Homilies on 2 Corinthians 5.1–5.5

“When I came to Troas for the gospel of Christ, and a door was opened for me in the Lord, I had no rest in my spirit, because I did not find Titus my brother.”

These words seem unworthy of Paul, if because of a brother’s absence he let slip so great a chance of salvation; they seem also to be detached from the sequence. What then? Do you want us to show first that they hang on the sequence, or that he has said nothing unworthy of himself? I think the second; for so the first will also be easier and clearer for us. How then do these words hang on what went before? Let us recall those earlier words, and so we shall know it. What were they? What he said at the beginning: “I do not want you to be ignorant,” he says, “of the affliction that happened to us in Asia, that we were weighed down beyond measure, beyond our strength.” And having shown how he was delivered, and having put in what lies between, he necessarily teaches again that he was afflicted in another way too. How and in what way? By not finding Titus. For it is a dreadful thing, able to cast down a soul, even to endure temptations; but when the one who consoles is also absent, the one able to help carry the load, the storm becomes greater. And this Titus is the one who, as he says further on, came to him from them, on whom he spends much great praise, and whom he said he had sent. Wishing, then, to show that in this way too he was afflicted on their account, he said these things. That what is said hangs on what went before is plain from this; that it is not unworthy of Paul either, I will try to show too. For he does not say that the absence of Titus hindered the salvation of those who were to come in, nor that he neglected those who had believed because of it, but that he had no rest, …

[The end of Homily 4, displaced in the scan text:] “… [defend] the fatherless and plead for the widow; and come, let us reason together; and though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them white as snow.” What defense could we deserve, then, if, having so many roads leading up to heaven and such medicines to heal our wounds, we remain even after the washing in the same sins? Let us not remain in them, then; but let those who have not yet fallen remain in their own beauty, or rather cultivate it still more (for even where these good deeds find no sins, they make the beauty greater); and let us who have offended much use what has been said for the correction of our sins, so that we may stand before the judgment seat of Christ with great boldness; 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.

[Homily 5 continues:] … because of his brother, showing how great a thing the absence of a brother is. And “to Troas for the gospel”? “I did not simply travel there,” he says, “but to preach. Yet though I came for this and found a very great work—for ‘a door was opened for me in the Lord’—I had no rest,” he says; yet he did not for this reason hinder the work. How then does he say, “Taking leave of them I went away”? That is, “I did not spend more time there, being distressed” … Titus being absent. This too is no small consolation for them. “For if there, with a door opened, and having come for this very purpose, he left quickly because he did not find his brother, much more ought you,” he says, “to make allowance for the necessities of affairs, which drive us about everywhere and do not let us either travel as we wish or stay longer with those we wish.” That is why he goes on again, ascribing his travels to God here, as above to the Spirit, and says, “But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him in every place.” What he means is this: “Everywhere affliction, everywhere distress. I came to Asia, I was weighed down beyond my strength; I came to Troas, I did not find my brother; I did not come to you. This too caused me no small dejection, but a very great one, both because many among you had sinned and because for this reason I did not see you.” (“For it was to spare you that I did not come again to Corinth,” he says.) … that is why he left there. So as not to seem to be lamenting in saying this, he adds: “We not only are not pained in these afflictions, but we even rejoice; and what is more, not only because of the prizes to come, but because of these present things themselves; for even here we are made splendid and conspicuous by them. So far, then, are we from lamenting that we even call the thing a triumph, and pride ourselves on what happens.” That is why he said, “But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph,” that is, who makes us conspicuous to all. “For what seems to be a disgrace, being driven about everywhere, this appears to us the greatest honor.” That is why he did not say, “who makes us honorable,” but “who leads us in triumph,” showing that these persecutions set up continual trophies against the devil everywhere on earth. Then, having put with “who leads in triumph” the cause as well, he lifts up the hearer from this too: “For we are led in triumph not only by God, but in Christ,” that is, because of Christ and the preaching. “For when there must be a triumph, it is wholly necessary that we who carry the trophy [be seen by all]. That is why we are gazed at and conspicuous.”

