Homilies on Acts, Homily 42

“After these things had ended, Paul resolved in the Spirit to go to Jerusalem after passing through Macedonia and Achaia, saying, After I have been there, I must also see Rome. So he sent two of those who served him, Timothy and Erastus, into Macedonia; but he himself stayed in Asia for a while. At that same time a major disturbance arose over the Way.” He sends Timothy and Erastus into Macedonia, but he himself remains at Ephesus. After staying long enough in that city, he wants to move elsewhere again. But why, after first deciding to leave for Syria, does he turn back to Macedonia? “He resolved,” it says, “in the Spirit,” showing that everything (that he did) was done by power other than his own. Now he prophesies, saying, “I must also see Rome”: perhaps to comfort them with the thought that he would not remain far away, but would come nearer to them again, and to stir the disciples’ minds with the prophecy. At this point, I suppose, he wrote his Epistle to the Corinthians from Ephesus, saying, “I do not want you to be unaware of the trouble that came upon us in Asia.” (2 Cor. i. 8.) Since he had promised to go to Corinth, he explains his delay and mentions the trial, describing the affair of Demetrius. “A major disturbance arose over the Way.” Do you see the renown (acquired)? They opposed them, it says: (then) came miracles, of two kinds: (then) danger again. This is how the threads alternate throughout the whole fabric (of the history). “For a certain man named Demetrius, a silversmith who made silver temples of Diana, brought considerable income to the craftsmen.” (v. 24.). “Who made,” it says, “silver temples of Diana.” And how could temples be made of silver? Perhaps they were like small boxes (κιβώρια.) This (Diana) was greatly honored in Ephesus; when (Hom. in Eph. Prol.) their temple burned down, they were so distressed that they forbade anyone ever to mention the arsonist’s name. See how, wherever there is idolatry, we always find money at the bottom of it. Both in the earlier instance and in this man’s case, it was about money. (ch. xix. 13.) It was not because they thought their religion was in danger; no, it was because their profitable trade would have nothing left to work on. Notice the man’s malice. He himself was wealthy, and the loss was really not so great for him; but for them it was great, since they were poor and lived on their daily earnings. Yet these men say nothing; he alone speaks. And notice: “After gathering them together, along with the workers in related trades,” who shared his interests, “he said, Gentlemen, you know that we get our wealth from this trade” (v. 25); then he made the danger personal for them: we are in danger of losing this trade and starving. “Moreover, you see and hear that not only at Ephesus, but almost throughout all Asia, this Paul has persuaded and turned away many people, saying that things made by hand are not gods. So not only is this trade of ours in danger of being discredited, but the temple of the great goddess Diana may also be despised, and her magnificence destroyed, though all Asia and the world worship her. When they heard these words, they were filled with anger and shouted, Great is Diana of the Ephesians.” (v. 26–28.) Yet the very things he said were enough to bring them to true religion; but being poor, senseless creatures, this is how they behave. For if this (Paul being) man is strong enough to turn everyone away, and the worship of the gods is in danger, we should consider how great this man’s God must be, and that He will give you all the more of the things you are afraid of losing. Already (at the outset) he has gained a hold on their minds by saying, “This Paul has turned away many people, saying that things made by human hands are not gods.” See what makes the pagans so indignant: he said that “things made by people are not gods.” Throughout, he directs his speech toward their trade. Then afterward he introduces what distressed them most. We have no concern with the other gods, he means, but “the temple of the great goddess Diana is also in danger of being destroyed.” Then, so that he will not seem to be saying this for profit, see what he adds: “Whom the whole world worships.” Notice how he showed Paul’s power to be greater, proving all (their gods) to be wretched, miserable creatures, since a mere man, driven from place to place, a mere tentmaker, had so much power. Notice the testimony the Apostles’ enemies give them: they overthrew their worship. There (at Lystra) they brought “garlands and oxen.” (ch. xiv. 13.) Here he says, “This trade of ours is in danger of being discredited.—You have filled (all) everywhere with your teaching.” (ch. v. 28.) The Jews also said this about Christ: “You see how the world is going after Him” (John xii. 19); and, “The Romans will come and take away our city.” (ch. xi. 48). And again, on another occasion, “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here too.” (ch. xvii. 6).