Homilies on Philippians 2.1–2.5

“For God is my witness, how I long for you all in the affections of Jesus Christ. And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more in knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve the things that excel, that you may be sincere and without offence for the day of Christ, filled with the fruits of righteousness which come through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.” He calls God as witness not as one who is distrusted, but he does it from great affection, and from being thoroughly persuaded and confident. For since he had said that they shared with him, so that they might not think that he longs for them for that reason and not simply for their own sake, he therefore added, “in the affections of Christ”. What is this? Instead of “according to Christ”: because you are faithful, because you love Christ, because of the love that is according to Christ. And he did not say “love”, but what was warmer, “the affections of Christ”, as if to say: as one who has become your father through the kinship according to Christ. For this kinship gives us affections, warm and fiery affections; for he gives affections to his genuine servants. “In those affections,” he says; as if one should say, I love you not with natural affections, but with warmer ones, those of Christ. “How I long,” he says, “for you all.” I long for you all, since you are all of this kind. It is not possible, then, to say how I long for you; for I cannot set the longing before you in words; therefore I leave it to God to know, who searches the hearts. He would not have called God as witness if he were flattering them; for that is not without danger. “And this I pray,” he says, “that your love may abound”; for this good is insatiable. See how, though he was loved, he wished to be loved still more. For one who loves in this way wants the one he loves never to stop anywhere in love; for there is no measure to this good. That is why Paul wants it always to be owed, saying, “Owe no one anything, except to love one another.” The measure of love is to stop nowhere. “That your love,” he says, “may abound still more and more.” See the warmth of the expression: “still more and more,” he says, “that it may abound in knowledge and all discernment.” He does not admire friendship without qualification, nor love without qualification, but the love that comes from knowledge; that is, not that you should show the same love toward everyone, for that is not love but coldness. What is “in knowledge”? That is, with judgment, with reasoning, with discernment. For there are some who love without reason, at random and as it happens; and so such friendships are not strong either. “In knowledge,” he says, “and all discernment, so that you may approve the things that excel”, that is, the things that are profitable … I say these things, he says, not for my own sake but for yours; for there is fear that someone may be corrupted by love for the heretics. This is the whole of what he hints at in speaking so. And see how he puts it: I do not say these things for my own sake, he says, but that you may be sincere, that is, that you may not accept any spurious doctrine under the pretence of love. How, then, does he say elsewhere, “If possible, be at peace with all people”? He said, “be at peace”, showing this: do not love in such a way as to be harmed by the friendship. For “if your right eye causes you to stumble,” he says, “tear it out and throw it from you.” But “that you may be sincere”, that is, with respect to God, “and without offence”, with respect to people. For friendships often harm many. For even if it harms you in nothing, he says, another stumbles. “For the day of Christ”, that is, that you may then be found pure … “filled with the fruits of righteousness which come through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God”, that is, having an upright life together with your doctrines. For it is not enough simply to be upright; one must be filled with the fruits of righteousness. For there is a righteousness that is not according to Christ, such as a life that is simply virtuous; but, “which come through Jesus Christ,” he says, “to the glory and praise of God.” Do you see that I do not speak of my own glory, but of God's righteousness? In many places he also calls almsgiving righteousness. Do not let love harm you, he says, as regards knowing what is profitable; and do not, because you love so-and-so, fall. I want your love to grow, not, however, so that you are harmed; and I do not want you to hold to things by mere partiality, but after testing whether we speak rightly. And he did not say, “that you may choose our views,” but, “that you may approve.” And he did not say openly, “Do not associate with so-and-so,” but: I want your love to be for what is profitable, not so that you are disposed without discernment. For it is useless if you do not work righteousness for Christ's sake and through him. See, “through him” again. Does he then use God as an assistant? Far from it! I said this, he says, not that I may be praised, but that God may be glorified. “I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has turned out rather for the advance of the gospel, so that my bonds have become manifest in Christ in the whole praetorium and to all the rest.”

