Commentaria in Isaiam
2. HE SHALL NOT CRY,—he will not be clamorous or contentious: whence Matthew 12:19 translates, “he shall not contend.” The Prophet teaches here that Christ will be most meek, and will teach and rule his own in the meekest manner. For this is what the threefold repetition of the same thing in St. Matthew signifies, when he says: “He shall not contend, nor cry out, neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets.”
NEITHER SHALL HE HAVE RESPECT TO PERSON,—Note that of the same passage of Holy Scripture there can be not only several literal explanations but also several versions, as I have shown elsewhere. So here the Hebrew is lo yissa, that is, he will not lift up; St. Matthew, supplying kolo, that is, his voice, translates, “he shall not contend.” Our version, supplying panim, that is, face, which is “person,” translates, “he shall not have respect to person.” Both versions, therefore, are canonical, and intended by the Holy Spirit.
Thirdly, Symmachus, according to St. Jerome, translates, he shall not be deceived, reading the word with shin, from the root nasha, that is, he deceived.
Fourthly, the Septuagint, he shall not forsake, namely the people of the Jews, read it with sin, from the root nashah, that is, he forgot. Moreover, according to our version, in Christ the judge there is commended here, as meekness, so also sincerity and rectitude, by which without respect of persons he will pronounce the law for every one.
3. THE BRUISED REED HE SHALL NOT BREAK, AND THE SMOKING FLAX HE SHALL NOT QUENCH.—St. Jerome by reed understands a pipe or flute, which before was sweet-sounding, when it is cracked gives a harsh sound, and is therefore thrown away. But better you may take any reed whatever generally here: for St. Matthew has “reed.” Again, Delrio, adage 712, aptly takes by flax the wick (myxa), or lamp-wick of flax, smoking, the flame not yet prevailing or already dying away. Whence the Syriac also translates lamp for flax, namely the linen wick of a lamp. For it translates, and a smoking lamp (which is just about to be put out) he will not put out; and the Arabic, a lamp that gives light he will not put out. So often the material is put for the thing made of it, as flax for nets, iron for fetters, wood for the stocks, gold for a gold ring, silver for money, stones for weights.
So the ancients, especially the Romans, did not put out the lit wicks of lamps, but let them languish and die out of themselves. Plutarch inquires into and assigns the causes, Roman Questions, chapter 75: “Is it,” he says, “because they worship what is akin and related to that inextinguishable and immortal fire? Or is this also a sign, that we ought not to destroy or kill anything that has life, unless it does harm, as if fire were an animal? And not without reason. For it needs nourishment, and moves of itself, and when it is put out it gives forth a voice. Or are we taught by this custom that we ought not to destroy or consume either water or fire, nor any of those things that belong to use, even if they abound, but leave them for the needy to use, when we ourselves no longer have need of them?”
This, then, is a twofold proverb, signifying the supreme meekness of Christ: for men throw away a bruised reed, because it is useless, and because it pricks and hurts the one who holds it with its breaks and splinters. Likewise they soon put out flax, or a wick, not burning and scarcely giving light, but smoking, which harms both eyes and nostrils (for it stinks). But Christ will be of so great patience that he will do neither, as if to say: Christ will be so patient and gentle toward the bruised reed and the smoking flax in which something of light and fire still remains; that is, the weak and feeble in faith, hope and charity, he will not cast off, nor with contention or clamor rebuke and oppress them, but by his meekness will sustain them, cherish them, heal them and kindle them. So St. Jerome, Procopius, Cyril and Hilary on Matthew 12. Whence St. Chrysostom also interprets: “Christ will not avenge himself on his enemies.” Maldonatus a little differently, as if to say: Christ will walk so gently, quietly and carefully that even if he were to walk upon a bruised reed, he would not break it; or, if he were to step on smoking flax and tow, he would not put it out. That this is the sense is plain from Matthew 12:18. For when the Pharisees, envying Christ’s miracles, took counsel how to destroy him, Christ withdrew thence, and healed very many of those who followed him, whom he charged not to make him known, “that it might be fulfilled,” says Matthew, verse 17, “which was spoken by Isaias the prophet, saying: Behold my servant whom I have chosen, etc., he shall not contend, etc., the bruised reed he shall not break.” The Pharisees, therefore, were a bruised reed, but one that yet kept the appearance of soundness: wherefore Christ was unwilling to drive them, exasperated, into fury and wholly destroy them: which he would have done, says Forerius, if, when he saw them angry, he had persisted in his work, and had not gone away; but going away, and unmindful of the injury, he went on to heal their sick (who themselves also were a bruised reed). So St. Gregory, Moralia, book 33, chapter 2: “The bruised reed,” he says, “is the royal race, which had already failed among the Jews; for an alien (Herod) possessed their kingdom. And what is expressed by the flax, but their priesthood, which wore linen garments? Which, because at the coming of the Lord it lost the ardor of charity, as if the fire of faith were now lost, was not burning, but smoking. The one Christ did not break, the other he did not put out: because he struck neither with the power of judgment, but bore both with the long-suffering of patience.”