—“When they heard these words, they were filled with anger.” What stirred up that anger? Hearing about Diana and their source of income. “And they shouted, Great is Diana of the Ephesians. The whole city was filled with confusion, and they rushed together into the theater.” (v. 29). This is how coarse minds behave: any trivial occasion sweeps them away and inflames their passions. That is why we must do (things) only after (strict) examination. But see how contemptible they were, so vulnerable to all (excitements)! “They seized Gaius and Aristarchus, Macedonians who traveled with Paul, and dragged them along”: (here) again they acted recklessly, just as the Jews did with Jason; everywhere they attack them. “When Paul wanted to go in among the people, the disciples would not let him,” (v. 30) That is how little they cared about showing off or seeking glory. “Some of the Asiarchs, who were his friends, also sent word to him, urging him not to risk entering the theater” (v. 31), into a disorderly crowd and uproar. And Paul complies, for he was neither vain nor ambitious. “Some shouted one thing and some another, for the assembly was confused.” This is the nature of a crowd: it follows recklessly, like fire catching on fuel; “and most did not know why they had come together.” (v. 32.) “They drew Alexander out of the crowd, with the Jews pushing him forward.” The Jews pushed him forward; but as providence arranged it, this man did not speak. “Alexander motioned with his hand and wanted to make his defense to the people.” (v. 33.) “But when they recognized that he was a Jew, they all shouted with one voice for about two hours, Great is Diana of the Ephesians.” (v. 34.) What a childish understanding! As if afraid that their worship might be extinguished, they shouted without stopping. Paul had lived there for two years, and see how many pagans there still were! “When the town clerk had quieted the people, he said, Men of Ephesus, who does not know that the city of the Ephesians is the temple-keeper of the great goddess Diana and of the image that fell from Jupiter?” (v. 35.) As though the thing were not obvious. With this statement he first put out their anger. “And of the Diopetes.” There was another sacred object (ἱερὸν) called by that name. He means either the piece of fired clay or her image. This (is) a lie. “Since these things cannot be disputed, you ought to be quiet and do nothing rash. For you have brought these men here, though they are neither temple robbers nor blasphemers of your goddess.” (v. 36, 37.) He says all this to the people; but to make those (workmen) more reasonable as well, he says: “So if Demetrius and the craftsmen with him have a complaint against anyone, the courts are open and there are governors: let them bring charges against one another. But if you want to inquire into any other matters, they will be settled in a lawful assembly. For we are in danger of being called to account for today’s uproar, since there is no cause for it; we will not be able to give an account of this gathering, for which (matter) we may be questioned.” (v. 38–40.) “A lawful assembly,” he says, for the law provided for three assemblies each month; but this one was unlawful. Then he frightened them too by saying, “We are in danger of being called to account” for rebellion. But let us look again at what was said. (Recapitulation.) “After these things had ended,” it says, “Paul resolved in the Spirit to go to Jerusalem after passing through Macedonia and Achaia,” saying, “After I have been there, I must also see Rome.” (v. 21.) Here he no longer speaks merely as a man; or, he resolved to pass through those regions without staying any longer. Why does he send Timothy and Erastus away? I suppose this is what he refers to when he says, “So when we could no longer bear it, we thought it best to be left alone at Athens. He sent away,” it says, “two of those who served him” (1 Thess. iii. 1), both to announce his coming and to make them more eager. “But he himself stayed in Asia for a while.” (v. 22.) He spends most of his time in Asia, and with good reason: that was where the philosophers held tyrannical power. (Afterward) he also came and spoke to them again. “At that same time,” etc. (v. 23), for the superstition was indeed extreme. (a) “You both see and hear”—so obvious was what was happening—“that not only at Ephesus, but almost throughout all Asia, this Paul has turned people away by persuasion,” not by force: this is how to persuade a city. Then comes what affected them personally: “that things made by hand are not gods.” (v. 26.) He is overturning our trade, he says: (e) “We get our wealth from this work. Has persuaded.” How did he persuade them—a man of so little standing? How did he overcome such a powerful force of habit? By doing what? By saying what? This is beyond a Paul; it is beyond a man. Even his saying, “They are not gods,” is enough. Now if the impiety (of the heathen religions) was so easy to expose, it should have been condemned long ago; if it was strong, it should not have been overthrown so quickly. (b) To keep them from considering (how strange) it was that a human being should have such power, and that if a human being has the power to accomplish such things, one ought to be persuaded by that man, he adds: (f) “Not only is this trade of ours in danger of being discredited, but also,” as though raising a greater concern, “the temple of the great goddess Diana,” etc. (c) “Whom all Asia and the world worship.” (v. 27.) (g) “When they heard, they were filled with anger and shouted, Great is Diana of the Ephesians!” (v. 28.) For each city had its own gods. (d) They thought they could make their voices a barrier against the Divine Spirit. These Greeks were children indeed! (h) They felt as though their voices could restore her worship and undo what had happened! “And the whole city,” etc. (v. 29.) See what a disorderly crowd! “And when Paul,” etc. (v. 30.) Paul wanted to go in so that he could address them, for he took his persecutions as opportunities to teach: “but the disciples would not let him.” Notice how much care we always find them taking for him. At the very beginning they brought him out so that they would not (in his person) receive a fatal blow; and yet they had heard him say, “I must also see Rome.” But it was providential that he predicted this beforehand, so that they would not be bewildered by what happened. Still, they did not want him to suffer any harm at all. “Some of the Asiarchs urged him not to enter the theater.” Knowing his eagerness, they “urged him”: that is how much all the believers loved him.