Homilies on Acts 39.1–39.4

“When they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked, but others said, ‘We will hear you again about this.’ So Paul went out from their midst.” Why is it that, though he had persuaded them so far that the Athenians said, “We will hear you again about this,” and though there were no dangers, Paul hastens to leave Athens? Perhaps he knew that he would do little good there; and besides, he was being led by the Spirit to Corinth. “But some men joined him and believed, among whom also were Dionysius the Areopagite and a woman named Damaris, and others with them. After this Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. And he found a Jew named Aquila, a native of Pontus, who had recently come from Italy, and Priscilla his wife (because Claudius had ordered all the Jews to leave Rome); and he went to them, and because he was of the same trade, he stayed with them and worked; for they were tentmakers by trade.” Naturally, as I said, he was being led by the Spirit to Corinth, where he was to stay. For the Athenians, though lovers of hearing something new, nevertheless paid no attention; for this was not what they were eager for, but always to have something to talk about; and this is what made them hold back. But if this was their custom, how is it that they accuse him, saying, “He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign divinities”? But these things were very perplexing. Still he persuaded Dionysius the Areopagite and some others. For those who cared about their way of life quickly received the word, but the rest did not. So it seemed enough to Paul for the time to have sown the seeds; for the greater part of his life had by now gone by. For under Nero the war against the Jews was brought to completion, but from Claudius onward it was already being fanned into flame, from afar, it is true, but not without likelihood, so that even so they might come to their senses, and from Rome as pests … That is why it is arranged that he be brought there as a prisoner, so that he would not be driven out as a Jew, but would be kept there as one held under military custody. “And he stayed,” it says, “with them.” Wonderful! What a just reason for living with them he found! For since here above all he must not take anything, as he says, “so that in what they boast of they may be found to be just as we are,” it is arranged that he stays there. “And he reasoned in the synagogue every sabbath, and persuaded Jews and Greeks. When Silas and Timothy came down from Macedonia, … to the Jews that the Christ was Jesus.” That is, they abused him, they opposed him. But they acted so; what does Paul do? He withdraws from them, and in a way that inspires great fear. For he no longer says, “It was necessary for the word to be spoken to you”; but he hints at it to them. “But when they opposed and blasphemed, he shook out his garments and said to them, ‘Your blood be on your own heads. I am clean. From now on I will go to the Gentiles.’ And he left there and went to … God, whose house was next door to the synagogue. Crispus, the ruler of the synagogue, believed in the Lord with his whole household; and many of the Corinthians, when they heard, believed and were baptized.” See how, though he had said, “From now on,” not even so does he neglect them; so he said this in order to rouse them. And then he went to Justus, whose house was next door to the synagogue. He lived nearby, so that they might also be moved to jealousy by the nearness. “… believed in the Lord with his whole household.” And this above all was enough to draw them. “And the Lord said to Paul in the night by a vision, ‘Do not be afraid, but speak and do not be silent; for I am with you, and no one will attack you to harm you; for I have many people in this city.’” See with how many things he persuades him, and how what most encouraged him he tells him last: “For I have many people in this city.” How then, someone might say, did they attack him? Yet they could do nothing; they only brought him before the proconsul. “And he stayed a year and six months, teaching the word of God among them. But when Gallio was proconsul of Achaia, the Jews made a united attack on Paul and brought him before the tribunal, saying, ‘This man is persuading people to worship God contrary to the law.’” Do you see why they always devised their charges in public? See, at any rate: here, when they said that he persuades people to worship God contrary to the law, the proconsul cared nothing for any of this, but rather speaks in Paul’s defense. And hear how he answers: “If it were a matter of some wrongdoing or vicious crime touching the city, O Jews, I would have reason to bear with you.” This man seems to me a reasonable man; and this is clear from his sensible answer. “But when Paul,” it says, “was about to open his mouth, Gallio said to the Jews, ‘If it were a matter of some wrongdoing or vicious crime, O Jews, I would have reason to bear with you; but if it is a question about words and names and your own law, see to it yourselves; I do not wish to be a judge of these things.’ And he drove them from the tribunal. And all of them seized … in front of the tribunal; and Gallio cared for none of these things.” Here again the man’s reasonableness is shown. For when he was being beaten, he did not consider it an insult to himself; so reckless were the Jews.

