Homilies on Acts 50.1–50.4

“So the soldiers, as they had been ordered, took Paul and brought him by night to Antipatris. And on the next day they returned to the barracks, leaving the horsemen to go on with him. When these came to Caesarea and delivered the letter to the governor, they also presented Paul to him.” Like bodyguards escorting a king, they escorted him with so great a force, and by night, fearing the anger of the people’s attack. So once they had brought him out of the city, then they leave him. And the tribune would not have sent him off with such security unless he himself too had found nothing against him, and saw their murderousness. “On reading it, he asked from what province he was; and learning that he was from Cilicia, he said, ‘I will hear you when your accusers also arrive.’ And he ordered him to be kept in Herod’s praetorium.” Lysias had already made a defense on his behalf; yet still the Jews set upon him, and win over the hearer in advance, and he is put in chains again; and hear how; for it goes on: “And after five … to the governor against Paul.” See how they did not desist even so, but come on, though there were countless hindrances … “And when he had been called, Tertullus began to accuse him, saying: ‘Since through you we enjoy much peace, and since by your foresight reforms are being made for this nation, in every way and everywhere we welcome this, most excellent Felix, with all gratitude. But, so as not to detain you further, I beg you in your kindness to hear us briefly.’” And yet it is you who have done this; what need, then, was there of an orator? See how this man too, straight from the opening, wants to present him as a revolutionary and a rabble-rouser, and wins over the judge in advance with praises. Then, as though he had much to say, he passes over it and says only this: “But, so as not to detain you further.” See how he throws the judge into a desire to punish, if indeed he was going to hold the man who was overturning the world, and as at a great achievement … “For we have found this man a pest, and one who stirs up riots among all the Jews throughout the world, and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes. He even tried to profane the temple; and we seized him, and wanted to judge him according to our law. But the tribune Lysias came and took him out of our hands with great violence, ordering his accusers to come before you. By examining him yourself you will be able to learn from him about all these things of which we accuse him.” “Stirring up riots,” he says, “among the Jews throughout the world.” They now slander him as a destroyer and a common enemy of the nation, “and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes.” This name, “of the Nazarenes,” seemed a reproach; that is why they brought it forward, and slandered him again by it; for Nazareth was a mean place. “And we found him,” he says. See how villainously they slander him as one who had run away and whom they had found with difficulty, although he had spent seven days in the temple. “And we seized him, and wanted to judge him according to our law.” See how they insult the law too, if indeed it was not the law’s part to beat, to kill, to lay ambushes. Then comes the accusation of Lysias too: “But the tribune Lysias came and took him out of our hands with great violence,” doing a thing, he says, that did not belong to him; yet he did it. “By examining him yourself you will be able to learn about all these things of which we accuse him. And the Jews also joined in the attack, alleging that these things were so.” What then of Paul? Is he silent at this? Not at all; but he speaks boldly again and answers; and this when the governor wished it; it went on: “He beckoned to him to speak.” “‘Knowing that for many years you have been a just judge for this nation, I make my defense the more cheerfully, since you can learn that it is not more than twelve days since I went up to worship in Jerusalem; and they did not find me in the temple disputing with anyone or stirring up a crowd, neither in the synagogues nor in the city; nor can they prove to you the things of which they now accuse me.’” These words are not flattery, to bear witness to the judge’s justice; flattery was rather the other, to say, “Since through you we enjoy peace.” Why, then, do you riot unjustly? But consider: they urged him toward injustice, this man sought what was just; that is why he said, “I make my defense the more cheerfully.” Then he also argues from the length of time: “For knowing that for many years,” he says, “you have been a judge.” And what did this contribute to the proof? Much; for he shows that the governor himself knows that he has done none of the things of which he is accused. For if he had ever stirred up a riot, the governor would have known it, being judge, and such a thing would not have escaped him. Then, since the accuser had nothing to show in Jerusalem, see what he says: “among all the Jews throughout the world,” piling lie on lie. That is why Paul from here … making his defense by this, that “I am so far from stirring up riots”; and he dwells on this just point, which was strong; for he goes on: “And neither in the temple, nor in the city, nor in the synagogue did they find me disputing with anyone.” Which was also true. And the other says, “ringleader,” as of a battle and a conspiracy; but see how mildly this man answers: “But this I confess to you, that according to the Way, which they call a sect, so I worship the God of our fathers, believing everything laid down by the law and written in the prophets, having a hope in God, which these men themselves also accept, that there will be a resurrection of both the just and the unjust.” See: those men set him apart; this man brings himself in with them, and by his defense makes himself one with