Homilies on Philemon

First it is necessary to state the subject of the letter, and then the questions raised about it. What then is the subject? Philemon was one of the admirable and noble men. (That he was admirable is clear from the fact that his whole household was believing, and so believing that it was even called a church. That is why Paul, writing, said, “and to the church in your house.” He also bears witness to his great obedience, and that the hearts of the saints were refreshed through him. And in this letter he himself charged him to prepare a lodging. So, it seems to me, his house was a hostel for the saints in every respect.) This admirable man, then, had a slave, Onesimus. This Onesimus stole something from his master and ran away; for that he stole, hear what Paul says: “If he has wronged you at all, or owes anything, I will repay.” Coming then to Paul at Rome, and finding him in prison, he enjoyed his teaching and obtained baptism there. That he obtained the gift of baptism there is clear from his saying, “whom I have begotten in my bonds.” Paul then writes commending him to his master, so that in every respect there might be a release, and that he might receive him as one now born again. But since some say that it is superfluous for this letter too to be included, since Paul made a request about a small matter, about one man, let all who bring these charges learn that they themselves deserve countless charges. For not only should letters as short as this, sent about such necessary matters, have been written down; but would that it were possible to have someone to hand down to us the history of the apostles — I do not mean only what they wrote and discoursed, but also the rest of their conduct: what they ate and when, when they sat and where they walked, what they did each day, in what regions they were, what house they entered and where they lodged — and to relate everything exactly: so full of great benefit is everything that came from them. But since most people do not know the gain from this, they attempt to find fault. For if, seeing only the places where they sat or were bound, lifeless places, we often send our mind there, picture their virtue, are roused, and become more eager, much more would we be if we had heard their words and their other deeds. A man asks about a friend, where he is staying, what he is doing, where he is going; and should we not learn these things about the common teachers of the world, tell me? For when someone lives spiritually, his bearing and his gait, his words and his deeds, everything simply, benefit the hearers, and nothing hinders or becomes an obstacle. Still, it is profitable for you to learn that the letter was sent about necessary things. See then how many things are achieved from it. The first is that one should be earnest about everything. For if Paul takes such care for a runaway, a robber and thief, and does not refuse to send him off with such great praises, nor is ashamed, much more ought we not to be careless about such things. Second, that we must not despair of the race of slaves, even if it goes to the utmost wickedness. For if the thief, the runaway, became so virtuous that Paul wanted to make him his partner, and wrote, “that on your behalf he might minister to me,” much more must we not despair of free men. Third, that it is not fitting to draw slaves away from their masters. For if Paul, who had such confidence with Philemon, did not want to keep Onesimus, who was so useful and serviceable to him for ministry, against his master's will, much more must we not do this. For if the servant is admirable, he should for this very reason remain in his slavery and acknowledge his master's authority, so that he may become a cause of benefit to all in the house. Why do you take the lamp from the lampstand and put it under the bushel? Would that it were possible to bring those outside into the cities! “What then,” someone says, “if he too becomes bad?” Why, tell me, I beg you? Because he came into the city? But consider that outside he will be even worse; for one who has become bad inside will be much more so when outside. For here he is freed even from necessary care, since his master takes thought for him; but there the care about these things will perhaps lead him away even from … And blessed Paul, giving them the best counsel, said, “Were you called as a slave? Do not let it trouble you; but even if you can become free, use it rather,” that is, remain in slavery. And what is most necessary of all, so that the word of God may not be blasphemed, as he himself said writing: “Let as many as are slaves under the yoke count their own masters worthy of all honour, so that the name of God and the teaching may not be blasphemed.” For the Greeks too will say that one can please God even as a slave; otherwise many are driven to blaspheme and say that Christianity has been brought into the world for the overthrow of everything, since masters are deprived of their servants, and the thing is a matter of violence. Shall I say something else too? He teaches us not to be ashamed of our servants, if they are virtuous. For if Paul, the most admirable of all men, says so much about this one, much more should we about ours. Since, then, so much is achieved, though we have not yet said everything, does anyone think it superfluous that this letter too has been included? And how would this not belong to the utmost folly? Let us then attend, I beg you, to the letter written by the apostle; for having gained so much already, we will gain more …

