Homily 4 — John 1, verse 1, continued

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God.” [a]

When children are first brought to their lessons, their teachers do not give them many tasks one after another, or set them all at once. Instead they repeat the same short lessons to them again and again, so that what is said may be planted easily in their minds, and so that they will not be discouraged at the very start by the amount, and by finding it hard to remember, and so grow slower at picking up what they are given, as sluggishness sets in from the difficulty. I want to do the same with you and to make your work easy. So I take the food that lies on this divine table little by little, and let it drip into your souls. That is why I will take up the same words again — not to say the same things over, but to set before you only what still remains. Come, then, let us turn our talk once more to the opening words.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God.” All the other evangelists began with the plan of salvation. Matthew says, “The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the Son of David.” Luke, too, at the beginning of his Gospel tells us the events concerning Mary. And Mark in the same way dwells on the same kind of narrative, relating to us from that point the story of the Baptist. Why, then, when they began with these matters, did John touch on them only briefly, and at a later point, saying, “The Word became flesh” (verse 14)? Why did he pass over everything else — his conception, his birth, his upbringing, his growth — and speak to us at once about his eternal birth?

I will tell you now what the reason is. The other evangelists had dwelt mostly on the accounts of his coming in the flesh, and there was a danger that some, having earthbound minds, might for that reason stop at these teachings alone — as in fact happened with Paul of Samosata. So, to lead those who were likely to fall into this love of earthly things away from it, and to draw them up toward heaven, he had good reason to begin his narrative from above, from his eternal existence. Matthew begins his account from Herod the king, Luke from Tiberius Caesar, Mark from the baptism of John; but this apostle leaves all these aside and climbs beyond all time and every age. There he sends the minds of his hearers darting forward to the words “was in the beginning,” not letting them stop at any point, and setting no limit, as the others did with Herod, and Tiberius, and John.

And something else we may mention deserves our admiration most of all. John, though he gave himself to the higher teaching, did not neglect the plan of salvation; and the others, though intent on telling of that, were not silent about his existence before the ages. And with good reason, for it was one Spirit that moved the souls of them all, and that is why they have shown such great agreement in their narratives.

But you, beloved, when you hear of “the Word,” do not put up with those who say that he is a thing made, nor even with those who think that he is simply a word. For many are the words of God that angels carry out, but none of those words is God. They are all prophecies or commands — for Scripture regularly calls God’s laws, his commands and his prophecies, “words.” That is why, in speaking of the angels, he says, “Mighty in strength, carrying out his word” (Psalm 103, verse 20). But this Word is a being with a real existence of his own, coming forth from the Father himself without any passion. For this, as I said before, is what the evangelist has shown by the term “Word.”

So, just as the words “In the beginning was the Word” show that he is eternal, so the words “was in the beginning with God” have declared to us that he is coeternal. For when you hear “In the beginning was the Word,” you might suppose him to be eternal and yet imagine that the Father’s life is longer than his by some interval, and so assign a beginning to the only Son. To keep you from this, he adds, “was in the beginning with God” — as eternal, then, as the Father himself. For the Father was never without the Word; he was always God with God, yet each in his own person.

But someone says: “How, then, can John say that he was in the world, if he was with God?” Because he was both with God and in the world as well. For neither the Father nor the Son is limited in any way. If “there is no end of his greatness” (Psalm 145, verse 3), and if “of his wisdom there is no number” (Psalm 147, verse 5), it is clear that there cannot be any beginning in time to his essence. You have heard that “In the beginning God made the heaven and the earth” (Genesis 1, verse 1). What do you understand from this “beginning”? Clearly, that they were created before all visible things. In the same way, when you hear that the only Son was “in the beginning,” think of him as being before all things known to the mind alone, and before the ages.

But if anyone says: “How can he be a Son, and yet not younger than the Father? For whatever comes from something else must be later than the thing it comes from.” we will say that, strictly speaking, these are human reasonings; that whoever raises questions about this will raise others even less fitting; and that we ought not even to listen to such people. For we are speaking now about God, not about human nature, which is subject to the sequence and the necessary conclusions of such reasonings. Still, to reassure the weaker ones, we will speak to these points too.

Tell me, then: does the radiance of the sun come from the very substance of the sun, or from some other source? Anyone not robbed of his very senses must admit that it comes from the substance itself. Yet although the radiance comes from the sun itself, we cannot say that it is later in time than the substance of that body, since the sun has never appeared without its rays. Now, if in the case of these visible bodies, perceived by the senses, it has been shown that something comes from something else and yet is not later than what it comes from, why do you refuse to believe it in the case of that invisible nature, which is beyond all words? The same thing happens there, but in the way that suits that being. That is why Paul too calls him “Radiance” (Hebrews 1, verse 3), setting out by this that he is from the Father and coeternal with him. [g]

Again, tell me: were not all the ages, and every span of time, created by him? Anyone not robbed of his senses must admit it. So there is no interval between the Son and the Father; and if there is none, then he is not later than the Father, but coeternal with him. For “before” and “after” are ideas that imply time — without an age or time no one could even conceive of these words — but God is above times and ages.

