Homilies on Philippians 9.2–9.6

See how he makes everything depend on God, and says nothing from his own mind. “But I thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother and fellow worker and fellow soldier.” And him too he sends with the same praises as Timothy. For he commended the one on two grounds: that he loved them, saying, “who will genuinely care for your affairs”, and that he had proved himself in the gospel; and this one he praised again on the same grounds, for the same reason as the other. How? For to say “brother and fellow worker”, and not stop only there but add “fellow soldier”, shows his great partnership in the dangers, and bears him the same witness as he bears himself. And “fellow soldier” is more than “fellow worker”. For perhaps someone worked with him in simple matters, but no longer in war and dangers; but by saying “fellow soldier” he showed this too. “And your messenger,” he says, “and minister to my need.” That is, I give you back what is yours. Either we send you your own, or the one who teaches you. Again he adds much about his love, saying, “Since he was longing for you all, and was distressed because you had heard that he was sick. For indeed he was sick, near to death; but God had mercy on him, and not on him only, but on me also, so that I might not have sorrow upon sorrow.” Here he also establishes something else, showing that Epaphroditus himself knows very well that he is loved by you. And this is no small thing for drawing out love. How? … he freed you from the grief you had because of his sickness; yet not even so was he free of grief, but was pained because, though he had recovered, he had not seen you. Here he also establishes other things, making his defence that he is sending to them after an interval. Not from sloth, he says; but Timothy I kept back because I had no one else (“for I have no one like-minded,” he says), and Epaphroditus because of his sickness. Then, showing that it was long and took much time, he says, “For indeed he was sick, near to death.” Do you see how much zeal Paul shows to cut out of the disciples' minds every pretext for sloth and negligence, and not to be suspected of not having come out of contempt for them? For nothing can draw the disciple on so much as being persuaded both that the one who presides over him cares for him and that he is distressed for him, which belongs to surpassing love. “You heard,” he says, “that he was sick; for indeed he was sick, near to death.” And that I am not making excuses, hear: “But God had mercy on him.” What do you say, heretic? Here he says that it is God's mercy to hold back one who was about to depart and to bring him back again. Yet if the world is evil, it is not mercy to leave someone in what is evil. But to the heretic it is easy to reply; what shall we say to the Christian? For he too will perhaps raise the question and say: “If to depart and be with Christ is very much better, why does he say he received mercy?” I in turn will ask: why does the same man say that to remain is more necessary for your sake? For just as that was necessary for him, so too for this man, who was going to depart to God with more wealth and greater boldness. For that would happen later, even if not now; but gaining souls is no longer possible once we have departed there. Paul speaks much according to the common habit of his hearers, and does not philosophize everywhere; for his words were addressed to worldly people who still feared death. Then he shows in what esteem Epaphroditus is with him, and by this too makes him respected, if indeed he says that his recovery was so useful to himself that he too received mercy through him. Besides, even apart from this, the present life is a good thing; for if it were not good, why does he set untimely deaths in the rank of punishment? As when he says, “That is why many among you are weak and sick, and a number sleep.” For the life to come is better not than something evil, since this life is not evil, but better than something good. “So that I might not have sorrow upon sorrow,” he says: the sorrow from his death upon the sorrow he had because of his sickness. By these things he shows how much he honours Epaphroditus. “I have sent him, then, the more eagerly.” What is “the more eagerly”? That is, without postponement, without delay, with great speed, having told him to set everything aside and come to you, so that he might be freed of his distress. For we do not rejoice so much when we hear that those we long for are in health as when we see them, especially when the thing has turned out beyond hope, which [is what happened here]. “I have sent him,” he says, “so that when you see him you may rejoice, and I may be less sorrowful.” How less sorrowful? Because if you rejoice, I too rejoice, and he rejoices at such pleasure, and I shall be less sorrowful. And he did not say, “without sorrow”, but “less sorrowful”, showing that his soul was never free of sorrow. For the one who says, “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?”, when was he free of sorrow? As if he said: I am laying aside this despondency. “Receive him, then, in the Lord with all joy.” “In the Lord”, that is, spiritually; that is, with great zeal; or rather, “in the Lord” means, as God wills. Receive him in a way worthy of the saints, and as it is fitting to receive the saints, “with all joy,” he says.