the law. And confirming what he said, he goes on again: “In this I myself also always take pains to have a conscience without offense toward God and toward men. Now after several years I came to bring alms to my nation and offerings; in doing which they found me purified in the temple, not with a crowd, nor with any uproar.” Why, then, did you go up? Why did you come? To worship; “to bring alms,” he says; so this was not the act of a rioter. Then he also removes their persons, speaking indefinitely: “in doing which some Jews from Asia found me, who ought to be here before you and to accuse me, if they had anything against me. Or let these men themselves say what wrongdoing they found in me when I stood before the council, unless it is about this one sentence that I cried out while standing among them: ‘It is about the resurrection of the dead that I am on trial before you today.’” This is an abundance of just claims: not to avoid the accusers, but to be ready to give account to all. “It is about the resurrection of the dead,” he says, “that I am on trial today.” And he said none of the things he might reasonably have said: that they plotted, that they held him, that they laid an ambush (for these are said to have been done by them; but from this man, even when there was danger, no longer); but he is silent and only makes his defense, though he had countless things to say. This too made him illustrious in Caesarea, that he came with so great an escort. “In doing which they found me,” he says, “purified in the temple.” How, then, had he profaned it? For it was not for the same man both to purify himself and to worship, and to come for this and profane. Not letting the speech run on long also gives an impression of the justice of his case; and he humors the judge. It seems to me that he humors him by this too, by keeping his defense short.

But let us look at what was said from the beginning. Since Tertullus had made long speeches before this, showing that he detains the judge, he did not say, “Hear the case,” but, “So as not to detain you further, I beg you in your kindness to hear us.” Perhaps he constructs his speech thus to court him; or this is truly a proof of fairness, if, when one could say much, one says little so as not to be a nuisance. “For we found this man a pest; who,” he says, “also tried to profane the temple.” So he did not profane it. What then, if he did this elsewhere? Not at all; for otherwise he would have said so; but now he says “tried,” and does not add how. And thus he magnified the things against Paul; but see how he diminishes their own: “Whom we also seized,” he says, “and wanted to judge according to our law. But the tribune Lysias came and took him out of our hands with great violence.” Here he shows that they are even being wronged in having to come to foreign courts, and that they would not have troubled the governor if the tribune had not forced them, and that he snatched the man away though it did not belong to him; for the wrongs were against us, and the trial ought to have taken place among us. That this is what he means, see what follows: “With great violence,” he says; for this is violence. “From whom you can learn.” He does not dare to accuse the tribune (for he was a lenient man), nor does he simply pass it over. Then again, so as not to seem to lie, he sets Paul himself up as his own accuser. “From whom,” he says, “by examining him you will be able to learn about all these things.” Then there are witnesses of what was said too: “And the Jews also joined in the attack, alleging that these things were so.” The accusers themselves are both witnesses and accusers. But Paul answers, “Knowing that for many years you have been a just judge.” So he is no stranger, nor alien, nor revolutionary, if indeed he has known the judge for many years. And he fittingly added “just,” so that the judge might look neither to the high priest, nor to the people, nor to the accuser. See how he was not led into insult, even though there was need. “Believing,” he says, “everything according to the law.” He said this to show that a man who believes there will be a resurrection, which these men themselves also expect, would never do such things. He did not say of them that they believe what is written in the prophets (for they did not believe); but this man believed everything, not they; how so, it would take a long speech to say now. He said so much, and nowhere mentions Christ. But here, by saying “believing,” he brought in what concerns Christ too; but for the present he dwells on the doctrine of the resurrection, which was a doctrine common to them, and removes every suspicion of rioting. Then also the cause of his going up: “To bring alms and offerings to my nation,” he says, “I came, and that after several years.” How, then, could he have troubled those to whom he came so long a way to give alms? “Not with a crowd,” he says, “nor with uproar.” Everywhere he removes the riot. And he fittingly also summons the accusers from Asia, saying, “Who ought to accuse me before you, if they had anything against me.” So confident was he of being clear of what he was accused of, that he even summons them. And it is not only those from Asia that he does not reject as accusers; he does not reject those from Jerusalem either, but summons these too, adding, “Or let these men themselves say.” For this was why they had been troubled from the beginning, because he proclaimed the resurrection. And he does this fittingly; for once this was shown, what concerns Christ, that he rose, could easily be brought in as well. “What wrongdoing,” he says, “did they find in me when I stood before the council?” He said “before the council,” showing that they found nothing, though the examination took place not in private but in the presence of the crowd, and with exactness.

