Homilies on 2 Corinthians 15.1–15.5

“So even if I grieved you with my letter, [I do not regret it, though I did regret it].” He now defends himself for the letter, since it was safe to tend them now that the sin had been corrected, and shows the benefit of the thing. He did this earlier too, saying, “For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you, not to grieve you, but that you might know the love I have especially for you.” And he does it now too, establishing it at greater length. And he did not say, “Before I regretted it, but now I do not,” but how? “I do not regret it now, though I did regret it.” “Even if what I wrote,” he says, “was such as to exceed [due measure, so that I regretted it,] yet the great gain from it does not let me regret it.” He said this not as having rebuked them immoderately, but to increase their praises. “For you showed such correction,” he says, “that even if I happened to strike you so hard as to condemn myself, I now praise myself from the outcome.” For as with children, when they have received a painful treatment—say, a cutting or a burning or a bitter medicine—we then speak to them without fear, so Paul does too. “For I see that that letter grieved you, though only for a while. Now I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved to repentance.” … he states the cause too, setting down the usefulness of the letter, and defending himself wisely, saying, “though only for a while.” For the painful thing was short, but the benefit lasting. And the consistent thing would have been to say, “Though it grieved you for a while, it gladdened and helped you forever.” But he does not say this; before mentioning the gain, he passes again to their praises and to the proof of his own care, saying, “Now I rejoice, not because you were grieved”—“for what gain is it to me that you were grieved?”—“but because you were grieved to repentance,” because the grief had some gain. For a father too, when he sees his child being cut, rejoices not because he is in pain but because he is being corrected; so too Paul. And see how from the facts he transfers the whole achievement to them, and reckons the painful part to the letter, saying, “because it grieved you for a while,” but says that the usefulness from it is their own achievement. For he did not say, “Because the letter corrected you,” though it was so, but, “because you were grieved to repentance.” “For you were grieved in a godly way, so that you suffered loss through us in nothing.” Do you see his unspeakable understanding? “For if we had not done this,” he says, “we would have done you harm.” And he says the achievement is theirs, but the loss would have been his if he had kept silent. “For if [you were going to be helped] by the rebuke [and we had not given it, we would have harmed] you; and the harm would have been not only to you but to us too.” For as one who does not give the merchant what he needs for the voyage is himself the cause of the loss, so we too, if we had not given you the occasions of repentance, would have harmed you. Do you see that not rebuking sinners is a loss both to teacher and to disciple? “For godly grief produces a repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted.” “For this reason,” he says, “though I did regret it before I saw the fruit and how great the gain was, I do not regret it now.” For such is godly grief. And he now speaks wisely about it, showing that grief is not grievous everywhere, but when it is worldly. What is “worldly”? If you grieve for money, for glory, for one who has died, all those are worldly. That is why it works death. For one who grieves for glory envies, and is often compelled to perish; such grief as Cain felt, such as Esau. By worldly grief, then, he means that which is to the harm of those who grieve. For grief is useful only for sins; and this is plain from this. One who grieves over the loss of money does not undo the loss; one who grieves over the dead does not raise the one lying there; one who grieves over sickness not only is not set right, but aggravates the disease; but one who grieves over sins alone achieves something more by his grief, for he spends and blots out his sins. For since this medicine has been prepared for this, here only it has force and shows its benefit, but in other cases it even does harm. “And yet Cain,” someone says, “grieved because he was not approved by God.” Not for this, but because he saw his brother shining; since if he had been pained for this, he ought to have emulated him and rejoiced with him; but being pained, he showed that he grieved in a worldly way. But not so David, nor Peter, nor any of the righteous. That is why they were approved, grieving either over their own sins or over those of others. And yet what is more burdensome than grief? But when it is godly, it is better than the world’s joy. For that ends in nothing, but this works a repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted. For this is what is wonderful about it, that one who grieves so would never regret it; which above all belongs to worldly grief. For what is more desired than a true-born child? What more painful than such a death? Yet fathers who at the height of their mourning would bear nothing, and beat themselves, regret it after a while, since [they gained nothing,] but wore themselves out the more. But godly grief is not such; it has two advantages: one is not condemned for what one grieves over, and this grief ends in salvation; of both of which the other is deprived. For they grieve to their harm, and after grieving greatly they condemn themselves, bringing forward this greatest sign that they did it to their harm. But godly grief is the opposite. That is why he said, “It produces a repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted.” For no one will condemn himself if he grieves over sin, if he mourns and breaks himself.