[Homily 1] “Paul, a prisoner of Jesus Christ, and Timothy our brother, to Philemon our beloved and fellow worker, … and to the church in your house: grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” These words are written on behalf of a slave to a master. At once, from the opening, he brought down the master's pride, did not let him be ashamed, quenched his anger, and made the matter in hand seem of another kind. For if a bond for Christ's sake is not a shame but even a boast, much less is slavery a reproach. And he says these things not exalting himself, but doing it profitably, and showing his trustworthiness from this, not for his own sake but in order to receive the favour more readily; as if he said, “For your sakes I wear this bond”; as indeed he said elsewhere, there showing his care, here his trustworthiness. Nothing is greater than this boast, to be called, as it were, a branded slave of Christ: “For I bear the marks of Christ,” he says. “The prisoner of Christ”: for he was bound for his sake. Who would not feel respect, who would not be put to shame, hearing of Christ's bonds? Who would not give up even his soul, let alone one servant? “And Timothy the brother.” He takes another along with himself, so that Philemon, entreated by many, may yield the more and grant the favour. “To Philemon the beloved and our fellow worker.” If he is beloved, confidence toward him is not daring or rashness but a sign of great friendship; if a fellow worker, he ought not only to be entreated in such matters, but also to be grateful; for he does himself a favour, he builds up the same work. So even without a request, he says, you have another obligation to grant the favour; for if Onesimus is useful to the gospel, and you are zealous for the gospel, then you ought not to be asked, but to ask. “And to Apphia the beloved.” She seems to me to be his wife. See Paul's humility: he takes Timothy too to help in the request, and asks not only the husband but also the wife, and perhaps another friend. “And to Archippus,” he says, “our fellow soldier.” He does not wish to accomplish such things by command, nor is he indignant if he is not obeyed at once when he orders; but he asks them too to do what an unknown man would do, so that they may take hold of the request. For not only being asked by many but also making the request to many contributes something to obtaining what is asked. That is why he said, “and to Archippus our fellow soldier.” If you are a fellow soldier, you ought to share in these things too. This is the Archippus about whom he wrote to the Colossians, “Say to Archippus, ‘See to the ministry which you received in the Lord, that you fulfil it.’” He seems to me to be one of those enrolled in the clergy; him too he takes into the request, and calls him a fellow soldier, so that he may help in every way. “And to the church in your house.” He did not pass over even the slaves here; for he knows that often even the words of slaves can turn a master, especially when the request is on behalf of a slave; and perhaps they were the ones most provoked. So he does not let them fall into envy, honouring them with the greeting together with the masters. But neither does he allow the master to be indignant. For if he had named them, perhaps he would have been indignant; but if he had not mentioned them, they might have been vexed. See, then, how wisely he found a way, by mentioning them, both to honour them by the mention and not to wound him. For the name of “church” does not let masters be indignant if they are numbered with servants. For the church does not know the difference between master and servant; it marks out this man and that by good deeds and sins. If then it is a church, do not be indignant that the slave was addressed with you; “for in Christ Jesus there is neither slave nor free.” “Grace to you and peace.” By reminding him of grace, he brought him to the remembrance of his own sins. Consider, he says, how much God has forgiven you, how you were saved by grace; imitate the Master. And he prays for peace for him — rightly. For peace too comes then, when we imitate him, when grace remains. For that slave too, who was merciless to his fellow slave, kept his master's grace as long as he did not demand the hundred denarii; but when he demanded them, it was taken away, and he was handed over to the torturers.

Considering these things, let us too be compassionate and forgiving toward those who sin against us. The hundred denarii here are the sins against us; but those committed by us against God are ten thousand talents. And you know that sins are judged also by the quality of the persons. I mean something like this: he who insulted a private person sinned, but not as much as he who insulted a magistrate; and he who insulted a greater magistrate sinned more than he, and he who insulted a lesser one not as much; and he who insulted the emperor, much more. The insult is the same, but it becomes greater by the eminence of the person. And if one who insults the emperor has an unbearable punishment because of the dignity of the person, for how many talents will one who insults God be liable? So even if we commit against God the same sins as against men, not even so is it equal; but as great as the difference between God and men, so great is the difference between those sins and these. But as it is, I find the sins even greater, made great not only by the eminence of the person but by their very nature. The word I am about to say is dreadful and truly fearful, but it must be said, so that even so it may shake and stir our minds, by showing that we fear men much more than God, and honour men more than God. For consider: the adulterer knows that God sees him, and despises this; but if a man sees him, he restrains his desire. Such a man not only prefers men to God, not only insults God, but, what is much more grievous, because he fears them, he despises God. For if he sees them, he restrains the flame of desire — or rather, what flame? It is not a flame but insolence. For if it were not permitted to have a wife, the thing might rightly be called a flame; but as it is, it is insolence and wantonness; for if he sees men he stops his madness, but he cares less about God's longsuffering. Again, another, the thief, knows that he is plundering, and tries to deceive men, makes his defence to those who accuse him, and dresses up his defence; but God, whom he cannot persuade, he does not heed, nor