Homilies on Acts, Homily 19

“And the Angel of the Lord spoke to Philip, saying, Get up and go south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza, which is deserted. And he got up and went.” It seems to me that this (Philip) was one of the seven; for from Jerusalem he would not have gone south, but north, whereas from Samaria it was “toward the south. That road is deserted”: so there is no fear of an attack from the Jews. And he did not ask, Why? Instead, he “got up and went. And look,” it says, “an Ethiopian man, a eunuch of great authority under Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, who was in charge of all her treasure and had come to Jerusalem to worship, was returning, and sitting in his chariot he was reading Isaiah the prophet.” (v. 27, 28.) This is high praise for the man: although he lived in Ethiopia, had so much business to attend to, and lived in that superstitious city, he came “to Jerusalem to worship,” even though no festival was taking place. His devotion to study is also remarkable: even “sitting in his chariot he was reading. And,” it says, “the Spirit said to Philip, Go over and join this chariot. And Philip ran to him, and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah, and said, Do you understand what you are reading? And he said, How can I, unless someone guides me?” (v. 29–31.) Notice his piety again: although he did not understand, he read, and then, after reading, he asks questions. “And he asked Philip to come up and sit with him. The passage of Scripture he was reading was this: He was led like a sheep to the slaughter; and like a lamb silent before its shearer, He did not open His mouth: in His humiliation His judgment was taken away: and who will declare His generation? For His life is taken from the earth. And the eunuch answered Philip and said, Please tell me, who is the prophet speaking about? Himself, or someone else? Then Philip opened his mouth, and beginning with that same Scripture, preached Jesus to him.” (v. 32–35.) Notice how Providence arranges this. First he reads and does not understand; then he reads the very text that contains the Passion and the Resurrection and the Gift. “And as they went along the road, they came to some water, and the eunuch said, Look, here is water; what prevents me from being baptized?” (v. 36.) Notice his eager desire; notice his precise understanding. “And he ordered the chariot to stop, and they both went down into the water, both Philip and the eunuch, and he baptized him. And when they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord carried Philip away, so that the eunuch saw him no more; and he went on his way rejoicing.” (v. 38, 39.) But why did the Spirit of the Lord carry him away? (Hereby) the event was shown to be even more wonderful. Even then, the eunuch did not know him. So this happened so that Philip would afterward be an object of wonder to him. “For,” it says, “he went on his way rejoicing. But Philip was found at Ashdod, and as he traveled through, he preached in all the cities until he came to Caesarea.” (v. 40.) This (Philip, therefore) was one of the seven, for he is in fact later found there at Caesarea. So it was good and fitting that the Spirit carried Philip away; otherwise the eunuch would have wanted to go with him, and Philip would have saddened him by refusing his request, since the time had not yet come. (a) But at the same time, this gave them encouraging assurance that they would also win over the Gentiles: indeed, the standing (τὸ ἀξιόπιστον) of the (first) believers was enough to move them. Yet if the eunuch had stayed there, what fault could anyone have found? [But he knew him not]: this is why it says, “he went on his way rejoicing,” so that if he had known him, he would not have been (so) delighted. “And the Angel of the Lord,” etc. (Recapitulation, v. 26.) (b) See how Angels assist the preaching, without preaching themselves, but calling these men (to the work). The wonderful nature of the event is also shown by this: what in the past was rare and barely happened now happens easily—and see how often! (c) “A eunuch,” it says, “a man of great authority under Candace, queen of the Ethiopians.” (v. 27.) For women had ruled there since ancient times, and this was their law. Philip did not yet know for whose sake he had come into the desert: (d) but what prevented him from learning all (these particulars) accurately while in the chariot? “Was reading the prophet Isaiah.” (v. 28.) For the road was deserted, and this was no public display. Notice the time, too: during the fiercest heat (of the day). (e) “And the Spirit said to him.” (v. 29.) Now it is the Spirit, rather than the Angel, who prompts him. Why is this? “Then” the vision took a more physical form, through the Angel, for this is for those who are more bodily, whereas the Spirit is for those who are more spiritual. And how did He speak to him? Of course, by putting the thought into his mind. Why