“And through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him in every place.” [2.] Above he said “always leads us in triumph”; here he says “in every place,” showing that every place and every time is filled with the contests of the apostles. And he uses another metaphor again, that of fragrance. “For as men carrying perfume, so we are plain to all,” he says, calling knowledge a costly perfume. And he did not say “the knowledge” but “the fragrance of knowledge.” For such is our present knowledge, not very clear nor uncovered. That is why in the first letter he said, “For now we see through a mirror, in a riddle”; and here he calls such a perfume a fragrance. One who knows the fragrance knows that there is perfume lying somewhere, but not what kind it is in substance, unless he happens to have known it before. So too we know that God is, but not what he is in substance. We are like a royal censer, then, breathing out the heavenly perfume and the spiritual fragrance wherever we go. He said this, at the same time showing the power of the preaching too: that through the very things by which they are plotted against, they shine more than their persecutors, and make the whole world know both their trophies and their fragrance; and he exhorts them, concerning afflictions and temptations, to bear everything nobly, since even before the recompense they reap unspeakable glory.

“For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” “For whether someone is saved,” he says, “or perishes, the gospel keeps its own virtue. And as light, though it darkens the weak-sighted, is light even when it darkens, and honey, though it is bitter to the sick, is sweet by nature, so too the gospel is fragrant, even if some perish through not believing. For the destruction is not its work, but that of their perversity.” And in this way above all its fragrance appears: in that the corrupt and wicked perish. So its virtue is shown not only from the salvation of the good, but also from the destruction of the wicked. For the sun too, because it is very bright, especially strikes the eyes of the weak; and the Savior is for the fall and rising of many, yet he remains a Savior even though countless fall; and his coming punished more severely those who did not obey, yet it remains saving. That is why he himself says, “We are an aroma to God,” that is, “Even if some perish, we remain what we are.” And he did not simply say “an aroma,” but “to God.” And when we are an aroma to God, and he decrees this, who will gainsay it any longer? And “the aroma of Christ” seems to me to admit a double explanation. Either he means that they offered themselves as a sacrifice in dying, or that we are the fragrance of Christ’s slaughter, as one might say, “This incense is the fragrance of this sacrifice.” This, then, is what the word “fragrance” suggests; or, as I said already, that they are daily sacrificed for Christ’s sake. Do you see to what height he raised the temptations, calling them a triumph and a fragrance and a sacrifice offered to God?

Then, since he said, “We are an aroma, even among those who are perishing,” so that you might not think that those too are acceptable, he added, “To the one an odor from death to death, to the other an odor from life to life.” For some receive this fragrance so as to be saved, others so as to perish. So even if someone perishes, the cause is from himself; for perfume is said to choke swine, and light, as I said already, to darken the weak. And such is the nature of good things: they not only set right what is akin to them but also destroy what is contrary; and in this above all their power is displayed. For fire too displays its own strength most, and shows itself fire, not only when it gives light, nor when it purifies gold, but also when it consumes thorns; and Christ too displays his majesty in this, when he will consume the Antichrist with the breath of his mouth and destroy him by the appearance of his coming. “And who is sufficient for these things?” Since he had uttered great things—that we are a sacrifice of Christ and a fragrance, and are led in triumph everywhere—he again speaks modestly, ascribing everything to God. That is why he says, “And who is sufficient for these things?” “For the whole is Christ’s,” he says; “nothing is ours.” Do you see him speaking in opposition to the false apostles? For they boast as contributing something of their own to the preaching, whereas he says he boasts for this very reason, that nothing of it is his own: “For our boast is this, the testimony of our conscience, that not in fleshly wisdom but in the grace of God we conducted ourselves in the world.” And what they thought it a boast to possess—I mean the wisdom from outside—he thought it a boast to do away with. That is why here too he says, “And who is sufficient for these things?” And if we are not sufficient, what happens is of grace.

“For we are not, like the rest, peddlers of the word of God.” “… we have said it is an achievement [of ours], but everything is Christ’s; for we will not imitate the false apostles, who say that most of it is theirs.” For this is what it is to peddle: when one adulterates the wine, when one sells for money what ought to be given free. For here he seems to me to mock them about money too, and to hint again at what I said, namely that they mix their own things with the divine; which Isaiah too charged, saying, “Your dealers mix the wine with water.” For even if this was said of wine, one would not go wrong in taking it of teaching too. “But we are not so,” he says, “but such as …” the word. That is why he added, “But as from sincerity, as from God, in the sight of God we speak in Christ.” “We do not preach in this way to deceive you,” he says, “as gratifying you, or contributing and mixing in something of our own; but as from God.” That is, “We do not say that we bestow anything of our own, but that God has given everything”; for this is what “from God” means: boasting of nothing as one’s own, but referring everything to him. “We speak in Christ”: “sounding forth nothing by our own wisdom, but by the power from him.” But those who boast do not do so, but speak as contributing something of their own. That is why elsewhere he ridicules them, saying, “For what do you have that you did not receive? And if you received it, why do you boast as if you had not?”