respect, nor honour. And if the emperor commands us to keep away from others' money, or rather even to give our own, we all readily contribute; but when God commands us not to plunder nor to gather others' goods, we will not bear it. Do you see that we prefer men to God? The word is burdensome and offensive; then show that it is burdensome by fleeing the deed. But if you do not fear the deed, how can I believe you when you say, “We fear your words, and you are heavy on us”? You weigh yourselves down by the deed, and no account is taken of it; but if I speak the words of the things that you do, you are indignant; and how is this not absurd? Would that what I say were false! I would rather incur the reputation of a reviler on that day, as having reviled you idly and in vain, than see you punished for such things. And not only do you yourselves prefer men to God, but you also compel others to. Many have compelled many servants, and children too: some dragged them into marriages against their will, others into absurd services, into foul love, robberies, greed, and violence; so that the charge is double, and they cannot find pardon even from the plea of necessity. For if you yourself do wicked things unwillingly, because of a ruler's command, even so the defence is not at all sufficient; but the sin becomes more grievous when you compel him too to fall into the same things. What pardon could such a man have after that? I said these things not wishing to condemn you, but to show how much we owe to God. For if even by honouring a man equally with God we insult God, much more do we when we prefer men. And if these sins committed against men appear much greater when committed against God, how much more when the sin itself is greater and more grievous in quality? Let someone examine himself, and he will see that he does everything for men's sake. We would be very blessed if we did as much for God's sake as we do for men, for glory and fear and honour from men. If then we are liable for so much, we ought to forgive with all eagerness those who wrong and defraud us, and not bear grudges. For it is a road to the loosing of sins that needs no labours, nor expense of money, nor anything else, but simply the will: you need not set out on a journey, nor go abroad … nor undergo dangers and labours, but only to will. What pardon, tell me, shall we have in things that seem difficult, when we do not do something light, with so much gain and benefit and no labour? Can you not despise money? Can you not spend what you have on those in need? Can you not will something good? Can you not forgive the one who wronged you? For if you were not liable for so much, but God only commanded you to forgive, ought you not to? But as it is, liable for so much, do you not forgive, and that knowing that what is demanded of you is out of what you have from him? If we go to a debtor of ours, he, knowing this, attends us, receives us, honours us, and shows every kindness lavishly, not thereby discharging the loan, but wishing to make us gentle about the demand; but you, owing God so much, and commanded to forgive so that you yourself may receive, do you not forgive? Why, I beg you? Alas! How great a lovingkindness we enjoy! How great a wickedness we show, how great a sleep, how great a sluggishness! How easy virtue is, and how much benefit it has! How laborious vice is! But we flee what is so light and pursue what is heavier than lead. Here there is no need of bodily strength, nor wealth, nor money, nor power, nor friendship, nor anything else; it is enough only to will, and everything is accomplished. Has so-and-so grieved you, insulted you, mocked you? But consider that you too do many such things to others, and to the Master himself, and let it go and forgive. Consider that you say, “Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors”; consider that if you do not forgive, you will not be able to say this with confidence; but if you forgive, you demand the thing as a debt, not because of the nature of the thing, but because of the lovingkindness of the giver. And how is it equal, that those who forgive what was done against fellow slaves should receive forgiveness of sins against the Master? Nevertheless we obtain such lovingkindness, since he is rich in mercy and compassion. And to show you that even apart from these things, apart from the forgiveness, you reap gain from forgiving alone, consider how many friends such a man has, how everywhere all recount his praises, saying, “A good man, easily reconciled; he does not know how to bear a grudge; he is struck and at once he is healed.” Who will not pity such a man when he falls into some trouble? Who will not pardon him when he sins? Who will not grant him a favour when he asks on behalf of others? Who will not want to be the friend and slave of so good a soul? Yes, I beg you, let us do everything for this, not toward friends, not toward relatives only, but also toward our servants. “Forbearing threatening,” he says, “knowing that your Master too is in heaven.” If we forgive our neighbours their sins, ours will be forgiven us too; if we give alms, if we are humble; for this too takes away sins. For if the tax collector, merely by saying, “Be merciful to me a sinner,” went down justified, much more will we, if we are humble and contrite, be able to obtain great lovingkindness; if we confess our own sins and condemn ourselves, we will scour away the greater part of the filth. For many are the ways that cleanse. Let us then make war on the devil from every side. I have said nothing difficult, nothing hard: forgive the one who grieved you, pity the one in need, humble your soul; and even if you are a great sinner, you will be able to obtain the kingdom, cleansing away your sins by these means and scouring off the stain. May we all, having cleansed away here all the filth of our sins by confession, obtain there the promised good things in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father be glory, might, and so on.

