Homilies on Acts, Homily 45

“And now, brothers, I entrust you to God and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up and give you an inheritance among all those who are sanctified.” What he does when writing a letter, he also does when speaking to an assembly: he moves from exhortation to a closing prayer. Since he had greatly alarmed them by saying, “Fierce wolves will come in among you” (v. 29), notice the comfort (he gives), so that he does not overwhelm them and make them lose all composure. “And now,” he says, as always, “I entrust you, brothers, to God and to the word of His grace”: that is, to His grace. It is grace that saves. He constantly reminds them of grace, to make them more earnest because they are debtors, and to encourage their confidence. “Which is able to build you up.” He does not say “to build,” but “to build up,” showing that they had (already) been built. Then he reminds them of the hope to come: “to give you an inheritance,” he says, “among all those who are sanctified.” Then comes another exhortation: “I have coveted no one’s silver or gold or clothing.” (v. 33.) He removes the root of evils, the love of money. “Silver or gold,” he says. He does not say, “I have not taken,” but, “I have not even coveted.” This is no great thing, but what follows is great. “Yes, you yourselves know that these hands have provided for my needs and for those who were with me. I have shown you in everything that by working this way you ought to support the weak.” (v. 34, 35.) Notice that he works, and not just works, but toils. “These hands have provided for my needs and for those who were with me”: this puts them to shame. And see how appropriately he addresses them. He does not say, “You ought to show that you are above money,” but what? “To support the weak”—not everyone indiscriminately—“and to hear the word of the Lord which He spoke: It is more blessed to give than to receive.” To keep anyone from thinking that he was speaking with reference to them and presenting himself as an example, as he says elsewhere, “giving you an example” (Phil. iii. 17), he added Christ’s declaration: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” He prayed over them as he exhorted them. He shows this both by his action—“And when he had said this, he knelt down and prayed with them all” (v. 36)—and by saying, “I entrust you to the Lord.” He did not simply pray, but prayed with deep feeling: (κατανύξεως): the comfort was great. “And they all wept bitterly, threw their arms around Paul’s neck and kissed him, grieving most of all over his statement that they would never see his face again.” (v. 37, 38.) He had said that “fierce wolves would come in”; he had said, “I am innocent of everyone’s blood.” Yet what grieved them most of all was this: “that they would never see him again.” Indeed, this was what made the war so painful. “And they accompanied them,” it says, “to the ship. And when we had torn ourselves away from them”—so much did they love him, so deep was their affection for him—“and set sail, we sailed straight to Kos, the next day to Rhodes, and from there to Patara. Finding a ship crossing to Phoenicia, we went aboard and set out. When we sighted Cyprus, we left it on our left, sailed to Syria, and landed at Tyre” (Acts xxi. 1–3). He came to Lycia, and after leaving Cyprus behind, sailed down to Tyre—“for there the ship was to unload its cargo. And finding disciples, we stayed there seven days. Through the Spirit they told Paul not to go up to Jerusalem.” (v. 4.) They too prophesy about the afflictions. It is arranged that they too should speak about them, so that no one might imagine Paul said these things without reason, merely to boast. And there again they part with prayer. “When those days were over, we left and continued our journey. They all accompanied us, with their wives and children, until we were outside the city, and we knelt on the shore and prayed. After saying goodbye to one another, we boarded the ship, and they returned home. When we had finished our voyage from Tyre, we came to Ptolemais, greeted the brothers, and stayed with them one day. The next day we who were in Paul’s company left and came to Caesarea. We entered the house of Philip the evangelist, who was one of the seven, and stayed with him.” (v. 5–8.) When we came to Caesarea, it says, we stayed with Philip, who was one of the seven. “This man had four daughters, virgins, who prophesied.” (v. 9.) Yet although they were prophetesses, they are not the ones who foretell what will happen to Paul; Agabus does. “While we stayed there many days, a prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. When he came to us, he took Paul’s belt, bound his own hands and feet, and said, This is what the Holy Spirit says: This is how the Jews at Jerusalem will bind the man who owns this belt, and they will hand him over to the Gentiles.” (v. 10, 11.) The same man who had previously announced the famine now says, “This is how they will bind the man who owns this belt.” (ch. xi. 28.) This (Agabus) did what the prophets used to do when speaking about the captivity, as Ezekiel did: he acted out the events before their eyes. “And”—the painful part of the matter—“hand