This is the greatest virtue: to ascribe everything to God, to consider nothing one’s own, to do nothing for the glory of men, but for what pleases God; for it is he who demands the account. But now the order has been reversed: the one who will sit on the judgment seat and demand the account we do not much fear, while those who stand with us and are judged with us we dread. Where then does this disease come from? How did it fall upon our souls? From not reckoning continually on the things there, but being nailed to present things. From this we fall easily into wicked deeds, and if we do something good we do it for display, so that from this too comes our loss. Someone has often looked at a woman with licentious eyes, and escaped the notice both of the woman seen and of those walking with him; but he did not escape the sleepless eye. For that eye, even before the sin was committed, saw the licentious soul, and the madness within, and the thoughts turning in storm and surge; for he who knows all needs no witnesses or proofs. So do not look to your fellow servants; for even if a man praises you, it is no gain when God does not accept you; and if a man condemns you, it is no harm when God does not condemn you. Do not then provoke the judge in this way, making much account of your fellow servants and [not trembling] at him when he is angry. Let us [despise], then, the praise of men. How long shall we be mean and groveling? How long, when God lifts us to heaven, shall we be eager to drag ourselves along the ground? If Joseph’s brothers had had the fear of God before their eyes as they ought, they would not have killed their brother secretly in the wilderness. Again, if Cain had feared God’s verdict as he ought, he would not have said, “Come, let us go out into the field.” Why, wretched and miserable man, do you separate him from his father and lead him out into the wilderness? Does God not see the outrage in the field too? Were you not taught by what happened to your father that he knows everything and is present to everything that happens? And why did God not say to him, when he denied it, “Are you hiding from me, who am present everywhere and know secret things?” Because he did not yet know well how to be wise about these things. But what does he say? “The voice of your brother’s blood cries to me”; not as if the blood had a voice, but as we say, “The thing cries out,” of things plain and clear. So we must keep the [fear] of God before our eyes, and all evils are quenched. So too we can be sober in prayers, if [we consider] that we are offering a sacrifice and have a knife in our hands, and fire and wood; if in thought we open wide the gates of heaven; if we move ourselves there, and taking the sword of the Spirit plunge it into the throat of the victim, and sacrifice sobriety to him, and pour out tears to him. For such is the blood of this victim; with such slaughter that altar is reddened. So at that time let none of your human thoughts hold your soul.

Consider that Abraham too, when he went up to offer sacrifice, let neither wife nor servant nor anyone else be present. So you too let none of the slavish and ignoble passions be present with you; but go up alone onto the mountain where he went up, where it is lawful for no one else to go up. And if any such thoughts try to go up with you, command them with authority and say, “Sit here; I and the boy will worship and come back.” And leaving below the donkey and the servants, everything irrational and foolish, and taking whatever is rational, as he took Isaac, go up. And build the altar as he did, as one who has nothing human, but has gone outside nature; for he too, if he had not been outside nature, would not have [offered] his son. And let nothing trouble you then, but become higher than the heavens themselves. “[Declare] your iniquities first,” it says, “that you may be justified.” Sacrifice contrition of heart. These victims do not end in ashes, nor dissolve into smoke, nor need wood and fire, but only a mind pierced with compunction; this is the wood, this the fire that burns them and does not consume them. For one who prays with fervor burns and is not consumed, but like gold tried in the fire becomes brighter.

