Homilies on Acts, Homily 25

“Now those who were scattered by the persecution that arose over Stephen traveled as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch, preaching the word only to Jews.” The persecution proved to be a great benefit, since “all things work together for good for those who love God.” (Rom. viii. 28.) If they had deliberately worked out the best way to establish the Church, they would have done exactly this—they scattered the teachers. Notice the regions into which the preaching spread. “They traveled,” it says, “as far as Phoenicia and Cyprus and Antioch; but they preached the word only to Jews.” Do you see how much was accomplished through the wise purposes of Providence in the case of Cornelius? This both vindicates Christ and condemns the Jews. When Stephen was killed, when Paul was twice in danger, when the Apostles were flogged, then the Gentiles received the word, and then the Samaritans. Paul also declares this: “It was necessary for the Word of God to be spoken to you first; but since you reject it and judge yourselves unworthy, look, we turn to the Gentiles.” (ch. xiii. 46.) So they went around preaching to Gentiles as well. “But some of them were men from Cyprus and Cyrene who, when they came to Antioch, spoke to the Greeks, preaching the Lord Jesus:” (v. 20.) for it is likely both that they could now speak Greek and that there were such men in Antioch. “And the hand of the Lord,” it says, “was with them,” meaning that they performed miracles; “and a great number believed and turned to the Lord.” (v. 21.) Do you see why miracles were needed now as well, (namely) so that they might believe? “Then news of these things reached the ears of the church in Jerusalem, and they sent Barnabas to go as far as Antioch.” (v. 22.) Why did they not come themselves when such a city received the word? Because of the Jews. Instead, they send Barnabas. Yet even so, Paul's coming there is no small part of the way Providence arranges things. Their aversion to him is both natural and wisely arranged, and (so) this Voice of the Gospel, this Trumpet of heaven, is not confined to Jerusalem. Do you see how Christ always turns their bad dispositions to useful ends and to the Church's benefit? He used their hatred of the man to build up the Church. But notice how this holy man—Barnabas, I mean—did not look to his own interests, but hurried to Tarsus. “When he came and saw the grace of God, he was glad, and encouraged them all to remain faithful to the Lord with purpose of heart. For he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith; and many people were added to the Lord.” (v. 23, 24.) He was a very kind man, sincere, and considerate (συγγνωμονικός). “Then Barnabas left for Tarsus to look for Saul.” (v. 25.) He came to the athletic wrestler, the general (fit to lead armies), the champion of single combat, the lion—I cannot find adequate words, whatever I say—the hunting dog, the killer of lions, the mighty bull, the brilliant lamp, the mouth that could serve a whole world. “And when he had found him, he brought him to Antioch.” (v. 26.) Surely this is why it was there that they were designated Christians: because Paul spent so much time there! “And for a whole year they met with the Church and taught many people. And the disciples were first called Christians at Antioch.” This is no small reason to praise that city! This alone is enough to put it on a level with every other city: it benefited from that mouth for so long, first and before all the others. That is also why people there were the first to be considered worthy of that name. Do you see the benefit (to that city) that came from Paul, and how high that name raised it, like a standard (σημεἵον)? Where three thousand believed, where five thousand believed, where there was so great a multitude, nothing of the kind happened; they were simply called “those of the way.” Here they were called Christians. “And in these days prophets came from Jerusalem to Antioch.” (v. 27.) The fruit of almsgiving also needed to be planted there. And see how, of necessity (ἀναγκαίως), (it comes about that) none of the prominent men becomes their teacher. Their teachers were men from Cyprus and Cyrene, and Paul—though he himself surpassed (the Apostles) themselves—since Paul too had Ananias and Barnabas as teachers. But here (this was the case) of necessity. “And one of them, named Agabus, stood up and indicated by the Spirit that there would be a great famine throughout the world, which also happened in the days of Claudius Caesar.” (v. 28.) “By the Spirit,” it says: for the Holy Spirit foretells it so that they will not imagine that the famine came (namely) because Christianity had arrived, because the demons had departed. This, however, was nothing astonishing, since Christ had in fact predicted it. That was not the reason; otherwise it must have happened from the beginning. Rather, it was because of the evils done to the Apostles—and God had been patient with them for a long time. But when they pressed their attacks on them, a great famine followed, signaling to the Jews the sufferings to come. “If it was because of them, it certainly ought to have stopped (there), once it had begun. What harm had the Gentiles done, that they too should share in these evils? They ought instead to have received marks of approval (εὐδοκιμἥσαι), because they were doing their part, killing, punishing, taking vengeance, persecuting on every side. Notice also when the famine comes: precisely