does the Angel not appear to the other man and bring him to Philip? Because he probably would not have been persuaded, but terrified instead. Notice Philip’s wisdom: he did not accuse him or say, “I know these things thoroughly.” He did not flatter him and say, “Blessed are you for reading.” Notice how his words avoid both harshness and flattery; they are the words of a kind and friendly man. “Do you understand what you are reading?” (v. 30.) For the man needed to ask for himself and feel the longing himself. Philip makes it clear that he knows the other man understands nothing, and says, “Do you understand what you are reading?” At the same time, he shows him how great a treasure lies there. It also speaks well of the eunuch that he did not judge by the outward appearance (σχἥμα) (of the man), did not say, “Who are you?” did not scold him or put on airs or claim that he did understand. On the contrary, he admits his ignorance, and that is why he learns. He shows his wound to the physician: he sees at once that Philip both understands the subject and is willing to teach. Look how free he is from pride; Philip’s outward appearance suggested nothing impressive. He was so eager to learn and listened so closely to Philip’s words that the saying, “Whoever seeks finds,” (Matt. vii. 8.) was fulfilled in him. “And,” it says, “he begged Philip to come up and sit with him.” (v. 31.) Do you notice the eagerness, the longing desire? But if anyone says he ought to have waited for Philip (to speak), (the answer is) that he does not know what this is about: he had no way of knowing what the other man was going to say to him, but simply supposed that he was about to receive some (lesson of) prophecy. Besides, it was more respectful to beg him than to pull him into his chariot. “And Philip,” we have read, “ran to him and heard him reading”; the very fact that he ran showed that he wanted to say (something). “And the passage,” it says, “of Scripture he was reading was this: He was led like a sheep to the slaughter.” (v. 32.) His reading this prophet, who is more sublime than all the others, is another sign of his lofty thinking (φιλοσοφίας). Philip does not tell him things at random, but calmly; indeed, he says nothing until he is asked. The eunuch begged him before, and now he does so again, saying, “Please tell me, who is the prophet speaking about?” That he should even know either that the Prophets speak in different ways about different people, or that they speak about themselves in the person of someone else—the question reveals a very thoughtful mind. Let this eunuch put all of us to shame, poor and rich alike. Then, it says, “they came to some water, and he said, Look, here is water.” (v. 36.) Again, he asks on his own initiative, saying, “What prevents me from being baptized?” And notice his modesty again: he does not say, Baptize me, nor does he stay silent; instead, he says something between intense desire and reverent fear: “What prevents me?” Do you see that his understanding of the doctrines (of faith) is complete? For the Prophet’s text contained everything: the Incarnation, the Passion, the Resurrection, the Ascension, the coming Judgment. And if he shows an exceptionally eager desire, do not be surprised. Be ashamed, all of you who are unbaptized. “And,” it says, “he ordered the chariot to stop.” (v. 38.) He spoke and gave the order at the same moment, before hearing (Philip’s answer). “And when they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord carried Philip away”; (v. 39) so that the event would be shown to come from God, and he would not think Philip merely a man. “And he went,” it says, “on his way rejoicing.” (P. 121, note 2.) This suggests that he would have been sad if he had known: his joy was so great, since he had also been granted the Spirit, that he did not even see what was right before him—“But Philip was found at Ashdod.” (v. 40.) Philip also gained a great deal: what he had heard about the Prophets, about Habakkuk, about Ezekiel, and the rest, he saw happen to himself. (Bel. & Dr. v. 36; Ez. iii. 12.) It appears from this that he traveled a long distance, since he “was found at Ashdod.” (The Spirit) placed him there, where he was to preach from then on: “And as he traveled through, he preached in all the cities until he came to Caesarea.” “And Saul, still breathing threats and slaughter against the Lord’s disciples, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to this way, whether men or women, he could bring them bound to Jerusalem.” (ch. ix. 1, 2.) He appropriately mentions Paul’s zeal, and shows that he is drawn to Christ in the very midst of that zeal. “Still breathing threats and slaughter,” still unsatisfied by Stephen’s murder, he had not yet had his fill of persecuting the Church and scattering its people. Look, this fulfilled what Christ had said: “Those who kill you will think they are offering worship to God.” (John xvi. 2.) This was the spirit in which