He does all these things for their own sake, not for the sake of those being sent. For the gain is greater for the one who does good than for the one who receives it. “And hold such men in honour.” That is, receive him in a way worthy of the saints. “Because for the work of Christ he came near to death, risking his life, to supply what was lacking in your service toward me.” This man had been sent by the city of the Philippians in common to minister to Paul, or perhaps he had also come bringing him something. For that he also brought money he shows near the end, saying, “having received from Epaphroditus the things from you.” It is likely, then, that when he arrived at the city of the Romans he found Paul in such great and severe danger that not even those close to him could do this safely, but they too approached at their peril; as usually happens especially in great dangers, and when someone who has offended an emperor is thrown into prison and kept under heavy guard: then even his servants' access is walled off, as Paul was probably suffering then; and that Epaphroditus, being a noble man, despised every danger so as to approach and serve and do everything that was needed. So he sets down two things by which he makes him respected: one, that he was in danger of death, he says, for my sake; second, that he suffered these things wearing the person of the city, so that in that danger the reward should be reckoned to those who sent him, as if the city had sent an ambassador. So to receive him with attentiveness and to give thanks for what has happened is rather to share in his daring. And he did not say “for my sake”, but makes it more credible by saying, “for the work of God”. For he does not do it for my sake, but for God he came near to death. What then? If he did not die, it was because God so arranged it; but he himself risked his life and gave himself up, so that, whatever he had to suffer, he would not withdraw from serving me. And if he gave himself up to death to serve Paul, much more would he have suffered this for the preaching; or rather this too was for the preaching, to die for him. For not only for refusing to sacrifice can one bind on the crown of martyrdom, but such occasions also make a martyrdom; and, if one must say something wonderful, such occasions much more than those. For the one who dares death for the lesser thing, much more for the greater. So we too, when we see saints in dangers, should risk ourselves. For it is not possible ever to do anything noble without daring; but the one who provides for safety here must fall from the safety to come. “To supply,” he says, “what was lacking in your service toward me.” What is this? The city was not present, but it served me with every service through him, by sending him. So he filled up the lack in your service, so that on this account too he would deserve to enjoy great honour, because what all ought to have done, he did on your behalf. And he shows that service from those in safety to those in danger is a primary duty; for “what was lacking in the service” is said so as in relation to that. Do you see an apostolic mind? This does not come from arrogance, but from great care. For so that they may not be elated but be modest, he calls the thing not even something great, but a service and a lack. So let us not think highly of ourselves when we provide for the saints, nor think that we do them a favour in this; for the thing is owed to the saints by us, and we do them no favour. For just as taxes are owed to those who stand in the camp and fight by those who are at peace and do not fight (for these stand on their behalf), so it is here. For if Paul had not been teaching, who would have thrown him into prison then? So one must serve the saints. For how is it not absurd to bring everything to one serving as a soldier for the earthly king, both clothing and food, not only according to need but in abundance, but not to supply even the necessary needs to one serving as a soldier for the heavenly King, and drawn up against far harsher foes (“For our struggle,” he says, “is not against blood and flesh”)? What ingratitude, what thanklessness, what meanness is this!

But, as it seems, the fear of men has more power with us than Gehenna and the punishments to come. For this reason everything is turned upside down: civic affairs are carried out every day with great diligence, and cannot be neglected; but of spiritual things no one anywhere takes any account. What is demanded by compulsion and torture, as from slaves and the unwilling, is paid with great readiness; but what is asked of the willing, as of free men, is all neglected. I do not say this against everyone, but against those who neglect these dues. Could not God have made these things compulsory? But he does not wish to; for he spares you more than those who are fed. That is why he does not want you to pay by compulsion, since then there is no reward. And yet many here are meaner than the Jews. Consider how much the Jews gave: tithes, firstfruits, tithes again, and again other tithes, and again others, thirteenths, and the shekel; and no one said, “They eat up a great deal.” The more they received, the greater the reward. They did not say, “They take a great deal, they stuff their bellies,” which I now hear some people saying. And those who build houses and buy fields think they have nothing; but if one of the clergy has plenty of food, or has someone to serve him, so that he is not forced to behave unseemly himself, they count the thing as wealth. Truly we are rich even in these things, and they admit it against their will. For we, even if we have little, are rich; but they, even if they surround themselves with everything, are poor. How long shall we act foolishly? Is it not enough for your punishment that you do nothing, but must you also add the loss that comes from evil speaking? For if you yourself gave him what he has, you have lost your reward by complaining about what you gave; and in general, if you gave, why do you complain? Before, then, you were bearing witness to his poverty by saying that you gave him what he has; why, then, do you complain? You ought not to have given, if you were going to complain. But you say this when another gave? The thing is worse: that, while not even giving, you complain about the good another does. How great a reward do you think those who hear these things have? For they suffer these things for God's sake. How and why? It was possible for them, if they wished, to provide a living …, even if they did not have it from their ancestors. For I hear many saying this too, boldly, when we say that so-and-so is poor: “If he wished,” he says, “he could be rich”; then insultingly, “His ancestor, and his grandfather, and so-and-so, were such and such; but now he wears such a garment.” But what, tell me? Ought he to go about naked? You are exacting about these things; but see that you are not saying them against yourself. But hear Christ's exhortation, which says, “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged.” “But