Let us look at what was read from the beginning. “When they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked, but others said, ‘We will hear you again.’” How many great and lofty things they heard, and paid no attention, but mocked! They mocked at the resurrection; “for the natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit.” “And so,” it says, “Paul went out from their midst.” “So”: how? Having persuaded some, but laughed at by others. “After this he left Athens,” it says, “and went to Corinth. And he found a Jew named Aquila, a native of Pontus, who had recently come from Italy … he stayed with them and worked.” See how the law at last begins to be dissolved. For this man, though a Jew, had his hair cut afterward at Cenchreae and goes off with Paul to Syria. Being from Pontus, he was not eager to go to Jerusalem or near it, but farther away. At any rate he stays with him, and is not ashamed to stay; rather, he stays for this very reason, having found a suitable lodging; for it was much more suitable for him than a palace. And do not laugh when you hear this, beloved. For just as for an athlete the wrestling school is more useful than soft beds, so for the soldier is the iron sword, not the golden one. And he worked while preaching. Let us be ashamed, we who live idly even without preaching. “And he reasoned in the synagogue,” it says, “every sabbath, and persuaded Jews and Greeks. But when they opposed and blasphemed,” he flew off. By this he expected to draw them more; that is why he withdraws. For why, leaving that house, did he come near the synagogue? Was it not for this reason? For he saw no danger there either. “Testifying to them,” it says. He no longer teaches, but testifies solemnly. “But when they opposed,” it says, “and blasphemed, he shook out his garments and said, ‘Your blood be on your heads.’” He does this in order to frighten them not by word only but also by action; and he speaks more vehemently, since he had also persuaded many. “I am clean,” he says; “from now on I will go to the Gentiles.” So we too are answerable for the blood of those entrusted to us, if we neglect them. So too when he says, “From now on let no one cause me trouble,” he says it to frighten them; for punishment did not frighten them so much as this stung them. And he moves house, wanting to convince them that he was hastening on to the Gentiles. “Crispus, the ruler of the synagogue,” it says, “believed in the Lord with his whole household.” See how the believers of that time did this together with their whole household. When this had happened, at once many others also believed … about whom he says in writing, “I baptized no one else except Crispus and Gaius.” I think this man is also called Sosthenes, who was so faithful a man that he was even beaten, and was always with Paul. “And the Lord said,” it says, “to Paul by a vision, ‘Do not be afraid; speak.’” That is why he stays there a long time; for the crowd also persuaded him, but Christ’s friendship more. For the danger had by now become greater, since more were believing, and the ruler of the synagogue too. “Do not be afraid,” he says. This was enough to rouse him: either he was shown up as afraid, or he was not shown up, but is encouraged so that he might not even suffer this. For he did not let them suffer ill always, lest they become weaker. For nothing so grieved Paul as those who disobeyed, those who opposed; this was harder for him than the dangers. “And do not be silent,” he says, “for I have many people in this city.” Perhaps it is for this reason that Christ appears to him. “But when Gallio,” it says, “was proconsul of Achaia, the Jews made a united attack on Paul.” See: they attack him after the year and six months, when they were no longer able to use their own laws. This above all emboldened the Corinthians: being fully convinced that the governor would not even stoop to the matter. For it was not the same thing to win by argument as for them to learn that the matter was of no concern to him. And consider how sensible he was. For he did not answer at once, “It is no concern of mine”; but what? “If it were some wrongdoing or vicious crime, O Jews, I would have reason to bear with you; but if it is a question about words and names and your own law, see to it yourselves; I do not wish to be a judge of these things.” He walled off the court against them. The victory was brilliant. They were beating him in front of the tribunal, and Gallio cared nothing for any of this. What shame they were put to! “And Gallio,” it says, “cared nothing for any of this,” although the whole thing was an insult to himself; but as though they had received authority, they beat him themselves, doing the work of a judge without a trial, because of their shame. And why did he not strike back, though he too had the power? But they were being trained in philosophy. And he does not strike back, so that the judge too might learn which was the more reasonable. This benefited those present not a little; for both the reasonableness of these and the rashness of those taught them that such matters need a judicial verdict. But those men do everything in disorder. And he did not say, “One must not,” lest they keep pestering him, but, “I do not wish.” “For I do not wish,” he says, “to be a judge of these things”: so reasonable was the man. Pilate too said this in the case of Christ: “Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.” He thought it right that they should judge according to the law, but they were disposed like drunken and raving men. That is why he left Athens: because there were many people there in Corinth. [3] Let us too imitate this man: let us strike back at those who strike us with gentleness, with silence, with long-suffering. These wounds are harder, the blow greater and more painful; for it is not being struck in the body but in the mind that is hard. We strike many people, but when it is in the manner of friendship, they even enjoy it; but if you strike an ordinary person … so we strike their heart more. That this is so we will show as far as possible by argument. The clear proof, indeed, comes from deeds and experience; but if you like, let us make the examination by argument too, although we have often done it already. For in insults nothing stings us so much as the verdict of the onlookers; for to be insulted in public and in private is not the same; but we bear those insults easily when they happen in solitude, when we suffer it with no one present to bear witness, no one to share the knowledge. So it is not the nature of the insult that pains us, but suffering it before everyone; so that if someone honored us before everyone and insulted us in private, we would even be grateful. So the pain is not in the nature of the insult, but in the verdict of the onlookers, lest we seem to be contemptible. What then if this verdict is in our favor? Is not the insulter himself insulted, when they cast their vote for us? Tell me: whom