Homilies on 2 Corinthians 14.1

“[Make room for] us; we have wronged no one, [we have corrupted no one, we have taken advantage of no one. I do not say this to] condemn [you]; for I said before that you are in our hearts, to die together and to live together.”

Again he raises the discourse about love, softening the harshness of the rebuke. For since he had convicted and rebuked them as loved but not loving in the same way, but breaking away from his love [and mixing with other pestilent men, he again softens] the vehemence of the rebuke, saying, “Make room for us,” that is, “Love us,” and he asks to receive a favor that is no burden, and more profitable to those who give it than to those who receive it. And he did not say, “Love us,” but more pitifully, “[Who] has cast us out of your mind? Why are we restricted in you?” For since he said above, “You are restricted in your own affections,” here, making it clearer, he said, “Make room for us,” and in this way again draws them on. For nothing so produces friendship as for the beloved to learn that the lover greatly desires his love. “We have wronged no one.” See how again he does not set down his benefits, but makes his words both less burdensome and more striking in another way; and at the same time he hints [at the false apostles, saying, “We have wronged no one, we have corrupted no one, we have taken advantage of no one.”] What is “we have corrupted”? That is, we have deceived no one; as he says elsewhere too, “lest, as the serpent deceived Eve, so your minds be corrupted.” “We have taken advantage of no one”: we have not robbed, we have not plotted. And he does not yet say, “We helped you in this and that,” but making his words more shaming, he says, “We have not wronged you”; all but saying, “Even if we had done you no good, not even so ought you to turn away from us; for you have nothing, small or great, to accuse us of.” Then, since he perceived the heaviness of it, he corrects it again; and he neither kept silent altogether (for then he would not have roused them), nor left the harshness of his words uncorrected (for then he would have struck them the more). And what does he say? “I do not say this to condemn you.” How is it plain? “For I said before,” he says, “that you are in our hearts, to die together and to live together.” This is the greatest friendship, when one who is despised even chooses to die together and to live together with them. “For you are not simply in our hearts, but as I said.” For it is possible both to love and to flee dangers; but not so we. And see here too unspeakable understanding. For he did not mention what had been done for them, lest he seem again to reproach them, but promises for the future: “ready to suffer for you; and neither death nor life seems anything to me by itself, but wherever you are, that is preferable to me, death to life and life to death.” But to die is plainly a matter of friendship; to live, who would not choose, even of those who are not friends? Why then does he set it down as something great? Because it is very great. For many grieve with their friends when they fare badly, but when they are well thought of they no longer rejoice with them, but even envy them. “But not we; whether you are in calamities, we are not afraid to share your misfortune; or whether you fare well, we are not struck by envy.”

Then, since he kept turning these things over, saying, “You are not restricted in us,” and, “You are restricted in your own affections,” and, “Make room for us,” and, “Widen your hearts too,” and, “We have wronged no one,” and all these seemed to be a condemnation of them, see how he softens this heaviness in another way too, saying, “Great is my boldness toward you.” “That is why I dare such things,” he says, “not saying it to condemn, but because of my great boldness”; which he showed above too, saying, “Great is my boasting on your behalf.” “For do not think,” he says, “because I say these things, that I say them as having condemned you completely; for I greatly pride myself and boast about you; but I speak caring for you and wishing you to advance further in virtue”; which he said to the Hebrews too after much rebuke: “But we are persuaded of better things concerning you, things that belong to salvation, though we speak thus. And we desire each of you to show the same earnestness for the full assurance of hope until the end.” So too here: “Great is my boasting on your behalf.” “We boast of you to others,” he says. Do you see how genuinely he consoled them? And he says not simply “I boast,” but “greatly.” He added at any rate, “[I am filled with comfort]”: [what comfort? That] from you, “because, corrected, you comforted me by your deeds.” This belongs to one who loves: both to accuse for not being loved, and to fear lest by accusing beyond measure he should grieve them. That is why he says, “in joy.” [2.] “But these things seem contrary to the first,” someone says. They are not; they agree closely. For these make those acceptable, and the praise through these makes the benefit from those rebukes more genuine, stealing away their painfulness. That is why he uses these words very genuinely and generously. For he did not say, “I am filled with joy,” but “I overflow,” showing his longing again from this too: that even if he is loved so much as to rejoice and exult, he does not yet think he is loved as he ought to be loved, nor that he has received everything; so insatiable was he through loving them greatly. For to be loved by those one loves in any way at all brings great joy, because one loves them greatly. So this again is a sign of his own love. And of comfort he says, “I am filled”—“you have [given back] what was owed me”—but of joy, [“I overflow”]: “[I was dejected about you, but you have made full amends and supplied comfort;] for you not only removed the cause of my grief, but made my joy greater.” Then, showing its greatness, he shows it not only by saying, “I overflow with joy,” but also by adding, “in all our affliction.” “For so great was the pleasure that came to us because of you, that it was not dimmed even by so great an affliction, but by the abundance of its own greatness overcame the painful things that had seized us, and did not let us perceive them.”

