But wherefore does He say this? Because often when seized by them He had gone out through the midst, without their knowing it. Nevertheless, then also this would have been done, if it had not been His own will that He should be taken. It was at least with a view to teach them this, that He then blinded their eyes, and Himself asked, “Whom do you seek?” And they knew Him not, though being with lanterns and torches, and having Judas with them. Afterwards, as they had said, “Jesus;” He says, “I am He” whom you seek: and here again, “Friend, wherefore are you come?”
For after having shown His own strength, then at once He yielded Himself. But John says, that even to the very moment He continued to reprove him, saying, “Judas, do you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?” Are you not ashamed even of the form of the betrayal? Says He. Nevertheless, forasmuch as not even this checked him, He submitted to be kissed, and gave Himself up willingly; and they laid their hands on Him, and seized Him that night on which they ate the passover, to such a degree did they boil with rage, and were mad. However, they would have had no strength, unless He had Himself suffered it. Yet this delivers not Judas from intolerable punishment, but even more exceedingly condemns him, for that though he had received such proof of His power, and lenity, and meekness, and gentleness, he became fiercer than any wild beast.
Knowing then these things, let us flee from covetousness. For that, that it was, which then drove him to madness; that exercises them who are taken thereby in the most extreme cruelty and inhumanity. For, when it makes them to despair of their own salvation, much more does it cause them to overlook that of the rest of mankind. And so tyrannical is the passing, as sometimes to prevail over the keenest lust. Wherefore indeed I am exceedingly ashamed, that to spare their money, may indeed have bridled their unchastity, but for the fear of Christ they were not willing to live chastely and with gravity.
Wherefore I say, let us flee from it; for I will not cease for ever saying this. For why, O man, do you gather gold? Why do you make your bondage more bitter? Why your watching more grievous? Why your anxiety more painful? Account for your own the metals buried in the mines, those in the kings' courts. For indeed if you had all that heap, you would keep it only, and wouldest not use it. For if now you have not used the things you possess, but abstainest from them as though they belonged to others, much more would this be the case with you, if you had more. For it is the way of the covetous, the more they heap up around them, the more to be sparing of it. “But I know,” do you say, “that these things are mine.” The possession then is in supposition only, not in enjoyment. But I should be an object of fear to men, do you say. Nay, but you would by this become a more easy prey both to rich and poor, to robbers, and false accusers, and servants, and in general to all that are minded to plot against you. For if you are desirous to be an object of fear, cut off the occasions by which they are able to lay hold of you and pain you, whoever have set their hearts thereon. Do you not hear the parable that says, that the poor and naked man, not even a hundred men gathered together are ever able to strip? For he has his poverty as his greatest protection, which not even the king shall ever be able to subdue and take.
3. The covetous man indeed all join in vexing. And why do I say men, when moths and worms war against such a man? And why do I speak of moths? Length of time is enough alone, even when no one troubles him, to do the greatest injury to such a man.
What then is the pleasure of wealth? For I see its discomforts, but do thou tell me the pleasure of it. And what are its discomforts? Do you say: anxieties, plots, enmities, hatred, fear; to be ever thirsting and in pain.
For if any one were to embrace a damsel he loves, but were not able to satisfy his desire, he undergoes the utmost torment. Even so also does the rich man. For he has plenty, and is with her, but cannot satisfy all his desire; but the same result takes place as some wise man mentions; “The lust of eunuch to deflower a virgin;” and, “Like an eunuch embracing a virgin and groaning;” so are all the rich.
Why should one speak of the other things? How such a one is displeasing to all, to his servants, his laborers, his neighbors, to them that handle public affairs, to them that are injured, to them that are not injured, to his wife most of all, and to his children more than to any. For not as men does he bring them up, but more miserably than menials and purchased slaves.
And countless occasions for anger, and vexation, and insult, and ridicule against himself, does he bring about, being set forth as a common laughing stock to all. So the discomforts are these, and perhaps more than these; before one could never go through them all in discourse, but experience will be able to set them before us.
But tell me the pleasure from hence. “I appear to be rich,” he says, “and am reputed to be rich.” And what kind of pleas ure to be so reputed? It is a very great name for envy. I say a name, for wealth is a name only void of reality.
“Yet he that is rich,” says he, “indulges and delights himself with this notion.” He delights himself in those things about which he ought to grieve. “To grieve? Wherefore?” asks he. Because this renders him useless for all purposes, and cowardly and unmanly both with regard to banishment and to death, for he holds this double, longing more for money than for light. Such a one not even Heaven delights, because it bears not gold; nor the sun, forasmuch as it puts not forth golden beams.
But there are some, says he, who do enjoy what they possess, living in luxury, in gluttony, in drunkenness, spending sumptuously. You are telling me of persons worse than the first. For the last above all are the men, who have no enjoyment. For the first at least abstains from other evils, being bound to one love; but the others are worse than these, besides what we have said, bringing in upon themselves a crowd of cruel masters, and doing service every day to the belly, to lust, to drunkenness, to other kinds of intemperance, as to so many cruel tyrants, keeping harlots, preparing expensive feasts, purchasing parasites, flatterers, turning aside after unnatural lusts, involving their body and their soul in a thousand diseases springing therefrom.
For neither is it on what they want they spend their goods, but on ruining the body, and on ruining also the soul therewith; and they do the same, as if any one, when adorning his person, were to think he was spending his money on his own wants.
So that he alone enjoys pleasure and is master of his goods, who uses his wealth for a proper object; but these are slaves and captives, for they aggravate both the passions of the body and the diseases of the soul. What manner of enjoyment is this, where is siege and war, and a storm worse than all the raging of the sea? For if wealth find men fools, it renders them more foolish; if wanton, more wanton.
And what is the use of understanding, you will say, to the poor man? As might be expected you are ignorant; for neither does the blind man know what is the advantage of light. Listen to Solomon, saying, “As far as light excels darkness, so does wisdom excel folly.”
But how shall we instruct him that is in darkness? For the love of money is darkness, permitting nothing that is to appear as it is, but otherwise. For much as one in darkness, though he should see a golden vessel, though a precious stone, though purple garments, supposes them to be nothing, for he sees not their beauty; so also he that is in covetousness, knows not as he ought the beauty of those things that are worthy of our care. Disperse then I pray you the mist that arises from this passion, and then will you see the nature of things.
Source: Homilies on the Gospel of St. Matthew (New Advent)