How can he be said to go out and to come in, whom no space can enclose? What country can be his, who made, and who possesses, the whole universe? In truth, Christ goes out and comes in not of himself, nor for himself, but in you, and on behalf of you, until he recovers you from your exile, and calls you home from your captivity.^[1]

Jesus came as the son of a carpenter.^[1] He was not physically attractive, just as the prophets had predicted of him.^[2] He was merely a carpenter, making ploughs and yokes, and instructing us by such symbols of righteousness to avoid an inactive life.

The ordinary workmen will come to the son of Joseph singing:

Blessed be your coming,^[1]

O master of workers everywhere.

The imprint of your labor is seen in the ark,^[2]

And in the fashioning of the tabernacle^[3]

Of the congregation that was for a time only!

Our whole craft praises you, who are our eternal glory.

Make for us a yoke that is light, even easy, for us to bear.^[4]

Establish that measure in us in which there can be no falseness. HYMNS ^[1]

One meaning of could not is simply the limits of some human will. Take, for example, the point that Christ could not fulfill any signs in Nazareth was due to disbelief on their part.^[1] Something essential for healing is required on both sides—faith on the part of the patients, power on that of the healer. So one side without its counterpart could not, so to speak, perform them. As this can be seen in medical care, it can also be seen in moral transformation. Similarly involving the limits of the will are the texts: The world cannot not hate you and How can you^[2] speak good, being evil?^[3] The metaphor of impossibility here must mean free refusal by the will. The same idea applies to those passages which say that what is impossible for humanity is possible for God.^[4] Note also those passages that say that a person cannot (in one sense) be born a second time^[5] and a needle’s eye cannot let a camel through.^[6] What would stop these events happening if God willed them directly?^[7] Besides all these there is, as in the case we are presently considering, a cannot in the sense of that which is totally inconceivable. We cannot conceive that God can be evil or fail to exist. It is inconceivable that reality cannot exist or two times two is fourteen. So here it cannot be the case that the Son would do anything which the Father would not do.

In some cases he so richly poured forth the mighty work of healing that the Evangelist was led to exclaim: He healed all their sick.^[1] But among others the unfathomable depth of Christ’s goodness was so thwarted that it was said: And Jesus could do there no mighty works because of their unbelief.^[2] So the bounty of God is actually curtailed temporarily according to the receptivity of our faith. So it is said to one: According to your faith may it be to you,^[3] and to another: Go your way, and as you have believed so let it be to you,^[4] and to another Let it be to you according as you will,^[5] and again to another: Your faith has made you whole.^[6]

And perhaps, as in the case of metallic substances there exists in some a natural attraction toward some other thing, as in the magnet for iron, and in naphtha for fire, so there is an attraction in such faith toward the divine power according to what Jesus said: If you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you shall say unto this mountain, ‘Move to another place,’ and it shall be moved.^[1] Matthew and Mark wished to present the all-surpassing value of that divine power as a power that works even in those who do not believe. But they did not deny that grace works even more powerfully among those who have faith. So it seems to me that they accurately said not that the Lord did not do any mighty works because of their unbelief, but that he did not do many there.^[2] Mark does not flatly say that he could do no mighty work there at all, and stop at that point, but added, except that he laid his hands upon a few sick folk and healed them.^[3] Thus the power in him overcame even their unbelief.

If the faith of those who bring them or of the sick is lacking, it may prevent those who possess the gift of healing from exercising it.

Are all commanded not to have two coats, nor food in their possession, money in their purse, only a staff in the hand and shoes on the feet?^[1] Are all commanded to sell all they possess and give it to the poor, and follow Jesus? Of course not. This command is for those who earnestly desire to respond fully to grace. . . . The Lord says in the Gospel to him who had boasted of having kept the whole law: If you will be perfect, go and sell all that you have, and give to the poor, and come, follow me.^[2] He said this to those who wish to be wholly mature in faith, that he might not seem to be laying a heavy burden on unwilling shoulders.

To wish for nothing more than need demands

Is rest supreme, with simple food and dress

To feed and clothe our bodies and to seek

No more than is prescribed by nature’s wants.

When going on a journey, take no purse,^[1]

Nor of a second tunic think, and be

Not anxious for the morrow,^[2] lest for food

The belly lack. Our daily bread returns

With every sun. Does any bird take thought

Of tomorrow, certain to be fed by God?^[3] THE ^[1]

What is forbidden is neither the carrying nor the possessing of two coats, but more distinctly the wearing of two coats at the same time. The words say: and not put on two coats. What counsel is conveyed to them by this? They ought to walk not in duplicity, but in simplicity.

