Homilies on Acts, Homily 41

“And he went into the synagogue and spoke boldly for three months, discussing and persuading people about the kingdom of God. But when some became hardened and refused to believe, and spoke evil of that way before the crowd, he left them and separated the disciples, holding discussions daily in the school of a man named Tyrannus.” (a) See how he presses his way into the synagogue everywhere, and then leaves in this way. Everywhere, he wanted them to give him the reason for leaving. (c) He wanted to separate the disciples from there, and to have (the Jews) themselves give him the initial reason to stop meeting with them. And he had a purpose in doing this (b), as I have said. From then on, he was “provoking them to jealousy.” For the Gentiles readily welcomed him, and when the Gentiles welcomed him, the Jews repented. (a) This is why he kept stirring them up, “for three months arguing and persuading concerning the kingdom of God:” you must not suppose that because you hear of his “speaking boldly,” there was any harshness. He was speaking about good things, about a kingdom: who would not have listened to him? “But when some became hardened, speaking evil of the way.” They had good reason to call it “the way”; this really was the way that led into the kingdom of heaven. “He left them and separated the disciples, holding discussions daily in the school of a man named Tyrannus. And this continued for two years, so that everyone in Asia heard the word of the Lord, both Jews and Greeks.” (v. 10.) (a) Do you see how much his persistence accomplished? “Both Jews and Greeks heard: (c) everyone who lived in Asia:” this was another reason the Lord did not allow him to go into Asia (ch. xvi. 6) (on a former occasion); He was waiting, it seems to me, for this very combination of circumstances. (Hom. xl. p. 245.) (b) “And God worked extraordinary miracles through Paul’s hands, so that handkerchiefs or aprons were carried from his body to the sick, and their diseases left them, and the evil spirits came out of them.” (v. 11, 12.) People did not only touch him while he wore these things (and so were healed), but also received them and laid them on the sick (and so healed them). (g) “Whoever believes in Me,” Christ says, “does greater works than those I do.” (John xiv. 12.) This, and the miracle of the shadows, is what He meant (in those words). (d) “Then some of the traveling Jews, exorcists, attempted to invoke the name of the Lord Jesus over those who had evil spirits, saying, We solemnly charge you by Jesus whom Paul preaches.” (v. 13.) Everything they did was entirely a business! Notice: traveling, or itinerant, Jewish exorcists. They had no desire to believe, but they wanted to cast out demons by that Name. “By Jesus, whom Paul preaches.” Just see what a reputation Paul had gained! “And there were seven sons of a man named Sceva, a Jew and a chief priest, who did this. And the evil spirit answered, Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are you? And the man who had the evil spirit leaped on them, overpowered them, and defeated them, so that they fled from that house naked and wounded.” (v. 14–16.) They did it in secret; then their powerlessness was publicly exposed. (f) So the Name does nothing unless it is spoken with faith. (h) See how they turned their weapons against themselves! (j) They were so far from thinking Jesus was anyone great that they felt they had to add Paul, because they thought he was someone great. Here we might wonder why the demon did not cooperate with the exorcists’ fraud, but instead exposed them and revealed their playacting. He seems to me (to have done this) in extreme anger: just as someone in the greatest danger might, if some wretched creature exposed him, want to vent all his rage on that person. “Jesus I know, and Paul I know.” For, so that no insult might seem to be directed at the Name of Jesus, (the demon) first acknowledges (Him), and then receives permission. For, to show that this was no weakness in the Name, but was entirely due to those men’s fraud, why did the same thing not happen to Paul? “They fled from that house naked and wounded:” he battered their heads severely and perhaps tore their clothes. (e) “And this became known to everyone, both Jews and Greeks, who lived at Ephesus, and fear fell on them all, and the name of the Lord Jesus was honored. And many of those who had believed came, confessing and revealing their practices.” (v. 17, 18.) Since they had acquired the power to do such things through demons, this was a natural consequence. “And many of those who practiced magic brought their books together and burned them in everyone’s presence;”—having seen that the books were now useless, since the demons themselves were doing these things—“and they added up their value and found it to be fifty thousand pieces of silver. So the word of God grew powerfully and prevailed.” (v. 19, 20.) (i) “And” (so) “he held discussions in the school of a man named Tyrannus for two years:” there were believers there, and believers who were very (advanced in the faith). Moreover, (Paul) writes (to them) as to people of great stature. (Recapitulation.) (b) “And he entered the synagogue,” etc. (v. 8.) But why ἐπαρρησιάζετο? It means that he was ready to face dangers and discussed things more openly, without concealing the doctrines. (a) “But when some became hardened and spoke evil of the way, he left them and separated the disciples.” (v. 9.) This means that he put a stop to their slander: he did not want to stir up their envy or draw them into further conflict. (c) Let us also learn from this to stay out of the way of people who speak evil, and to leave them: he did not speak evil when others spoke