he acted, unlike the Jews—God forbid! His zeal is clear from his traveling abroad, even to foreign cities, whereas they would not have cared even about those in Jerusalem; they wanted only one thing: to enjoy honor. But why did he go to Damascus? It was a great city, a royal city: he was afraid they would take it over first. And notice his intense desire and fervor (and) how strictly he followed the Law in his actions: he goes to “the priest,” rather than the governor. “So that if he found any who belonged to this way”: this was what the believers were called, probably because they took the straight way that leads to heaven. And why did he not get authority to have them punished there, instead of bringing them to Jerusalem? He could do these things with more authority here. And notice the danger he throws himself into. He was not afraid of being harmed, but (yet) took others along with him, “so that if,” it says, “he found any who belonged to this way, whether men or women”—Oh, the ruthlessness!—“he could bring them bound.” By making this journey, he wanted to show them all (how he would act): that is how far they were from being zealous in this matter. Notice, too, that he had been putting (people) in prison before this. So the others did not succeed, but this man did, because of his fervent spirit. “And as he traveled, he came near Damascus, and suddenly a light from heaven shone around him; and he fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?” (v. 3, 4.) Why not in Jerusalem? Why not in Damascus? So that different people would have no opportunity to give different accounts of the event, but he alone would be its trustworthy narrator (ἀξιόπιστος), the very man who had set out to persecute the believers. In fact, he says this [both in his oration on the stairs], and when defending himself before Agrippa. “Fell to the ground”: (ch. xxii, 6: xxvi. 12) for excessive light tends to overwhelm us, because the eyes can bear only so much; excessive sound, too, is said to make people deaf and stunned (as in a fit) (ἀποπλἥγας). But in his case it only blinded him, and subdued his rage through fear so that he would hear what was said. “Saul, Saul,” He says, “why are you persecuting me?” And He tells him nothing: He does not say, Believe, or anything of the kind, but challenges him, as if to say, What wrong, great or small, have you suffered from Me, that you do these things? “And he said, Who are You, Lord?” (v. 5) Thus, from the start, he acknowledges himself as His servant. “And the Lord said, I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting”: do not think you are waging war against men. And those with him heard Paul’s voice, but saw no one he was answering—for (the Lord) allowed them to hear what was less important. If they had heard the other Voice, they would not have believed; but when they perceived Paul answering (someone), they were amazed. “But get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.” (v. 6.) Notice how He does not immediately tell him everything, but first softens his mind. In the same way, He also called the disciples a second time. “You will be told,” etc.: He gives him good reason to hope and (intimates) that he will recover his sight as well. “And the men traveling with him stood speechless, hearing a voice but seeing no one. And Saul got up from the ground, and when his eyes were open, he saw no one; but they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus” (v. 7, 8):—the captured goods taken from the devil (τὰ σκεύη αὐτοὕ), “his goods” (Matt. xii. 29), as though from a captured city, indeed, a captured metropolis. And the amazing thing is that the enemies and adversaries themselves brought him in, in full view of everyone! “And for three days he neither ate nor drank, being blind.” (v. 9.) What could compare with this? To offset the discouragement over Stephen, here is encouragement in Paul’s conversion: although that sorrow had been comforted by the way Stephen met his end, it received this further comfort too. Moreover, the conversion of the Samaritan villages brought very great comfort.—But why did this happen after these things, rather than at the very beginning? To show that Christ had indeed risen. This furious attacker of Christ, the man who would not believe in His death and resurrection, the persecutor of His disciples—how could this man have become a believer unless the power of His resurrection was very great indeed? Granted, the other Apostles supported (His pretensions): what do you say about this man? Why, then, not immediately after His resurrection? So that his hostility would be more clearly shown as open war. A man so frenzied that he even sheds blood and throws men into prison suddenly believes! It was not enough that he had never been in Christ’s company: he had to wage war against the believers with fierce hostility. He left no one any possibility of surpassing his fury: none of them could be so violent. But when he was