One who is anointing should be baptized, so that having received the chrism [the anointing], he may be anointed of God, and have in him the grace of Christ. Those to be baptized and anointed with the oil of chrismation, receive the oil sanctified on the altar of the eucharist. But one who has neither an altar nor a church cannot duly consecrate the creature of oil.

Set aside for a moment the term prison. Just call it a temporary retirement. Even though the body is imprisoned, even though the flesh is confined, everything still remains open to the spirit. Walk back and forth, my spirit, not thinking of shady walks or long cloisters, but of the road that leads directly to God. As often as you shall walk in this way in the spirit, so often shall you find yourself not in prison.^[1]

Not long after this, John the Baptist was beheaded by the younger Herod,^[1] as stated in the Gospels.^[2] Josephus also records the same fact, mentioning Herodias^[3] by name, and stating that, although she was the wife of his brother, Herod made her his own wife after divorcing his former lawful wife, the daughter of Aretas,^[4] king of Petra, and separating Herodias from her husband while he was still alive. It was on her account also that he killed John, and waged war with Aretas, because of the disgrace inflicted on the daughter of the latter. Josephus wrote that in this war, when they came to battle, Herod’s entire army was destroyed, and that he suffered this calamity on account of his crime against John.

John saw a man that was a tyrant overthrowing the divine commands on marriage. With boldness, he proclaimed in the midst of the forum, It is not lawful for you to have your brother Philip’s wife.^[1] So we learn from him to admonish our fellow servant as an equal. Do not shrink from the duty of chastising a brother, even though one may be required to die for it. Now do not make this cold reply: What does it matter to me? I have nothing in common with him. With the devil alone we have nothing in common, but with all humanity we have many things in common. All partake of the same nature with us. They inhabit the same earth. They are nourished with the same food. They have the same Lord. They have received the same laws. They are invited to the same blessings with ourselves. Let us not say then that we have nothing in common with them.

Mark says that Herod exceedingly honored the man [John], even when reproved.^[1] So great a thing is virtue. THE GOSPEL OF ST.

Note how varied sins are interwoven in this one vicious action! A banquet of death is set out with royal luxury, and when a larger gathering than usual has come together, the daughter of the queen, sent for from within the private apartments, is brought forth to dance in the sight of all. What could she have learned from an adulteress but the loss of modesty? Is anything so conducive to lust as with unseemly movements to expose in nakedness those parts of the body which either nature has hidden or custom has veiled, to sport with looks, to turn the neck, to loosen the hair?

A girl dances, a mother rages, there is rash swearing in the midst of the luxurious feast, and an impious fulfillment of what was sworn.

So the princess danced and, after the dance, committed another more serious sin. For she persuaded that senseless man to promise with an oath to give her whatever she might ask. Do you see how easily swearing makes one witless? Thus, whatever she asked, he swore to give. What, then, if she were to have asked for your head, Herod? What if she were to have asked for your whole kingdom? Yet he took no thought of these things. The devil had set his trap, making it strong, and from the moment the oath was complete, he both cast his snares and stretched his net on every side. The request was abominable, but she persuaded him, and he gave the order to bridle John’s holy tongue. But even now it continues to speak. For even today in every church, you can hear John still crying aloud through the Gospels and saying: It is not lawful for you to have the wife of your brother Philip.^[1] He cut off the head, but he did not cut off the voice. He curbed the tongue, but he did not curb the accusation. Do you see what swearing leads to? It cuts off the heads of prophets. You saw the bait. Dread, then, the ruin it brings.

So much did he value his kingdom, such a captive was he to his passion, that he would give it to her for her dancing. And why do you wonder that this happened then, when even now, after so much instruction in sound doctrine, many men give away their soul for the dancing of these effeminate young men with no oath needed? They have been made captives by their pleasure and are led around like sheep wherever the wolf may drag them. THE GOSPEL OF ST.

We hear at the same time of three evil deeds done: the inauspicious celebration of a birthday, the lewd dancing of a girl, and the rash oath of a king. This is the judgment to which Herod fell victim, so that he found he either had to break his oath or, to avoid breaking his oath, to commit another shameful act. If it should perhaps happen that we swear carelessly to something which, if carried out, would have most unfortunate consequences, we should be willing to change it in accord with wiser counsel. There is an urgent necessity for us to break our oath, rather than turn to another more serious crime in order to avoid breaking our oath. David swore by the Lord to kill Nabal, a stupid and wicked man, and to destroy all his possessions. But at the first entreaty of the prudent woman Abigail, he quickly took back his threats, put back his sword into its scabbard, and did not feel that he had contracted any guilt by thus breaking his oath in this way.^[1] Herod swore that he would give the dancing girl whatever she asked of him, and, to avoid being accused of breaking his oath by those who were at his banquet, he defiled the banquet with blood when he made the reward for the dancing the death of a prophet.

