Homilies on 2 Corinthians 13.1–13.2

“Our mouth is opened to you, Corinthians; our heart is enlarged. You are not restricted in us, but you are restricted in your own affections.”

Having related his temptations and afflictions (“in endurance,” he says, “in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in beatings, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in watchings”), and having shown that the thing is a great good (“as sorrowful,” he says, “yet always rejoicing; … as having nothing, and yet possessing all things”), and having called them weapons; (“as chastened,” he says, “and not killed”), and having displayed through them God’s great care and power (“so that the surpassing greatness of the power,” he says, “may be of God and not from us”), and having listed his contests (“For we always carry about his dying,” he says), and that this is a clear proof of the resurrection (“so that the life of Jesus too,” he says, “may be manifested in our mortal flesh”), and of what he had become a partner, and what he was entrusted with (“For we are ambassadors for Christ,” he says, “as though God were beseeching through us”), and of what he is a minister, that it is not of the letter but of the Spirit, and that he is to be revered not for this only but also for his temptations (“For thanks be to God,” he says, “who always leads us in triumph”)—he is now about to rebuke them too, as not very warmly disposed toward him. But though he is about to, he does not come to it at once; but having first spoken of the love he showed toward them, he then enters into the discussion of these matters. For even if the one who rebukes is to be revered from his own good deeds, yet when he shows also the friendship he has toward those he accuses, he makes his words less burdensome. That is why he too, passing from his temptations and sweat and contests, moves on to the discourse about love, and so takes hold of them. What then are the signs of love? “Our mouth is opened to you, Corinthians.” And what sort of sign of love is this? And what does the saying mean at all? “We cannot bear to be silent toward you,” he says, “but we always wish and desire to speak and converse with you”; which is the habit of those who love. For what embraces of the arms are for the body, intercourse of speech is for the soul. And with this he hints at something else too. What is it? “That we speak everything to you with freedom, as to beloved ones, keeping nothing back nor hoarding anything.” For since he is about to rebuke them, he asks pardon, making the very rebuking with freedom a proof of loving them greatly. And the addition of the name is a sign of much friendship and affection and warmth; for we are accustomed to use the bare names of those we love continually.

“Our heart is enlarged.” For as heat usually expands, so it is the work of love to enlarge; for love is a warm and boiling virtue. This opened Paul’s mouth and enlarged his heart. “For I do not love with the mouth only,” he says, “but I have the heart agreeing with it. That is why I speak with freedom, with my whole mouth, with my whole mind.” For nothing was broader than Paul’s heart, which loved all the faithful as vehemently as one loves a beloved, his love not being divided and weakened, but remaining whole in each. And why wonder in the case of the faithful, when, in the case of unbelievers too, Paul’s heart received the whole world? That is why he did not say, “I love you,” but more expressively, “Our mouth is opened, our heart is enlarged; we have you all within, and not simply so, but with much room.” For the beloved walks within the lover’s heart with great freedom. That is why he says, “You are not restricted in us, but you are restricted in your own affections.” And see the rebuke given with restraint, which belongs to those who love greatly. He did not say, “You do not love us,” but, “not with the same measure”; for he does not want to touch them sharply. And one may see everywhere how he burns for the faithful, by picking out the words of each of his letters. To the Romans he says, “[I long] to come to you,” and, “if somehow I may at last succeed in coming to you.” To the Galatians, “My little children, with whom I am again in labor.” To the Ephesians, “For this reason I bow my knees on your behalf.” To the Philippians, “For what is my hope or joy or crown of boasting? Is it not you?” and he said he carried them about in his heart and in his bonds. To the Colossians, “I want you to know how great a struggle I have for you, and for all who have not seen my face in the flesh, that their hearts may be comforted.” To the Thessalonians, “As a nurse cherishes [her children, so,] longing for you, we were pleased to impart to you not only the gospel but our own souls.” To Timothy, “Remembering your tears, so that I may be filled with joy.” To Titus, “To my beloved child”; and to Philemon likewise.

And to the Hebrews too he writes many other such things, and does not cease exhorting and saying, “Yet a little while, and the coming one will come and will not delay,” like a mother with fretful children. So too with these: “You are not restricted in us,” he says. And he says not only that he loves, but that he is loved by them, so as to draw them the more in this way too. And bearing witness to this he says, “Titus came, telling us of your longing, your mourning, your zeal”; and to the Galatians, “If possible, you would have dug out your eyes and given them to me”; and to the Thessalonians, “what kind of welcome we had among you”; and to Timothy, “remembering your tears, so that I may be filled with joy.” And everywhere in the letters one may find him bearing this witness to the disciples, both that he loved and that he is loved, though not equally. And here he says, “Though I love you the more, am I to be loved the less?” But that is toward the end; meanwhile, “… you are restricted in your own affections.” “You receive one man,” he says, “but I a whole city, and so great a people.” And he did not say, “You do not receive us,” but, “You are restricted,” hinting at the same thing, but with restraint, so as not to touch them sharply. “In return … widen your hearts too.” And yet it is not equal, to be loved first and then to love. For even if one brings in the same measure, he falls short by coming back second. “Yet I do not reckon exactly,” he says; “even if, having received the beginnings from me, you show the same measure, I love and cherish you.” Then, to show that the thing was a debt, and that what was said was free of flattery, he says, “I speak as to children.” What is “as to children”? “I ask nothing great, if, being a father, I wish to be loved by you.” And see his understanding and modesty. He does not set down here the dangers for them, and the labors and the deaths, though he had much to say; so free is he of pride; but he sets down the loving, and for this he asks to be loved: “because I became your father, because I burn greatly for you.” For this especially offends the beloved often, when someone brings up his benefits to him; for he seems to reproach him. That is why Paul does not do this, but says, “Love your father as children,” which is rather a matter of nature and owed to every father.