It was likely that, hearing that he was in bonds, they would be pained and think that the preaching was being hindered. What, then, does he do? He at once removes this suspicion and says: “What has happened to me has turned out rather for the advance of the gospel.” And this too is a mark of one who loves: to make his own affairs known to them, as to people who are anxious. What are you saying? You are bound, you have been hindered; and how does the gospel advance? “So that my bonds,” he says, “have become manifest in Christ in the whole praetorium.” This not only did not stop the mouths of the others or make them cowardly, but this very thing gave them still more courage. If, then, those who were near the dangers not only suffered no harm but took more courage, much more ought you to take courage. For if, when bound, he had borne it miserably and fallen silent, it was likely that they too would have suffered the same; but if, bound, he spoke still more boldly, he gave them more courage than if he had not been bound. And how did his bonds turn out for the advance of the gospel? God so arranged it, he says, that my bonds in Christ, my bonds for Christ, should not be hidden “in the whole praetorium”; for at that time they called the palace so. And not in the praetorium only, “but also in the whole city,” he says. “And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my bonds, are much more bold to speak the word without fear.” This shows that even before they were confident and spoke with boldness, but now much more. If, then, others take courage because of my bonds, he says, much more do I; if I am the cause of courage to others, much more to myself. “And most of the brothers in the Lord.” Since it was a great thing to say that my bonds gave them courage, he forestalled this by saying, “in the Lord”. Do you see how, even when he is obliged to speak grandly, he does not depart from modesty? “Much more bold,” he says, “to speak the word without fear.” “Much more” shows that they had already begun. “Some indeed preach Christ even from envy and strife, but some also from goodwill.” What this means is worth learning. When Paul was held in custody, many of the unbelievers, wanting to stir up a fierce war against him from the emperor, themselves also preached Christ, so that the emperor's anger might become greater, since the preaching was being spread abroad, and the whole of his wrath might fall on Paul's head. So his bonds became the occasion of two things: to some they gave great courage; others, leading them to hope for my destruction, they prompted to preach Christ. “Some from envy”: that is, envying my glory and my steadfastness, and wishing me to perish, and contending with me, they work along with me; or so that they themselves might be honoured, and thinking to draw off some of my glory. “But some also from goodwill”: that is, without hypocrisy, with all eagerness. “The one proclaim Christ from rivalry, not purely”, that is, not sincerely, nor for the sake of the thing itself; but for what? “Supposing that they add affliction to my bonds.” For thinking that in this way I shall fall into greater danger, they bring affliction upon affliction. What cruelty! What devilish working! They saw him bound and thrown into prison, and still envied him; they wanted to increase his misfortunes and make him liable to greater wrath. And well did he say, “supposing”; for it did not turn out so. They thought to grieve me by this, but I rejoiced that the preaching was advancing. So it is possible to do a good work from no good will; and not only is no reward laid up for it, but even punishment. For since they preached Christ wanting to surround Christ's herald with greater dangers, they not only will receive no reward, but will also be liable to penalty and punishment. “But the others from love, knowing that I am set for the defence of the gospel.” What is “I am set for the defence of the gospel”? That is, cutting down my accountability before God, and helping me somewhat toward my defence. What he means is this: I was commanded to preach; I am going to give account and to make my defence for the work I was commanded; so, to make my defence easy for me, they help me. For if many are found who have been instructed and have believed, my defence will be easy. “What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretence or in truth, Christ” … See the philosophic spirit of the man: he did not accuse them severely, but stated what was happening. For what difference does it make to me, he says, whether it is this way or that? “Only that in every way, whether in pretence or in truth, Christ is proclaimed.” He did not say, “Let him be proclaimed,” as laying down a law; but first he stated what was happening; and second, even if he had said it as laying down a law, not even so would he have been bringing in heresies.

Let us examine the matter, if you please, and we shall find that even if he had permitted preaching in the way those men preached, not even so was heresy being brought in. How? Because those men preached soundly; it was their aim and the intention with which they did so that was corrupt; the preaching was not altered. And they were under great necessity to preach in this way. Why? Because if they had preached otherwise, not as Paul did, if they had taught otherwise, not as he did, they would not have increased the emperor's anger; but as it was, by increasing his preaching and teaching in the same way and making disciples equal to his, they were able to provoke the emperor to war against him, since the multitude of disciples appeared great. But some wretched and senseless person, forgetting this passage, says: “Surely they would have done the opposite: they would have driven away those who had already believed, and not made the faithful increase, if they wanted to sting him.” What, then, shall we say? That those men looked to this one thing, to surround him with the present dangers, not to let him escape; and they thought they would grieve him and quench the preaching more by this than by that. For otherwise they would have quenched the emperor's anger and let him go out and preach again; but in this way they thought to destroy the whole thing through him, by destroying him. And this was not something many could see, but only certain bitter and very wicked men. Then: “And in this I rejoice; yes, and I will rejoice.” What is “yes, and I will rejoice”? Even if it goes further, he says. For they work with me even against their will, and for the labours they have undergone they will receive punishment, but I, who contribute nothing, shall receive a reward. Is there anything more wretched than the devil, who devised that a preaching should procure punishment for those who obey him? Do you see in how many evils he entangles his own? He devises punishment and penalty for them out of the preaching and these labours. And what other enemy and foe of their salvation would have arranged the whole thing so? Do you see that the one who fights the truth has no strength, but rather strikes himself, like one who kicks against the goads? “For