But if you say that you have somehow found a beginning for the Son, see whether by the same reasoning and argument you are not forced to bring the Father down to a beginning too — an earlier one, to be sure, but still a beginning. For when you have given the Son a limit and a beginning of existence, do you not go upward from that point and say that the Father was before it? Clearly you do. Tell me, then: how far back does the Father’s prior existence reach? Whether you say the interval is small or great, you have equally brought the Father to a beginning. For it is clear that you say whether it is small or great by measuring the distance; yet it could not be measured unless there were a beginning at each end. So, as far as it depends on you, you have given the Father a beginning, and from now on, by your argument, not even the Father will be without beginning. Do you see that the word the Savior spoke is true, and that the saying shows its force everywhere? And what is that word? “Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father” (John 5, verse 23).

I know, of course, that what has just been said cannot be grasped by many. That is why in many places we avoid stirring up questions that rest on human reasoning: the bulk of the people cannot follow such arguments, and even if they could, there is nothing firm or sure in them. “For the thoughts of mortals are wretched, and our plans are uncertain” (Wisdom 9, verse 14). Still, I would like to ask our opponents what the prophet means when he says, “Before me no God was formed, and there is none after me” (Isaiah 43, verse 10). If the Son is younger than the Father, how can God say, “And there is none after me”? Will you take away the very existence of the only Son himself? You must either dare to do that, or admit one Godhead, with the Father and the Son distinct persons.

Then again, how could the saying “All things were made by him” be true? If there is an age older than he is, how can what came before him have been made by him? Do you see what recklessness the argument has carried them into, once the truth was shaken? Why did the evangelist not say that he was made from things that were not — as Paul says of all things, when he speaks of God “who calls the things that are not as though they were” (Romans 4, verse 17) — but said instead, “was in the beginning”? The one is the opposite of the other, and with good reason. For God is not made, and nothing is older than he is; that kind of talk belongs to the Greeks.

Tell me this as well: would you not say that the Creator is greater than his works beyond all comparison? Yet whatever comes from things that were not is like them; where, then, is that superiority beyond all comparison? And what do these words mean: “I am the first and I am the last” (Isaiah 44, verse 6), and, “Before me no other God was formed” (Isaiah 43, verse 10)? For if the Son is not of the same essence, there is another God. If he is not coeternal, he comes after the Father. And if he did not come forth from the Father’s essence, it is clear that he was made.

But if they claim that these words were spoken to distinguish God from idols, why do they not allow that it is to distinguish him from idols that he says “the only true God” (John 17, verse 3)? Besides, if this was said to distinguish him from idols, how would you interpret the whole sentence? “After me,” he says, “there is no other God.” In saying this he does not shut out the Son. He means, “After me there is no idol god,” not “There is no Son.” “Granted,” he says. “What then?” Then the words “Before me no other God was formed” — will you take them to mean that no idol god was formed before him, but that a Son was formed before him? What evil spirit would claim that? I do not suppose that even Satan himself would.

Moreover, if he is not coeternal with the Father, how can you say that his life is infinite? For if it has a beginning on the earlier side, then even though it has no end, it is not infinite; the infinite must be infinite in both directions. Paul also made this plain when he said, “having neither beginning of days nor end of life” (Hebrews 7, verse 3), showing by this expression that he is both without beginning and without end. For just as the one has no limit, neither has the other. In one direction there is no end, in the other no beginning.

And again, since he is “Life,” how could there ever have been a time when he was not? For everyone must admit that life always is, and is without beginning and without end — if it is really life, as indeed it is. For if there is a time when it is not, how can it be the life of others, when it does not even exist itself? [j]

But someone says: “How, then, does John lay down a beginning, by saying, ‘In the beginning was’?” Tell me: have you paid attention to “In the beginning” and to “was,” and do you not understand the phrase “the Word was”? What! When the prophet says, “From everlasting to everlasting you are” (Psalm 90, verse 2), does he say it to set limits to God? No, but to declare that he is eternal. Now consider that the case is the same here. The evangelist did not use the expression to set limits, since he did not say “had a beginning,” but “was in the beginning,” carrying you forward by the word “was” to the thought that the Son is without beginning.