Then, so as not to seem to say these things for his own sake, he shows that it is for their gain that he draws their friendship too. That is why he added, “Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers.” And he did not say, “Do not mix with unbelievers,” but, touching them more as wronging what is just, “Do not bend yourselves aside,” he says. “For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness?” Here he now makes a comparison not of his own love and that of those who were corrupting them, but of their nobility and those men’s disgrace; for so the discourse became more dignified and more fitting for him, and drew them more. As if someone said to a child [who despised his parents and gave himself to wicked men], “What are you doing, child? [Do you despise] your father, [and prefer] men full of countless wickednesses? Do you not know how much better and more honorable you are than they?” For so he withdraws him from their company more than if he admired the father. For if he says, “Do you not know how much better your father is than they?” he will not achieve so much; but if, leaving the father aside, he prefers the boy himself to them, saying, “Do you not know who you are and who they are? Do you not consider your nobility and freedom and their disgrace? What fellowship have you with those thieves, those adulterers, those sorcerers?” he will quickly give him wings by his praises. For the first speech he will not receive very well, because the preferring of the father is an accusation of himself, when he appears to grieve not only a father but such a father; but here he will suffer nothing of the kind. For no one would choose not to be praised; and through this, with the praise of the hearer, the refutation fills him with great spirit, and he spurns their company. And not only is this wonderful in him, that he advanced the comparison so, but that he devised something else greater and more striking: first, he put the statement in the form of a question, which belongs to things plain and agreed; then he broadened it by the density and number of the words. For he sets down not one or two or three, but more than these, names of things in place of persons, and sketches the highest virtue on one side and the extreme of wickedness on the other, and shows the gulf between to be great and infinite, so that it needs no argument. “For what partnership,” he says, “has righteousness with lawlessness? What fellowship has light with darkness? What agreement has Christ with Beliar? Or what portion has a believer with an unbeliever? Or what agreement has the temple of God with idols?” [3.] Do you see how he sets down the bare names, and finds them enough to turn them away? For he did not say “transgression,” which was more; nor “to those of the light and those of the darkness,” but sets down the opposites themselves, which do not admit their opposites, light and darkness. Nor did he say, “to those of Christ and those of the devil,” but what was much further apart, “Christ and Beliar,” calling the apostate so in the Hebrew tongue. “Or what portion has a believer with an unbeliever?” Here at last, so as not to seem simply to go through an accusation of wickedness and a praise of virtue, he mentions persons too, indefinitely. And he did not say “fellowship,” but set down the prizes, saying “portion.” “What agreement has the temple of God with idols? For you are the temple of the living God.” What he means is this: neither has your King anything in common with him (“For what agreement has Christ with Beliar?”), nor the things (“For what fellowship has light with darkness?”); so neither must you. And he puts the King first and them second, separating them most of all by this. Then, having said, “the temple of God with idols,” and having declared, “For you are the temple of the living God,” he necessarily adds the testimony too, showing that the thing is not flattery. For one who praises, unless he also gives proof, seems to flatter. What then is the testimony? “For I will dwell in them,” it says, “and walk among them.” “I will dwell” as in temples, “and walk among them,” showing his greater closeness to them. “And they shall be my people, and I will be their God.” “What,” he says, “do you carry God in yourself, and run to them—God, who has nothing in common with them? And where is this deserving of pardon? Consider who walks in you, who dwells in you.”