blinded, then he saw the proofs of His sovereignty and loving kindness; then he answers, “Lord, what do You want me to do?” No one can say he was pretending: the man who was eager even for blood, who went to the priests and threw himself into such dangers in persecuting and bringing to punishment even those in foreign lands—under these circumstances he now acknowledges His sovereignty. And why did that light shine on him before he reached the city, rather than inside it? The crowd would not have believed, since even there (at Jerusalem, when the people heard the voice from above, they said that “it thundered” (John xii. 29, supra, note 2, p. 123)); but this man was a trustworthy enough witness to report what had happened to him. And he was brought in as a captive, though he wore no bonds; they led along the man who had expected to lead the others away. “And he neither ate nor drank”: he condemned himself for the past, confessed, prayed, and pleaded with God. But if anyone says, This was the result of compulsion, (we answer) The same thing happened to Elymas: why, then, was he not changed? (ch. xiii. de Laud. Pauli Hom. iv. §1, t. ii. p. 491.) What (evidence) could have been more compelling than the earthquake at the Resurrection, the soldiers’ report, the other miracles, or seeing Him risen? But these things do not compel (belief); they are meant to teach (it) (οὐκ ἀναγκαστικὰ ἀλλὰ διδακτικά). Why did the Jews not believe when they were told these things? It was clear that he spoke the truth, for he would not have changed if this had not happened; so everyone had an obligation to believe. He was no less a witness than those who preached the Resurrection, and was more credible because of his sudden conversion. He had no contact with any of the believers; he was converted at Damascus, or rather, this happened to him before he reached Damascus. I ask the Jew: Tell me, what converted Paul? He saw so many signs and was not converted; his teacher (Gamaliel, supra, p. 87, note 1) was converted, and he remained unconverted. Who persuaded him—and not only persuaded him, but suddenly inspired him with such fervent zeal? Why was he willing even to go into hell itself for Christ’s sake? The truth of the events is clear. But, as I said, for now let us feel ashamed of ourselves (when we think of) the eunuch, both in his baptism and in his reading. Do you notice how he held a position of great authority, how wealthy he was, and how even on his journey he allowed himself no rest? What must he have been like at home, in his free time, this man who did not rest even while traveling? What must he have been like at night? You who hold high positions, listen: imitate his freedom from pride, (de Lazaro, Conc. iii. §3, t. i. p. 748. c) his piety. Although he was about to return home, he did not say to himself, “I am going back to my country; let me receive baptism there”—those cold words most people use! He needed no signs, no miracles: he believed from the Prophet alone. (b) But why is it (so ordered) that he sees (Philip) after going to Jerusalem, rather than before? It was not fitting for him to see the Apostles being persecuted, because he was still weak. The Prophet was not easy to understand; (but yet the Prophet) instructed him in the faith. Even now, if any of you devoted yourself to studying the Prophets, you would need no miracles. And, if you like, let us examine the prophecy itself. “He was led like a sheep to the slaughter; and like a lamb silent before its shearer, He did not open His mouth: in His humiliation His judgment was taken away: and who will declare His generation? For His life is taken from the earth.” (v. 22, 23.) He had probably heard that He was crucified, [and now he learns] that “His life is taken away from the earth,” and the rest: that “He committed no sin, nor was there deceit in His mouth”; that He succeeded in saving others too; [and] who He is, Whose generation cannot be expressed. He had probably seen the split rocks there (on the spot), and (had heard) how the veil was torn, how there was darkness, and so on; and Philip mentioned all these things, simply taking his text from the Prophet. Reading the Scriptures is a great thing! What Moses said was fulfilled: “Sitting, lying down, getting up, and walking, remember the Lord your God.” (Deut. vi. 7.) For roads, especially lonely ones, give us an opportunity to reflect, with no one to disturb us. Both this man and Paul are on the road; yet no man draws the latter, but Christ alone. This work was too great for the Apostles; and it was greater still because, although the Apostles were in Jerusalem and there was no one in authority at Damascus, he nevertheless returned from there converted. Yet those at Damascus knew he had not left Jerusalem converted, for he brought letters authorizing him to bind the believers. Like a master Physician, Christ brought him help when his fever was at its height: he needed to be subdued in the midst of