“For even when we came into Macedonia, our flesh had no rest.” For since he said “affliction,” he says what kind of affliction too, and magnifies it in words, so as to show that the consolation and joy from these things was great, since it beat off so much pain. “But we were afflicted in every way.” How in every way? “Fightings without,” from the unbelievers; “fears within,” for the weak among the faithful, lest they be swept away. For such things happened not only among the Corinthians but elsewhere too. “But God, who comforts the humble, comforted us by the coming of Titus.” For since he had borne them great witness, so as not to seem to flatter, he brings forward as witness Titus the brother, who came from them to Paul after the first letter, relating to him the story of their correction. And see how everywhere he makes much of Titus’s presence. For earlier he says, “When I came to Troas for the gospel, I had no rest in my spirit because I did not find Titus my brother”; and here again, “We were comforted by the coming of Titus,” he says. For he wishes to make the man trustworthy to them and a close friend. And see how he contrives both. By saying, “I had no rest in my spirit,” he shows the greatness of his virtue; and by saying that “in our affliction his coming was enough for consolation, and not only his coming but also the comfort with which he was comforted concerning you,” he makes the man dear to the Corinthians. For nothing so produces and cements friendship as saying something kind and sound about someone; which he testifies of Titus too, saying, “When he came he gave us wings with pleasure; such things did he report about you. That is why his coming gladdened us. For we were pleased not only by his coming, but also by the comfort with which he was comforted concerning you.” And how was he comforted? By your virtue, by your good deeds. That is why he adds, “telling us of your longing, your mourning, your zeal for me.” “These things gladdened him,” he says, “these comforted him.” Do you see how he shows Titus too to be their ardent lover, since he thinks their improvement his own comfort, and having come boasted to Paul as of his own goods? And see how warmly he reports these things: “your longing, your mourning, your zeal.” For it was likely that they were mourning and grieving that blessed Paul was so displeased, that he stayed away so long. That is why he did not say simply “tears,” but “mourning”; nor “desire,” but “longing”; nor “anger,” but “zeal,” and zeal again on his behalf, against the man who had committed sexual immorality, against the accusers. “For you were set on fire,” he means, “and boiled over when you received my letter.” For these reasons he overflows with joy, for these he is filled with comfort, that he touched them. It seems to me that these things are said not only to console them for the former words, but also to urge on those who had done these good deeds. For even if I think that some were liable to the former charges and unworthy of these praises, yet he does not divide them, but puts both praises and charges in common, leaving it to the conscience of the hearers to pick out what is their own. For so those charges became less burdensome, and these praises led to great zeal.

[3.] So now too those who are accused should be disposed: to lament and mourn, so to long for their teachers, so to seek them more than their fathers. For through fathers we live, but through teachers we live well. So must we bear the rebukes of fathers; so must the faithful grieve with their leaders over those who sin. For not everything lies with them, but with you too. For if the sinner sees that he was rebuked by the father but flattered by the brothers, he becomes more careless. But when the father rebukes, be angry with him too, either as caring for your brother or as sharing the father’s indignation; only show great earnestness, and mourn, not because he was rebuked, but because he sinned. But if I build and you pull down, what have we gained but labors? Or rather, your loss does not stop there; you bring punishment on yourself. For one who prevents a wound from being healed has no less punishment than the one who made it, but even more. For it is not the same to strike and to [keep] the stricken from [being healed]; for the latter certainly breeds death, the former not certainly. I have said these things to you so that you may be angry together with your rulers at what they are justly indignant at; so that when you see someone rebuked, you may all turn away from him more than the teacher does. Let the offender fear you more than the rulers. For if he fears only the teacher, he will quickly sin; but if he is surrounded by so many eyes, so many mouths, he will be in greater safety. For as, if we do not do this, we shall pay the utmost penalty, so if we do it, we shall share in the gain of the correction. Let us do so, then. And if someone says, “Be kind to your brother; this befits Christians,” let him learn that the one who is angry is the kind one, not the one who calls him back before the time and does not even let him perceive his offense. For who, tell me, has mercy on the sick man: the one who lays him on his bed and binds him and keeps him from unsuitable food and drink, or the one who lets him gorge on unmixed wine and bids him be free and do everything a healthy man should? Does not the latter, who seems to be kind, aggravate the disease, while the former corrects it? So we judge here too. For it belongs to kindness not to indulge the sick in everything, nor to flatter their monstrous desires. No one so loved the man at Corinth who committed sexual immorality as Paul, who ordered him to be delivered to Satan; no one so hated him as those who applauded and courted him; and the end showed it. For they puffed him up and made the inflammation greater; but Paul both checked him and did not leave off until he brought him to clean health. They added to the existing evil; he even tore up the original one. Let us too learn these laws of kindness. For if you see a horse rushing down a cliff, you throw on the bridle, and pull it back hard, and often whip it; and yet this is punishment, but this punishment is the mother of safety. Do so with sinners too: bind the offender until he has propitiated God; do not leave him loose, lest he be bound the more by God’s wrath. If I bind, God no longer binds; but if I do not bind, the unbreakable bonds await him. “For if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged.” Do not think such a thing a matter of cruelty and inhumanity, then, but of the utmost gentleness, the best medicine, and great care. “But they have paid a long enough penalty,” someone says. How long, tell me? A year, and two years, and three? But I do not seek a quantity of time, but correction of the soul. [Show] this, then, [whether they have been pierced with compunction, whether they have changed,] and the whole is done; so that if this is not present, there is no profit in the time. For we do not ask whether the wound was bound many times, but whether the binding did any good. If, then, it has helped even in a short time, let it be laid on no longer; but if it has done no good, let it be laid on even after ten years; and let this be the limit of release: the gain of the one bound. If we take care so of ourselves and of the rest, and look not to the glory and shame of men, but, considering the punishment and reproach there, and above all God’s being provoked, apply vigorously the medicines of repentance, we shall quickly come to clean health and obtain the good things to come; 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.