him over to the Gentiles. When we heard these things, both we and the people there begged him not to go up to Jerusalem.” (v. 12.) Many even begged him not to leave, yet he would not agree. “Then Paul answered, Why are you weeping and breaking my heart?” (v. 13.) Do you see? These things are foretold so that, after hearing him say, “I go bound in the Spirit” (ch. xx. 22), you will not imagine that he was compelled to go, or that he walked into this unknowingly. But they wept, and he comforted them, grieved by their tears. “Why,” he says, “are you weeping and breaking my heart?” Nothing could be more affectionate. Because he saw them weeping, he grieved—he who felt no pain at his own trials. “For I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus. And when he would not be persuaded, we stopped, saying, May the Lord’s will be done.” (v. 13, 14.) You wrong me by doing this: am I grieving? Then they stopped, when he said, “breaking my heart.” I weep, he says, for you, not because of my own sufferings; as for those (men), I am willing even to die for them. But let us look again at what has been said. (Recapitulation.) “Silver or gold or clothing,” etc. (ch. xx. 33, 34; 1 Cor. ix; 2 Cor. xi.) So those who corrupted the disciples did this not only in Corinth, but in Asia as well. Yet when writing to the Ephesians, he never brings this up as a reproach against them. Why? Because he did not come to any subject that required him to speak about it. But to the Corinthians he says, “My boasting has not been stopped in the regions of Achaia.” (2 Cor. xi. 10.) And he does not say, “You did not give to me,” but, “I coveted no silver or gold or clothing,” so that their failure to give might not seem to have been their own doing. Nor does he say, “I have coveted life’s necessities from no one,” which again might sound like an accusation against them. But he quietly hints at as much, since he provided for others as well as himself. See how earnestly he worked, speaking (to others) “night and day,” “warning each one of them with tears.” (v. 31.) (Here) again he puts them in fear: “I have shown you everything,” he says. You cannot plead ignorance: I “have shown you” by my actions “that by working this way you ought to work.” And he does not say that receiving is bad, but that not receiving is better. “Remember,” he says, “the words of the Lord which He spoke: It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (v. 35.) And where did He say this? Perhaps the Apostles passed it down through unwritten tradition; or else it is clear from (recorded sayings, from) which one could infer it. Here he has in fact shown courage in facing dangers, sympathy for those he led, (unshrinking) boldness in teaching, humility, and (voluntary) poverty. But what we have here goes even beyond that poverty. For if He says there (in the Gospel), “If you want to be perfect, sell what you have and give to the poor” (Matt. xix. 21), what could equal a man who, besides receiving nothing himself, also provides for others? One step is to throw away your possessions; a second, to earn enough to meet your own needs; a third, to provide for others too; a fourth, for someone (to do all this) who preaches and has a right to receive support. So here is a man far better than those who merely give up possessions. “This is how you ought to support the weak”: this is (indeed) sympathy for the weak, for giving from other people’s labor is easy. “And they threw their arms around his neck,” it says, “and wept.” (v. 37.) He also shows their affection by saying, “Around his neck,” as they embraced him one last time, and then yet again. Such was the love his speech inspired in them, such the spell of love that bound them. For if we groan simply at parting from one another, although we know we will welcome each other back again, how painfully they must have torn themselves away! I think Paul wept too. “Having torn ourselves away,” he says: he shows how wrenching it was by saying, “having torn ourselves away from them.” And with good reason: otherwise they could never have put to sea. What does “We sailed straight to Kos” mean? It is another way of saying, “We did not take a roundabout route or stop in other places.” Then “to Rhodes.” (ch. xxi. 1.) See how he hurries on. “And finding a ship crossing to Phoenicia.” (v. 2.) Possibly the ship (in which they had come) was stopping there. So they changed ships, and since they had not found one going to Caesarea, but (finding this) bound for Phoenicia, they boarded it (and pursued their voyage), leaving Cyprus and Syria behind as well. But the expression “leaving it on the left” is not used simply (in that meaning), but to show that they hurried so as not to reach Syria either. “We landed at Tyre.” (v. 3.) Then they stay with the brothers seven days. Now that they have come near Jerusalem, they no longer rush. (b) “Through the Spirit they told Paul not to go up to Jerusalem.” (v. 4.) Notice how, when the Spirit does not forbid it, he complies. They said, “Do not venture into the theater,” and he did not venture in (ch. xix. 31). Often they carried him away (from dangers), and he complied; again, he escaped through a window. Yet now, although