I know,” he says, “that this will turn out for my salvation through your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” Nothing is more wretched than the devil: so everywhere he surrounds his own with useless labours and tears them apart; and he not only does not let them obtain the prizes, but knows how to make them liable to punishment. For he lays down for them not only such preaching, but also such fasting and such virginity, which not only will deprive them of rewards, but will bring great evil upon those who pursue it; of whom he says elsewhere also, “seared in their own conscience.” Therefore, I beg you, let us give thanks to God for everything, that he has both lightened our labours and increased our rewards. For the rewards that those among us who marry chastely enjoy, those who live as virgins among them do not enjoy; but the virgins among the heretics have become liable to the penalty of fornicators. Why? Because they do something not with a right aim, but to slander God's creatures and his ineffable wisdom. So let us not be slothful: God has given us contests suited to our strength, involving no hardship. But let us not despise them on this account. For if the heretics strain themselves with useless labours, what defence shall we have if we will not bear even the lesser ones, which bring a greater reward? What is burdensome, what is grievous in Christ's commands? You cannot live as a virgin? You may marry. You cannot strip yourself of all your goods? You may give from what you have: “Your abundance,” he says, “for their want.” These things seem to be burdensome, I mean despising money and overcoming bodily desire; but the rest require no expense, no force. For what force is there, tell me, in not speaking ill, in not slandering at all? What force in not envying the goods of others? Or what force in not being taken captive by glory? To be tortured and bear it belongs to endurance; to practise philosophy belongs to endurance; to bear poverty belongs to endurance; to wrestle with hunger and thirst belongs to endurance. But when there is none of this, and it is possible, while enjoying what you have, as befits a Christian, not to envy what belongs to others, what force is there? Envy comes from nowhere else but from being attached to present things; or rather, so do all evils. For if you thought money and the glory of this world were nothing, you would not have envied those who have them. Where does it come from? … The whole comes from …

But since you gape at them, and admire them and are dazzled, that is why the passions of envy trouble you, and those of vainglory too; and everything comes from this, from admiring the things of the present life. Do you envy so-and-so because he is rich? Yet such a man deserves pity and tears. But you will say at once, laughing: “I deserve tears, not he.” You too deserve tears, not because you are poor, but because you think yourself pitiable. For those who have nothing wrong and yet are distressed we weep for, not because they have something wrong, but because, not having it, they think they have. Tell me, if someone freed from fever is restless and tosses about, lying healthy on his bed, does he not deserve tears more than those who have fever, not because he has fever (for he has none), but because, having nothing wrong, he thinks he has something? You too deserve tears for this reason, because you think yourself pitiable, not because of your poverty; for on account of your poverty you are even to be called blessed. Why do you envy the rich man? Because he has made himself liable to more cares? Because he is in a harsher slavery? Because with countless chains, like a dog, he is bound to his possessions …, and even the time of rest he has as a time of tumult, unpleasantness, grief, and anxiety? … There was a noise? At once he jumped up. So-and-so was robbed? The one who has lost nothing is more anxious than the one who lost. For the one lost once, and having grieved, laid the care aside; but this one has it continually. Night has come, the harbour of our ills, the consolation of our misfortunes, the medicine of our wounds. For those held by some severe grief often did not give way or yield to friends and relatives and household, and often even to fathers who comforted them, but were even angered at their very words; for the bitterness of grief afflicts our souls more than any burning heat; yet when sleep bade them stop, they could not even look it in the face. So as a body that is burning and very hot finds relief in a lodging with many springs and the comfort of a light breeze, so night hands our soul over to sleep. Or rather, it is not night or sleep that does this, but God, who knows that this race is wretched, has done all these things. But we do not pity ourselves; but, as if we were our own enemies, we have devised a tyranny greater than the necessity and rest of nature: the sleeplessness that comes from wealth. For “the anxiety of wealth,” it says, “drives away sleep.” And see how great is God's care: he did not entrust rest to our purpose, nor the need for sleep to any choice, but bound it by the necessities of nature, so that we might be benefited even against our will; for sleeping belongs to nature. But we, as though we hated ourselves very much, as though warring against and afflicting others, have devised a tyranny from money greater than this natural necessity. Day has come? And such a man fears informers. Night has fallen? He trembles at robbers. Death is at hand? He is stung more than by death that his things go to others. He has had a child? His desire grows greater, and then he seems to be poor. He has had none? He grieves the more. Do you, then, call this man blessed, who can take pleasure from nowhere? Do you envy him who is tossed by the waves, while you stand in the calm harbour of poverty? Truly this too is a defect of human nature, not to bear good things nobly, but to grow insolent in prosperity. And these things are here; but when we depart there, hear what the rich man says, the master of countless good things, as you call them; for I would not call these things good, but indifferent. This master of countless good things, then, hear what he says and in what need he stands: “Father Abraham,” he says, “send Lazarus, that he may drip on my tongue with the tip of his finger, for I am being roasted.” For even if that rich man suffered none of the things I have described, even if he spent his whole life in security and without care (why do I say his whole life? that single moment; for it is a moment: “our whole age,” it says, “is as a single moment” compared with the endless age), if, then, everything had gone for him according to his wish, is he not pitiable for these words, or rather for these realities? Did your table not flood with wine? But now you are not master even of a drop of water, and that while you stand in great need. Did you not see the poor man covered with sores? But now you ask to see him, and no one grants it. He was by your gate, but now he is in the bosom of Abraham; you lay under great roofs, but now in the fire of Gehenna.