Along with these, guard against this too: say nothing in your prayer that provokes your Master, and do not come to him against your enemies. For if having enemies is a reproach, consider how great a one it is to pray against them. When you ought to defend yourself for having enemies, you even accuse them. And what pardon will you obtain, accusing, and at such a time, when you need much mercy? For you have come asking pardon for your own sins; do not then recall the sins of others, lest you call your own to mind. For if you say, “Strike my enemy,” you have stopped your own mouth; you no longer give your tongue boldness: first, because you have provoked the judge at the very outset; second, because you ask for things contrary to the posture of prayer. For if you pray for forgiveness of sins, how can you plead for punishment? You ought to do the very opposite and pray for them, so that we may ask this for ourselves too with boldness. But now you have anticipated the judge’s verdict by your own, demanding that sinners be punished; which deprives you of all pardon. But if you pray for them, even if you say nothing about your own sins, you have achieved everything. Consider how many sacrifices there are in the Law: the sacrifice of praise, the sacrifice of thanksgiving, the sacrifice of peace, the sacrifice of purifications, and countless others; and none against enemies, but each for one’s own sins or good deeds. Are you approaching another God? You are approaching him who said, “Pray for your enemies.” How then do you cry out against them? How do you beseech God to break his own law? This is not the posture of a suppliant; no one supplicates that another may perish, but that he himself may be saved. Why then do you wear the posture of a suppliant but have the words of an accuser? And when we pray for ourselves, we even yawn; but when we pray against our enemies, we do it wide awake. For since the devil knows that [the sword is turned] against ourselves, … so that he may ruin us.

“But I have been wronged,” someone says, “and I am afflicted.” Then pray against the devil, who wrongs us most of all. This you were bidden to say: “Deliver us from the evil one.” He is the irreconcilable enemy; but a man, whatever he does, is a friend and a brother. Let us all, then, be angry with him [the devil] … and beseech God against him, saying, “Crush Satan under our feet.” For it is he who breeds enemies too. But if you pray against your enemies, you pray the prayer that he wants, just as, if you pray for your enemies, you pray against him. Why then do you leave the real enemy and bite your own members, becoming more savage than beasts in this? “But he insulted me,” someone says, “and robbed me of money.” And whom should we mourn, the one who suffered evil or the one who did it? The one who gained money has cast himself out of God’s favor and has lost more than he took; so he is the one who has been wronged. So we must not pray against him, but for him, that God may be merciful to him.

See how much the three youths suffered, though they had done nothing dreadful. They lost their homeland and their freedom, they were taken captive and became slaves, and they were about to be [put to death] in a foreign land because of the dream, idly and in vain. What then did they pray when they went in with Daniel? What did they say? “Cast down [his] diadem, throw him from his throne”? Nothing of the kind; but they sought mercies from God. And when they were in the furnace, the same. But not you; though you suffer far less than they, and often justly, you do not cease uttering countless curses. One says, “Cast down my enemy, as you drowned Pharaoh’s chariot”; another, “Strike his flesh”; another again, “Repay it on his children.” Do you not recognize these words? Why then this laughter of yours? Do you see how ridiculous they are when they are spoken without passion? And every sin too is shown to be shameful when you strip it of the passion of the one who dares it. If you remind an angry man of the words he spoke in his rage, he will sink with shame and laugh at himself, and would rather suffer countless things than have those words be his; and if you bring the licentious man after the act to the prostitute, he too will turn away from her as loathsome. So you too, who are not in the passion, laugh now; for these words are ridiculous, the words of drunken old women and of a womanish pettiness of soul. Joseph too, when he was sold and became a slave and lived in a prison, did not even then utter a bitter word against those who had grieved him; but what does he say? “I was stolen out of the land of the Hebrews,” and he does not add by whom; for he is ashamed of his brothers’ wrongs more than those who did them. So we too must be disposed, grieving for those who abuse us more than they themselves; for the harm passes over to them. As those who kick against nails and are proud of it deserve pity and lamentation for this madness, so too those who wrong those who have done them no evil, since they strike their own souls, deserve much weeping and lamentation, not curses. For nothing is more abominable than a cursing soul, nothing more unclean than a tongue that offers such sacrifices. You are a man; do not spew out the venom of asps. You are a man; do not become a beast. That is why you were given a mouth, not to bite, but to heal the wounds of others. “Remember what I commanded you,” says God: “to pardon and forgive. But you even call on me to become a partner in overturning my commands, and you devour your brother and redden your tongue, like madmen who redden their teeth with their own limbs.” How must the devil be pleased and laugh when he hears such a prayer! How must God be provoked and turn away and hate it, when you make such requests! What could be worse than this? For if one must not approach the mysteries while having enemies, how should not one who not only has them but even prays against them be barred even from the sacred precincts? Considering these things, then, and knowing the purpose of the sacrifice, that it was offered for enemies, let us have no enemy; and if we have one, let us pray for him, so that we too, receiving pardon for our sins, may stand before the judgment seat of Christ with boldness; to whom be glory, might, and honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.