countless people, so to speak, beg him—both those at Tyre and those at Caesarea—also weeping and predicting countless dangers, he refuses to comply. And yet it is not (merely) that they predicted the dangers, but that they “spoke by the Spirit.” If the Spirit commanded it, why did he oppose it? “By the Spirit” means that they knew “by the Spirit” (what would be the consequences, said to him): for of course it does not mean that their appeal was made by the Spirit. For they did not simply foretell the dangers to him (through the Spirit), but (added of themselves) that he ought not to go up, out of concern for him. But “after we had completed the days,” i.e. had stayed the appointed number of days, “we parted and continued our journey, and they all accompanied us with their wives and children.” (v. 5.)—See how earnestly they pleaded. And again they part with prayer. In Ptolemais too they stay one day, but in Caesarea many. (v. 6–8.) (a) Now that they are near Jerusalem, they no longer hurry. Consider, please, all the days. “After the day of unleavened bread” they came “to Troas in five days” (ch. xx. 6); then they spent “seven” there: twelve in all. Then to “Thasos,” to “Mytilene,” to “Trogylium” and “opposite Chios,” and to “Samos” and “Miletus” (ib. 13–17): eighteen in all. Then to “Kos,” to “Rhodes,” to “Patara”: twenty-one. Then allow, say, five to “Tyre”: twenty-six. “Seven” there: thirty-three. “Ptolemais”: thirty-four. Then to “Caesarea, many days” (ch. xxi. 1–10); and then, after that, the prophet sends them on from there. (c) When Paul hears that he must face countless dangers, then he hurries, not throwing himself into danger, but considering it the Spirit’s command. (e) And Agabus does not say, “They will bind” Paul, so that he may not seem to be speaking by agreement (with Paul), but “the man who owns this belt” (v. 11)—so he had a belt too. But when they could not persuade him—this was why they wept—then they “fell silent.” Do you see their submission? Do you see their affection? “They fell silent,” it says, “saying, May the Lord’s will be done.” (v. 12–14.) (g) The Lord Himself, they say, will do what is pleasing in His sight. For they realized that it was God’s will. Otherwise Paul would not be so determined (upon going)—he who on all (other occasions) gets himself out of danger. (d) “And after these days,” it says, “having packed our baggage”—i.e. having obtained the (supplies) necessary for the journey—“we went up to Jerusalem.” (v. 15.) “Some of the disciples from Caesarea also went with us, taking us to someone with whom we were to stay, a man named Mnason, an early disciple from Cyprus.” (v. 16.) “When we came to Jerusalem, the brothers welcomed us gladly.” (v. 17.) (f) “Taking us,” it says, “(to him) with whom we were to stay”—not to the church. On the former occasion (ch. xv. 4), when they went up about the decrees, they stayed with the Church, but now with a certain “early disciple.” (The expression) shows that the preaching had been going on for a long time. This makes me think that the writer of Acts condenses the events of many years, relating (only) the most important matters. (h) They were so unwilling to burden the Church when someone else could house them, and so little concerned with their own dignity. “The brothers,” it says, “welcomed us gladly.” Affairs among the Jews were now peaceful: there was not much warfare (among them). “Taking us,” it says, “to someone with whom we were to stay.” Paul was the guest he welcomed. Perhaps one of you says, “Yes, if I had the chance to welcome Paul as a guest, I would gladly and eagerly do it.” Look! You can welcome Paul’s Master as your guest, and you refuse. For “whoever receives one of these least,” He says, “receives Me.” (Matt. xviii. 5; Luke ix. 48.) The lower the brother’s standing, the more Christ comes to you through him. For someone who welcomes the great often does so out of vanity as well; but someone who welcomes the lowly does so purely for Christ’s sake. You can even welcome Christ’s Father as your guest, and you refuse; for “He who receives Me receives Him who sent Me.” “I was a stranger,” He says, “and you took Me in” (Matt. xxv. 35); and again, “You did it to Me when you did it to one of the least of these brothers who believe in Me.” (ib. 40.) Even if it is not Paul, if it is a believer and a brother, however lowly, Christ comes to you through him. Open your house; take Him in. “Whoever receives a prophet,” He says, “will receive a prophet’s reward.” (Matt. x. 41.) So whoever receives Christ will also receive the reward of someone who has Christ as his guest. Do not disbelieve His words; believe them. He Himself has said, “Through them I come to you.” And so that you will not disbelieve, He establishes both punishments for those who do not receive Him and honors for those who do. He would not have done this unless He Himself were both the person honored and the person insulted. “You welcomed Me,” He says, “into your lodging; I will welcome you into My Father’s Kingdom. You relieved My hunger; I take away your sins. You saw Me bound; I see you set free. You saw Me a stranger; I make you a citizen of heaven. You gave Me bread; I give you an entire Kingdom, for