[Homily 2] “I thank my God always, making mention of you in my prayers, hearing of your love and the faith which you have toward the Lord Jesus and toward all the saints, that the fellowship of your faith may become effective in the knowledge of every good thing that is in us toward Christ Jesus.” He does not ask for the favour at once from the opening. First he admires the man and praises him for his achievements, and gives no small proof of his own love, that he always remembers him in his prayers; he says that many are refreshed by him, and that he heeds and obeys everyone; and then he puts the request last, putting him most to shame by this. For if others obtain what they ask, much more Paul; if, coming before the others, he deserved to obtain it, much more after the others, and asking for a thing that does not concern himself, but on behalf of another. Then, lest he seem to write only for this reason, and lest anyone say, “If it had not been for Onesimus, you would not have written,” see how he gives other causes for the letter too: first showing his love, and then bidding a lodging to be prepared for him. “Hearing,” he says, “of your love.” This is marvellous, and much greater than seeing it in person. For it is clear from this that it was surpassing, that it had become conspicuous and had reached even him; and yet the distance between Rome and Phrygia was not small; for it seems to me that Philemon was there, judging from Archippus. For the Colossians are of Phrygia, to whom he said in writing, “When the letter has been read among you, see that it is read also in … , that you too may read it.” And Laodicea is a city of Phrygia. “I pray,” he says, “that the fellowship of your faith may become effective.” Do you see him giving before receiving, and before asking the favour, offering his own, a much greater one? “That,” he says, “the fellowship of your faith may become effective in the knowledge of every good thing that is in you toward Christ Jesus.” That is, that you may go through every virtue, that nothing may be lacking. For so faith becomes effective, when it has works; for “faith without works is dead.” And he did not say “your faith,” but “the fellowship of your faith,” joining him to himself and showing them to be one body, and by this especially putting him to shame. If you are a partner in the faith, he says, you ought to share in other things too. “For we have joy and much comfort in your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, brother.” Nothing so puts one to shame as bringing up one's kindnesses to others, especially when the one asking is more worthy of respect than they. And he did not say, “If you do it for others, much more for me”; he hinted at the same thing, but managed it differently: “We have joy,” that is, you have given me confidence from what was done to others. “And comfort,” that is, we are not only pleased but also consoled; for they are our members. If then the harmony must be so great that, when others are refreshed, those in afflictions, even if they obtain nothing, rejoice because of them, as though one body had been benefited, much more if you refresh us too. And he did not say, “because you yield, because you are persuaded,” but more strongly and expressively, “because the hearts of the saints,” as of a child dear and lovely to its fathers. So the love, the tender affection, shows that he too was greatly loved by them. “Therefore, though I have much boldness in Christ to command you what is fitting.” See how he takes precautions, lest even things said from great love should wound the hearer so that he is annoyed. That is why, before saying “to command you” — since it was heavy, although, being said from love, it was rather able to heal — he nevertheless puts in a great correction out of abundance, saying “having boldness,” which was the language of one showing Philemon to be great; that is, you have given us boldness. And not only this, but he adds “in Christ,” which shows that it is not as one more distinguished in the world, nor as more powerful, but because of faith in Christ. And then he set down “to command you,” and not only this, but also “what is fitting,” that is, a reasonable thing. And see from how many things he establishes it. You do good to others, he says, and to me; and it is for Christ's sake; and the thing is reasonable; and love grants it. That is why he adds, “for love's sake I rather beseech you.” As if he said, “I know that even if I command, I do so with great authority, from what has gone before; but since I am very earnest about the matter, I beseech.” He showed both at once: that he has confidence in him (for he commanded), and that he lays great claim to the matter; that is why he beseeches. “Being such a one,” he says, “as Paul the aged.” Ah, how many things to put him to shame! “Paul,” from the dignity of the person; “the aged,” from his age; and, what is the most just claim of all, “and now a prisoner of Jesus Christ.” For who would not receive the athlete, the one crowned, with open arms? Who, seeing one bound for Christ's sake, would not grant countless favours? Having smoothed his soul by so many things, he did not even then at once put in the name; but having made so great a request, he postpones it. For you know the anger of masters against runaway servants, especially when they have run away with theft; even if the servants have kind masters, how the anger grows! This anger, then, he smoothed by all these things; and having first persuaded him to do any service readily, and prepared his soul for complete obedience, he then brings in the petition and says, “I beseech you”; and with praises, “for my child, whom I begot in my bonds.” Again the bonds put him to shame. And then the name; for not only did he quench the anger, but he also made him glad. For I would not call him child, he says, unless he were very useful. What I called Timothy, this I call him too. And in many places, showing his affection, he shames him by the time of the birth pangs: “I begot him as a prisoner,” he says. So for this reason too he deserves to obtain great honour, because he was born in the very contests, in the trials for Christ. “Onesimus, who once was unprofitable to you.” See how great his understanding is: how he confesses his sin, and by this quenches his anger. I know, he says, that he was