evil of him. “He held discussions daily,” and in this way won over the many: although he was mistreated and (evil) spoken of, he did not (utterly) break away from them and keep his distance. (e) The slanderers are defeated. They slandered the doctrine itself; (therefore), so as neither to stir the disciples to anger nor * * them, he withdrew, showing that everywhere alike they reject salvation for themselves. Here he no longer even offers a defense, since the Gentiles everywhere have believed. “In the school of a man named Tyrannus:” he did not seek out that place, but simply spoke wherever a school was available. (d) And look: as soon as the trial from outsiders is over, this trial from the demons begins. Notice the Jews’ senseless stubbornness. They saw his clothes working miracles and paid no attention. What could be greater than this? Instead, it had exactly the opposite effect. If any pagan does not believe, let him believe when he sees the (very) dust producing these effects. (f) How wonderful, how great is the power of those who have believed! Simon sought the grace of the Spirit for business purposes, and these men did this for the same reason. What hardness (of heart)! Why does Paul not rebuke them? It would have looked like envy, so things are arranged this way. The same thing happened in Christ’s case (Mark ix. 38–40), but then the person was not stopped, because the new state of things was just beginning: Judas, too, was not stopped, whereas Ananias and Sapphira were struck dead; and many Jews suffered nothing even for opposing (Christ), while Elymas was blinded. “For I have not come,” Christ says, “to judge the world, but that the world might be saved.” (John iii. 17.) “And seven sons,” etc. (v. 14.) See the men’s wickedness! They continued to be Jews while wanting to profit from that Name. Everything they did was for glory and profit. (g) Look, in every case, how people are converted less by good things than by frightening things. In Sapphira’s case, fear fell on the Church, and people did not dare join them; here they received handkerchiefs and aprons and were healed, and only afterward did they come confessing their sins. (Hereby) the demons’ power is shown to be great when it is directed against unbelievers. For why did he not say, “Who is Jesus?” He was afraid that he too might be punished; instead, he did this so that he might be allowed to take revenge on those who mocked him: “Jesus,” he says, “I know,” etc. He was terrified of Paul. For why did those wretched men not say to him, We believe? How much better they would have appeared if they had said this—that is, if they had claimed Him as their Master! Instead, they even spoke those senseless words, “By Jesus, whom Paul preaches.” Do you notice the restraint (of the writer), how he writes history without calling names? This makes the Apostles admirable. “And the evil spirit,” etc. (v. 15), for what had happened at Philippi (ch. xvi. 16) had taught these too a lesson. He mentions the name and the number, giving the people alive at the time credible evidence for what he wrote. And why were they itinerant? For business purposes, certainly not to spread the word; how could that have been their aim? And how they now ran, preaching through what they suffered! “So that,” it says, “everyone who lived in Asia heard the word of the Lord.” Should this not have converted everyone? Do not be surprised: nothing convinces malice. But now, let us look at the affair of the exorcists, and with what an evil attitude (they acted). Why the same thing did not happen in Christ’s case is a question for another time, not the present, except to say that this too was wisely and usefully arranged. It seems to me that they also did this in mockery, and that because of this (punishment), no one dared even casually to speak that Name. Why did this move them to confess? Because it was extremely powerful evidence of God’s omniscience. (therefore), before the demons could expose them, they accused themselves, afraid that they might suffer the same things. For when the demons who help them become their accusers, what hope remains except confession through deeds? But please notice what evils follow within a short time after such signs have been performed. Human nature is like this: it soon forgets. Or do you not remember what happened among us? Did God not shake our whole city last year? Did everyone not rush to baptism? Did people who practiced sexual immorality, effeminate men, and corrupt people not leave their homes and the places where they spent their time, change, and become religious? But three days passed, and they returned to their own particular wickedness. Why is this? Because of their extreme laziness. And why be surprised if this happens when the events have passed, since the result is the same even when their visible reminders last forever? Tell me, does the fate of Sodom not still endure (in its effects)? Well, did those living nearby become any better? And what do you say about Noah’s son? Was he not like this (as he is represented)? Did he not see such vast devastation with his own eyes and yet remain wicked? Then let us not wonder why these Jews (at Ephesus) do not believe after such things have happened, when we see that even belief often turns into its opposite for them, into malice—as, for example, when they say that He has a devil, He, the Son of God! Do you not see these things even now, and how many people are like snakes, both faithless and thankless, people who, like vipers, enjoy benefits and warmth from others and then sting their benefactors? We have said this so that no one will be surprised that they were not all converted after such signs were performed. For look: in our own time there were those (miracles) concerning the martyr Babylas, those concerning Jerusalem, and those concerning the destruction of the temples, and not everyone was converted. Why do I need to speak of ancient things? I have told you what happened last year, and no one paid attention; instead, little by little, they fell away again and sank back. Heaven continually cries out that it has a Master, and that all this we see—I mean the world—is the work of a Craftsman, and yet some say it is not so. Who was not startled by what happened to that Theodore last year? And yet nothing came of it: after becoming religious for a time, they returned to where they had started in their attempt to be religious. So it was with the Jews. This is what the Prophet said of them: “When He killed them, then they sought Him, and turned early to God.” (Ps. lxxviii. 