“Yet notice,” he says, “that the Father is named with the article, but the Son without it.” What, then, of the apostle’s words, “The great God and our Savior Jesus Christ” (Titus 2, verse 13), and again, “who is over all, God” (Romans 9, verse 5)? It is true that here he has mentioned the Son without the article. But he does the same with the Father too — at least in his letter to the Philippians (chapter 2, verse 6), where he says, “who, being in the form of God, did not think it robbery to be equal with God”; and again to the Romans, “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 1, verse 7). Besides, there was no need for the article to be attached in that place, when just before it had been attached again and again to “the Word.”

For just as, in speaking of the Father, he says, “God is Spirit” (John 4, verse 24), and we do not deny the spiritual nature of God because the article is not joined to “Spirit,” so here, although the article is not attached to the Son, the Son is not for that reason any less God. Why so? Because in saying “God” and again “God,” he does not show us any difference in this Godhead, but the opposite. Having said before, “and the Word was God,” so that no one would suppose the Son’s Godhead to be inferior, he immediately adds the marks of true Godhead: eternity — for “he was,” he says, “in the beginning with God” — and the work of Creator, which he ascribes to him. For “all things were made by him, and without him nothing was made that was made.” And this is what his Father also, everywhere through the prophets, declares to be the special mark of his own essence.

The prophets are constantly occupied with this kind of proof, not only for its own sake, but when they contend against the honor paid to idols. “Let the gods who have not made heaven and earth perish,” says one (Jeremiah 10, verse 11); and again, “I have stretched out the heaven with my hand” (Isaiah 44, verse 24). Everywhere God puts this forward as the sign of divinity. And the evangelist himself was not satisfied with these words, but calls him “Life” too, and “Light.” Now, if he was always with the Father, if he himself created all things, if he brought all things into being and holds all things together — for this is what he meant by “Life” — if he gives light to all things, who is so senseless as to say that the evangelist meant to teach that his divinity is inferior, by the very expressions that, more than any others, can express its equality and its being no different?

So let us not confuse the creation with the Creator, or we too may hear it said of us that “they served the created thing rather than the Creator” (Romans 1, verse 25). For even if someone claims that this was said of the heavens, still, in speaking of the heavens, he says outright that we must not serve anything created, for that is a pagan thing.

So let us not bring ourselves under this curse. This is why the Son of God came: to rid us of this service. This is why he took the form of a slave: to free us from this slavery. This is why he was spit on, why he was struck, why he endured the shameful death. I beg you, let us not make all these things useless. Let us not go back to our former unrighteousness — or rather, to an unrighteousness far more serious. For serving a created thing is not the same as dragging the Creator down, as far as it lies with us, to the lowliness of a created thing. For he goes on being what he is, as the psalmist says: “You are the same, and your years will not fail” (Psalm 102, verse 27). [n]

So let us glorify him as we received it from our fathers; let us glorify him both by our faith and by our works. For sound teaching does us no good toward salvation if our life is corrupt. Let us, then, order our life by what pleases God, keeping far away from all impurity, unrighteousness and greed, as strangers, foreigners and aliens to the things here on earth. If anyone has great wealth and possessions, let him use them as someone only passing through, who, whether he likes it or not, will soon leave them behind. If someone is wronged by another, let him not stay angry forever — or rather, not even for a while. For the apostle has not allowed us more than a single day for venting our anger.

“Do not let the sun go down on your anger,” he says (Ephesians 4, verse 26). And with good reason. We should be content if nothing unpleasant happens even in so short a time. But if night overtakes us too, what has happened becomes more painful, because memory makes the fire of our anger ten thousand times greater, and at our leisure we go over it more bitterly. So, before we get this harmful leisure and kindle a hotter fire, he tells us to stop the damage in advance and put it out. For the passion of anger is fierce, fiercer than any flame, and so we must hurry to get ahead of the flame and not let it blaze up high; for that is how this disease becomes the cause of many evils. It has overturned whole households, it has broken up old friendships, and in one short moment of time it has worked tragedies that cannot be undone. “For,” says one, “the force of his fury will be his destruction” (Sirach 1, verse 22).

So let us not leave such a wild beast unbridled, but put a muzzle on it that is strong in every way: the fear of the judgment to come. Whenever a friend hurts you, or one of your own household provokes you, think of the sins you have committed against God, and remember that by being kind to him you make that judgment gentler for yourself — “Forgive,” he says, “and you will be forgiven” (Luke 6, verse 37) — and your anger will quickly slink away.

