When we are persecuted, let us not think it strange; let us not love the present world, nor the praises which come from men, nor the glory and honour of rulers, according as some of the Jews wondered at the mighty works of our Lord, yet did not believe on Him, for fear of the high priests and the rest of the rulers: "For they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God." But now, by confessing a good confession, we not only save ourselves, but we confirm those who are newly illuminated, and strengthen the faith of the catechumens.
John 12:43
43 For they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God.
Commentaries
It is necessary for us to avoid alike all the passions which corrupt the soul, but most especially those, which from themselves generate numerous sins. I mean such as the love of money. It is in truth of itself a dreadful malady, but it becomes much more grievous, because it is the root and mother of all mischiefs. Such also is vainglory. See, for instance, how these men were broken off from the faith through their love of honor. "Many," it saith, "of the chief rulers also believed on Him, but because of the Jews they did not confess Him, lest they should be put out of the synagogue." As He said also to them before, "How can ye believe which receive honor one of another, and seek not the honor that cometh from God only?" (c. v. 44.) So then they were not rulers, but slaves in the utmost slavery. However, this fear was afterwards done away, for nowhere during the time of the Apostles do we find them possessed by this feeling, since in their time both rulers and priests believed. The grace of the Spirit having come, made them all firmer than adamant.
Source: Homily on the Gospel of John 69
(Tr. liii. 13) As their faith grew, their love of human praise grew still more, and outstripped it.
Source: Catena Aurea by Aquinas
"Nevertheless among the chief rulers also many believed on Him; but, because of the Pharisees, they did not confess Him, lest they should be put out of the synagogue: for they loved the glory of men more than the glory of God." See how the evangelist marked and disapproved of some, who yet, he said, believed on Him: who, if ever they did advance through this gateway of faith, would thereby also overcome that love of human glory which had been overcome by the apostle, when he said, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." For to this end also did the Lord Himself, when derided by the madness of human pride and impiety, fix His cross on the foreheads of those who believed on Him, on that which is in a manner the abode of modesty, that faith may learn not to blush at His name, and love the glory of God more than the glory of men.
Source: Tractates on John 53
Nevertheless, among the chief rulers also many believed on Him; but because of the Pharisees they did not confess Him, lest they should be put out of the synagogue. For they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God. The praise of God is publicly to confess Christ: the praise of men is to glory in earthly things.
Source: Catena Aurea by Aquinas
"For they loved the praise of men." Christ had said this to them before as well: "How can you believe, when you receive glory from men, and do not seek the glory that is from the only God?" (Jn. 5:44) So the Evangelist shows that what Christ had foretold them came to pass. Truly, they were not rulers but slaves, and the most base slaves at that. From this we learn that whoever loves glory is a slave and is dishonorable.
Source: Commentary on John
For they loved the glory of men more than the glory of God: and they acted foolishly, according to what is said in 1 Maccabees 2: "Do not fear the words of a sinful man, for his glory is dung and worms; today he is exalted, and tomorrow he shall not be found"; the Psalm: "He has scattered the bones of those who please men," etc.; Galatians 1: "Do I seek to please men? If I still pleased men, I would not be a servant of Christ."
Source: Commentary on John, Chapter 12
The root of their failing is vanity, vainglory; so he says, for they loved the glory of men more than the glory of God. By confessing Christ publicly they would have lost the glory of men, but won the glory of God. But they chose rather to be deprived of the glory of God than the glory of men: "How can you believe, who receive glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?" (5:44). "If I were still pleasing men, I should not be a servant of Christ" (Gal 1:10).
Source: Commentary on John
[On how the desire to be admitted to an "Inner Ring" of insiders leads otherwise decent men into wrongdoing, not by obvious temptation but by the fear of being excluded from the company whose approval they crave]
To nine out of ten of you the choice which could lead to scoundrelism will come, when it does come, in no very dramatic colours. Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear. Over a drink or a cup of coffee, disguised as a triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still—just at the moment when you are most anxious not to appear crude, or naif or a prig—the hint will come. It will be the hint of something which is not quite in accordance with the technical rules of fair play: something which the public, the ignorant, romantic public, would never understand: something which even the outsiders in your own profession are apt to make a fuss about: but something, says your new friend, which "we"—and at the word "we" you try not to blush for mere pleasure—something "we always do". And you will be drawn in, if you are drawn in, not by desire for gain or ease, but simply because at that moment, when the cup was so near your lips, you cannot bear to be thrust back again into the cold outer world. It would be so terrible to see the other man's face—that genial, confidential, delightfully sophisticated face—turn suddenly cold and contemptuous, to know that you had been tried for the Inner Ring and rejected. And then, if you are drawn in, next week it will be something a little further from the rules, and next year something further still, but all in the jolliest, friendliest spirit. It may end in a crash, a scandal, and penal servitude: it may end in millions, a peerage and giving the prizes at your old school. But you will be a scoundrel. Of all passions the passion for the Inner Ring is most skilful in making a man who is not yet a very bad man do very bad things.
To nine out of ten of you the choice which could lead to scoundrelism will come, when it does come, in no very dramatic colours. Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear. Over a drink or a cup of coffee, disguised as a triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still—just at the moment when you are most anxious not to appear crude, or naif or a prig—the hint will come. It will be the hint of something which is not quite in accordance with the technical rules of fair play: something which the public, the ignorant, romantic public, would never understand: something which even the outsiders in your own profession are apt to make a fuss about: but something, says your new friend, which "we"—and at the word "we" you try not to blush for mere pleasure—something "we always do". And you will be drawn in, if you are drawn in, not by desire for gain or ease, but simply because at that moment, when the cup was so near your lips, you cannot bear to be thrust back again into the cold outer world. It would be so terrible to see the other man's face—that genial, confidential, delightfully sophisticated face—turn suddenly cold and contemptuous, to know that you had been tried for the Inner Ring and rejected. And then, if you are drawn in, next week it will be something a little further from the rules, and next year something further still, but all in the jolliest, friendliest spirit. It may end in a crash, a scandal, and penal servitude: it may end in millions, a peerage and giving the prizes at your old school. But you will be a scoundrel. Of all passions the passion for the Inner Ring is most skilful in making a man who is not yet a very bad man do very bad things.
Source: The Inner Ring, from Transposition and Other Addresses