Homilies on Colossians 4.1–4.4

[Homily 4] “And you, who were once enemies and alienated in mind by wicked works, he has now reconciled in the body of his flesh through death, to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him.” Here at last he shows that he reconciled them even though they were unworthy of reconciliation. For to say that they were under the authority of darkness shows the misfortune they were in. But lest, hearing “authority of darkness,” you should think it was necessity, he adds, “and you, being alienated”; so he seems to say the same thing, but does not. For it is not the same to free from terrible things one who suffered ill by necessity and one who endured it willingly: the former deserves pity, the latter hatred. Yet you, he says, who were neither unwilling nor compelled, but willingly and deliberately leaping away from him, and unworthy, he freed. And since he had mentioned the things in the heavens, he shows that all the enmity had its beginning here, not there. For they had long wished for peace, and so had God; but you were not willing. And throughout he shows that the angels had no power in the times below, since men remained enemies, and the angels could neither persuade them nor, if they were persuaded, free them from the devil. For persuading brought no gain while the one who held them was not bound; nor did his being bound bring any gain while those held did not wish to return. Both were needed; the angels did neither, but Christ did both. So to persuade is more marvellous than to destroy death. For the latter was wholly his, and he alone was master of it; but of the former not he alone is master, but we too; and the things we ourselves are masters of we accomplish more easily. Since then it is the greater thing, he puts it later. And he did not simply say “at enmity,” but “alienated,” which belongs to great enmity; and not merely “estranged,” but not even expecting to return. “And enemies,” he says, “in mind,” showing by this that their alienation did not stop at their will only. But what? “And by wicked works.” You were enemies, he says, and you did the works of enemies. “But now in the body of his flesh through death, to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him.” Here he sets down also the manner of the reconciliation: that it was in the body, and that it was not simply by being struck, nor scourged, nor sold, but also by dying the most shameful death. Again he mentions the cross, and again he sets down another benefit. For he not only freed us; what he says above, “who made us sufficient,” he hints at here too. “Through his death,” he says, “to present you holy and blameless and irreproachable before him.” For he not only freed us from our sins, but also set us among the approved. He suffered so much not only to free us from evils, but that we might also obtain the first rewards; as if someone not only freed a condemned man from punishment but also raised him to honour. And he ranked us with those who have committed no sin; or rather not only with those who have not sinned, but with those who have achieved the greatest things; and what is greater, he has given the holiness that is before him. “Irreproachable” is an intensification of “blameless”: one is called irreproachable when nothing has been done by us that comes even to censure or to a charge. But since he has ascribed the whole to him, saying that he accomplished these things through death, lest anyone should say, “So we need nothing,” he added, “if indeed you continue in the faith, … not moved away from the hope of the gospel.” Here he cuts at their slackness. And he did not simply say “continue”; for it is possible to continue while shaken and wavering; it is possible to stand and remain … Not only not shaken, he says, but not even moved. And see: so far he sets down nothing burdensome or laborious, but faith and hope; that is, if you remain believing that the hope of the things to come is true. For here it is possible to be unshaken; but in virtue it is impossible not to be shaken at all, even a little; so this is not burdensome. “From the hope,” he says, “of the gospel which you heard, which was preached in all creation under heaven.” And what is the hope of the gospel but Christ? For he is our peace, and he is the one who accomplished all these things. So whoever ascribes them to others has shifted his ground; for he has lost everything if he does not believe in Christ. “You heard,” he says. Again he brings them forward as witnesses, then the whole world. He does not say “being preached,” but already believed and “preached”; which he did also at the beginning, wishing to make them firm by the testimony of the many. “Of which I, Paul, became a minister.” This too contributes to trustworthiness. “I,” he says, “a minister.” For his dignity was great, now that he was celebrated everywhere and was the teacher of the world. “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up in my flesh what is lacking of the afflictions of Christ for his body, which is the church.”