Which blessed Paul having said, he does not need to bring the example of what he said from elsewhere, nor those in the [old histories who grieved], but brings forward the Corinthians themselves, and gives the proof from what they did, so as both to teach them with praise and to draw them more. “For see,” he says, “what earnestness this very thing, your being grieved in a godly way, has produced in you.” “For not only did the dejection not throw you into condemning yourselves as having done it idly, but it made you more earnest.” Then he states the signs of the earnestness. “What eagerness to clear yourselves”—toward me. “What indignation”—against the one who sinned. “What fear”—for so great earnestness and so swift a correction belonged to those who were greatly afraid. And so as not to seem to exalt himself, see how quickly he softened it, saying, “what longing”—for me; “what zeal”—[on God’s behalf; “what punishment!”—for you avenged] the laws of God that had been outraged. “In everything you proved [yourselves innocent in the matter],” not only by not daring it (for this was obvious), but also by not sharing its pleasure. For since in the first letter he said, “And you are puffed up,” here he says, “You have freed yourselves from this suspicion too, not only by not praising him, but by rebuking and being indignant.”

“So although I wrote to you, it was not for the sake of the one who did wrong, nor for the sake of the one who was wronged.” For so that they might not say, “Why then do you rebuke us, if we were innocent in the matter?” setting himself against this above too and preparing for it in advance, he said what he said: “I do not regret it, though I did regret it.” “For I am so far from repenting now of what I wrote then,” he says, “that I repented then rather than now, when you have commended yourselves.” Do you see again his force and his determination, how he turned the argument to the opposite? For from the very things from which they thought he had been distorted, as one who had rebuked idly, he shows from their progress that he has a right to speak boldly. For he no longer refuses to gratify them without fear, when it is possible to do so. For he who said above such things as, “He who is joined to a prostitute is one body,” and, “Deliver such a one to Satan for the destruction of the flesh,” and, “Every sin that a man commits is outside the body,” and the like—how does he say here, “not for the sake of the one who did wrong, nor for the sake of the one who was wronged”? Not contradicting himself, but quite consistent. How consistent? Because it was very important to him to show the affection he had for them. So he does not do away with his care for that man, but shows also, as I said, his love for them, and that a greater fear shook him, for the whole church. For he feared lest the evil should spread further and, making its way, seize the whole church. That is why he said, “A little leaven leavens the whole lump.” But that was then; now, since they had done well, he no longer puts it so, but otherwise; he hints at the same thing, but handles the statement more sweetly, saying, “but so that your earnestness on our behalf might be made plain to you,” that is, so that you may know how I love you. This is the same as the former, but expressed differently it seemed to give another sense. For that it is the same, unfold its meaning and you will see no difference. “For since I love you greatly,” he says, “I feared lest you should suffer something unpleasant from that quarter, lest you yourselves should take on the grief.” As, then, when he says, “Is it for oxen that God cares?” he does not mean that he does not care (for nothing that exists can hold together apart from God’s providence), but that he did not legislate chiefly for the oxen, so here too: “I wrote first for your sake, and second for his too. And I had the love in myself even without the letter,” he says, “but I wished to show it to you and to all by that writing.” “Therefore [we have been comforted],” since we have both shown our earnestness for you and achieved everything. As he said elsewhere too, “For now we live, if you stand fast in the Lord”; and again, “For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting? Is it not you?” For this is life, this is comfort, this is consolation to a teacher with understanding: the progress of his disciples.