it was possible, if he wished, to live a shopkeeper's or a merchant's life, and he would certainly not have been in want; but he did not wish to.” What, then, does he gain here, tell me? Does he wear silk garments? Does he swagger about the market place with a crowd of attendants? Is he carried on a horse? Does he build houses, though he has a place to stay? If he does these things, I too accuse him, and do not spare him, but say that he is unworthy of the priesthood. For how will he be able to exhort others not to busy themselves with these superfluous things, when he cannot exhort himself? But if he has the necessary food, does he do wrong because of this? Ought he to go about and beg? And would you not be ashamed, tell me, you the disciple? If your fleshly father did this, you would consider the thing a disgrace; but if your spiritual one does, will you not even think it worth sinking into the ground? “The dishonour of a father,” it says, “is the reproach of children.” But what? Ought he to perish of hunger? But this too is not the part of a godly man; for God does not wish it. But when we say these things to them, they at once philosophize: “It is written,” they say, “Do not acquire gold, nor silver, nor two tunics, nor copper in your belts, nor a staff. But these have three and four garments, and spread couches.” I was moved to groan bitterly just now; and if I were not going to behave unseemly, I would even have wept. Why? Because we are such exact examiners of the specks of others, but, having beams in our own eyes, we do not even notice. For tell me, why do you not say this to yourself? “Because it was commanded to the teachers only,” he says. When, then, Paul says, “Having food and covering, with these we shall be content,” does he speak to the teachers only? Not at all, but to all people. And this is clear to those who go through the passage from the start; for having said, “Godliness with contentment is great gain,” then, “We brought nothing into this world, and it is clear that we cannot take anything out,” he at once added, “But having food and covering, with these we shall be content. But those who wish to be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and many foolish desires.”

Do you see that the word was spoken to all? What then? When he says again, “Make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires,” does he not speak to all without distinction? And what of when he says, “Food is for the belly and the belly for food; but God will destroy both the one and the other”? And what of when he says, “But she who lives in luxury is dead while she lives,” speaking about the widow? Is the widow, then, a teacher? Did he not himself say, “I do not permit a woman to teach, nor to have authority over a man”? And if the widow, where the age is old (for old age needs much care, and so does nature itself; for womankind needs more rest, being weak), if, then, where both age and nature are a hindrance, she is not allowed to live luxuriously, but he even says she is dead (for he did not simply say she should not live luxuriously, but, “she who lives in luxury is dead while she lives”; and he cut her off, for the dead woman has been cut off), what pardon will a man have who does these things, for which the old woman is …? But no one even takes these things into consideration; no one examines them. I have now been compelled to say these things, not wishing to free the priests from charges, but out of concern for you. For they, if they hear these things fittingly and justly, being so warned, are not harmed by you at all; but whether you say it or not, they give account to the judge there; so your words do not harm them at all. And if what you say is false, they have gained by being slandered for nothing, but you harm yourselves by it. But with you it is not so; but whether what is said against them is true or false, by speaking ill of them you are harmed. Why? For if it is true, even so you are harmed, by judging your teachers and overturning order; for if one must not judge a brother, much more a teacher; and if false, the punishment and penalty is unbearable; “for of every idle word you will give account.” So we do and suffer everything for your sake. But as I said, no one examines these things, no one busies himself with them, no one says any of them to himself. Do you want me to add other things too? “Unless someone renounces,” says Christ, “all his possessions, he is not worthy of me.” What of when he says, “… of heaven”? And what of when he says, “Woe to you who are rich …”? No one examines this, no one considers this, no one discusses it with himself; but in the affairs of others they all sit as harsh examiners. But this is making them partners in the charges. But so that I may also free the priests, for your sake, from the very charges for which you say they are liable, hear; for to be persuaded about them that they transgress the law of God is a great inclination toward evil. Come, then, let us examine those things too. Christ said, “Do not acquire gold, nor silver, nor two tunics, nor sandals, nor a belt, nor a staff.” What, then, tell me? Did Peter act contrary to the command? How did he not, he who had a belt, a garment, and sandals? For that he had them, hear the angel saying to him, “Gird yourself and put on your sandals”; and yet there was no great need of these sandals; for at that time it was possible to go barefoot, the great need being in winter; but nevertheless he had them. And what of Paul? When, writing to Timothy, he says, “Do your best to come before winter,” then gives instructions and says, “The cloak that I left at Troas with Carpus, bring when you come, and the books, especially the parchments.” See, he spoke of a cloak; and no one can say that he did not have another that he wore. For if he wore none at all, he ordered it brought for nothing; and if it was impossible not to wear one, it is clear that he had another. And what of his staying two whole years in his own hired house? Did the chosen vessel disobey Christ, he who says, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me”? Of whom Christ bore witness, saying, “This man is a chosen vessel to me”? I ought to have left this difficulty with you and offered no solution to the question, but exacted this penalty from you for your neglect of the Scriptures; for all these things come from this. That is why we are harsh examiners of the sins of others, and take no account of our own, because we do not know the Scriptures, because we are not instructed in the divine laws. I ought, then, to have exacted this penalty from you; but what am I to do? I am a father. Fathers grant many things to their children even beyond what is fitting, when their fatherly affections are warmed toward them; and if they see the child downcast and pining, they are stung more than he is, and do not stop until they have removed the cause of his despondency. However, let this be so: even if you have been downcast at not receiving it, it is so that you may receive it well.