his frenzy. For then, more than at any other time, he would be humbled and condemn himself as guilty of terrible audacity. (a) Paul himself laments these things, saying, “But for this reason I received mercy, so that in me first Jesus Christ might show all His patience.” (1 Tim. i. 13–16.) We certainly have reason to admire this eunuch. He did not see Christ; he saw no miracle; he saw Jerusalem still standing intact (συνεστὥτα); he believed Philip. How did he come to act this way? His soul was earnest (μεμεριμνημένη). Yet the thief (on the cross) had seen miracles; the wise men had seen a star; but this man had seen nothing of the kind. Reading the Scriptures carefully is such a great thing! What about Paul, then? Did he not study the law? But it seems to me that he was specially reserved for the purpose I have already mentioned in advance: Christ wanted to draw the Jews to Himself by giving them reasons to believe from every direction. For if they had been in their right minds, nothing would have been more likely to help them than this; more than miracles and everything else, this was likely to attract them. Yet nothing is so likely as this to become a stumbling block to people of duller minds. See, then, how after the Apostle, we have God Himself also working miracles. They accused the Apostles after these [miracles of theirs]; they threw them into prison: see how God then works the miracles. For instance, bringing them out of prison was His miracle; bringing Philip was His miracle; converting Paul was His.—Notice how Paul is honored, and how the eunuch is honored. In Paul’s case, Christ appears, probably because of his hardness and because Ananias would not (else) have been persuaded. As we dwell on these wonders, let us prove ourselves worthy. But many people today, even when they come to church, do not know what is being read, whereas the eunuch, even in public (ἐπ᾽ ἀγορἅς) and riding in his chariot, devoted himself to reading the Scriptures. You do not do this: no one picks up the Bible; indeed, you turn to everything else before the Bible. Tell me, what are the Scriptures for? As far as your conduct goes, their whole purpose is defeated. What is the Church for? Tie the Bibles shut: perhaps the judgment would be less severe, the punishment less severe. If someone buried them in dung so that he would not hear them, he would not insult them as much as you do now. Tell me, what is the insult in that case? The man has buried them. And in this case? We do not listen to them. Tell me, when is a person more insulted—when he is silent and someone gives no answer, or when he speaks (and is ignored)? So the insult is greater in the present case, when He speaks and you refuse to listen; the contempt is greater. “Do not speak to us” (Is. xxx. 10), we read, was what people said to the Prophets long ago; but you do worse, saying, Speak: we will not do it. They sent them away so they would not even speak, feeling that the voice itself filled them with some awe and sense of obligation; but your contempt is so extreme that you do not even do this. Believe me, if you put your hands over our mouths and stopped us from speaking, the insult would not be as great as it is now. Tell me, who shows greater contempt: the person who listens, even while stopping the speaker with this action, or the person who will not even listen? Tell me—if we consider a case where someone is being insulted—suppose one person restrains the person insulting him and stops his mouth because the insults hurt him, while another shows no concern and pretends not even to hear them: which shows greater contempt? Would you not say the latter? For the former shows that the words have hit home; the latter all but shuts God’s mouth. Did you shudder at what I said? The mouth through which God speaks is God’s mouth. Just as our mouth is the mouth of our soul, although the soul has no mouth, so the mouth of the Prophets is the mouth of God. Hear this and shudder. There stands the deacon, speaking for everyone (to the whole congregation), calling out, “Let us pay attention to the reading.” The voice he speaks with is the shared voice of the whole Church, and yet no one pays attention. After him the Reader begins, “The Prophecy of Isaiah,” and still no one pays attention, although Prophecy contains nothing of human origin. Then he says, “This is what the Lord says,” and still no one pays attention. Then come punishments and vengeance, and even then no one pays attention. But what is the usual excuse? “It is always the same things over and over.” This, more than anything, is what ruins you. Even if you knew these things, you certainly should not turn away: after all, are not the same things performed over and over in the theaters, without your getting tired of them? How dare you talk about “the same things” when you do not even know the Prophets’ names? Are you not ashamed to say that you do not listen because it is “the same things over and over,” when you do not know the names of those whose writings are read, even though you are always hearing the same things? You yourself have admitted that the same things are said. If I offered this as a reason to criticize you, you would need an entirely different excuse, instead of the very thing you are now complaining about.