unprofitable. “But now he will be profitable to you and to me.” He did not say, “But now he will be profitable to you,” lest the other contradict, but brought in his own person too, so that the hopes might be trustworthy. “But now,” he says, “profitable to you and to me.” For if he is profitable to Paul, who demands such strictness, much more to his master. “Whom I have sent back to you.” By this too he quenched his anger, by handing him over. For masters are especially angry when they are asked on behalf of absent servants; so by this very thing he softened him more. “You therefore receive him, that is, my own heart.” And again he does not set the name down bare, but with a word that shames him, warmer than “child.” He said “child,” he said “I begot”; so it is likely that he loved him most, because he begot him in trials. For it is clear that we burn most for those children when we escape dangers and give birth in them; as when Scripture says, “Ouai-barchaboth”; and again when Rachel calls Benjamin “son,” she says, “of my sorrow.” “You therefore,” he says, “receive him, that is, my own heart.” He shows his great love. He did not say, “Accept him,” he did not say, “Do not be angry,” but “receive him”: that is, not only with pardon, but also with honour. “Whom I wished to keep with me, that on your behalf he might minister to me in the bonds of the gospel.” Do you see how many things he established first, and then brought him to the honour of serving in his master's place? And see this too, with how much wisdom it is done: see how much he makes Philemon answerable, and how he honours the slave. “You found,” he says, “a way to render your service to me through him.” Here he shows that he considered Philemon's interest more than the slave's, because he greatly respects him. “But without your consent,” he says, “I wished to do nothing, so that your good deed might not be as of necessity, but voluntary.” This especially exalts the one asked, when, even though the thing is useful, it is done with his consent. For two goods come from this: Philemon gains, and Onesimus is placed more securely. And he did not say, “that it may not be of necessity,” but “as of necessity.” For I knew, he says, that even if you had not been told, but had learned of it all at once, you would not have been indignant; but nevertheless, out of greater abundance, I did so, that it might not be as of necessity. “For perhaps he was parted from you for a while for this reason, that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave.” He rightly said “perhaps,” so that the master may yield. For since the flight came from wilfulness and a perverse mind, and not from good choice, he says “perhaps.” And he did not say, “For this reason he fled,” but “for this reason he was parted,” using a more euphemistic word … for it was not his design to depart for this purpose, nor for that. Joseph too said this, defending his brothers: “God sent me here”; that is, he used their wickedness for what was needful. “For this reason he was parted,” he says, “for a while.” He both shortens the time, and confesses the sin, and turns the whole into God's dispensation. “That you might have him back,” he says, “forever”: not only in the present time but also in the future, that you might have him always, no longer as a slave, but as more precious than a slave; for while he remains a slave, you will have him better disposed than a brother. So you have gained both in time and in quality; for he will not run away again. “That you might have him back forever,” he says, instead of “receive him.” “No longer as a slave, but more than a slave, a beloved brother, especially to me.” You lost a slave for a short time, and you will find a brother forever, a brother not only yours but mine too. Here too his virtue is great. And if he is my brother, you too will not be ashamed of him. By “child” he showed his affection; by “brother,” his great goodwill and equality of honour. These things have not been recorded idly, but so that we masters may not despair of our servants, nor bear down on them too heavily, but learn to forgive the sins of such servants, so that we may not always be harsh, so that we may not be ashamed, because of their slavery, to take them as partners in everything, when they are good. For if Paul was not ashamed to call him child and heart and brother and beloved, how should we be ashamed? And why do I say Paul? Paul's Master is not ashamed to call our slaves his brothers, and shall we be ashamed? See how he honours us: he calls our slaves his brothers and friends and fellow heirs. See how far he came down. What then shall we do, to have accomplished everything? We will never be able to do enough; but however far we go in humility, the greater part of it is left over. For consider: whatever you do, you do toward your fellow slave; but your Master has done it toward your slaves. … humility. Perhaps you laugh at what was said, that humility lifts one up; but do not marvel: it lifts up when it is not genuine. How and in what way? When it is done to win the approval of men and not of God, when it is for the sake of being praised and of thinking highly of oneself; for this too is devilish. For just as many are vainglorious about not being vainglorious, so too they are lifted up by humbling themselves, through thinking highly of themselves. For example, a brother came, or a servant; you received him, you washed his feet; at once you thought highly of yourself: “I did,” you say, “what no one else did; I achieved humility.” How then would one remain in humility? If he remembers the command of Christ which says, “When you have done all things, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants’”; and again the teacher of the world, who says, “I do not count myself to have laid hold of it.” He who has persuaded himself that he has achieved nothing great, whatever he does, he alone can be humble: he who does not think he has reached the goal. Many have been lifted up through humility. But let us not suffer this. Have you done something humble? Do not think highly of yourself, since then you have lost everything. Such was the Pharisee: he was lifted up because he gave tithes to the poor, and he lost everything. But not so the tax collector. Hear Paul again saying, “I am conscious of nothing against myself, but I am not justified by this.” Do you see that he did not exalt himself, but in every way restrained and humbled himself, and that after having ascended to the very summit? And the three youths were in the fire, in the middle of the furnace, and what did they say? “We have sinned, we have done lawlessly with our fathers.” This is to have a contrite heart. That is why they could say, “But with a contrite heart and a humble spirit may we be accepted.” So even after falling into the furnace they were very humble, and more than before they fell in. For when they saw the miracle that happened, they thought themselves unworthy of salvation and were brought down to humility. For when we are persuaded that we have been benefited beyond our deserts … And yet in what were they benefited beyond their deserts? They gave themselves up to the furnace; they were taken captive when others had sinned (for they were still young); and they did not murmur, nor were angry, nor said, “Yes, what good is it to us that we serve God? What did we gain by worshipping him? This man is impious, and has become our master; we are punished with the idolaters by the idolater; we have been carried away into captivity from all our ancestral things, we have become captives and slaves, we serve a barbarian king.” They said none of these things; but what? “We have sinned, we have done lawlessly.” And they make the petition not for themselves but for the others: “For you handed us over,” they say, “to a most hostile and most wicked king.” Again, Daniel, thrown into the pit a second time, said, “For God has remembered me.” Why, Daniel, did he not remember you when you glorified him before the king, saying, “And not by any wisdom that is in me”? But when you were thrown into the lions' pit for not obeying that most wicked decree, why would he not remember you? For this very reason. “Were you not thrown in for his sake now?” “Yes,” he says, “but I am a debtor of many things.” And if he said such things after such virtue, what shall we say then? But hear what David says: “And if he says to me, ‘I have not delighted in you,’ behold, here I am; let him do to me what is pleasing in his sight”; and yet he had countless achievements of his own to tell. And Eli too says, “It is the Lord; he will do what is pleasing in his sight.” This belongs to grateful servants: to yield everything to him not only in his benefits but also in his punishments and penalties. For how is it not absurd, if we let masters beat their servants, knowing that they spare them, since the servants are their own, but think that God, when he punishes, will not spare? This Paul too hinted, saying, “Whether we live or die, we are the Lord's.” He does not want his wealth diminished, he means; he knows how to punish; he punishes his own children. None of us spares himself more than he spares us, who brought us from non-being into being, who makes the sun rise, who sends rain, who breathes in the soul, who gave his Son for us. But, as I said, and the reason for which I have said all this: let us be humble as we ought, moderate as we ought; let this not become an occasion of exaltation for us. Are you humble, and humbler than all men? Do not on this account think highly of yourself, nor reproach others, lest you lose your boast. You are humble for this reason, to be freed from arrogance. If then through humility you fall into arrogance, it is better not to be humble. For hear Paul saying, “Through what is good it works death in me, so that sin might become exceedingly sinful through the commandment.” When it comes into your mind to admire yourself for humility, consider your Master, how far he came down, and you will no longer admire yourself nor praise yourself, but … think yourself a debtor. Whatever you do, remember that parable: “Who of you,” he says, “says, ‘Come at once and recline’? Does he not say, ‘Stand and serve me’?” Do we thank our servants for serving us? Not at all. But God thanks us, not for serving him, but for doing what benefits us. However, let us not be so disposed as though he owed us thanks, so that he may thank us the more; but as fulfilling a debt; for truly the thing is a debt, and all that we do is of debt. For if, buying slaves with silver, we want them to live wholly for us, and whatever they have to have for us, how much more he who brought us from non-being into being, and who afterwards bought us with precious blood? He paid a price for us such as no one would bear to pay even for a child: he poured out his own blood. If then, having ten thousand souls, we laid them all down, would we render the equal? Not at all. Why? Because he did this without owing it to us, and the whole has been of grace, while we owe it from then on. He, being God, became a slave, and not being subject to death, came under death in the flesh; but we, even if we do not lay down our souls for him, will in any case lay them down by the law of nature, and unwillingly we will depart from them a little later. So too with money: even if we do not give it for his sake, we will give it up through the necessity of death. So too with humility: even if we are not humble for his sake, we will be humbled by afflictions, by misfortunes, by the powerful. Do you see, then, how great the grace is? He did not say, “What great thing do the martyrs do? Even if they do not die for me, they will certainly die”; but he is very grateful to them, because they willingly lay down what they would later lay down unwillingly by nature. He did not say, “What great thing do those who empty out their money do? They will certainly lay it aside, even unwillingly”; but he is very grateful to these too, and is not ashamed to confess before all that the Master was fed by his slaves. For this too is the glory of a master, to have grateful servants; and this is the glory of a master, that his slaves love him so; and this is the glory of a master, to make their things his own; and this is the glory of a master, not to be ashamed to confess it before all. Let us then revere so great a love of Christ; let us be warmed by affection. If someone is lowly and cheap, but we hear that he loves us, we are most of all warmed toward him and pay him great honour; do we love so, while our Master loves us so much, and are we not roused? Let us not, I beg you, be so slack about the salvation of our souls, but let us love him as far as we can, and empty out everything for his love, soul and money and glory and anything whatever, with joy, with gladness, with eagerness, not as giving him anything, but as giving to ourselves. For such is the law of lovers: they think they are well treated when they are ill treated for the sake of those they love. So then let us too be disposed toward our Master, so that we may also obtain the good things to come in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father be glory, with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen. [Homily 3] “… me. If he has wronged you at all, or owes anything, charge this to me. I, Paul, have written it with my own hand; I will repay it — not to mention to you that you owe me even your own self besides.” Nothing knows how to commend a matter so well as not asking for everything at once. See after how many praises, after how much preparation, he set down this great thing. After saying that he is “my child,” that you are a partner in the gospel, that he is “my heart,” that you have him back as a brother, that you should hold him as a brother, then he added, “as me.” And Paul was not ashamed of this. For one who was not ashamed to be called the slave of the believers, but even confessed it, would much less have refused this. What he says is this: if you think as I do, if you run on the same course, if you regard me as a friend, receive him as me. “But if he has wronged you at all.” See where and when he set down the wrong: last, after saying much for him beforehand. For since loss of money especially stings people, so that Philemon would not find fault about this either (for it is likely that the money had even been spent), he then sets this down and says, “But if he has wronged you at all.” He did not say, “If he stole anything,” but what? “If he has wronged you at all.” At the same time he confessed the sin, and not as the sin of a slave, but as of a friend toward a friend, by using the name of wrongdoing rather than of theft. “Charge this to me,” he says, that is, hold me as the debtor; I will repay. Then he speaks also of the spiritual grace: “I, Paul, have written it with my own hand,” both shamingly and graciously, as though for this one Paul's very handwriting were to be taken as a bond. This greatly put him to shame, and freed Onesimus from trouble. “With my own hand,” he says, “I have written.” Nothing is warmer than this heart, nothing more earnest, nothing more eager. See how much care he takes for one man. “Not to mention to you,” he says, “that you owe me even your own self besides.” Then, lest it seem an insult to the one asked, if he did not dare to ask and obtain pardon for a theft, he consoles him for this too: “Not to mention,” he says, “that you owe me even yourself besides”: not only your possessions, but yourself too. And this came from love, by the rule of friendship, and from great confidence. See how everywhere he takes care of both: of asking with great security, and of not making this a token of too great confidence in him. “Yes.” What is “Yes, brother”? “Receive him,” he says; for this must be understood from outside. For, leaving the graciousness, he again holds to the earlier, serious matters. And yet these too are serious; for the things that come from the saints are serious too, even if … “… in the Lord; refresh my heart in Christ.” That is, you are giving the favour to the Lord, not to me. “My heart,” the heart that is toward you. “Confident of your obedience, I have written to you.” What stone would these things not have softened? What beast would they not have tamed, and prepared to receive him genuinely? After bearing witness to him in such great achievements, he does not refuse to excuse himself again. He does not simply say … “Confident of your obedience, I have written to you.” What he said at the beginning, “having boldness,” he says here too, to seal the letter. “Knowing that you will do even more than I say.” At the same time he roused him by saying this; for he would have been ashamed, if nothing else, having such a reputation with Paul that he does more than he is told, not to do even this much. “At the same time prepare a lodging for me too; for I hope that through your prayers I shall be granted to you.” This too belonged to great confidence; or rather this too was on behalf of Onesimus, so that they would not be slack, but, knowing that when he returned he would certainly hear about him, they would put away all resentment and rather show him favour. For great was the favour and honour of having Paul present, Paul after his years, Paul after his bonds. Again, it is a token of their love that he says that they pray, and attributes so much to them as to pray for him. For even if I am now in dangers, yet you will see me, if you pray. “Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, greets you.” This man had been sent by the Colossians; so from this too it is clear that Philemon was at Colossae. He calls him a fellow prisoner, showing that he too was in great affliction; so that even if not for Paul's own sake, it was reasonable that he should be heard for this man's sake. For he who is in affliction, and has left his own affairs, and cares for those of others, ought to be heard. And besides he shames him, if his fellow citizen has become Paul's fellow prisoner and suffers ill with him, while he does not even grant a favour for his own servant. And he added, “my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus,” instead of “for Christ's sake.” “Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, Luke, my fellow workers.” Why does he put Luke last? And yet he says elsewhere, “Luke alone is with me.” And Demas, he says, was one of those who deserted him and loved the present age. Even if these things are said elsewhere, one must not leave them unexamined, nor hear them simply or casually. How does he bid them greet one who deserted him? For “Erastus,” he says, “remained in Corinth.” Epaphras he adds as known to them and from there, and Mark as … Perhaps Demas afterwards became slacker, when he saw the many dangers. But Luke, though last, became first. And he greets him from these men too, urging him more to obedience, and he calls them fellow workers, putting him to shame by this too toward the request. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. Amen.”

He closed the letter with a prayer. Prayer is a great good, and saving, and a safeguard of our souls; but it is great when we act worthily of it, and do not make ourselves unworthy. You, then, when you come to the priest and he says, “God will have mercy on you, child,” do not trust in the word only, but add works too: do things worthy of mercy. “God will bless you, child” — if you do the things that deserve blessing; he will bless you, if you show mercy to your neighbour. For the things we want to obtain from God we ought first to share with our neighbours; but if we deprive our neighbours of them, how do we want to obtain them? “Blessed,” he says, “are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” For if men pity such people, much more will God; but those who do not show mercy, no longer; “for judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy.” Mercy is a good thing; what then have you done for another? You want to be pardoned when you offend; why then did you not yourself pardon the one who offended? But you come to God asking for the kingdom of heaven, while you yourself, asked for silver, did not give it. That is why we do not obtain mercy, because we do not show mercy. “Why?” someone says. “Yet this too belongs to mercy, to show mercy to the unmerciful.” But one who has shown kindness to the cruel and harsh man, who does countless evils to his neighbour, how would he be merciful? “What then,” he says, “did not the bath save us when we had done countless evils?” It freed us from them, not that we might do them again, but that we might not do them. “For if we died to sin,” he says, “how shall we still live in it?” “What then? Shall we sin because we are not under law? God forbid!” That is why he freed you from those things, so that you would no longer run back to that dishonour. For doctors heal not so that people may use their health for harm and unworthily (for it would be better to be sick, if one were going to be healthy only to nail himself to the bed again), but so that, having learned the evils of sickness, they may no longer fall into the same things, that they may hold to health more securely, that they may do everything that contributes to it. “How then,” he says, “is God loving, if he is not going to save the wicked?” For in many places I hear many saying this too, that he is loving and will certainly save all. So that we may not deceive ourselves in vain (for I remember making such a promise), come, let us take up this discourse today. I discoursed to you about Gehenna lately, and I postponed the discourse about God's lovingkindness; today, then, it is good to pay it. That there will be a Gehenna I have perhaps sufficiently shown, as it seems to me, by bringing forward the flood and the former evils, and by saying that it is not possible for him who did those things to leave the people of today unpunished. For if he so punished those who sinned before the law, he will not leave unpunished those who did greater evils after grace. The question, then, was: How then is he good, how loving, if he punishes? And we postponed the discourse, so as not to bury your ears under too many words. Come, today let us pay the debt, and show how God is good even in punishing. For this discourse would fit our dealings with the heretics too; so let us attend with earnestness. God made us, needing nothing from us. That he needed nothing he showed by making us afterwards. For if he needed us, he would have made us long ago; but if he existed even without us, and we came into being in later times, he made us without needing us. He made heaven, earth, sea, all things that exist, for our sake. Is this not goodness, tell me? One could say much; but to shorten the discourse: “He makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.” Is this not goodness? “No,” someone says. For I once said to a certain Marcionite, “Are these things not goodness?” And he said, “If he did not demand an account of sins, it would be goodness; but if he demands it, it is not goodness.” But he is not present now. Come, let us say what was said then, and more than this. For I show, out of abundance, that if he did not demand an account, he would not be good; but since he demands it, for this reason he is good. For tell me, if he did not demand an account of us, would human life have stood? Would we not have sunk to the level of beasts? For if, with fear and accounts and courts set over us, we have outdone the fish in devouring one another, have outshone lions and wolves in snatching each other's goods; if he did not demand an account of us, and we were persuaded of this, with how much confusion and turmoil would life have been filled? What would the fabled labyrinth be beside the disorder of the world? Would you not have seen countless absurdities and disorders? For who would respect a father any more? Who would spare a mother? Who would have abstained from any pleasure, any wickedness? And that these things are so, I will try to persuade you from one house alone. How? If, of you who ask these questions and have servants, I make it plain to them that, even if they ruin your property and outrage your persons, even if they carry everything off and turn everything upside down and treat you as enemies, you will not threaten, will not punish, will not take vengeance, will not even grieve them with words: does this seem to be goodness? But I show that it is the utmost cruelty, not only because wife and children are betrayed through this untimely kindness, but also because the servants themselves perish before them. For they will be drunkards and licentious and dissolute and insolent and more irrational than all beasts. Is this goodness, tell me, to trample on the nobility of the soul, and to destroy both themselves and one another? Do you see that demanding accounts is what belongs to great kindness? And why do I speak of servants, who come more readily to these sins? Let someone have sons, and let him allow them to dare everything, and not punish them; whom will they not be worse than, tell me? Then with men punishing is goodness and not punishing is cruelty, but with God not? So, because he is good, he prepared Gehenna. Do you want me to tell another goodness of God too? Not only this, but also that he does not let the good become bad. For if they were to receive the same things, all would be bad; but as it is, this too consoles the good not a little. For hear the Prophet saying, “The righteous will rejoice when he sees the vengeance on the ungodly; he will wash his hands in the blood of the sinner.” Not rejoicing over it — God forbid! — but fearing lest he suffer the same things, he will make his own life purer. So this belongs to great care. “Yes,” someone says, “but he should only threaten, and not punish too.” If he punishes, and you say that the thing is a threat, and on this account become slacker, if it really were only a threat, would you not have become more careless? If the Ninevites had known that the thing was only a threat, they would not have repented; but since they repented, they made the threat stop at words. Do you want it to be a threat? You are master of the matter: become better, and it stops at the threat; but if — may it be far from you! — you despise the threat, you will come to the experience of it. Those before the flood, if they had feared the threat, would not have suffered the experience. And we, if we fear the threat, will not undergo the experience — God forbid it! — but may the loving God grant that all of us, brought to a sound mind from now on, may obtain those unspeakable good things; which may we all be counted worthy of, 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.