—“They drew Alexander,” etc. (v. 33.) Why did this Alexander want to speak in defense? Had he been accused? No; he wanted to find an opportunity to overturn the whole matter and inflame the people’s anger. “But when they recognized that he was a Jew, they all shouted with one voice for about two hours, Great is Diana of the Ephesians.” (v. 34.) Do you notice their excessive rage? And the town clerk rightly rebukes them when he says, “Who does not know that the city of the Ephesians—” (v. 35), (coming to the point) about which they were frightened. Is this your concern, he says, that you do not worship her? And he does not say, “Who does not know” Diana, but “our city,” that it has always worshiped her. “Since these things cannot be disputed.” (v. 36.) Why, then, do you question them, as though these things were not obvious? (b) Then he gently scolds them, showing that they had gathered for no reason. “And do nothing rash,” he says, showing that they had acted rashly. (a) “For you have brought here,” etc. (v. 37.) They wanted to use religion as a pretext for a matter concerning their own profits: (c) and it was not right to hold a public assembly over private complaints. For he left them baffled, without a word to say for themselves. “There is no cause,” he says, “for this gathering, for which” (matter) “we will not be able to give an account.” (v. 40.) See how prudently, how cleverly, the unbelievers (act). In this way he put out their anger. For just as it is easily kindled, it is also easily extinguished. “When he had said this,” it says, “he dismissed the assembly.” (v. 41.) Do you see how God allows trials and uses them to stir up and awaken the disciples and make them more energetic? Then let us not give way under trials, for He Himself will “also provide the way of escape, so that we may be able to bear them.” (1 Cor x. 13.) Nothing makes friends and binds them so firmly together as affliction; nothing so closely unites and strengthens the souls of believers; nothing is so timely for us teachers in helping people listen to what we say. For listeners who are comfortable are inattentive and lazy, and seem annoyed by the speaker; but when they are afflicted and distressed, they develop a great desire to listen. When their souls are distressed, they look everywhere for comfort in their affliction, and preaching brings considerable comfort. “What, then,” you will say, “about the Jews? Why did their faintheartedness keep them from listening?” Well, they were Jews, those perpetually weak and miserable creatures; besides, their affliction was great, while we are speaking of moderate affliction. For notice: they expected to be freed from the evils surrounding them, and instead fell into countless greater evils. This is no ordinary distress for the soul. Afflictions sever our attachment to the present world, as is clear from the fact that we immediately wish for death and stop loving the body. This very thing is the greatest part of wisdom: to have no longing for, no ties to, the present life. The afflicted soul does not want to concern itself with many things; rest and stillness are all it wants, content for its part to be done with present things, even if nothing else follows. Just as the body, when exhausted and distressed, does not want to indulge in love affairs or gluttony, but only to rest and lie down quietly, so the soul, harassed by countless evils, urgently wants rest and quiet. The soul at ease is (apt to be) agitated, alarmed, unsettled; in the afflicted soul there is no emptiness, no wasted energy. The afflicted soul is more manly, the other more childish; the afflicted soul is more serious, the other more frivolous. Just as something light is tossed back and forth when it falls on deep water, so the soul is tossed about when it falls into great rejoicing. Anyone can also see that our greatest faults arise from excessive pleasure. Come, if you like, let us picture two houses, one where people are getting married and another where they are mourning. Let us enter each in our imagination and see which is better. The mourner’s house will be found full of seriousness (φιλοσοφίας); the house of the person getting married, full of indecency. For look, (here are) shameful words, unrestrained laughter, even less restrained movements, indecency in both clothing and the way people walk, words full of sheer nonsense and foolishness. In short, everything there is mockery and ridiculous behavior. I do not mean that marriage is like this—God forbid—but the things that accompany it. Then human nature loses control in excessive revelry. Instead of human beings, those present become brute beasts, some neighing like horses, others kicking like donkeys: such complete license, such unrestrained debauchery; nothing serious, nothing noble. (It is) the devil’s pageantry: cymbals, pipes, and songs teeming with sexual immorality and adultery. But it is different in the house of mourning. Everything there is orderly: such silence, such rest, such composure; nothing disorderly, nothing excessive. If anyone speaks, every word is full of true philosophy. And the remarkable thing is that at such times not only men, but even servants and women speak like philosophers—for that is the nature of sorrow—and while they seem to be consoling the mourner, they actually express countless truths full of sound philosophy. First come prayers that the affliction may stop there and go no further; many people comfort the sufferer, and there are countless accounts of the many who have similar reasons to mourn. “For what is man?” (they ask), (and thereupon) a serious examination of our nature: “Yes, then, what is man!” (and upon this) an indictment of life (present) and its worthlessness, with people reminding (one another) of