Homilies on Philippians 3.1–3.4

“And in this I rejoice; yes, and I will rejoice. For I know that this will turn out for my salvation through your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope, that I shall be put to shame in nothing, but with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death.” Nothing painful in the present life can sting the great and philosophic soul: not enmities, not accusations, not slanders, not dangers, not plots. For as one that has fled to some high mountain peak is out of reach of all who climb up from the earth below, such was Paul's soul, having taken a place higher than any peak, the place of spiritual philosophy, the true philosophy. For that of the outsiders is mere words and children's toys. But our discourse is not about these now; for the present we speak of Paul. That blessed man, having the emperor at war with him, had besides other enemies grieving him in various ways, and with bitter slander. And what does he say? Not only am I not pained by these things nor cast down, but I even rejoice and will rejoice; not for a season, he says, but always I will rejoice over these things. “For I know that this will turn out for my salvation”, the salvation to come. How will it not turn out so, when even the enmity against me and the rivalry toward me benefit the preaching? “Through your prayer,” he says, “and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope.” See the humility of this blessed man. He was in the contests, struggling; he had achieved countless things; he was already lying close to the very crown (for he was Paul: what more could one say?); and he writes to the Philippians, “Through your prayer I can be saved”, he who had acquired salvation by countless achievements. “And the supply,” he says, “of the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” What is “supply”? If through your prayers, he says, I am counted worthy of the grace. For “supply” means this: if it is supplied, if more of the Spirit is given to me. “For salvation”: that is, deliverance; I shall escape the present danger as I did the first. For about that one he says: “At my first defence no one stood by me; may it not be counted against them; but the Lord stood by me and strengthened me.” This, then, he now prophesies too, saying, “through your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope.” For so, he says, I hope. For so that we, in our turn, may not leave everything to the prayers of others while contributing nothing ourselves, see how he sets down his own part, hope, the cause of all good things; as the prophet says, “Let your mercy, Lord, be upon us, as we have hoped in you”; as he also says elsewhere, “Look at the generations of old and see: who hoped in the Lord and was put to shame?” And again this blessed man says, “And hope does not put to shame.” “According to my eager expectation,” he says, “and hope, that I shall be put to shame in nothing.” This is Paul's hope: to hope that I shall nowhere be put to shame. Do you see how great a thing it is to hope in God? Whatever happens, he says, I shall not be put to shame; that is, these men will not get the better of me. “But with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ will be magnified in my body.” Those men expected through this snare to catch Paul and to quench the preaching, as though their trickery would prevail. This, then, is what he says: that will not happen; I shall not die now; “but as always, so now also Christ will be magnified in my body.” How? Many times I have fallen into dangers in which everyone despaired of us, or rather we despaired of ourselves (“for we had the sentence of death in ourselves”), but the Lord rescued us from them all. So now too he will be magnified in my body. And so that no one may think and say, “If you die, will he not be magnified?”, Yes, he says, I know; but I did not say this because life alone will magnify him; death will too. For the present he says, “by life”: they are not destroying me; but even if they had destroyed me, Christ would be magnified so too. How? By life, because he rescued me; by death, because not even death persuaded me to deny him. Because he gave me such eagerness and made me stronger than death: in the one case, because he freed me from dangers; in the other, because he did not let me fear the tyranny of death. So he will be magnified by life and by death.

He says these things not as one about to die, but for the time when he does die, so that they may not feel anything merely human. For that he said this not as one about to die (which grieved them most), see how he comforts them on this point, all but saying: I say this, not as one who will die. That is why, going on, he added: “And being convinced of this, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all.” And “I shall be put to shame in nothing” means this: dying brings me no shame, but even great gain. Why? I am not immortal; yet I shall be more glorious than if I were immortal. For it is not the same thing for an immortal to despise death as for a mortal. So not even this is a shame, to die now; however, I shall not die. “I shall be put to shame in nothing,” neither in living nor in dying, he says; for I shall bear both nobly, whether to live or to die. Well said; this belongs to a Christian soul. “But with all boldness,” he says. Do you see how I am not put to shame? For if the fear of death had cut short my boldness, dying would deserve shame; but if death, when it came, frightened me not at all, this is no shame. If I live, I shall not be put to shame by living, for I preach the preaching; if I die, I shall not be put to shame by dying, for fear did not hold me, since I show the same boldness. For do not, because I spoke of bonds, think the thing a shame. It has become the cause of such good things for me, that it has even given others courage. For being bound for Christ is not a shame, but betraying something of Christ's out of fear of bonds: that is a shame; so that, if this is absent, bonds even bring about boldness. Do not, since I have often escaped dangers (and I can boast of these to the unbelievers), think it already a shame if something of the kind does not happen; for this too gives you boldness no less than that. See how he puts it forward in his own person, as he does in many places elsewhere too; as with the Romans: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel,” he says; as with the Corinthians: “These things I have transferred to myself …” “Whether by life or by death.” He does not say this as one who did not know; for he knew that he would not die then, but afterwards; but he already prepares their souls beforehand. “For to me,” he says, “to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” For even if I die, he says, I shall not be dead, having life in myself. They would have destroyed me then, if they had been able through fear to cast the faith out of my soul; but as long as Christ is with me, even if death comes, I live. And even in this life, this is not my living, but Christ is. If, then, not even in this life is it this, “the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith”, I say this there too: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” Such must the Christian be. I do not live, he says, the common life. How, then, do you live, blessed Paul? Do you not see the sun? Do you not breathe the common air? Are