Morally, let the Christian learn here from Christ to bear patiently the ways, infirmities and faults of neighbors, indeed to return good for evil, as Christ here, when the Jews plotted his death, yet did not cease to cure their sick. When therefore the flax, that is, weak men, have smoked against you, bear it and sustain it patiently: give place to the smoke, that is, to anger: for it will extinguish itself by its own burning most quickly. For all human power, even royal, is the tail of a smoking firebrand, as Isaias says of Rasin king of Syria and Phacee king of Samaria, chapter 7:4. Hear St. Basil, in the Shorter Rules, answer 201: “What,” he says, “is the bruised reed, or the smoking flax? and how does one not crush the one, nor quench the other?” He answers: “By the bruised reed I think is understood he who does not fulfil the commandment of God with the sincerity of mind that is required; whom it is fitting not to crush, nor cut off, but rather to heal, as the Lord taught when he said: Take heed that you do not your alms before men, to be seen by them. And in another place: Nothing through contention or vain glory.
And the smoking flax is whenever one fulfils the commandment indeed, but not with ardent desire or full zeal, but somewhat sluggishly and slowly; who therefore is not to be frightened, but rather roused by assiduous admonition about the fear of God and his promises.”
Again, let Prelates, Pastors and Princes learn from Christ that their proper virtue is clemency and mercy. Excellent is the Emperor Justinian, in the last law of the Code, On gifts between husband and wife: “Nothing else,” he says, “is so peculiar to imperial majesty as clemency and humanity, by which alone the imitation of God is kept.” Pliny in his Panegyric of Trajan: “It is for the prince,” he says, “to try our dispositions by kindnesses rather than by remedies.” Seneca, On Clemency, book 1: “In bees,” he says, “we see that the king has no sting. For nature willed him neither to be cruel, nor to seek a vengeance that would cost him dear: and she took away the weapon, and left his anger unarmed. This example is great for great kings.” Solomon, Proverbs chapter 20: “Mercy and truth preserve the king, and his throne is strengthened by clemency.” Ennodius in his Panegyric of Theodoric: “Let your mind be pliant, prone always to pardon; let the prince be slow to punishments, swift to rewards.”
Julius Caesar, in his letter to Oppius, in Cicero’s Letters to Atticus, book 9: “This is a new way of conquering, to fortify yourself with mercy and liberality.” Do you want examples? Julius Caesar pardoned Brutus and others who had favored Pompey’s party against him. The same, when conspiracies against him were detected, did not accuse beyond declaring by edict that he knew of them, and to those who spoke bitterly he thought it enough to warn in assembly not to persevere; “Hannibal,” says Livy, book 21, “aimed at this alone at the beginning of his affairs, to gather a reputation for clemency.”
Charlemagne ordained that all lords should treat their subjects mercifully: “Knowing,” he says, “that they are their brothers, and have with them one Father, the Lord, to whom all cry: Our Father who art in heaven.”
Nero, at the beginning of his reign merciful, when asked by the Prefect to sign the condemnation of certain criminals, exclaimed: “Would that I did not know letters!” When his mother Mammea and his wife Memmia reproached Alexander Severus with excessive clemency, he replied: “A milder power for myself, but safer and more lasting.” So Spartianus. Titus, according to Suetonius, bore with two patricians convicted of aspiring to the empire, and warned them nothing more than to desist, saying only: “Rule is given by fate.”