34.) And why speak of events that affect everyone? How many have fallen sick, how many have promised to make such a great change if they recovered, and yet have become just as they were before! If nothing else, our changing so suddenly shows that we have free will by nature. If evil were natural, this would not happen: we cannot stop having traits that are natural and necessary. “And yet,” you will say, “we do stop having them. Do we not see some people who have the natural ability to see, but are blinded by fear?” (True—) because this too is natural: * * unless a different (necessity of) nature also comes into play. (thus) it is natural for us not to see when we are terrified; it is natural for one fear to give way when a greater fear arises. “What then,” you will say, “if a sound mind really is natural, but fear overpowers it and drives it out?” What, then, if I show that some people do not come to their senses even then, but remain reckless amid these terrors? Is this natural? Shall I speak of ancient events? Or, then, of recent ones? How many kept laughing and mocking in the midst of those terrors and experienced nothing of the kind? Did Pharaoh not change immediately, and (just as quickly) rush back to his former wickedness? But here, as if (the demons) did not know Him, they (the exorcists) added, “Whom Paul preaches,” when they should have said, “the Savior of the world,” “Him who rose again.” By this they show that they do know, but chose not to acknowledge His glory. That is why the demon exposes them, leaping on them and saying, “Jesus I know, and Paul I know, but who are you?” So you are not believers; you abuse that Name when you say this. Therefore the Temple is deserted, the instrument easily overpowered. So you are not preachers; you are mine, he says. The demon’s anger was great. The Apostles had the power to do this to them, but they did not yet do it. For those who had power over the demons that did these things to them had much more power over the men themselves. Notice how their restraint is shown: those whom these men rejected do these things, while the demons whose favor they sought do the opposite. “Jesus,” he says, “I know.” Be ashamed, you who do not know (Him). “And Paul I know.” Well said: “Do not think I do these things because I despise them.” The demon’s fear was great. And why did he not tear their clothes without saying these words? That way he would have both satisfied his anger and reinforced the deception. As I said, he feared the unapproachable power, and would not have had such power himself if he had not said this. But notice how everywhere we find the demons more sensible (than the Jews), not daring to contradict or accuse the Apostles or Christ. There they say, “We know You, who You are” (Mark i. 24); and, “Why have You come here before the time to torment us” (Matt. viii. 29); and again, “I know You, who You are, the Son of God.” And here, “These men are servants of the Most High God” (ch. xvi. 17); and again, “Jesus I know, and Paul I know.” For they were extremely afraid and trembled before those holy people. Perhaps one of you, hearing about these things, wishes he possessed this power, so that demons could not look him in the face, and considers those saints fortunate because they had such power. But let him hear Christ saying, “Do not rejoice because the demons obey you” (Luke x. 20), because He knew that everyone takes the greatest delight in this out of a desire for personal glory. For if you seek what pleases God and serves the common good, there is another, greater way. Freeing someone from a demon is not as great as rescuing someone from sin. A demon does not prevent someone from reaching the kingdom of Heaven; indeed, it even helps—unwillingly, certainly, but it still helps—by making the person who has the demon more self-controlled. But sin casts a person out. But someone will probably say, “God forbid that I should ever have to be brought to my senses this way!” I do not wish it for you either, but something very different: that you should do everything out of love for Christ. If, however, this should happen to you—which God forbid—then I would comfort you even on this account. If, then, the demon does not cast someone out (from the kingdom of heaven), but sin does, freeing a person from sin is a greater act of kindness. Let us work to free our neighbors from this, and before our neighbors, ourselves. Let us make sure we do not have a demon; let us examine ourselves closely. Sin is more terrible than a demon, for the demon makes people humble. Do you not see how downcast people possessed by a demon are when they have recovered from an attack, how sad their expressions are, how full of shame their faces are, how they do not even have the courage to look someone in the face? See the strange inconsistency! They are ashamed of what they suffer, while we are not ashamed of what we