His love for the woman prevailed. She forced him to lay his hands upon a man whom he knew to be holy and just. Since he was unwilling to restrain his lechery, he incurred the guilt of homicide. What was a lesser sin for him became the occasion of a greater sin. By God’s strict judgment it happened to him that, as a result of his craving for the adulteress whom he knew he ought to refuse, he caused the shedding of the blood of the prophet he knew was pleasing to God. . . . Already holy, John became more holy still when, through his office of spreading the good news, he reached the palm^[1] of martyrdom.

It is indeed a haven of safety if we do not swear at all. So whatever storms burst upon us we are in no danger of sinking. Whether it be through anger or insult or passion, be what it may, the soul is stayed securely. Even though one might have vented some chance word that ought not to have been spoken, one is not laying oneself absolutely under necessity or law. . . . For it is indeed a snare of Satan, this swearing. Let us burst these cords. Let us bring ourselves into a condition in which it will be easy not to swear.^[1]

A good disposition ought to be open and straightforward, so that one may utter words without deceit, and possess one’s soul with singleness of intent, and not delude another with false words, and not promise anything dishonorable.^[1] If he has made such a promise, it is far better for him not to fulfill it, than to fulfill what is shameful. Sometimes people bind themselves by a solemn oath, and, though they come to know that they ought not to have made the promise, fulfill it in consideration of their oath. This is what Herod did. For he made a shameful promise of reward to a dancer—and then cruelly performed it.

When it is said that the king was sorry,^[1] that does not indicate genuine repentance on the part of the king, but rather a confession of his guilt. Thus, according to the design of divine governance, those who do evil condemn themselves by their own confession. But what was the motive, in this case: Because of his oath and his guests! What could be more vile than a murder done to not displease one’s guests?

It was shameful in the first place for a kingdom to be promised for a dance. And it was cruel, in the second place, for a prophet to be sacrificed for the sake of an oath.

For then did the old greedy dragon taste in the head of the servant what he so thirsted after—the passion of the master.

Note well the weakness of the tyrant compared to the power of the one in prison. Herod was not strong enough to silence his own tongue. Having opened it, he opened up countless other mouths in its place and with its help. As for John, he immediately inspired fear in Herod after his murder—for fear was disturbing Herod’s conscience to such an extent that he believed John had been raised from the dead and was performing miracles!^[1] In our own day and through all future time, throughout all the world, John continues to refute Herod, both through himself and through others. For each person repeatedly reading this Gospel says: It is not lawful for you to have the wife of Philip your brother.^[2] And even apart from reading the Gospel, in assemblies and meetings at home or in the market, in every place . . . even to the very ends of the earth,^[3] you will hear this voice and see that righteous man even now still crying out, resounding loudly, reproving the evil of the tyrant. He will never be silenced nor the reproof at all weakened by the passing of time.

Look, most savage king, at the spectacle of your feast. Stretch out your right hand and see the streams of holy blood pouring down between your fingers. Nothing is lacking in your cruelty. The hunger for such unheard-of cruelty could not be satisfied by banquets, or the thirst by goblets. So as you drink the blood pouring from the still flowing veins of the cut-off head, behold those eyes. Even in death, those eyes are the witnesses of your crime, turning away from the sight of the delicacies. The eyes are closing, not so much owing to death, as to horror of excess. That bloodless golden mouth, whose sentence you could not endure, is silent, and yet it is still dreaded. Meanwhile the tongue, which even after death is apt to observe its duty as when living, continues to condemn the incest with trembling motion.

His head is presented to Herodias. She rejoices, exults as though she had escaped from a crime, because she has slain her judge. What say you, holy women? Do you see what you ought to teach, and what also to unteach your daughters?

In what way, then, was this just man harmed by this demise, this violent death, these chains, this imprisonment? Who are those he did not set back on their feet—provided they had a penitent disposition—because of what he spoke, because of what he suffered, because of what he still proclaims in our own day—the same message he preached while he was living. Therefore, do not say: Why was John allowed to die? For what occurred was not a death, but a crown, not an end, but the beginning of a greater life.^[1] Learn to think and live like a Christian. You will not only remain unharmed by these events, but will reap the greatest benefits.^[2]