“That I am telling the truth in this, those who bring charges about it bear witness.” That is why he also said, “In this I myself take pains to have a conscience without offense toward God and men.” For this is perfect virtue, when we give no handle even to men, and are eager to be without offense before God. “Which I cried out,” he says, “in the council.” And he shows their violence by saying, “I cried out,” as if he were saying: They cannot say, “You did these things under the pretense of almsgiving”; for I was not doing this with a crowd or with uproar; and besides, when an examination was made about it, nothing more was found. Did you see his mildness, though there were dangers? Did you see his well-spoken tongue, and how he seeks only to clear his own case, not to involve them in charges as well, except where he was forced, in making his defense? Just as Christ too said, “I do not have a demon, but I honor my Father, and you dishonor me.” Let us too imitate this man, since he himself was an imitator of Christ. If he said nothing harsh to those who had gone as far as murder and slaughter, what pardon would we deserve, who rage against our enemies with abuse and insults, calling them defiled and utterly defiled? And what defense shall we have for having enemies at all? Do you not hear that he who honors another honors himself? But we insult ourselves. You complain that you were insulted; why, then, do you fall into the same charge? Why do you inflict a wound on yourself? Remain free of passion, remain unwounded; do not, wanting to strike another, involve yourself in the evil. For the other turmoil of the soul is not enough for us, the one stirred when no one stirs it, such as unseemly desires, griefs and despondencies and the like; but we also … “And how,” one says, “is it possible to bear being insulted?” And how is it not possible, tell me? Is a wound born in us from words? Bruises on our bodies? What harm, then, comes to us? So, if we wish, we can bear it. Let us lay down a law for ourselves not to be pained, and we shall bear it. Let us say to ourselves: it is not from enmity, it is from weakness; for weakness it truly is; since, that it is not from enmity or malice, that man too would have wished to restrain himself, even if he had been wronged countless times. If we only consider this, that it is from weakness, we shall bear it, and we shall pardon him, and try not to fall into it ourselves. For I ask all who are present: if you wished, could you be so wise as to bear those who insult you? I for my part think so. So he insulted you unwillingly and not by choice, but forced by passion; hold back. Do you not see those possessed by demons? Just as that man endures this not so much from enmity as from weakness, so we too are moved not by the nature of the insults so much as by ourselves; since how do we bear madmen who insult us in the same way? Again, if those who insult us are friends or even greater than we, we bear it so too. How, then, is it not absurd, when there are these three, friends and madmen and greater men, to bear it, but not to bear it from equals or inferiors? I have often said: the thing is a sudden lurch and a seizure; let us hold out a little, and we have accomplished everything. The greater the insults one hurls, the weaker one is. Do you know when one should be pained? When, after we have insulted him, he is silent; for then he is strong and we are weak. But if the opposite happens, one should even rejoice: you have been crowned, you have been proclaimed victor; not by being brought down into a contest, nor in sun and heat and dust, but by willing only, sitting or standing, you have received a great crown; and not simply a great one, but much greater than theirs; for it is not the same to throw an enemy opponent and to get the better of the arrows of anger. You have won without even giving a handle; you have thrown down the passion within you, you have slaughtered the beast that had been stirred, and muzzled the raging anger, like an excellent shepherd. The battle was to be civil, the war a domestic one. … from outside, they involve them in civil wars, and then they prevail; so too the one who insults us, unless he rouses the passion within us, will not be able to prevail; unless we set ourselves on fire, he has no power.

Let the spark of anger be kept with us, so as to be kindled at the right time, not against ourselves, nor so as to involve us in countless evils. Do you not see fire kept apart in houses, and not thrown about everywhere, neither in hay nor in clothes nor just anywhere, so that it may not be kindled when the wind blows? But even if a maidservant carries a lamp, or the cook lights a fire, there are strict instructions not to do it against the wind, nor near a plank, nor at night; but when night comes on we put it to sleep, fearing lest, while we sleep and no one is by … Let it be so with anger too: let it not be scattered everywhere through our thoughts, but kept in some depth of the mind, so that the wind from the words of the opponent may not easily reach it, but that it may receive the wind from us, who know how to stir it in due measure and safely. If it receives wind from outside, it does not know measure, but will burn up everything; often this wind will fall on it while we sleep, and burn up everything. Let it be with us, then, only so as to kindle light; for anger kindles light when it arises fittingly; and let us have torches against those who wrong others, against the devil. Let the spark not lie or be thrown everywhere; but let us keep it in the ashes, let us put it to sleep in humble thoughts. We do not always need it, but only when something must be worked and made soft; when hardness must be softened, when the soul must be condemned.

