed into it from the head, or smoky fumes have risen up to it from below, a kind of thick cloud forms in front of the eyeball and does not let it see clearly even a larger object. It is the same, naturally, with the soul. When it is purified and has no passion to disturb it, it looks steadily at the things it ought to look at. But when it is darkened by many passions and loses its proper excellence, it is not easily equal to anything lofty. It soon grows tired and falls back, and turning aside to sleep and laziness, it lets slip the things that concern it — things meant for its excellence and for the life that comes from it — instead of receiving them with great eagerness. [r]

So that this may not happen to you — and I will never stop warning you like this, over and over — strengthen your minds, so that you do not hear what the believers among the Hebrews heard from Paul. He told them that he had “many things to say, and hard to explain” (Hebrews 5, verse 11) — not as though these things were hard by nature, but because, he says, “you are dull of hearing.” For it is the nature of the weak and sickly man to be confused by a few words as much as by many, and to think that what is clear and easy is hard to understand. Let no one here be like that. Let each of you drive all worldly care away from himself, and so listen to these teachings.

For when the desire for money possesses a listener, the desire to listen cannot possess him as well. The soul, being one, is not enough for many desires. One of the two is damaged by the other, and, being divided, it grows weaker as its rival wins out and spends everything on itself. This is what usually happens with children. When a man has only one, he loves that one exceedingly. But when he has become the father of many, his feelings of affection are divided and grow weaker. If this happens where nature has absolute rule and power, and those who are loved are related to one another, what can we say of the desire and inclination that depend on deliberate choice — especially where these desires are directly opposed to each other? For the love of wealth is opposed to the love of this kind of listening. We enter heaven when we come in here — not in place, I mean, but in disposition. For it is possible for someone on earth to stand in heaven, to see the things that are there, and to hear the words that come from there.

So let no one bring the things of earth into heaven. Let no one standing here be worrying about what is going on at his house. Rather, he ought to carry away with him and keep, both at home and in his business, what he gains from this place, and not let it be loaded down with the burdens of the house and the marketplace. The reason we come into this place of teaching is to cleanse ourselves here of the filth of the world outside. But if even in this short time we are likely to be harmed by things said or done outside, it would be better for us not to come in at all. So let no one in the assembly be thinking about household matters; rather, let him at home be stirred by what he heard in the assembly. Let these things be more precious to us than anything. These concern the soul, those the body — or rather, what is said here concerns both body and soul. So let these things be our main business, and everything else a sideline. For these belong both to the life to come and to the present life, but the rest belong to neither the one nor the other, unless they are managed according to the law laid down here. For from these we can learn not only what we will be hereafter and how we will live then, but also how to direct this present life rightly. [s]

This house is a spiritual clinic, so that whatever wounds we have received outside, we may heal here — not so that we may pick up fresh ones to take away with us. Yet if we do not pay attention to the Spirit speaking to us, we will not only fail to clear ourselves of our former injuries but will get others besides.

So let us attend with great earnestness to the book as it is being opened up to us. For if we learn its first principles and fundamental teachings accurately, we will not need much close study afterward; having worked a little at the beginning, we will be able, as Paul says, to instruct others too (Romans 15, verse 14). For this apostle is very lofty and rich in many teachings, and he dwells on these more than on other matters.

So let us not be careless listeners. This is the reason we set these things before you little by little: so that everything may be easy for you to understand and may not slip from your memory. Let us be afraid, then, of coming under the condemnation of the word that says, “If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have had sin” (John 15, verse 22). For what will we gain more than those who have not heard, if even after hearing we go home carrying nothing with us, only admiring what was said?

So allow us to sow in good ground. Allow us, so that you may draw us to you all the more. If anyone has thorns, let him throw the fire of the Spirit among them. If anyone has a hard and stubborn heart, let him use the same fire to make it soft and yielding. If anyone lies along the path, trampled by all kinds of thoughts, let him go into more sheltered places and not lie exposed to anyone who wants to invade and plunder, so that we may see your fields waving with grain. Besides, if we take such care of ourselves and apply ourselves diligently to this spiritual listening, then if not at once, yet little by little, we will surely be set free from all the cares of life.

So let us take care that it is not said of us that our ears are like those of a deaf adder (Psalm 58, verse 4). For tell me, how does a listener like this differ from a beast? How could he be anything but more unreasoning than any unreasoning animal, when he does not pay attention while God is speaking? And if to be pleasing to God is truly to be a human being, what else can he be but a beast, who will not even listen to learn how he may succeed in this? Consider, then, what a misfortune it would be for us to fall of our own accord from the nature of human beings to that of beasts, when Christ wants to take us, who are human, and make us equal to angels. For to serve the belly, to be possessed by the desire for riches, to give way to anger, to bite, to kick — these are not fitting for human beings, but for beasts. Indeed, even the beasts each have, so to speak, one single passion, and that by nature. But when a man has thrown off the rule of reason and torn himself away from the commonwealth God designed, he gives himself up to all the passions and is no longer merely a beast, but a kind of many-shaped, patchwork monster. Nor does he even have the excuse of nature, for all his wickedness comes from deliberate choice and decision.

May we never have reason to suspect this of the church of Christ. Indeed, we are persuaded of better things concerning you, things that belong to salvation. But the more we are persuaded of it, the more careful we will be not to stop our words of warning, so that, having climbed to the summit of every excellence, we may obtain the good things promised. May we all attain them, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. Amen.