Let the rich hear these things; or rather, not the rich but the unmerciful. For he was not punished because he was rich, but because he did not show mercy. For it is possible to be rich and merciful and to obtain every good thing. And that is why he sees no one else but the one who had needed him, so that he might learn that he suffered these things justly, being brought to remember what he had done. Were there not countless righteous poor men? But the one who lay at his gate, he is the one who appears to him, teaching him and us how good it is not to trust in money. Poverty did not harm the one at all toward obtaining the kingdom; wealth did not help the other at all toward escaping Gehenna. Up to what point is one needy? Up to what point poor? He is not, he is not poor who has nothing, but he who desires much; he is not rich who has acquired much, but he who needs nothing. For what use is it to have acquired the whole world, but to live in more despondency than one who has nothing? It is our dispositions that make people rich and poor, not abundance of money or lack of it. Do you, who are poor, want to become rich? You may, if you will, and no one prevents you: despise the money of the world; think it nothing, as indeed it is nothing; cast out the desire for wealth, and you have become rich. This is the rich man: the one who does not wish to be rich; the one who does not wish to be poor, this is the poor man. Just as the sick man is the one who is restless even in health, not the one who bears disease more easily than all health, so here too the poor man is the one who cannot bear poverty, but in wealth thinks himself poorer than the poor; not the one who bears poverty more easily than the rich: for this man is the richer. Tell me, why do you fear poverty? Why do you tremble? Is it not because of hunger? Is it not because of thirst? Is it not because of cold? Or is it not for these things? But there is no one, there is no one, … “Look at the generations of old and see: who trusted in the Lord and was forsaken? Or who hoped in him and was put to shame?” And again, “Look at the birds of the sky: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and your heavenly Father feeds them.” No one could show us anyone who has quickly perished of hunger and cold. Why, then, do you tremble at poverty? You cannot say. For if you are supplied with necessities, why do you tremble at it? Because you have no crowd of servants? This is to be freed from masters, this is continual blessedness, this is freedom from care. But because you have no vessels and couches and furniture made of silver? What more does the one who has acquired these have than you in the enjoyment? Nothing; for the use is equal, whether they are made of this material or of that. But because you are not feared by the many? May you never be! For what pleasure is it to make some people tremble and be afraid of you? But because you fear others? But it is possible not to fear. “Do you wish not to fear the authority? Do what is good, and you will have praise from it.” “But we are easily despised,” someone says, “and ready to suffer ill.” Above all, it is not poverty that does this, but wickedness. For while many poor men pass their whole lives without trouble, rulers, rich men, and men in power have ended more wretchedly than all evildoers, robbers, and grave-robbers. For what poverty is in your case, wealth is in his. Just as those who wish to do harm harm you here because you are despised, so they harm him because they envy and grudge; and these more than those; this necessity is stronger for doing harm. For the one who envies does everything with all his strength and power, but the one who despises often even pitied the despised man; and this very thing became the cause of his escape, that he was poor, that he could not have power. “You will achieve great things,” we say to him, “if you destroy so-and-so, if you kill one poor man? What reward will you not reap?” And so we calm their anger. But over the rich envy stands guard, and does not stop until it has done what it wishes and poured out its poison. Do you see that neither poverty nor wealth is good, but our will? If, then, this is rightly disposed, neither will wealth be able to cast us out of the kingdom, nor will poverty make us have less; but we shall bear poverty gently, being harmed neither in the enjoyment of the good things to come, nor here; but we shall both enjoy these and obtain the good things in heaven; which may we all obtain, and so on.