do those present despise, the one who insults, or the one who is insulted and keeps silent? Anger suggests: the one insulted. But let us look while we are clear of the passion, so as not to be forced into a false verdict. Whom then do we all condemn? Clearly the one who insults; and if he is inferior, we shall say he is mad; if an equal, that he is foolish; and if he is greater, not even so shall we approve him. For tell me, who is worthy of praise: the one who is troubled, storm-tossed, turned savage as a beast, so disposed toward our common nature, or the one in calm and harbor and much philosophy? Is not the one like an angel, the other not even like a man? The one cannot even bear his own ills; the other bears those of others too. This one could not bear himself; that one bears another as well. The one is in shipwreck; the other sails in safety, his ship carried along by fair winds; for he did not let the wind of anger fall on his sails and overturn the vessel of his mind; but a light and pleasant breeze of forbearance blows upon him and brings him in great calm into the harbor of philosophy. And just as in a ship that is being wrecked the sailors do not know what they are throwing out, whether they lay hold of their own goods or of others’, but jettison everything aboard alike, both what is precious and what is not; and when the storm is over, they do not even feel the calm because of the loss from the jettison; so too here: when anger blows and the storm rises, they do not know how to throw out in order what should be thrown; and when the anger stops, then, reckoning up what they have thrown out, they realize the loss and do not feel the relief, remembering the words by which they disgraced themselves and suffered the greatest losses, not in money, but in their reputation for reasonableness and gentleness. Truly anger is darkness. “The fool has said in his heart,” it says, “‘There is no God.’” Perhaps it is fitting to say this of the angry man too: the angry man has said, “There is no God.” “For according to the greatness of his wrath,” it says, “he will not seek.” For whatever pious thought enters, it thrusts away and drives back them all, it throws them all aside. If you do not feel more pain than the man you insult, go on insulting, even if there is no one to accuse you except the court of conscience, which will take you aside privately and give you countless lashes. When then you hear that the man you insulted let fall no bitter word, are you not pained the more by this? Tell me, how could you drench a gentle, humble, reasonable man with countless abuses? We say these things continually, but we do not see them shown in deeds. What are you, a man, to insult a man? A slave, to insult your fellow slave? But why do I wonder at this, when many insult even God?

Let this be your consolation, you who are insulted: God too is insulted. You are spat upon: so was our Master. In these things, then, he shares with us; but in the opposite things no longer. For he never insulted anyone unjustly (God forbid!), nor reproached anyone idly, nor wronged anyone. So it is we who share with him, not you. For to bear insult is of God; but to insult idly is of the devil. See the two portions. Christ heard, “You have a demon”; he was struck by the high priest’s servant. Those, then, who insult unjustly stand with those men; and rightly. For if Peter was called “Satan” for one word, much more will these men be called Jews, when they do the deeds of the Jews, just as those too were called children of the devil, because they did the works of the devil. You insult? Who are you, tell me? Or rather, you insult for this very reason, because you are nothing; for no one who is a man insults. So what is said in quarrels, “Who are you?” ought to be said the other way round; one ought to say, “Insult away, for you are nothing.” But as it is, when we say, “Who are you to insult?” one can hear from everyone, “One better than you.” And yet the opposite ought to be said; but since we ask badly, they too answer badly, so that we are to blame. For as though those who insult were great men, we say, “Who are you to insult?” That is why they answer as they do. One ought to say the opposite: “You insult? Insult away; for you are nobody.” But to those who do not insult this ought rather to be said: “Who are you, that you do not insult? You have risen above human nature.” This is nobility, this is freedom: to utter nothing servile, even if someone deserves to hear it. Tell me, how many deserve to be put to death? Yet the judge does not do this himself, but questions them; and not even this himself. And if it is not tolerable for a judge to converse with a wicked man, but he uses a go-between, much more ought we not to insult our equals; for we shall not gain so much advantage over them by insulting as we shall by being shown to have insulted ourselves. So one ought not to insult the wicked for this reason; and the good for another reason as well, that they do not deserve it; and for a third, that one ought not to be an insulter. But as it is, see how much happens: a man is insulted and abused, and the one who abuses is a man, and the onlookers are men. What then? Must the wild beasts come into the middle and settle it? For this is what remains. For when those who delight in injustice are men, reconciliation is left to the beasts; just as when masters are fighting in a house, it remains for the servants to reconcile them (for this is what the nature of the case requires, even if perhaps it does not happen this way); so too here. You insult? Naturally; for you are not even a man. That is why insult seemed something great, and seemed to befit great men; but it befits slaves rather, just as speaking well befits the free. For as doing ill belongs to the one, so suffering ill belongs to the other. What a thieving slave girl is, who secretly purloins her master’s goods, such a thing too is insult; and, as one might say, just as the thief, entering in haste, looks around everywhere, eager to steal something, so this man too looks all around, wishing to throw something out. Perhaps let us sketch him with another example. For just as if someone steals unclean vessels from a house and carries out the stolen things in front of everyone, he disgraces no one so much as himself, who stole them and carried them out; so too one who throws out unclean words in front of everyone disgraces not others but himself through the words, bringing out such things and soiling his own tongue and mind. For the same thing happens when we fight with the wicked as if someone, in order to strike a man lying in rottenness, should defile himself by plunging his hands into the mire. Considering all these things, I beg you, let us flee the harm that comes from this, and let us have a tongue that speaks well, so that we may pass the present life in safety and obtain the good things promised to those who love him, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.