when the Gentiles were now being added to the Church. But if, as you say, it was because of the evils (done by the Jews), these people ought to have been exempt.” Why? Christ anticipated this objection when He said, “You will have tribulation.” (John xvi. 33.) (It is) just as if you were to say that they ought not to have been flogged either. “Then the disciples, each according to his ability, decided to send relief to the brothers who lived in Judea.” (v. 29.) Notice how the famine becomes a means of salvation for them, an opportunity for almsgiving, a herald of many blessings. And (so it might have been) for you, one might say, if you had been willing, but you were not. It is predicted so that they can prepare beforehand to give alms. “To the brothers who lived in Judea;” for they were enduring great hardships, but before this they were not suffering from famine. “This they also did, sending it to the elders through Barnabas and Saul.” (v. 30.) Do you see how, as soon as they believe, they bear fruit, not only for their own people but also for those far away? And Barnabas and Saul are sent to administer (the same.) Speaking of this occasion (᾽Ενταὕθα), he says (to the Galatians), “And James, Cephas, and John gave me and Barnabas the right hands of fellowship, only” (they would) “have us remember the poor.” (Gal. ii. 9, 10.) James was still alive. “Now those who were scattered by the persecution,” etc. (Recapitulation.) Do you see how, even in tribulation, instead of giving way to lamentation and tears as we do, they devote themselves to a great and good work? They “traveled as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch,” and preached the word there with greater safety. “And some of them, who were men from Cyprus and Cyrene,” etc. (v. 20.) They did not say, “(What), are we, Cyrenians and Cypriots, to take on this splendid, great city!” Instead, trusting in God's grace, they devoted themselves to teaching, and these (Gentiles) themselves did not think it beneath them to learn anything from them. Notice how everything is accomplished through small means. Notice how the preaching spreads. Notice how those in Jerusalem care equally for everyone, treating the whole world as one house. “They heard that Samaria had received the word, and” (ch. viii. 14) they send the Apostles to Samaria. They heard what had happened at Antioch, and they send Barnabas to Antioch. They send again as well, and (these) prophets. For the distance was great, and it was not appropriate for the Apostles to leave Jerusalem at that time, so that they would not be thought to be fugitives who had fled from their own people. But the time when they left Jerusalem was almost precisely when the condition (of the Jews) was shown to be beyond remedy, when war was close at hand and they were bound to perish, when the sentence became final. For until Paul went to Rome, the Apostles were there (at Jerusalem). But they do not leave because they are afraid of the war—how could that be?—since the people they went to were the very people who would bring the war. Besides, the war breaks out only after the Apostles were dead. For of them (the Apostles) it says, “Anger has come upon them to the end.” (1 Thess. ii. 16.) The more insignificant the people, the more glorious the grace that achieves great results through small means.—“And he encouraged them to remain faithful to the Lord, for he was a good man.” (v. 23, 24.) By “good man,” I take it, he means someone kind, (χρηστὸν) sincere, and deeply concerned for his neighbors' salvation—“for he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith. To remain faithful to the Lord with purpose of heart” (this is said): with commendation and praise. “And many people were added to the Lord:” for this city received the word like rich soil and bore much fruit. “Then Barnabas left for Tarsus,” etc. (v. 25.) But why did he take him away from Tarsus and bring him here? With good reason: there were good prospects here, a larger city, and a great many people. See how grace does everything, not Paul: the work was beginning through small means. When it becomes difficult, the Apostles take it up. Why did they not send Barnabas before this? Because they had enough to do (ἠσχόληντο) in Jerusalem. Again, they defended their conduct to the Jews by showing that the Gentiles were receiving (προσελάμβανε) the word even without so much attention. A dispute is about to arise; that is why the affair of Cornelius anticipated it. Then indeed they say, “That we should go to the Gentiles, and they to the Circumcision.” (Gal. ii. 9.) Notice how the very pressure of the famine now brings the Gentiles into fellowship through their alms. For they receive the offerings sent by them. “Now those who were scattered,” etc. (v. 19), and they did not spend their time in lamentation and tears during their troubles, as we do. Instead, they lived more fearlessly, since they had gotten away from those who hindered them and were among people who were not afraid of the Jews. This also helped. And they came to Cyprus, where the sea lay between them and their persecutors, and they were freer from anxiety. So they disregarded the fear of men, but (still) gave priority to respect for the Law: “they spoke only to Jews. But there were in Antioch certain men from Cyprus and Cyrene:” these cared less about the Jews than anyone else: “who spoke to the Greeks, preaching the Lord Jesus.” (v. 20.) Probably they called these people Greeks because these people did not