For tell me, why did you betray Him? He called you, when a man unmarked and unknown. He made you one of the twelve, He gave you a share in His teaching, He promised you ten thousand good things, He caused you to work wonders, thou were sharer of the same table, the same journeys, the same company, the same intercourse, as the rest. And were not these things sufficient to restrain you? For what reason did you betray Him? What had you to charge Him with, O wicked one? Rather, what good did you not receive at His hands? He knew your mind, and ceased not to do His part. He often said, “One of you shall betray Me.” He often marked you, and yet spared you, and though He knew you to be such an one, yet cast you not out of the band. He still bore with you, He still honored you, and loved you, as a true disciple, and as one of the twelve, and last of all (oh, for your vileness!), He took a towel, and with His own unsullied hands He washed your polluted feet, and even this did not keep you back. You stole the things of the poor, and that you might not go on to greater sin, He bore this too. Nothing persuaded you. Had you been a beast, or a stone, would you not have been changed by these kindnesses towards you, by these wonders, by these teachings? Though you were thus brutalized, yet still He called you, and by wondrous works He drew you, you were more senseless than a stone, to Himself. Yet for none of these things did you become better.
You wonder perhaps at such folly of the traitor; dread therefore that which wounded him. He became such from avarice, from the love of money. Cut out this passion, for to these diseases does it give birth; it makes us impious, and causes us to be ignorant of God, though we have received ten thousand benefits at His hands. Cut it out, I entreat you, it is no common disease, it knows how to give birth to a thousand destructive deaths. We have seen his tragedy. Let us fear lest we too fall into the same snares. For this is it written, that we too should not suffer the same things. Hence did all the Evangelists relate it, that they might restrain us. Flee then far from it. Covetousness consists not alone in the love of much money, but in loving money at all. It is grievous avarice to desire more than we need. Was it talents of gold that persuaded the traitor? For thirty pieces of silver he betrayed his Lord. Do ye not remember what I said before, that covetousness is not shown in receiving much, but rather in receiving little things? See how great a crime he committed for a little gold, rather not for gold, but for pieces of silver.
It cannot, it cannot be that an avaricious man should ever see the face of Christ! This is one of the things which are impossible. It is a root of evils, and if he that possesses one evil thing, falls from that glory, where shall he stand who bears with him the root? He who is the servant of money cannot be a true servant of Christ. Christ Himself has declared that the thing is impossible. “You cannot,” He says, “serve God and Mammon,” and, “No man can serve two masters”, for they lay upon us contrary orders. Christ says, “Spare the poor”; Mammon says, “Even from the naked strip off the things they have.” Christ says, “Empty yourself of what you have”; Mammon says, “Take also what you have not.” Do you see the opposition, do you see the strife? How is it that a man cannot easily obey both, but must despise one? Nay, does it need proof? How so? Do we not see in very deed, that Christ is despised, and Mammon honored? Perceive ye not how that the very words are painful? How much more then the thing itself? But it does not appear so painful in reality, because we are possessed with the disease. Now if the soul be but a little cleansed of the disease, as long as it remains here, it can judge right; but when it departs elsewhere, and is seized by the fever, and is engaged in the pleasure of the thing, it has not its perception clear, it has not its tribunal uncorrupt. Christ says, “Whosoever he be of you that renounces not all that he has, he cannot be My disciple”; Mammon says, “Take the bread from the hungry.” Christ says, “Cover the naked”; the other says, “Strip the naked.” Christ says, “You shall not hide yourself from your own flesh,” and those of your own house; Mammon says, “You shall not pity those of your own seed; though you see your mother or your father in want, despise them.” Why say I father or mother? “Even your own soul,” he says, “destroy it also.” And he is obeyed! Alas! He who commands us cruel, and mad, and brutal things, is listened to rather than He who bids us gentle and healthful things! For this is hell appointed; for this, fire; for this, a river of fire; for this, a worm that dies not.
I know that many hear me say these things with pain, and indeed it is not without pain I say them. But why need I say these things? I could wish the things concerning the kingdom to be ever my discourse, of the rest, of the waters of rest, of the green pastures, as the Scripture says, “He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the still waters”, there He makes me to dwell. I could wish to speak of the place, whence “sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”
Source: Homilies on Philippians (New Advent)