[4.] For nothing so shows the one who holds rule as affection for those he rules. For begetting alone does not make a father, but loving after begetting. And if where nature is there is such need of love, much more where grace is. So all the men of old shone. All [who were approved among the Hebrews were made known by this]. So Samuel was shown great, saying, “Far be it from me to sin against God by ceasing to pray for you”; so David, so Abraham, so Elijah, so each of the righteous, those in the New and those in the Old. For Moses too, for the sake of those he ruled, [gave up] such wealth and treasures, [choosing to suffer affliction with] the people of God; and before his appointment he was a leader of the people by his deeds. That is why that Hebrew spoke very foolishly to him: “Who made you a ruler and judge over us?” What are you saying? You see the deeds, and you doubt about the title? As if someone, seeing a physician cutting excellently and helping a diseased limb of the body, should say, “Who made you a physician and bade you cut?” “Art, my good man, and your disease.” So too his knowledge made Moses such. For ruling is an art, not only a dignity, and an art higher than all arts. For if the rule of those outside is an art and a science better than all, much more this one. For this rule is as much better than that as that is than the other arts; or rather much more. And if you will, let us examine this argument more exactly. There is the art of farming, of weaving, of building, which are very necessary and above all hold our life together. For the others serve these: smithing, carpentry, shepherding. But of these arts themselves the most necessary of all is farming, which God introduced first when he formed man. For it is possible to live without shoes and clothes, but impossible without farming. Such, they say, are the Hamaxobii, the nomads among the Scythians, and the naked wise men of the Indians. For these have left aside building and weaving and shoemaking, and need only farming. Be ashamed, you who need superfluous arts—cooks, confectioners, embroiderers, and countless others of the kind—in order to live; be ashamed, you who bring vain arts into life; be ashamed, you believers, before those barbarians who need no art. For God made nature very self-sufficient, from a few things. Yet I do not compel you or lay down a law to live so; but as Jacob asked. And what did he ask? “If the Lord gives me bread to eat and a garment to put on.” So Paul too commanded, saying, “Having food and clothing, with these we shall be content.” First, then, is farming, second weaving, and third after it building; shoemaking is last of all. Among us at any rate there are many servants and farm laborers who live without shoes. These, then, are the useful and necessary arts. Come, then, let us compare them with the art of ruling. For this is why I brought forward the most important of all, so that when ruling appears better than these, its victory over the rest may be beyond dispute. How, then, shall we show it more necessary than all? Because without it there is no benefit in those. And if you will, leaving the others aside, let us bring into the midst the one higher and more important than all, [farming. For what is the benefit of the many hands of the laborers,] when they war with one another and plunder one another’s goods? For now the fear of the ruler restrains them and guards what they produce; but if you take this rule away, that labor is superfluous. And if one examines exactly, he will find another rule too, which is the mother and bond of this one. What is it? That by which each must master and rule himself, chastising the slavish passions, and nourishing and increasing all the shoots of virtue with all exactness. For there are kinds of rule: one, by which men rule peoples and cities, setting this political life in order, which Paul showed when he said, “Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God”; then, showing its gain, he added, “The ruler is God’s minister for good”; and again, “He is God’s minister, an avenger for wrath on the one who does evil.” Another, by which each man with understanding rules himself; which he also indicated by saying, “Do you wish not to fear the authority? Do what is good,” meaning the man who rules himself.

But here there is another rule too, higher than political rule. What is it? That in the church; which Paul too mentions, saying, “Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they keep watch over your souls, as men who will give account.” For this rule is as much better than political rule as heaven is than earth, or rather much more. For first, it does not chiefly consider how to punish sins once committed, but how they may not happen at all; then, when they have happened, not how to carry off the sick man, but how the sins may be blotted out. And it takes little account of worldly things, but does everything for the things in heaven. “For our citizenship is in heaven,” and our life is there: “For it is hidden,” he says, “with Christ in God.” And the prizes are there, and the races are for the crowns there. For this life is not ended after death, but then shines out the more. That is why those who hold this rule have been entrusted with greater honor not only than governors, but than those who wear diadems, since they shape men in greater things and for greater things. But neither the one who exercises political rule nor the one who exercises spiritual rule will be able to handle them well unless they first rule themselves as they should and keep the laws of both kinds of conduct with all exactness. For as the rule over the many is double, so is that by which each rules himself. And here again the spiritual is better than the political, as the argument has shown.