you not fed by the same foods as everyone? Do you not tread the earth as we do? Do you not need sleep? Clothing? Shoes? What do you mean, “I do not live”? How do you not live? Why do you boast? These words are not boasting. For if the facts did not bear witness, one might rightly say it was boasting; but if the facts bear witness, what boasting is there? Let us learn, then, how he does not live; for elsewhere too he says, “I have been crucified to the world, and the world to me.” How then he says, “It is no longer I who live,” and how again, “to me to live is Christ,” hear. The word “life” has many senses, beloved, that is, it signifies many things, as does the word “death”. There is this life of the body, and there is the life of sin, as he himself says elsewhere: “If we died to sin, how shall we still live in it?” So it is possible to live the life of sin. (Attend carefully, I beg you, so that we do not labour in vain.) There is the eternal and immortal life, and with it the heavenly life: “For our citizenship,” he says, “is in heaven.” There is the life of the body, of which he says, “In him we live and move and have our being.” So he does not say he does not live the natural life, but this life of sins, which all people live; and rightly. For how does one who does not desire the present life live it? How does one who hastens to another live it? How does one who despises death live it? How does one who desires nothing here live it? For as one made of adamant, even if struck ten thousand times, would never turn, so neither would Paul. “It is no longer I who live,” he says, that is, the old man; and again elsewhere, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from the body of this death?” So one who does nothing for the sake of food, nothing for clothing, nothing for anything of the present, how does he live? He does not even live the natural life; the one who cares for nothing of this world's affairs does not live. We live this life, who do everything for its sake; but he did not live it, for he busied himself with nothing here. How, then, did he live? So too we say of some people: “So-and-so is not present to me,” when he does nothing that concerns me; again, “So-and-so is not alive to me,” likewise. For that he does not renounce the natural life he says elsewhere: “The life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me”; that is, I live a new and changed life.

All these things he says to comfort the Philippians. Do not think, he says, that I am being deprived of this life; for even while I was alive I was not living this life, but that which Christ wished. For tell me, does the one who despises money, luxury, hunger and thirst, dangers, health, safety, live this life? Does the one who has nothing here, who often wished to throw it away when necessity arose and did not cling to it, live this life? Not at all. I must make this plain to you by an example. Suppose someone is in great wealth, and has servants and gold, and makes no use of any of them: is he rich with that wealth? Not at all. Let him also see his servants squandering his property and wandering about at random, and let him care for none of them; and, if you like, let him not be pained even when beaten: shall we say that he is in wealth? Not at all; and yet it is his. So also Paul: “For to me,” he says, “to live is Christ.” If you wish to examine my life, it is he. “And to die is gain.” Why? Because I shall be with him more clearly; so that dying is living more. Those who kill me will do me no harm, sending me on to my own life and freeing me from this one, which does not belong to me. What then? While you are here, are you not Christ's? Very much so. “But if to live in the flesh, this is fruit of work for me; and what I shall choose I do not know.” So that no one may say, “If that is life, why did Christ leave you here?”, it is “fruit of work,” he says. So it is possible to use the present life as one ought, without living it as most do. He says this so that you may not think that life is being disparaged, nor say, “If we are of no use here, why do we not destroy ourselves, why do we not kill ourselves?” By no means, he says; it is possible to gain even while here, if we do not live this life but another. But perhaps someone will say, “Does this bear fruit for you?” Yes, he says. Where now are the heretics? See, he calls living in the flesh “fruit of work”; and of work indeed. How is it fruit of work? “The life I now live in the flesh I live by faith.” That is why it is fruit of work. “And what I shall choose I do not know.” Ah, how great his philosophy was! How he cast out the desire for the present life, and yet did not disparage it! By saying, “to die is gain,” he cast out the desire; by saying, “to live in the flesh is fruit of work,” he showed that the present life too is necessary. How? If we use it as we ought, if we bear fruit; for if it is fruitless, it is no longer life. For trees too that bear no fruit we turn away from just like dry ones, and hand over to the fire. For living, again, belongs to the things that are intermediate and indifferent; but living well or badly is up to us. So let us not hate living; for it is possible to live well too. And if we use it badly, not even so shall we disparage it. Why? Because it is not life that is the cause, but the will of those who use it badly. For God made you live so that you might live for him; but you, living for sin through wickedness, make yourself liable to every charge. What do you mean, tell me, Paul? You do not know what you will choose? Here he revealed a great mystery: that it was in his power to depart; for when there is a choice, we have the power. “What I shall choose,” he says, “I do not know.” Is it, then, in your power? Yes, he says, if I wished to ask the favour of God. “For I am hard pressed between the two, having the desire.” See the tender affection of this blessed man; and with this he comforts them, when they see that he himself has the power of choice, that this is happening not by human wickedness but by God's arrangement. Why, then, are you pained, he says, at my death? It would have been far better to depart long ago. “For to depart,” he says, “and be with Christ is very much better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake.” These words prepare them for his coming end, so that they may bear it nobly; these words teach philosophy. It is good, he says, to depart and be with Christ; for death too belongs to the indifferent things. For death is not an evil, but to be punished after death is an evil; nor is death a good, but to depart and be with Christ is a good. What comes after death is either good or evil. So let us not simply mourn those who die, nor simply rejoice over those who live; but what? Let us mourn sinners, not only when they die but also while they live; and let us rejoice over the righteous, not only while they live but also when they have died. For the former, even while living, are dead; the latter, even having died, live. The former, even while here, are pitiable to all, since they offend God; the latter, having passed over there, are blessed, since they have gone to Christ. Sinners, wherever they are, are far from the King; that is why they deserve tears. But the righteous, whether here or there, are with the King, and there more, and nearer, not by sight, not by faith, but “face to face,” he says.