Consider this too: has there been a time when you were being carried away into fury and held yourself back, and another time when you were dragged along by the passion? Compare the two occasions, and you will gain great improvement from it. For tell me, when did you praise yourself? When you were beaten, or when you had the upper hand? In the first case, do we not blame ourselves severely and feel ashamed even when no one reproaches us, and does not a great deal of repentance come over us for what we have said and done? But when we gain the mastery, are we not proud, and do we not exult like conquerors? For victory where anger is concerned is not paying back evil with evil — that is utter defeat — but bearing it gently when we are mistreated and spoken ill of. To win is not to inflict evil but to suffer it.

So when you are angry, do not say, “I will certainly pay him back,” or, “I will certainly get my revenge.” Do not keep saying to those who urge you to win, “I will not stand for this man making a fool of me and getting away with it.” He will never make a fool of you, except when you take revenge; or if he does make a fool of you, he does it as a fool. When you win, do not look for honor from fools; count the honor that comes from people of understanding enough. But why do I offer you so small and paltry an audience, made up of men? Look straight up to God. He will praise you, and the man approved by him must not look for honor from mortals. Human honor often springs from flattery or from hatred of others, and brings no profit; but God’s verdict is free of this unfairness, and brings great benefit to the one he approves. This, then, is the praise let us pursue.

Do you want to learn what an evil anger is? Stand and watch while others are quarreling in the marketplace. In yourself you cannot easily see how disgraceful the thing is, because your reason is darkened and drunk. But when you are clear of the passion and your judgment is sound, look at your own case in others. Notice, I beg you, the crowds gathering around, and the angry men in the middle behaving shamefully, like maniacs. For when the passion boils up in the chest and grows excited and savage, the mouth breathes fire, the eyes flash fire, the whole face swells, the hands fly out in all directions, the feet dance ridiculously, and they leap at those who hold them back. They are no different from madmen in their unawareness of all this — no, no different from wild donkeys, kicking and biting. Truly, a hot-tempered man is not a graceful sight.

And then, after this utterly ridiculous behavior, when they go home and come to themselves, they feel greater pain and much fear as they think about who was present when they were angry. For like raving men they did not recognize the bystanders at the time; but when they have come back to their right minds, then they wonder: were they friends? Were they foes and enemies who were watching? And they are afraid of both alike: of the first, because they will condemn them and add to their shame; of the others, because they will be glad of it. And if they have actually come to blows, their fear is all the sharper — that something very serious might happen to the one who was hurt: that a fever might follow and bring on death, or a nasty swelling might come up and put him in danger of the worst. Then they say: “What need did I have of fighting, and violence, and quarreling? A curse on such things!”

And then they curse the ill-fated business that made them start, and the more foolish among them lay the blame for what was done on “evil spirits” and “an unlucky hour.” But these things do not come from an unlucky hour — there is no such thing as an unlucky hour — or from an evil spirit, but from the wickedness of those whom the passion has captured. They draw the spirits to themselves, and bring every terrible thing on their own heads.

“But the heart swells,” someone says, “and is stung by insults.” I know it, and that is why I admire those who master this terrible wild beast. Yet it is possible, if we are willing, to beat the passion off. Why is it that when those in authority insult us, we do not feel it? Because fear outweighs the passion and frightens it off, and does not let it spring up at all. And why do our servants, though we insult them in ten thousand ways, bear it all in silence? Because the same restraint is laid on them too.

So think not merely of the fear of God, but that it is God himself who is insulting you then, and telling you to be silent, and then you will bear everything gently. You will say to the one who attacked you, “How can I be angry with you? There is someone else who holds back both my hand and my tongue.” And the saying will teach wisdom both to you and to him. Even now we put up with unbearable things for the sake of men, and often say to those who have insulted us, “It was so-and-so who insulted me, not you.” Shall we not take the same care in the case of God? How else can we hope for forgiveness? Let us say to our soul, “It is God who holds our hands; it is God who is insulting us now. Let us not be unruly; let God not be less honored by us than men are.”

Did that word make you shudder? I wish you would shudder not at the word only, but at the deed. For God has commanded us, when we are struck, not only to endure it but even to offer ourselves to suffer something worse. And we oppose him so fiercely that we not only refuse to offer ourselves to suffer evil, but even take revenge — no, we are often the first to attack, and think we are disgraced if we do not pay back the same. Yes, and the harm of it is that when we are utterly beaten we think ourselves conquerors, and when we are lying underneath, taking ten thousand blows from the devil, we imagine that we are mastering him.

So let us, I urge you, understand what kind of victory this is, and let us pursue this kind. To suffer evil is to win the crown. If, then, we want to be proclaimed victors by God, let us not keep the rules of the pagan games in these contests, but those of God, and learn to bear everything with patience. For in this way we will get the better of our opponents, and obtain the good things both of the present and of the promise, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory, power and honor to the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.