How many terrible things have fits of temper and anger brought about! And the hard thing is that, when we have broken apart, we are no longer masters of coming together again, but we wait for others; each is ashamed and blushes to go back and be reconciled with the other. See: he is not ashamed to separate and be split off, but becomes the author of the evil; but to approach and … as if someone did not hesitate to cut off a limb, but were ashamed to join it again. What are you saying, man? You did a great wrong, and you yourself became the cause of the fight. Then you would be the one rightly to go first and be reconciled, since you yourself provided the cause. “But they wronged me, and he is the cause.” Then for this reason too, so that they may admire you the more, so that besides the first you may also have the first place in the second: just as you were not the cause of the enmity’s arising, so neither of its being prolonged further. Perhaps he too, conscious of countless wrongs, is ashamed and blushes. “But he is mad with pride?” For this reason above all do not hesitate to run to him; for the passion in him is double, pride and anger. You have stated the reason why you ought to go first: you are the healthy one, the one who can see; for he is in darkness; for such are anger and arrogance. You, then, who are free of these and healthy, go to him, the physician to the sick. Does any physician say, “Since he is ill, I am not going”? On the contrary, they go especially when they see that the patient could not come. For they take less thought for those who can come, as not seriously ill, but not so for those who are bedridden. Or does not pride and anger seem to you worse than sickness? Is not the one like a violent fever, the other like an inflamed and swollen body? Consider what it is to have fever and swelling: go, put out the fire; for you can, by the grace of God; calm the inflammation as with water. “What then,” one says, “if he becomes more conceited by this very thing?” It is nothing to you; for you have done your part; let him reckon with himself; only let our conscience not condemn us, that this happens because we have fallen short in something we ought to have done. “Feed your enemy,” he says; “for by doing this you will heap coals of fire on his head.” And yet, even so, he commands us to go and be reconciled and to do good, not so that we may heap coals of fire, but so that the other, knowing this, may be restrained, may tremble, may fear the kindnesses of his enemies more [than their hostility], and their friendship rather than their plots. For an enemy who bears a grudge does not harm the one who hates him as much as one who helps and does good. For by bearing a grudge he harmed both himself and the other, perhaps a little; but by doing good he heaped coals of fire on his head. “Then one must not do it,” one says, “so as not to heap coals?” But do you want to heap coals on your own head in another way? For this is what bearing a grudge does. “But to prolong it?” Not at all; for it is not you who do this, but that beast of a man. For if, while you do good and honor and reconcile, he goes on keeping up his hostility, he has kindled the fire for himself, he himself has burned his own head; but you are blameless. Do not be more loving than God, or you will suffer countless terrible things; or rather, you could not, even if you wished, not even a little. For how? “As far as heaven is from earth,” he says, “so far are my counsels from your counsels”; and again, “If you,” he says, “being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give to you?” But these are excuses and pretexts. Let us not play the sophist with God’s commands. “And how do we play the sophist?” one says. He said, “By doing this you will heap coals of fire on his head”; and you say, “I fear for my enemy, because he has wronged me greatly.” Is this not what you say? But how did you come to have an enemy at all? You fear for the one who wronged you, but do you not fear for yourself? Would that you took thought for yourself! Do not act with such an aim; or rather, even with such an aim, do it. But you do not do it. I do not tell you that you will heap coals of fire; I say something more besides: only do it. For Paul says all this to draw you on, by the hope of punishment, to put an end to the enmity. Since we are beastlike, and would not otherwise bring ourselves to love our enemy unless we expected some punishment, he gives this bait as to a wild beast; since to the apostles he does not say this, but what? “So that you may become like your Father who is in heaven.” Besides, it is not possible for one who does good and receives good to remain an enemy. That is why he set these things down. Why do you play the philosopher in words, and in deeds not keep even the measure? “… Feed your enemy,” he says … “Very well, you do not feed him, so as not to heap coals of fire; so you are sparing him? So you love him, and act with this aim?” God knows whether you say it with this aim; and you play the sophist with us and make the word a pretext. You take thought for your enemy and fear that he may be punished? Then you have quenched your anger; for one who loves so much as to overlook his own advantage for the sake of what benefits the other has no enemy. Then you could say this. How long shall we play at things that are no game and admit no pardon? Therefore I exhort our brotherhood, you who are loved by the Lord and God and Savior of us, Jesus Christ, and I beg you and entreat you: cutting away these pretexts, let us not despise the laws of God [nor overlook his commandments], so that we may be able to pass the present life in a way pleasing to the Lord and to attain the good things promised, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.