And what is the sequence here? It seems disconnected, but it has much connection. “Minister,” he says: that is, contributing nothing of my own, but proclaiming another's. And I believe so firmly that I even suffer for him; and not only suffer, but rejoice in suffering, looking to the hope to come; and I suffer not for myself but for you. “And I fill up,” he says, “what is lacking of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh.” What he uttered seems great, but it is not from arrogance — God forbid! — but from great tender love for Christ; for he does not want the sufferings to be his own, but Christ's. He spoke thus wishing to bring these people close to Christ. And what I suffer, he says, I suffer for his sake; so do not acknowledge thanks to me, but to him; for he himself suffers these things. It is as if someone, sent to a person, should beg another, saying, “I beg you, go to so-and-so for my sake,” and the other should then say, “I am doing these things for so-and-so's sake.” So he is not ashamed to call these sufferings Christ's. For he not only died for us, but even after dying he is ready to be afflicted for our sake. He strove and pressed hard to show him even now in danger for the church through Paul's own body; and he aims at this: you are not brought near through us but through him, even if we do these things; for we did not take on a work of our own, but his. It is the same as if a company had been allotted a general to shield it, and he stood firm in the war; and then, when he had departed, his lieutenant took on his wounds until the war was ended. Then hear that he does these things for Christ's sake too: “for his body,” he says, meaning this: “I am not doing you a favour, but Christ; for what he had to suffer, I suffer in his stead.” See how much he establishes. He shows great affection, as he said writing in the Second Letter to the Corinthians: “He placed in us the ministry of reconciliation”; and again, “We are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were exhorting through us.” This he says here too: “I suffer for him,” so as to draw them the more. That is: “Even if the one who owed you has departed, I repay.” That is why he said “what is lacking,” to show that he does not think he has yet suffered all. “For you,” he says: Christ suffers even after death, if indeed deficiencies still remained. This he does differently in the Letter to the Romans, saying, “who also intercedes for us,” showing that he was not content with death alone, but after it too does countless things. He does not, then, say these things exalting himself, but wishing to show that Christ even now cares for them. And he shows that the word is trustworthy by adding, “for his body.” That it is so, and nothing unlikely, is clear from these things happening for his body. See how he joined us to himself. Why then do you bring in angels as intermediaries? “Of which I became,” he says, “a minister.” Why do you bring in other angels? I am a minister. Then he shows that he himself did nothing, since he is a minister. “Of which I became,” he says, “a minister according to the stewardship of God given to me for you, to fulfil the word of God.” Either he says this: “He willed thus that, when he departed, we should take over the stewardship, so that you would not be at a loss as if abandoned; for it is he who suffers, he who is the ambassador”; or he says this: “He allowed me, the greatest persecutor of all, to persecute for this reason, so that I might be trustworthy when I preach”; or he calls it stewardship because God sought not works, nor deeds, nor achievements, but faith and baptism; for otherwise you would not have received the word. “For you,” he says, “to fulfil the word of God.” He speaks of the Gentiles, and by saying “to fulfil” he shows them still wavering. For that rejected Gentiles were able to receive so great a height of doctrines was not Paul's doing but God's stewardship: “For I could not have done it,” he says. Having shown the greater thing, that his sufferings are Christ's, he then adds the plainer: that this too is God's, to fulfil the word among you. And he shows here plainly that this too belongs to the stewardship, that it is said now, when you are able to hear; it was not from negligence, but so that you might become receptive. For God does not do everything all at once, but uses forbearance because of his great lovingkindness. And this is the reason why Christ came now and not long ago. So too he shows in the gospel that he sent the servants first for this reason, so that they would not come to the murder of the son. For if they did not respect the son even when he came after the servants, much less before this; if they did not listen to lesser commands, how would they have listened to greater ones? What then does someone say? “Are there not Jews even now, and Greeks less perfectly disposed?” This is now an excess of slackness. For to remain imperfect after so long a time, after so many teachings, belongs to great sluggishness.

When, then, the Greeks say, “Why did Christ come now?”, let us not let them say this, but let us ask whether he did not succeed. For just as, if he had come at the beginning and not succeeded, the timing would not have been enough for our defence, so, since he did succeed, we would not be right to be called to account for the timing. No one demands of a doctor who has dispelled the disease and restored health an account of his treatment, nor does anyone question a general who has won why at this time and why in this place. These questions were to be asked if he had not succeeded; but since he succeeded, one should even accept his choices. For which, tell me, is more trustworthy, your reasoning and slander, or the completeness of the deed? Did he win or not? Show this. Did he prevail or not? Did he bring to completion what he said, or not? These are the accounts to be given. Tell me, you certainly confess that there is a God, even if not Christ? I ask you, then: is God without beginning? You will certainly say so. Tell me then, why did he not make men ten thousand years earlier? For they would have lived a longer time; for if existing is good, much more is existing longer. As it is, have they suffered loss for the time in which they did not exist? But they have not suffered loss; how, he who made them knows. Again I ask you: why did he not make all at once? Why has the soul of so-and-so, who was born first, lived so many years, while another's is the poorer, not yet having come into being? Why did he cause one to be brought into this world first, and another later? Such questions are truly worth inquiry, but not curiosity; this one is not even worth inquiry. But I will tell the reason which I mentioned. Suppose human nature to be like a single life, and our race in its first times to have the rank of a boy, in those after that of a young man, and in these times near old age that of an elder. Then, when the soul is at its prime, the members of the body having slackened and the war having ended, we were brought to philosophy. “Yet it is the opposite,” he says: “we teach them while they are boys.” Yes, but not the great doctrines; rather rhetoric, rather skill in speaking; the great doctrines when they are in their prime. See God too doing these things with the Jews. For as with children, he led the Jews on as children, sketching things in outline, as we do the letters. “For the law had a shadow of the good things to come, not the very image of the things.” Just as we buy cakes for children and give