know Hebrew. And “when” Barnabas, it says, “came and saw the grace of God,”—not human diligence—“he encouraged them to remain faithful to the Lord” (v. 23), and through this he converted more people. “And many people were added to the Lord.” Why do they send Barnabas instead of writing to Paul? They did not yet know the man's virtue; but Providence arranges for Barnabas to come. With a multitude there and no one to hinder them, the faith could certainly grow, especially since they had no trials to undergo. Paul also preaches and is no longer forced to flee. And it is wisely arranged that the prophets speak about the famine, rather than these men. The people of Antioch also took no offense at their sending others instead of the Apostles, but were content with their teachers: they were all so eager for the word. They did not wait for the famine to come, but sent relief beforehand: “according to each person's ability.” And notice that among the Apostles, others are entrusted with this responsibility, but here it is Paul and Barnabas. For this was no small arrangement (οἰκονομία) of Providence. Besides, this was the beginning, and it was not appropriate for them to take offense. “They sent according to each person's ability.” But now no one does this, although there is a famine more terrible than that one. For it is one thing for (all) to share a calamity, and another for the poor to starve while all (the rest) have plenty. And the wording shows that the givers too were poor, for it says, “as each of them had the means.” There is a double famine, just as there is a double abundance: a severe famine, a famine not of hearing the word of the Lord, but of being nourished by alms. Then both the poor in Judea and those in Antioch who gave their money benefited; indeed, those who gave benefited more than those who received. But now both we and the poor are starving: they lack necessary food, while we live in luxury and lack God's mercy. Yet nothing is more necessary than this food. This is no food that makes you suffer from overeating, no food that mostly ends up in the toilet. (ἀφεδρὥνα.) Nothing is more beautiful, nothing healthier, than a soul nourished by this food. It rises far above every disease, every plague, every case of indigestion and illness. No one will be able to overcome it, (ἑλεἵν) but just as, if someone's body were made of adamant, no iron or anything else could hurt it, so too, when almsgiving binds the soul firmly together, nothing at all will be able to overcome it. Tell me, what will destroy this treasure? Poverty? Impossible, for it is stored in the royal treasuries. A robber or a burglar? No, these are walls that no one can break through. The worm? No, this treasure is also far beyond the reach of that harm. Envy and the evil eye? No, these cannot overcome it either. False accusations and evil plots? No, that cannot happen either, for this treasure is as safe as if it were in a sanctuary. But it would be shameful if I made it seem that the benefits of almsgiving consisted only in these things (the absence of these evils), and not also in (the presence of) their opposites. For it is not merely safe from ill will; it also receives abundant blessings from those it benefits. Just as cruel and merciless people have enemies not only among those they have injured, but also among those who, though unharmed themselves, share the grief and join in the accusation, so those who have done great good receive praise not only from those who benefit, but also from those who are not personally affected. Again, (that) it is safe from the attacks of malicious people, robbers, and burglars—is that the whole benefit? Or is it also this: besides suffering no loss, it grows and multiplies? Who was more shameful than Nebuchadnezzar, more foul, more wicked? The man was ungodly. After countless signs and wonders he refused to come to his senses (ανενεγκεἵν), but threw God's servants into a furnace; and (yet), after doing these things, he worshiped. What, then, did the Prophet say? “Therefore,” he says, “O king, accept my counsel: ransom (λύτρωσαι) your sins by alms, and your iniquities by showing mercy to the poor; perhaps there will be pardon for your transgressions.” (Dan. iv. 27.) He said this without any doubt, indeed, with complete confidence, but wanted to make the king more afraid and give him a stronger sense that he must do these things. For if he had spoken of it as certain, the king would have been more complacent. It is just the same with us: we press someone (whom we wish to persuade) hardest when people say to us, “Urge that person,” and do not add, “he will certainly listen,” but only, “perhaps he will listen.” By leaving it uncertain, they increase our fear and spur us on all the more. That is why the Prophet did not make the outcome certain to him. What are you saying? Will there be pardon for such great acts of ungodliness? Yes. There is no sin that alms cannot cleanse, none that alms cannot extinguish. All sin is beneath its power: it is a medicine suited to every wound. What is worse than a tax collector? The very substance (ὑπόθεσις) (of his occupation) consists entirely of injustice, and yet Zacchaeus washed away all these (sins). Notice how even Christ shows this by taking care to have a money bag and to carry the contributions put into it. Paul also says, “Only that we remember the poor” (Gal. ii. 10), and everywhere Scripture says a great deal about this. “The ransom,” it says, “of a man's soul is his own wealth” (Prov. xiii. 