do; they are embarrassed when they are wronged, while we are not embarrassed when we do wrong. Yet their condition calls for no shame, but for pity, tenderness, and understanding; indeed, it calls for great admiration and much praise when, struggling against such a spirit, they bear everything thankfully. Our condition, however, really does call for ridicule, shame, accusation, correction, punishment, the worst evils, and hellfire; it calls for no compassion at all. Do you see that sin is worse than a demon? Those people gain a double benefit from the evils they suffer: first, they are brought to their senses and gain greater self-control; then, having suffered the punishment for their sins here, they leave this life purified and go to their Master. We have often spoken to you about this: those who are punished here, if they bear it thankfully, may reasonably be thought to put away many of their sins through it. But sin produces a double harm: first, we offend; second, we become worse. Pay attention to what I am saying. Committing a sin is not the only injury we suffer from sin; there is another, worse injury: our soul acquires a habit. It is just as with the body—for an example will make this clearer. Someone who has caught a fever has suffered harm not only because he is sick, but also because he is weaker after the illness, even if he recovers after a long sickness. It is the same with sin: though we may regain our health, we are still far from having the strength we need. Take someone who has been insolently abusive: does he not suffer what he deserves for his abusive behavior? Yes, but there is something else, something worse, to grieve over (which is), that his soul has become less sensitive to shame. For every individual sin we commit, even after the sin is over and has stopped, leaves a kind of venom infused into our souls. Do you not hear people say after recovering from an illness, “I don’t dare drink water now”? Yet the man has regained his health. Yes, but the disease has done him this harm too. And while those (possessed) people are thankful despite suffering, we blaspheme God when things are going well and think we are being badly treated. You will find more people behaving this way in health and wealth than in poverty and sickness. For the demon stands over (the possessed) like an actual executioner, fierce and uttering many (threats), like a teacher brandishing the whip and refusing to let them grow careless. And suppose some are not brought to their senses at all: these people are not liable to punishment either, and that is no small thing. Just as people with severe intellectual impairments, the insane, and children are not held accountable, neither are these people: no one can be so merciless as to hold people accountable for things done while they are unconscious of their actions. So we who sin are in a far worse condition than those possessed by evil spirits. We do not, to be sure, foam at the mouth, twist our eyes, or fling our hands about in convulsions; but as for that, I wish we did it in our bodies rather than in our souls! Would you like me to show you a soul foaming, filthy, with the mind’s eyes distorted? Think of those who fly into a passion and are drunk with rage: could anything be filthier than the words they spew out? It really is like a spray of foul slobber. And just as the possessed recognize none of those present, neither do these people. With their understanding darkened and their eyes distorted, they do not see who is a friend, who an enemy, who deserves respect, who deserves contempt; they see everyone alike, without distinction. And do you not see how they tremble, just like those others? But they do not fall to the ground, you say? True, but their soul lies on the ground and falls there in convulsions: if it had stood upright, it would not have reached its present condition. Or do you not think that the things people do and say when drunk with rage reveal a soul sprawling helplessly, having lost all self-control? There is another kind of madness worse than this. What is it? When people will not even allow themselves to vent their anger, but instead nurture within their own hearts, to their own harm, the bitter memory of wrongs, like an actual executioner with his whip. For the malice they harbor poisons them first. Leaving aside what is to come, how much torture do you think that man must undergo as his soul is whipped, while day after day he looks for a way to avenge himself on his enemy? He punishes himself first and suffers the penalty, swelling (with suppressed passion), fighting against himself, setting himself on fire. For the fire must always burn within you: while you raise the fever so high and refuse to let it subside, you think you are doing the other person harm, when you are wasting yourself away, always carrying a flame burning at full strength, never letting your soul rest, but constantly raging, with your thoughts in turmoil and storm. What is more terrible than this madness, always to be stinging with pain, always swollen and inflamed? This is what resentful souls are like: when they see the person on whom they want revenge, it is immediately as though they have been struck a blow; if they hear his voice, they cower and tremble; if they are in bed, they imagine countless ways of taking revenge, hanging and torturing their enemy. And if, on top of all this, they see him enjoying a good reputation, oh, how they suffer! Forgive his offense and free yourself from the torment. Why stay in a constant state of punishment so that you may punish him once and take your revenge? Why give yourself a wasting disease? Why hold your anger back when it is ready to leave you? Do not let it remain until evening, Paul