What, then, can we say? They did not oppose Christ's commands, God forbid, but followed them very closely; for those commands were temporary, and not for always. And I say this not by guessing, but from the divine Scriptures. How? Luke says that Christ said to the disciples, “When I sent you without purse and bag and belt and sandals, did you lack anything? They said to him, No.” Then from now on acquire them. But what was needed, tell me? To have one tunic? What then? If it had to be washed, would one have had to sit naked at home? Or go about naked and behave unseemly, when need called? Consider what it would have been for Paul, who went about the world with such achievements, to sit at home for lack of a garment, and to be hindered in such great affairs. What then? If a severe frost set in and drenched it, or even froze it, how could it be dried? Again, would one have had to sit naked? What then? If cold gripped the body, would one have had to waste away and not speak? For that their bodies were not made of adamant, hear what he says about Timothy: “Use a little wine for your stomach and your frequent illnesses”; and again about another: “I thought it necessary to send to you your minister to my need. For he was sick, near to death; but God had mercy on him, and not on him only, but on me also.” So they were liable to all sufferings. What then? Ought they to perish? Not at all. Why, then, did he give this command at that time? Wishing to show his power, that afterwards too he could have done so, but did not. Why, then, did he not? These would have been far more wonderful than the Israelites, whose sandals did not wear out, nor their garments, though they went through that desert where the sun's ray falls hotter and can scorch the very stones. Why, then, did he do this? For your sake. For since you were going to be not healthy but wounded, he provided you with the means of medicine; and this is clear from the following. For tell me, could he not have fed them himself? If he gave to you, who offended him, would he not much more have given to Paul? He who gave to the Israelites, the murmurers, the fornicators, the idolaters, would he not much more have provided for Peter, who left everything for him? He who allowed wicked men to have, would he not much more have granted it to John, who left even his father for his sake? But he did not wish to; but he feeds them through you, so that you may be sanctified. And see, I beg you, the excess of his love for humankind. He chose that his own disciples should be at a disadvantage, so that you might have a little breathing space. “But if he had made them free of need,” someone says, “they would have been far more wonderful, far more glorious.” But your salvation would have been cut off. So he did not choose that they should become wonderful, but rather that they should be at a disadvantage, so that you might be saved; and he allowed them to be at a disadvantage so that you might be able to be saved. For a teacher who receives is not equally respected; the one who does not receive is honoured most; but the disciple is not benefited, but has his fruit cut off. Do you see the wisdom of God, who loves humankind? For just as he himself did not seek his own glory, nor look to his own interest, but, being in glory, chose to be dishonoured for your sake, so too with the teachers: though he could make them respected, he chose that they should be easily despised for your sake, so that you might be able to gain, so that you might be able to be rich. For so that you may abound in spiritual things, that man is in want in the things of this life. That he could make them free of need, then, he showed in many ways; and that he leaves them in need for your sake is likewise shown. Knowing these things, then, let us turn not to accusations but to doing good; let us not busy ourselves with the faults of others, but reckon up our own; let us consider the achievements of others, and reckon up our own sins; and so we shall please God. For the one who looks at the sins of others and at his own achievements is harmed doubly: from the latter he is lifted to arrogance, from the former he falls into sloth. For when he considers that so-and-so sinned, he will easily sin himself; when he considers that he himself did right, he easily becomes arrogant. But the one who consigns his own achievements to oblivion and looks only at his sins, and does not busy himself with the sins of others but with their achievements, will gain much. How? Hear. When he sees that so-and-so did right, he is roused to equal zeal; when he sees that he himself sinned, he will be humble and modest. If we act in this way and so order our affairs, we shall be able to obtain the promised good things, 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.