One may see some of the arts too imitating rule, and especially farming. For the cultivator is a kind of ruler of the plants, pruning and checking some, and increasing and tending others; just as the best of rulers punish and cut off the wicked and those who harm the majority, but advance the good and reasonable. That is why Scripture too [compares] rulers to vinedressers. For what if plants do not utter a voice, as those who suffer ill in cities do? Yet they show the injustice by their appearance, withering, crowded out by the wicked weeds. And as wickedness is punished by laws, so here too the badness of the soil and the poor stock and wildness of a plant are corrected by this art. For whatever is in human character we shall find here too, [roughness, weakness, timidity, rashness,] and instability; and some of them luxuriant with wealth to the harm of their neighbors, others poor and wronged; as when the hedges grow luxuriant and rise to the harm of the plants near them, when other trees, fruitless and wild, run up high and hinder the growth of those beneath them. And as rulers and kings have those who harm their rule and war against them, so too the cultivator has the attack of wild beasts, irregularity of weather, hail, rust, [heavy rains], droughts, and the like. These things happen so that you may look continually to hope in God. For the other arts are established by human effort too; but this one has the greater part in God’s inclination, and depends almost wholly on it; it needs rains from above, it needs the right blend of seasons, and before all his providence: “For neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but God who gives the growth.” There is death here too, and life, and birth pangs and births, as with men. For it is possible to be cut off, and to bear fruit, and to die, and for what has died to come to be again; where the earth too speaks to us variously and clearly of the resurrection. For when the root bears fruit, when the seed springs up, is not the thing a resurrection? And one would see great providence and wisdom of God set in this rule, if he went through it point by point. But what I wanted to say is that this rule concerns earth and plants, but ours concerns the healing of souls; and as great as the difference between plants and souls, so much better is ours than that. And the rulers of the present life are as much inferior to it as ruling the willing is better than ruling the unwilling. For this is rule by nature too. For there everything happens by fear and compulsion; but here it is an achievement of choice and will. And not only in this is it better than that, but in that it is not only rule but, as one might say, fatherhood; for it has a father’s gentleness, and commanding greater things it persuades. For the outside ruler says, “If you commit adultery, you die”; but this one threatens the greatest things even if you look with licentious eyes. For this court is august, and corrects the soul, not the body only.

As great, then, as the difference between soul and body, so far does this rule again stand apart from that. And the one sits as judge of things that are open, or rather not of all of them, but of those that are proven; and often he even betrays these; but this tribunal teaches those who enter it that the one who judges among us will bring everything naked and laid open into the midst, before the common theater of the world, and it is impossible to escape notice. So Christianity holds our life together much more than the laws from outside. For if trembling about hidden things makes a man safer than fearing only about open ones, and demanding an account even for lesser things rouses him to virtue more than punishing greater ones, it is plain that this rule above all binds our life together.

[6.] And if you will, let us look at the appointments of rulers too; for here too you will see a great difference. For one cannot receive this rule by giving money, but by having shown the best character; and the one appointed is led to this rule not as to human glory and his own ease, but as to labors and sweat and the benefit of the many. That is why he enjoys much help from above from the Spirit. There, rule goes no further than declaring what must be done; but here it adds the alliance from prayers and from grace too. Or rather, there there is no word at all about wisdom, nor does anyone sit teaching what the soul is, and what the world is, and what we shall be after this, and to what we shall go from here, and how we shall master virtue; but there is much talk about contracts and agreements and money, and no care for these things. But in the church one may see all the discourses made about these things; so that one might rightly call it everything: a court, a hospital, a school of wisdom, a training place for the soul, a gymnasium for the races that lead to heaven. And that it is the gentlest rule of all, though it demands greater exactness, is plain from this. The outside ruler, if he catches an adulterer, at once punishes him. And yet what is the gain? For this is not to remove the passion, but to send away the soul with its wound. But the ruler here, when he finds one, hastens not to punish him but to remove the passion. “For you do the same as if, when a disease attacked the head, you did not stop the disease but cut off the head; but I do not act so; I cut off the disease. I bar him from the mysteries and the sacred precincts; and when I have raised him up, freed from his wickedness and made better by repentance, I receive him back again.” “And how is it possible to remove adultery?” someone says. It is possible, very possible, when he comes under these laws. For the church is a spiritual bath, wiping away not the dirt of the body but the stain of the soul by the many ways of repentance. “If you let him go unpunished, you have made him worse; if you punish him, you have left him incurable; but I neither let him go unpunished, nor punish as you do, but I both exact the penalty fitting for me and set right what has been done.” Do you want to learn in another way too how you, baring swords and showing fire to sinners, do not achieve much healing, while I without these have led them by the hand to clean health? I need no arguments or words, but I bring forward land and sea, and human nature itself. Examine how human affairs stood before this tribunal sat, how none of the good things achieved now could ever be heard of even by name. For who dared death? Who despised money? Who disdained glory? Who, fleeing the tumults in the midst [of cities], embraced the mountains and the wilderness, the mother of wisdom? Where was the name of virginity ever heard? For all these things, and more than these, have been the achievement of this tribunal, the works of this rule. Knowing and learning these things, then, that from here comes all the benefit of life and the correction of the world, come often to the hearing of the divine words, and to the assemblies here, and to the prayers. For if you order yourselves so, you will be able, having shown a way of life worthy of heaven, to obtain the promised good things, by the grace and love for humankind, and so on.