“Therefore come out from their midst and be separate, and touch nothing unclean; and I will welcome you, says the Lord.” And he did not say, “Do not do unclean things”; but seeking greater strictness, “Do not even touch,” he says, “do not even come near.” What is defilement of the flesh? Adultery, sexual immorality, all licentiousness. And of the spirit? Unclean thoughts, such as looking with licentious eyes, grudges, deceits, and all such things. He wants them, then, to be pure on both sides. Do you see how great the prize is? To be freed from wicked things, to be united with God. Hear what follows too: “And I will be a father to you, and you shall be my sons and daughters, says the Lord.” Do you see the prophet foretelling from of old the present nobility, the rebirth through grace? “Having these promises, then, beloved.” What promises? To be temples of God, sons and daughters, to have him dwelling and walking within, to become his people, to possess God himself as Father. “Let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of flesh and spirit.” Let us neither touch unclean things (for this is defilement of the flesh), nor the things that defile the soul (for this is of the spirit). And he is not content with this alone, but adds, “perfecting holiness in the fear of God.” For not touching what is unclean does not make one pure; we need something else too to become holy: earnestness, attention, piety. And he rightly said, “in the fear of God.” For it is possible to perfect chastity not in the fear of God but for vainglory. And with this, by saying “in the fear of God,” he hints at something else too, the manner in which holiness may be achieved. For even if desire is tyrannical, if you build up the fear of God as a wall against it, you have destroyed its madness. By holiness here he means not chastity only, but freedom from every sin; for the holy man is the pure man. And one would become pure not if he were freed from sexual immorality only, but also from greed and envy and arrogance and vainglory; and above all from vainglory, which must be fled everywhere, but much more in almsgiving; since it would not even be almsgiving if it had this disease, but display and cruelty. For when you act not in mercy but in parade, such a thing is not only not almsgiving but an insult; for you have made a public example of your brother. So almsgiving is not giving money, but giving with mercy. For those in the theaters too give, both to prostituted boys and to others on the stage, but such a thing is not almsgiving; and those who outrage the bodies of prostituted women give too, but this is not kindness but drunken violence. The vainglorious man is like this. For as that man, outraging the harlot’s body, gives her a wage for the outrage, so you too demand a wage from the one who receives the insult: to clothe both yourself and him with an evil reputation. And with this the loss is unspeakable. For like a wild beast or a mad dog leaping on us, this wicked disease and this inhumanity snatches away our good things; for such a thing is inhumanity and cruelty, or rather worse than this. For the cruel man would not give to the needy, but you do more than this: you hinder those who wish to give. For when you parade your gift, you both destroy the reputation of the one who received and blunt the one who was going to give, if he is careless. For he will no longer give, as to one who has received and is not so needy; and he will often even condemn him, if he comes and asks after receiving, and will think him shameless. What sort of almsgiving is this, then, when you put to shame yourself, and the one who received, and the one who commanded it doubly: both because, having him as spectator of the almsgiving, you seek the eyes of your fellow servants after him, and because you transgress the law laid down by him forbidding these things?

I wanted to go on to the other things too, fasting and prayer, and show how much vainglory spoils there too; but I remembered that I did not finish a necessary discussion in the preceding sermon. What was the discussion? I said that the poor have the advantage over the rich in worldly matters, since I was speaking of health and pleasure, and this was clearly shown. Come then, let us show today that not only in worldly matters but in higher ones too the advantage is with them. For what brings one into the kingdom, wealth or poverty? Let us hear the Master of the heavens himself saying of the rich, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven”; but of the poor the opposite: “If you wish to be perfect, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and come, follow me, and you will have treasure in heaven.” And if you will, let us see what was said from both sides. “Narrow and afflicted is the way,” he says, “that leads to life.” Who then walks the narrow way, the man in luxury or the man in poverty? The man alone, or the man carrying countless loads? The slack and dissolute man, or the one who is anxious and careful? But what need of reasonings, when we can come to persons themselves? Lazarus was poor, very poor; rich was the man who passed by him as he lay at the gate. Who then entered the [bosom of Abraham], and who was fried and was not master even of a drop? “But many poor will perish too,” someone says, “and rich men will enjoy those unspeakable goods.” On the contrary, one may see few rich being saved, and far more of the poor. Consider, examining exactly the hindrances of wealth and the defects of poverty; or rather of neither wealth nor poverty, but each belongs to those who possess them; yet let us see which is the more convenient weapon. What defect then does poverty seem to have? Lying. And what does wealth have? Pride, the mother of evils, which made even the devil a devil, though he was not such before. Again, “the love of money is the root of all evils”; who then stands near this root, the rich man or the poor man? Is it not plain that it is the rich? For the more one surrounds himself with, the more he desires. Vainglory again spoils countless good deeds; and near this too the rich man has pitched his tent. “But do you not set down the poor man’s troubles,” someone says, “affliction and distress?” But this is common to the rich man too, and to him more than to the poor; so what seem to be the evils of poverty are common to both, but those of wealth are his alone. “But what of when the poor man does many dreadful things through lack of necessities?” But no poor man does so many dreadful things through need as the rich do through wishing to gain more and not to lose what they have. For the poor man does not desire necessities as much as the rich man desires superfluities; nor again has he as much strength to use wickedness as this man has. If then the rich man both wishes more and is more able, it is plain that he will do more too. For neither does the poor man fear famine as much as the rich man trembles and chokes over the loss of his goods, and over not yet having taken everyone’s. When, then, he stands near vainglory and pride and the love of money, the root of all evils, what hope of salvation will he have unless he shows great wisdom? And how will he walk the narrow way? Let us not, then, carry about the opinions of the many, but examine the facts. For is it not absurd, about money, not to trust others but to entrust it to number and counting, but when voting about matters of life simply to be swept along by others’ opinions, though we have an exact balance and gauge and rule of all things, the verdict of the divine laws? So I urge and beseech you all: leaving aside what this one and that one thinks about these things, learn all these things from the Scriptures; and having learned the true wealth, let us pursue it, so that we may obtain the eternal good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, might, and honor to the Father together with the Holy Spirit, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.