Homilies on the Gospel of St. Matthew

^5. But who now is like this? One may say. Therefore He added, “In the name of a disciple, and of a prophet, and of a righteous man;” to instruct you that not for the worthiness of the visitor, but for the purpose of him that gives welcome, is His reward appointed. For though here He speak of prophets, and righteous men, and disciples, yet elsewhere He bids men receive the veriest outcasts, and punishes such as fail to do so. For, “Inasmuch as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me;” and the converse again He affirms with respect to the same persons.

Since though he may be doing no such great work, he is a man, inhabiting the same world with you, beholding the same sun having the same soul, the same Lord, a partaker with you of the same mysteries, called to the same heaven with you; having a strong claim, his poverty, and his want of necessary food. But now they that waken you with flutes and pipes in the winter season, and disturb you without purpose or fruit, depart from you receiving many gifts. And they that carry about swallows, and smut themselves over, and abuse every one, receive a reward for this their conjuration. But if there come to you a poor man wanting bread, there is no end of revilings, and reproaches, and charges of idleness, and upbraidings, and insults, and jeers; and you consider not with yourself, that you too art idle, and yet God gives you His gifts. For tell me not this, that you too art doing somewhat, but point me out this rather, if it be anything really needful that you do, and art busy about. But if you tell one of money-getting, and of traffic, and of the care and increase of your goods, I also would say unto you, Not these, but alms, and prayers, and the protection of the injured, and all such things, are truly works, with respect to which we live in thorough idleness. Yet God never told us, “Because you are idle, I light not up the sun for you; because you do nothing of real consequence, I quench the moon, I paralyze the womb of the earth, I restrain the lakes, the fountains, the rivers, I blot out the atmosphere: I withhold the annual rains:” but He gives us all abundantly. And to some that are not merely idle, but even doing evil, He freely gives the benefit of these things.

When therefore you see a poor man, and say, “It stops my breath that this fellow, young as he is and healthy, having nothing, would rather be fed in idleness; he is surely some slave and runaway, and has deserted his proper master:” I bid you speak these same words to yourself; or rather, permit him freely to speak them to you, and he will say with more justice, “It stops my breath that you, being healthy, are idle, and practice none of the things which God has commanded, but having run away from the commandments of your Lord, goes about dwelling in wickedness, as in a strange land, in drunkenness, in gluttony, in theft, in extortion, in subverting other men's houses.” And you indeed impute idleness, but I evil works; in your plotting, in your swearing, in your lying, in your spoiling, in your doing innumerable such things.

And this I say, not as making a law in favor of idleness, far from it; but rather very earnestly wishing all to be employed; for sloth is the teacher of all wickedness: but I beseech you not to be unmerciful, nor cruel. Since Paul also, having made infinite complaints, and said, “If any will not work, neither let him eat,” stopped not at this, but added, “But you, be not weary in well doing.” “Nay, but these things are contradictory. For if you have commanded them not to eat, how do you exhort us to give?” I do so, says He, for I have also commanded to avoid them, and “to have no company with them;” and again I said, “Count them not as enemies, but admonish them;” not making contradictory laws, but such as are quite in unison with each other. Because, if you are prompt to mercy, both he, the poor man, will soon be rid of his idleness, and you of your cruelty.

“But he has many lies and inventions,” you reply. Well, hence again is he pitiable, for that he has fallen into such distress, as to be hardened even in such doings. But we, so far from pitying, add even those cruel words, “Have you not received once and again?” so we talk. What then? Because he was once fed, has he no need to be fed again? Why do you not make these laws for your own belly also, and say to it likewise, You were filled yesterday, and the day before, seek it not now? But while you fill that beyond measure, even to bursting, from him you turn away, when he asks but what is moderate; whereas you ought therefore to pity him, because he is constrained to come to you every day. Yea, if nought else incline you to him, you should pity him because of this; for by the constraint of his poverty he is forced on these things, and does them. And you do not pity him, because, being so spoken to, he feels no shame: the reason being, that his want is too strong for him.

Nay, instead of pitying, you even make a show of him; and whereas God has commanded to give secretly, you stand exposing publicly him that has accosted you, and upbraiding him, for what ought to move your pity. Why, if you are not minded to give, to what end add reproach, and bruise that weary and wretched soul? He came as into a harbor, seeking help at your hands; why stir up waves, and make the storm more grievous? Why do you condemn him of meanness? What? Had he thought to hear such things, would he have come to you? Or if he actually came foreseeing this, good cause therefore both to pity him, and to shudder at your own cruelty, that not even so, when you see an inexorable necessity laid upon him, do you become more gentle, nor judge him to have a sufficient excuse for his importunity in the dread of hunger, but accuse him of impudence: and yet have you often yourself practised greater impudence, yea in respect of grievous matters. For while here the very impudence brings with it ground of pardon, we, often doing things punishable, brazen it out: and when we ought to bear all that in mind, and be humble, we even trample on those miserable men, and when they ask medicines, we add to their wounds. I say, if you will not give, why do you strike? If you will not be bounteous, why be insolent?

“But he submits not to be put off in any other way.” Well then, as that wise man commanded, so do. “Answer him peaceable words with meekness.” For not of his own accord, surely, is he so very importunate. For there is not, there cannot be, any man desiring to be put to shame for its own sake. How much soever any may contend, I cannot yield ever to be convinced that a man who was living in plenty would choose to beg.