8), and with good reason, for (Christ) says, “If you want to be perfect, sell what you have and give to the poor, and come, follow Me.” (Matt. xix. 21.) This can certainly be part of perfection. But alms can be given through actions as well as money. For example, someone can kindly stand (προστἥναι) beside a person (to succor and defend him), or extend a helping hand. The support (προστασία) given through actions has often done even more good than money. Let us practice every kind of almsgiving. Can you give alms with money? Do not hold back. Can you do it by helping others? Do not say, “Because I have no money, this is nothing.” This is a very great thing: regard it as though you had given gold. Can you do it through attentive care (θεραπείας)? Do that too. For instance, if you are a physician, (give) your skill, for this too is a great thing. Can you do it through counsel? This (service) is far greater than all the others. This (alms) is better than all the others, or also greater to the extent that its benefit is greater. For by doing this you avert not starvation, but a terrible death. (ch. iii. 6; vi. 4.) The Apostles abounded beyond measure in alms like these. That is why they entrusted the distribution of money to those who came after them, while they themselves showed the (mercy) conveyed through words. Or do you think it is a small act of almsgiving to be able to free a lost, castaway soul, a soul in the gravest danger, gripped by a burning fever (πυρώσεως), from its disease? For example, do you see someone gripped by the love of money? Pity the man. Is he in danger of suffocating? Put out his fire. “What if he will not be persuaded?” Do your part and do not neglect it. Have you seen him in chains?—for wealth really is chains. (Matt. xxv. 35 ff.) Go to him, visit him, console him, try to free him from his chains. If he refuses, he himself will bear the blame. Have you seen him naked and a stranger?—for he really is naked, and a stranger to heaven. Bring him to your own inn, clothe him in the garment of virtue, give him the city in heaven. “What if I myself am naked?” you say. Clothe yourself first as well. If you know that you are naked, you certainly know that you need clothing, if you know what sort of nakedness this is. How many women now wear silk clothing but are naked of the garments of virtue! Let their husbands clothe these women. “But they will not accept those garments; they choose these.” Then do this first as well: persuade them to long for those garments. Show them that they are naked. Speak to them about the judgment to come. Tell me, what clothing will we need there? But if you will bear with me, I too will show you this nakedness. Someone who is naked in the cold shrinks and shudders, standing there cowering with his arms folded; but not in the summer heat. So if I prove to you that your rich men and rich women are more naked the more they put on, do not take offense. What happens, I ask you, when we bring up the fire of hell and the torments there? Do they not shrink and shudder more than those naked people? Do they not groan bitterly and condemn themselves? And when they go to this or that person and say, “Pray for me,” do they not say the same words as those (naked wretches)? Even now, after everything we can say, their nakedness is not yet visible; but it will be plain enough there. How, and in what way? It will happen when these silk garments and precious stones have perished and everyone is revealed only by the garments of virtue and vice, when the poor are clothed in surpassing glory, but the rich are dragged away naked and disgraced to their punishments. Who was more naked (Edd. “more dainty”) than that rich man who dressed in purple? Who was poorer than Lazarus? Then which of them spoke like a beggar? Which of them had plenty? Tell me, if someone decorated his house with an abundance of tapestries but sat naked inside it himself, what good would it do? So it is with these women. They drape the soul's house—I mean the body—with plenty of clothes, but the mistress of the house sits naked inside. Lend me the eyes of the soul, and I will show you the soul's nakedness. For what is the soul's garment? Virtue, of course. And what is its nakedness? Vice. For just as, if someone stripped a decent person, that person would feel ashamed and shrink and cower out of sight, so too, if we wish to see it, the soul without these garments blushes with shame. How many women, do you think, feel ashamed at this moment and wish they could sink into the deepest depths, as though looking for some curtain or screen so that they would not have to hear these words? But those with no guilty conscience are uplifted, rejoice, take delight, and joyfully adorn themselves (ἐγκαλλωπίζονται) with what is said. Hear how the blessed Thecla gave even her gold so that she could see Paul; yet you will not give even a penny so that you can see Christ. You admire what she did but do not imitate her. Do you not hear that “Blessed are the merciful, for they will obtain mercy?” (Matt. v. 7.) What do your expensive clothes gain you? How long will we keep eagerly longing for this clothing? Let us put on the glory of Christ. Let us clothe ourselves in that beauty, so that we may be praised here and attain the eternal good things there, by the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with Whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit together, be glory, dominion, honor, now and forever, for all eternity. Amen.