says. (Eph. iv. 26.) For like a consuming rot or a moth, it eats through the very root of our understanding. Why lock a wild beast inside your guts? Better to have a snake or a viper lying in your heart than anger and resentment: those would soon finish us off, but this keeps its fangs in us forever, injecting its poison and unleashing an invading army of bitter thoughts against us. “For him to laugh at me,” you say, “for him to despise me!” You wretched, miserable man, you refuse to be ridiculed by your fellow servant, but are willing to be hated by your Master? You refuse to be despised by your fellow servant, but despise your Master? Is being despised by him more than you can bear, yet you do not think God is angry because you ridicule Him, because you despise Him when you refuse to do what He tells you? But it is clear that your enemy will not even ridicule you, for this reason: if you pursue revenge, there is great ridicule and great contempt, because this reveals a small mind; if, on the other hand, you forgive him, there is great admiration, because this reveals greatness of soul. But you will say, he does not understand this. Let God know it, so that you may have the greater reward. For He says, “Lend to those from whom you hope to receive nothing.” (Luke vi. 34, 35.) So let us also do good to those who do not even realize that we are doing them good, so that they do not reduce our reward by giving us praise or anything else in return. For when we receive nothing from people, we will receive greater things from God. But what is more ridiculous, what is more petty, than a soul that is always angry and wanting revenge? This disposition is characteristic of women; it is babyish. For just as babies get angry even with lifeless things and will not let go of their anger unless their mother beats the ground, so these people want to avenge themselves on those who have hurt them. So they are the ones who deserve ridicule: being overcome by passion reveals a childish mind, while overcoming it shows a man’s strength. So when we keep our temper, they are the ones people ridicule, not us. Refusing to be conquered by passion does not make people contemptible. What makes them contemptible is being so afraid of ridicule from others that they choose, because of it, to surrender to the passion that grips them, offend God, and take revenge on themselves. These things really do deserve ridicule. Let us flee from them. Let someone say that after doing us countless wrongs, he has suffered nothing in return; let him say that he could violently attack us again and have nothing to fear. Why, he could find no (better) way to proclaim our virtue! If he wanted to praise us, he could find no other words than those he seems to use as insults. I wish everyone said these things about me: “He is a poor, meek creature; everyone piles insults on him, but he bears it; everyone tramples on him, but he does not avenge himself.” I wish they would add, “Even if he wanted to, he could not,” so that I might have praise from God rather than from people. Let him say that we do not avenge ourselves because we lack courage. This does us no harm when God knows (all); it only keeps our treasure safer. If we pay attention to them, we will lose everything. Let us look at what is right for us, rather than what they say. But someone says, “Let no one ridicule me,” and some people boast about this. Oh, what foolishness! “No one,” he says, “has injured me and laughed at me afterward”—meaning, “I took my revenge.” Yet you deserve ridicule precisely because you took revenge. Where did these sayings come from among us, when they disgrace and plague us and destroy our own way of life and discipline? You speak (so) in direct opposition to God. The very thing that makes you equal to God—not avenging yourself—you think deserves ridicule! Do we not deserve to be laughed at for these things, both by ourselves and by the pagans, when we speak against God this way? I want to tell you a story about something that happened long ago (which they tell), concerning money rather than anger. A man had a property with a hidden treasure on it that he knew nothing about, and he sold this piece of land. The buyer, digging to plant and cultivate it, found the treasure buried there. He came and tried to make the seller accept the treasure, insisting that he had bought a piece of land, not a treasure. The seller, for his part, rejected the gift, saying, “The piece of land (is not mine); I have sold it, and I have nothing at all to do with this (treasure).” So they began arguing about it, one wanting to give it away, the other refusing to accept it. They happened to meet a third person, argued the matter before him, and asked him, “Who should have the treasure?” The man could not decide that question, but he said he would end their dispute: he would (if they pleased) take possession of it himself. So he received the treasure, which they willingly gave him. Afterward, he got into endless trouble and learned from experience that they had done well to have nothing to do with it. This is how we should act about anger too: we should be eager not to take revenge, and those who have hurt us should be eager to make amends. But perhaps these things also seem ridiculous: when that madness is widespread among people, those who keep their temper are laughed at, and among many madmen, the man who is not mad seems to be mad. So I beg you, let us recover (from this malady) and come to our senses, so that, freed from this destructive passion, we may be able to reach the kingdom of heaven through the grace and mercy of His only-begotten Son, with Whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honor, now and forever, for all eternity. Amen.