them money, demanding only one thing from them, to go to school for the present, so God then gave both wealth and luxury, buying from them through his great condescension only one thing: to listen to Moses. That is why he handed them over to a teacher, so that they would not despise him, but cling to him as to a loving father. For see how they feared only Moses. They did not say, “Where is God?”, but “Where is Moses?” And only when present was he fearsome to them. At any rate, when they acted wickedly, see how he punished them. God wanted to disown them, but Moses would not let him; or rather the whole was God's doing, as when a father threatens and the teacher intercedes, as it were, for the child and says, “Forgive me, and from now on I take responsibility.” So the desert became a school. And just as children who have spent a long time at their lessons want to go away, so they too then constantly sought Egypt and wept, saying … And Moses broke their tablet, on which he had written for them, as it were, some names; doing what a teacher too would do, who takes the writing tablet, sees it badly written, and throws down the tablet itself, wishing to show great anger; and even if he breaks it, the father does not punish him. For Moses was intent on writing; but they, not looking to him but turned elsewhere, were disorderly; and just as children at their lessons strike one another, so then too he commanded them to strike and kill one another. And again, as if giving lessons and then demanding them back and not finding them learned, he punished them. I mean something like this: the things in Egypt were letters making known the power of God. “Yes,” someone says, “but these letters showed the plagues, and that he punishes enemies.” Yet they were an exact school for them. For what else was the punishment of the enemies but your benefit? And besides, he did good to you too. It was the same as if someone said he knew the letters, but when asked them out of order could not find them, and was beaten. So they too said they knew the power of God, but when asked for their knowledge out of order they did not produce it; that is why they were beaten. Did you see a lack of water? You ought to remember the water in Egypt; for he who made blood from water will be able to do this too; just as we often say to children, “When you see the letter A in the book, remember that you had it on your tablet.” Did you see famine? Remember that he was the one who destroyed the crops. Did you see wars? Remember the drowning in the sea. Did you see that the inhabitants of the land were great? But not greater than the Egyptians. Then will not he who took you out of their midst much more save you now that you are outside? But they did not know how to be questioned on the letters in scattered order; that is why they were beaten. They ate and drank and kicked. They should not have sought luxury in the manna, having learned its evil from what happened. And they did the same as if a free boy, sent to school, should seek to be led with the slaves and to serve them, and, having received the food that is necessary and befits a free person, and sitting at his father's table, should want to enjoy the servants' food, foul-smelling and full of confusion. So too these sought Egypt, and they said to Moses, “Yes, lord, all that you say we will do and hear.” And what happens with very incorrigible children, when the father wants to destroy them and the teacher constantly intercedes, happened then too.

Why have these things been said by us? Because we differ in nothing from children. Do you want to hear also how their precepts are those meant for children? “Eye for eye,” it says, “and tooth for tooth.” Rightly; for nothing is so set on retaliation as a child's mind. For since passion belongs to irrationality, and at that age irrationality is great and the absence of reasoning great, the child is rightly tyrannized by anger; and so great is anger's tyranny that often, having stumbled and got up, it strikes its knee in vexation, or turns over the footstool, and so relieves its pain and quenches its anger. God did something of this kind, granting them to put out an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, and destroying the Egyptians and the Amalekites who had grieved them. And he promises such things, as if someone should say, “Father, so-and-so struck me,” and then the father says, “So-and-so is a bad man; let us hate him.” So too God says, “I will be an enemy to your enemies, and hate those who hate you.” And again, when Balaam was praying, the condescension shown them was suited to children. For as with children, when they see something not fearful, such as wool or some other such thing, they are suddenly frightened; and so that the fear may not stay in them, we bring the thing under their hands and make the nurses show it to them; so God did too: since the soothsayer was fearsome, he turned their fear into courage. And just as children being weaned have everything in little baskets, so he gave them everything and supplied great luxury. But the child seeks the breast; so too these sought Egypt and the meat there. So one would not be wrong to call Moses teacher and nurse and tutor; for great was the man's wisdom. But it is not the same to lead men already able to philosophize and to rule irrational children. And if you want to hear something else: just as the nurse says to the child, “When you relieve yourself, lift your clothes,” and goes as far as this, “when you sit down,” so too Moses did. And just as all the passions tyrannize in children (for they do not yet have the charioteer) — vainglory, desire, irrationality, anger, envy — so too all these prevailed among the Jews: they spat on Moses, they struck him. And just as a child picks up a stone and we all shout, “Oh, don't throw it!”, so they too took up stones against their father, and he fled. And just as, if the father has some ornament, the child, fond of finery, asks him for it, so did those with Dathan, when they rose up. And they were the most envious of all, and petty, and imperfect in everything. Was it then, tell me, that Christ should have appeared? Then that these philosophical commands should have been given, when they were mad with desire, when they were stallions mad after females, when they were slaves to money and to the belly? He would have poured out the teachings of philosophy in vain, speaking to fools, and they would have learned neither these nor those. And just as one who teaches reading before the letters will never teach even the letters, so it would have been then. But not now: by the grace of God great is the gentleness, and much virtue has been planted everywhere. Let us then give thanks for all things, and not be curious. For we do not know the time, but the maker of time and creator of the ages does. Let us then yield all things to him; for this is to glorify God: not to demand of him an account of what he does. So Abraham too gave glory to God, “being fully convinced that what he had promised he was able also to do.” He did not even ask about the future; but we examine the reasons even of past things. See how great the folly, how great the ingratitude! But let us stop now; for there is no gain from this, but much harm; and let us be well disposed toward our Master and send up glory to God, so that, offering thanksgiving for all things, we may be counted worthy of his lovingkindness, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honour, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen.