Homilies on Philippians 10.1–10.5

“Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord. To write the same things to you is not tiresome to me, and for you it is safe. Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of the mutilation. For we are the circumcision, who worship God in the Spirit, and boast in Christ Jesus, and put no confidence in the flesh.” Despondency and cares, when they strain the soul beyond measure, rob it of its own strength. That is why Paul raises up the Philippians, who were in great despondency. They were despondent because they did not know how things stood with Paul; they were despondent because they thought he had already died, on account of the preaching, on account of Epaphroditus. Giving them full assurance about all these things, he adds: … He said well, “in the Lord”, not according to the world; for it is not possible to rejoice in this. These afflictions, he says, those according to Christ, have joy. “To write the same things to you is not tiresome to me, and for you it is safe. Beware of the dogs.” Do you see how he does not bring in the exhortation at the beginning, but when he had praised them much, when he had admired them, then he does this, and praises again? For this word seems rather harsh; so he shades it on every side. Whom does he call dogs? There were some there, whom he hints at in all his Letters, defiled and despicable Jews, greedy of gain and fond of power, who, wishing to draw away many of the faithful, preached both Christianity and Judaism, corrupting the gospel. Since, then, they were hard to recognize, that is why he says, “Beware of the dogs.” The Jews are no longer children. Once the Gentiles were called this, but now they are. Why? Because just as the Gentiles were strangers to God and to Christ, so these have now become; and he shows by this their shamelessness and boldness, and their great distance from being children. For that the Gentiles were once called dogs, hear the Canaanite woman, what she says: “Yes, Lord; for even the little dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from their masters' table.” And so that they may not have even this, since dogs too are at the table, he adds something by which he also estranges them, saying, “Beware of the evil workers.” And he spoke wonderfully, “… the evil workers”; for they work, he says, but for evil, and their work is much worse than idleness, pulling up what was well laid. “Beware,” he says, “of the mutilation.” Circumcision was a venerable thing among the Jews, since even the law gave way to it, and the Sabbath was less esteemed than it. For so that circumcision might be performed, the Sabbath was broken; but so that the Sabbath might be kept, circumcision was never broken. And see, I beg you, God's arrangement: this, more venerable than the Sabbath, is found to have been omitted at certain times. When, then, it is set aside, much more the Sabbath. That is why Paul cuts down its very name, and says, “Beware of the mutilation.” And he did not say, “Circumcision is evil, circumcision is superfluous,” so as not to strike the men, but he handles it more wisely, drawing them away from the thing while granting them the word; or rather, more earnestly from the thing too. But not so with the Galatians. For since the disease was great there, he brings on the cutting barefacedly and with great authority; but here, since they had done nothing of the kind, he grants them the pleasure of the name, and casts out both those men and this, and says, “Beware of the mutilation. For we are the circumcision.” How? “Who worship God in the Spirit, and put no confidence in the flesh.” He did not say, “We compare that circumcision and this, to see which is better,” but did not even give it a share in the name; but what does he say? That circumcision is mutilation. Why? For they do nothing else but cut the flesh. For when what is done is not lawful, it is nothing else but a cutting and mutilation of the flesh. Either for this reason he called it so, or because they were trying to cut up the Church. And we too speak of mutilation when people do this at random and carelessly and without skill. For if you must seek circumcision, he says, you will find it among us. “Who worship God in the Spirit”: that is, who worship spiritually.

For tell me, which is better, soul or body? Clearly the soul. Then that circumcision is not better; but this alone is circumcision. For as long as the type stood, he rightly brought forward the comparison, writing, “to circumcise the foreskin of your heart.” So too in the Letter to the Romans he abolishes it, saying, “For he is not a Jew who is one outwardly, nor is circumcision that which is outward in the flesh; but he is a Jew who is one inwardly, and circumcision is of the heart, in the Spirit, not in the letter.” But here he deprives it even of the name: it is not even circumcision, he says. For the type, as long as the truth is about to come, is called by this name; but when the truth has come, it is no longer so called. As with a sketch: someone sketches a king in outline; as long as the colours are not applied, it is not called a king; but when they are applied, the type is hidden by the truth and does not appear; and then we say, “See, the king!” And he did not say, “For circumcision is among us,” but, “We are the circumcision”; rightly. For this is a man: virtuous circumcision; this is truly a man. Of those men he did not speak so, but, “Beware of the mutilation”; for they were now in destruction and wickedness. Then, showing that circumcision is no longer in the body but in the heart, he says, “and put no confidence in the flesh, though I myself have confidence even in the flesh.” What does he mean here by “confidence” and “in the flesh”? Boasting, boldness, a ground for pride; and he added this well. For if, being of the Gentiles, he had accused circumcision, and not circumcision only but also those who practised it out of season, he would have seemed to run it down as one deprived of the nobility of Judaism, as one who did not know its venerable things nor had any share in them; but as it is, he who shared in them and accuses them accuses them not as one who did not share, but as one who had condemned them, not through ignorance but above all through knowledge. See, then, what he says in the Letter to the Galatians too, when he was forced to say great things about himself, how even so he shows humility: “For you have heard,” he says, “of my former way of life in Judaism”; and again here, “If anyone else thinks he has confidence in the flesh, I more”; and at once he added, “a Hebrew of Hebrews.” He did not say this first, but after saying, “If anyone else,” showing the necessity, showing that he spoke because of them. If you have confidence, he says, I have more. I say this now; otherwise I would keep silent. And see how inoffensive his refutations are; for by not doing it by name he gave even those men room to recover. “If anyone thinks he has confidence”: he said “thinks” well, either as of people who did not have such confidence, or because that confidence was not really confidence; for it was all a matter of necessity, not of choice. “Circumcised the eighth day.” And first he sets down what they boasted of most, circumcision; then, “of the race of Israel.” By both he showed that he was not a proselyte, nor of proselytes. For from being circumcised on the eighth day, he was not a proselyte; and from “of the race of Israel”, not of proselyte parents either. But so that you may not think that “of the race of Israel” means of the ten tribes, he says, “of the tribe of Benjamin”, that is, of the more esteemed part; for the priests' affairs were in the lot of this tribe. “A Hebrew of Hebrews.” From this he shows that he was not a proselyte, but from of old of the esteemed Jews. For it was possible to be of Israel, but not a Hebrew of Hebrews. For many had already corrupted the thing and were unacquainted with the language, mixing with other nations. Either this, then, or his great nobility he shows by this. “As to the law, a Pharisee.” He now comes to the things of his own choice; for all those were not of choice. For being circumcised was not his doing, nor “of the race of Israel”, nor “of the tribe of Benjamin”; so that even in these he has the advantage the more, even if many shared them with him. Where, then, is the “more”? Especially in this too: in not being a proselyte, in being of the most esteemed tribe, in being from of old from his ancestors, which not many had. But since all these were not of choice, he comes to the things of choice, where the “more” is. “As to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, persecuting the Church.” He says this because it is not enough to show that; for it is possible to be a Pharisee and not a zealot. “As to righteousness.” Since it is possible to [be reckless, or to do this] for the sake of [ambition], and not out of zeal for the law, which the high priests did. But he was not such; but, “as to the righteousness which is in the law, found blameless.” If, then, in nobility, in zeal, in conduct, and in life I surpassed all, why did I let those venerable things go, he says, except because I found the things of Christ greater, and much greater? That is why he added: “But whatever things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ.”

Paul threw away a way of life so exact, begun from his earliest age, such nobility, so many dangers, so many plots, toils, and zeal, and counted as loss what had before been gain, that he might gain Christ; but we do not even despise money that we may gain Christ, but choose rather to fall from the life to come than from present things; and yet this is nothing else but loss. For tell me, let us examine each of the things of wealth one by one, whether it is not a loss, having unspeakable toil but no gain. For what, tell me, is the benefit of many costly garments? What gain do we reap when we wear them? None, but only loss. How? Because the poor man too, wearing a cheap and worn garment, bears the heat in summer no worse than you; or rather he bears it more easily; for worn garments, worn alone, let the body breathe more; but newly made ones, even if finer than a spider's web, do not do so equally. And you, out of superfluous pride, have two and three tunics, often a mantle, a belt, and trousers; but no one blames him for wearing only one tunic; so he bears the heat more easily. From this we see the rich sweating and the poor suffering none of this. When, then, cheap garments sold for nothing give him the same or even better service, and those that force you to lay out much gold do the same, is not the great excess a loss? For it has contributed nothing more to the purpose of need and service; but more gold has been emptied out for you, and it gives the same use and service. You, the rich man, bought it perhaps for a hundred gold pieces or more, and the poor man for a little silver. Do you see the loss? But pride does not let you see. Do you want us to examine this same argument also about the gold they put on horses and on women? For besides other things, being rich also makes people foolish. For they count women and horses worthy of the same honour, and the adornment of both is one; and the women want to appear more splendid by the same things as the teams too, as the hides of the curtains too, under which they are carried. Tell me, what is the gain in adorning a mule or a horse with gold? And the woman wearing so great a mass of gold and stones, what more does she have? “But the gold does not wear out,” someone says. Indeed, those skilled in these matters say it does suffer this: that in the baths and in many places both stones and gold lose much of their value. But let this be so, and let it suffer no harm: what is the gain, tell me? What then? When it falls off and is lost, is it not a loss? What then? When it draws envy and plotting, is it not a loss? For when it benefits the wearer in nothing, but inflames the eyes of the envious and rouses robbers the more, does it not become a loss? And what, tell me? When the husband could use these things for some business bringing gain, but cannot because of his wife's extravagance, but is forced to go hungry and be in straits, and to see her wearing gold, is not the thing a loss? For money (χρήματα) is so called not that we may use it as the goldsmiths' display windows do, but that we may do something good with it. When, then, the desire for gold does not allow this, is not the whole a loss? For the one who does not dare to use it, as though it belonged to others, does not use it, and there is no use anywhere. And what of when we build splendid and great houses and adorn them with columns and marbles and porticoes and walks, setting up images and statues everywhere? Many by these things even summon demons; but let us not examine this. What is the point of the gilded ceiling? Does it not give the same use as for one who has a moderate house? “But it gives much delight,” someone says. But for a day or two, and after that no longer. For if the sun does not amaze us because it is familiar, much more the works of art; but we pay attention to them as to things of clay. For what, tell me, does a crowd of columns, the beauty of statues, and gold on the walls contribute to the best dwelling? Nothing; it belongs to stupidity, insolence, superfluous pride, and folly. Everywhere we must hold to what is necessary and in use, not to what is superfluous.

Do you see that the thing is a loss? Do you see that it is superfluous and useless? For if it gives neither more use nor more delight (for it becomes cloying with time), it is nothing else but loss. But vainglory, standing in the way, does not let us see this. Then Paul let go the things he thought were gain; but shall we not even let go a loss for Christ's sake? How long shall we be nailed to the earth? How long shall we not look up to heaven? Do you not see the old, how they have no sense of what is past? Do you not see those who die, in old age, in youth? Do you not see those deprived of their goods while still alive? Why are we attached to unstable things? Why are we bound to uncertain things? How long shall we not lay hold of the things that remain? What would the old not have given, if it were possible to scrape off old age? And then how great is the unreason of wishing to return to former youth, and readily giving everything for this, to become younger, yet, when it is possible to receive a youth that never has old age, a youth far more spiritual and with great wealth, being unwilling to let go even a little, but holding on to things that are of no benefit even for the present! It cannot rescue you from death; and against sickness, tell me, what does it contribute? It cannot drive away …, it cannot prevent old age, nothing of these necessary things that come by the law of nature; and do you still hold on to them? What is the gain, tell me? From this come drunkenness, gluttony, absurd pleasures of every kind, straining us harder than bitter masters. These are the only things one can gain from wealth, and nothing else, since we do not wish it; for if we wished, we would inherit heaven itself from wealth. “Then wealth is good,” someone says. Wealth does not do this, but the will of the possessor; for that the will does this, consider from this: it is possible for the poor man too to inherit heaven. For, as I have often said, God does not look to the measure of what is given, but to the will of those who give. It is possible, even being in poverty and giving little, to carry off everything. For God requires what is according to one's means; neither does wealth procure heaven, nor poverty Gehenna, but in each case a good or wicked will. Let us set this right, then, and everything will be easy for us. For just as the craftsman, whether he has an iron or a golden adze, works the wood equally, or rather more with the iron one, so here too virtue is achieved more easily through poverty. For of wealth Christ says, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” But of poverty he declared nothing of the kind, but even the opposite: “Sell your possessions and give to the poor, and come, follow me”, as though following came from choice.

Let us not, then, flee poverty as an evil; for it procures the kingdom; and again, let us not pursue wealth as a good; for it destroys those who do not take care; but everywhere lifting our eyes to God, let us use as we ought what has been given us by him: strength of body, abundance of money, and everything else. For it is absurd that, having been made by him, we should make these things useful to others and not to the one who made us. He made you eyes: make them useful to him, not to the devil. How will you make them useful to him? By contemplating his works and glorifying him, and by turning them away from the sight of women. He made you hands? Keep them for him, not for the devil, not for robbery and greed, but for the commandments and good deeds, and lifting them up in earnest prayers, in reaching out a hand to those who have fallen. He made you ears? Give them to him, and not to effeminate songs, nor to shameful things heard: “Let all your discourse,” it says, “be in the law of the Most High”; and again, “Stand in the company of the elders, and if anyone is wise, cleave to him.” He made you a mouth? Let it do nothing that does not please him, but let it sing psalms, hymns, spiritual songs: “so that it may give grace,” it says, “to those who hear”; for building up, and not for overthrow; for praise, and not for accusation; not for plots, but wholly the opposite. He made you feet, not that you may run to evil, but to good things. He made you a belly, not that you may burst it, but that you may practise philosophy. He placed desire for the begetting of children, but not for sexual immorality and adultery. He gave you a mind, not that you may blaspheme him, not that you may be a reviler, but that you may praise. He gave money too, so that we may use it as we ought; and strength, so that we may use this too as we ought. He made crafts so that life may hold together, not so that we may separate ourselves from spiritual things, not so that we may attend to vulgar crafts, but to necessary ones; so that we may serve one another, not so that we may plot against one another. He gave a roof to keep off the rain, so much only, not so that it may be adorned with gold while the poor man perishes of hunger. He gave garments that we may be covered, not that we may make a display, not that they may have much gold while Christ perishes naked. He gave a shelter, not that you alone may have it, but that you may provide it for others too. He gave land, not that you may cut off the greater part of it and spend God's good things on prostitutes and singers, but on the hungry and needy. He gave you the sea, that you may sail, that you may not toil walking, not that you may busy yourself with its depths and bring up stones and the like from there, nor make this your work. “Why, then,” someone says, “are there stones?” Rather you tell me, why are there stones, and how are those so very precious? For their power? For their use? Rather, those that are not such are more useful. For the latter at least contribute to building, but the former to nothing. And these are stronger than those. “But those,” someone says, “produce beauty.” How? It is the work of opinion. Are they whiter? But they are not whiter than very white marble, not even equal. Stronger? But one cannot say this either. More useful? Larger? Not this either. From where, then, were they admired? From nowhere else but from opinion. For if they are neither of beauty (for we shall find others more brilliant and whiter than they), nor useful, nor stronger, from where were they so admired? Is it not from opinion alone? Why, then, did he give them? He did not give them; but you thought them something great. “What then,” someone says, “of the fact that Scripture too admires them?” It speaks, then, according to your opinion. For a teacher too, talking to a child, often admires the same things as the child, when he wants to draw him and lead him on. Why do you seek beauty in garments? Put a garment and shoes on yourself; be adorned with these, be content with these. David says that the judgments of God are “more desirable than gold and much precious stone.” But how would this make sense? These things, beloved, are not useful; if they were useful, he would not have commanded us to despise them; but the divine Scripture speaks according to our opinion. And this too belongs to God's love for humankind. “Why, then,” someone says, “did he give purple and the like?” These are the work of God's magnificence. For he wished to show his wealth by other things too; since he gave bread alone, but you make many dishes of every kind from it, with much pleasure. Besides, vainglory invented all these things; for it seemed good to you to set them before everything. For if some stranger or farmer who knew nothing of them asked you, and, seeing you admiring them, said, “Why do you admire these things?”, what could you say? “Because they are beautiful to see”? But they are not. Let us, then, put an end to such opinion, and hold to what is truly real. For these things have no being, but simply pass by, flowing past like a river. Therefore, I beg you, let us set ourselves on the rock, so that we may escape being easily overturned and obtain the good things to come, 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, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.