things to come, of the Judgment. (So from both these scenes) each returns home: from the wedding, grieved because he himself does not enjoy the same good fortune; from the mourning, lighthearted because he has not suffered the same affliction, and with all his inward fever quenched. But what would you like? Shall we compare prisons and theaters next? One is a place of suffering, the other of pleasure. Let us examine them again. In the first there is seriousness of mind, for where there is sadness, there must be seriousness. A man who was once rich and puffed up with his own importance will now even let an ordinary person speak with him. Fear and sorrow, like a stronger fire, have fallen upon his soul and softened his harshness. Then he becomes humble; then his face grows sad; then he feels life’s changes; then he stands up bravely to everything. But in a theater everything is the reverse: laughter, obscene jokes, the devil’s pageantry, debauchery, wasted time, days spent uselessly, schemes for extravagant lust, the study of adultery, practical training in sexual immorality, schooling in intemperance, encouragement in filthiness, material for laughter, models for indecent behavior. The prison is different: there you will find humility of mind, exhortation, encouragement to seriousness, contempt for worldly things. It is worldly things (these) that are all trampled underfoot and rejected, and fear stands over (the man there) like a teacher over a child, keeping him to all his duties. But if you like, let us examine this another way. I would like you to meet one man returning from a theater and another coming out of prison. You would see the soul of the first agitated, disturbed, actually tied and bound, while the soul of the other is expanded, set free, buoyant as if on wings. The first returns from the theater chained by the sight of the women there, carrying chains harder than any iron: the scenes, words, and gestures he saw there. But the other returns from the prison freed from all (bounds), and will no longer think he is suffering any evil when he compares his own situation with that of (those) others. (To think) that he is not in chains will keep him thankful from then on. He will despise human affairs after seeing so many rich men in distress there, men who (once) had the power to do many great things and now lie there in chains. And if he suffers any injustice, he will stand up to that as well, for there were many examples of that there too. He will be led to reflect on the Judgment to come and will shudder, seeing here (in the earthly prison) what it will be like there. For as it is with someone imprisoned here, so it is in that world too, before the Judgment, before the Day to come. He will be gentler toward his wife, children, and servants. The man coming from the theater is different: he will look at his wife with greater dislike, be irritable with his servants, bitter toward his children, and savage toward everyone. Theaters cause great evils in cities, very great indeed, and we do not even realize how great they are. Shall we examine other scenes of laughter too? I mean feasts, with their hangers-on, flatterers, and abundant luxury, and (compare with them) places where people are lame and blind. As before, in the first there is drunkenness, luxury, and debauchery; in the second, the reverse.—Look at the body too: when its blood runs hot and it is in good condition, it falls sick most quickly; this does not happen when it has been kept lean. Let me make my meaning clearer: suppose there is a body with plenty of blood and flesh, plump from good living. If it is simply inactive, almost any food it happens to eat can bring on a fever. But suppose there is another, struggling instead with hunger and hardship: disease does not easily overcome it or wrestle it down. Even when our blood is healthy, its sheer quantity often causes disease; but if there is only a little, even if it is unhealthy, it can easily be worked out of the body. The same is true of the soul: one that lives an easy, luxurious life has impulses that are quickly swayed toward sin. Such a soul is a close neighbor to folly, pleasure, vanity too, envy, plotting, and slander. Look at this great city of ours—how large it is! Where do its evils come from? Isn’t it from the rich? Isn’t it from those who live in pleasure? Who are the ones who “drag” people “before the courts”? Who squander estates? The wretched and the outcasts, or those who are puffed up with their own importance and live in pleasure? No evil can come from an afflicted soul. (James ii. 6.) Paul knew the benefit of this; that is why he says, “Affliction produces endurance, and endurance experience, and experience hope, and hope does not put us to shame.” (Rom. v. 3–5.) Then let us not give way under our afflictions, but give thanks in everything, so that we may gain great benefit and please God, who allows afflictions. Affliction is a great good, and we learn this from our own children: without affliction (a boy) would learn nothing useful. But we need affliction more than they do. For if, in their case, while the passions (as yet) are quiet, (chastisement) benefits them, how much more will it benefit us, especially when so many passions possess us! Indeed, we need teachers more than they do, since children’s faults cannot be great, while ours are extremely great. Our teacher is affliction. So let us not deliberately bring it upon ourselves, but when it comes, let us bear it bravely, since it always brings countless good things. In this way may we obtain both grace from God and the good things stored up for those who love Him, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with Whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, honor, now and forever, for all eternity. Amen.