So let us not simply weep for the dead, but for those who die in sins: these deserve lamentation, these beating of breasts and tears. For what hope is there, tell me, in departing with sins, where it is not possible to put off sins? For as long as they were here, there was great expectation that they would change, that they would become better; but if they depart to Hades, where nothing can be gained from repentance (“For in Hades,” it says, “who will confess to you?”), how do they not deserve lamentation? Let us weep for those who depart so, I do not forbid it; let us weep, but not unseemly, not tearing our hair, not baring our arms, not tearing our faces, but in the soul quietly shedding a bitter tear. For it is possible, even without this display, to weep bitterly, and not merely to play; for what some people do differs in no way from play. Those breast-beatings in the market place are not from sympathy but from display, ambition, and vainglory; many women do it as a trade. Weep at home, with no one seeing: this is from sympathy, this benefits you too. For one who mourns that man in this way will be much more eager never to fall into the same things himself; sin will be fearful to you from then on. Weep for the unbelievers; weep for those who differ in nothing from them, those who depart without the seal: these truly deserve lamentation, these wailing. They are outside the palace with the condemned, with those sentenced. “For truly I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” Weep for those who have died in wealth and devised no consolation for their own souls from their wealth, who received the power to wash away their sins and did not wish to. Let us all weep for these, privately and in common, but with decorum, but with dignity, not so as to make a spectacle of ourselves. Let us weep for these not one day, or two, but all our life. This tear is not from irrational passion, but from tender affection; that other is from irrational passion, and that is why it is quickly quenched. But when it comes from the fear of God, it always remains. Let us weep for these, then; let us help them as far as we can; let us devise some help for them, small, yet able to help. How, and in what way? By praying ourselves, and urging others to make prayers for them, and giving to the poor for them continually. The thing brings some consolation; for hear God saying, “I will defend this city for my own sake and for the sake of David my servant.” If the mere memory of a righteous man had such power, when works are also done for someone, how will they not have power? … Not in vain was it laid down by the apostles that remembrance of the departed should be made at the awesome mysteries; they know that great gain comes to them, great benefit. For when the whole people stands with hands raised, a priestly assembly, and the awesome sacrifice is set forth, how shall we not prevail upon God in calling on him for these? But this is about those who have passed away in faith; the catechumens are not counted worthy even of this consolation, but are deprived of all such help except one. What is that? It is possible to give to the poor for them; the thing brings them some refreshment. For God wishes us to be benefited by one another. Why else did he command us to pray for the peace and stability of the world? Why for all people? And yet among all of them here there are robbers, grave-robbers, thieves, and people full of countless evils; yet nevertheless we pray for all, for perhaps there will be some conversion of them. Just as, then, we pray for the living who differ in nothing from the dead, so it is possible to pray for those too. Job offered sacrifices for his children and freed them from their sins: “Perhaps,” it says, “they have thought something in their heart.” So does one provide for his children. He did not say, as most people now do, “I am leaving them property”; he did not say, “I shall give them glory”; he did not say, “I shall buy an office”; he did not say, “I shall purchase fields”; but what? “Perhaps they have thought something in their heart.” For what use are all those things, which remain here? None. I will make the King of all gracious to them, he says, and from then on they lack nothing; for “The Lord is my shepherd,” it says, “and I shall lack nothing.” This is great wealth, this is treasure. If we have the fear of God, we need nothing; but if we do not have this, even if we have the kingdom itself, we are poorer than all. Nothing is equal to one who fears the Lord. “For the fear …” Let us acquire it; let us do everything for it; even if we must give up our life, let us not spare it, even if we must cut up our body; let us do everything to obtain this fear. For so we shall be richer than all, and shall obtain the good things to come, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.