—Do you not instruct your son? Now if he said, “Always the same things!” would you not consider it an insult? It would be time enough to talk about “the same things” once we both knew them and put them into practice. Or rather, even then, reading them would not be unnecessary. Who compares with Timothy? Tell me that. And yet Paul says to him, “Pay attention to reading, to exhortation.” (1 Tim. iv. 13.) For it is impossible—I say, impossible—ever to exhaust the meaning of the Scriptures. They are a bottomless well. “I said,” says the Preacher, “I have become wise, and then it left me.”—(Eccles. vii. 23.) Shall I show you that these things are not “the same”? How many people do you think have spoken about the Gospels? And yet all have spoken in a new and fresh way. For the more someone dwells on them, the more insight he gains and the more clearly he sees the pure light. Look how many things I am going to bring up: tell me, what is narrative? What is prophecy? What is parable? What is type? What is allegory? What is symbol? What are Gospels? Answer just this one simple question: why are they called Gospels, “good news”? Yet you have often heard that good news ought to contain nothing sad, while this “good news” contains a great deal of sadness. “Their fire,” it says, “will never be put out; their worm will not die.” (Mark ix. 44.) “Will assign his portion,” it says, “with the hypocrites,” with those who are “cut apart”; “then He will say, I do not know you: Depart from Me, you who practice wickedness.” (Matt. xxiv. 51; vii. 23.) Surely we are not deceiving ourselves when we think we are using your own language (῾Ελληνιστί) correctly by calling these things good news? You look downcast; you are stunned; you are utterly dazed, unable to lift your heads. “Good news” should contain no duty to perform, but should instead recommend what is good; yet these “Gospels” contain endless duties to perform. And again, to mention other things, for instance, “Unless a man hates father and mother, he is not worthy of Me” (Luke xiv. 26); and “I have not come to bring peace on earth, but a sword” (Matt. x. 34; Luke xii. 51); and “In the world you will have trouble”—(John xvi. 33.) Wonderful good news, is it not! For good news is something like this: “You will have this or that good thing.” In ordinary life, for instance, people say to one another, “What will you give me for my good news? Your father is coming, or your mother.” The person does not say, “You must do this or that.”—Again, tell me, how do the Gospels differ from the Prophets? Why are the Prophecies not also called Gospels, good news? They tell the same things: for instance, “The lame will leap like a deer.” (Is. xxxv. 6.) “The Lord will give the word to those who preach the Gospel” (Ps. lxviii. 11); and “A new heaven and a new earth.” (Is. lxv. 17.) Why are those not also called Gospels? But if you do not even know what “Gospels” means, yet treat the reading of the Scriptures with such contempt, what can I say to you?—Let me speak about something else. Why four Gospels? Why not ten? Why not twenty? If “many have undertaken to write a narrative” (Luke i. 1), why not just one person? Why writers who were disciples (i.e. Apostles)? Why writers who were not disciples? But why any Scriptures at all? And yet, on the other hand, the Old Testament says, “I will give you a New Testament.” (Jer. xxxi. 31.) Where are those who say, “Always the same things”? If you knew these things—that even if someone lived thousands of years, they are not “the same things”—you would not say this. Believe me, I will not tell you the answers to any of these questions, either privately or publicly; only, if anyone discovers them, I will nod in agreement. For this is how we have made you useless: by always giving you the answers ready-made, and not refusing when we should. Look, you have enough questions: think them over and tell me the reasons. Why Gospels? Why not Prophecies? Why duties to perform in the Gospels? If one person is at a loss, let another look for the answer, and let each share with the others what he has; but for now we will be silent. For if what has been said has done you no good, adding more would do even less. We are simply pouring water into a vessel full of holes. And your punishment is all the greater as well. So we will be silent. Whether we must do that rests with you. For if we see your diligence, perhaps we will speak again, so that you may win greater approval and we may rejoice over you, giving glory in everything to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ: to Him be glory and dominion now and always, forever and ever. Amen.