you to inherit and possess.” He does not say “Receive,” but “Inherit,” the word used of those who possess something by right of ownership, as when we say, “I have inherited this.” You did it to Me in secret; I will proclaim it openly. And I call your acts free gifts, but Mine a debt. “For since you,” He says, “began, I follow and come after. I am not ashamed to acknowledge the benefits given to Me, or what you freed Me from: hunger, nakedness, and wandering. You saw Me bound; you will not see the fire of hell. You saw Me sick; you will not see the torments or the punishments.” O truly blessed hands, which perform services like these, which are considered worthy to serve Christ! Feet that go into prisons for Christ’s sake easily defy the fire; those (the hands) that saw Him bound face no ordeal of chains! You clothed Him with a garment, and you put on a garment of salvation. You were in prison with Him, and with Him you find yourself in the Kingdom, unashamed, knowing that you visited Him. The patriarch did not know he was welcoming Angels, yet he welcomed them. (Gen. xviii. 3.) Let us feel ashamed, I beg you. He was sitting at midday in a foreign land, where he had no inheritance, “not even enough to set his foot on” (ch. vii. 5). He was a stranger, and this stranger welcomed strangers, for he was a citizen of heaven. Therefore, even while on earth, he was no stranger (to Him). We are more truly strangers than that stranger if we do not welcome strangers. He had no home, and his tent was his guest room. Notice his generosity: he killed a calf and kneaded fine flour into dough. Notice his willingness: he and his wife did it themselves. Notice his humility: he bows down and begs them. All these qualities ought to be present in anyone who welcomes strangers: willingness, cheerfulness, generosity. For the stranger feels embarrassed and ashamed, and unless (his host) shows extraordinary joy, he feels as (if) slighted and goes away. Being welcomed this way becomes worse than not being welcomed at all. That is why he bows down to them, why he welcomes them with words, why he offers them a seat. For who would have hesitated, knowing that this service was being done for Him? “But we are not in a foreign land.” If we are willing, we can imitate him. How many of the brothers are strangers? There is a shared room belonging to the Church, which we call the “Xenon.” Make inquiries (περιεργάζεσθε), sit at the doors, welcome the people who come yourselves. Even if you do not want to take them into your houses, at least in some other way (receive them), by supplying what they need. “Why, doesn’t the Church have resources?” you will say. She does; but what is that to you? Can it benefit you that they are fed from the Church’s common funds? If someone else prays, does that mean you have no duty to pray? Why don’t you say, “Don’t the priests pray? Then why should I pray?” “But I,” you will say, “give to someone who cannot be welcomed there.” Give, even if it is to that person; what we are concerned about is that you give in any case. Hear what Paul says: “So that it may support those who really are widows, and the Church may not be burdened.” (1 Tim. v. 16.) Do it however you wish; only do it. But I put it this way: not “so that the Church may not be burdened,” but “so that you may not be burdened.” For at this rate you will do nothing, leaving everything to the Church. This is why the Church has set aside a shared room: so that you cannot say these things. “The Church,” you say, “has lands, money, and income.” And does she have no expenses, I ask? Does she not have daily costs? “Of course,” you will say. Then why don’t you supplement her modest resources? I am ashamed to say these things. Still, I force no one, if anyone imagines that I am saying this for profit. Make a guest room for yourself in your own house. Put a bed there, a table, and a lampstand. (comp. 2 Kings iv. 10.) Isn’t it absurd that, if soldiers come, you have rooms set aside for them, take great care of them, and supply them with everything because they keep the visible war of this world away from you, while strangers have nowhere to stay? Win a victory over the Church. Do you want to put us to shame? Do this: surpass us in generosity. Have a room where Christ can come. Say, “This is Christ’s room; this building is set aside for Him.” Even if it is only a shabby underground room, He does not despise it. Christ goes about “naked and a stranger”; all He needs is shelter. Provide it, even if that is all you can give. Do not be heartless or inhuman; do not be so eager about worldly matters and so cold about spiritual ones. Put your most trustworthy servant in charge of this work, and have him bring in people with disabling injuries, beggars, and the homeless. I say these things to shame you. You really ought to welcome them into the upper part of your house; but if you will not do this, then welcome Christ below, even if it is only where your mules and your servants are housed. Perhaps you shudder to hear this. What, then, when you do not even do that? Look, I urge you; look, I call on you: take this matter seriously. But perhaps you do not want to do it this way? Do it some other way. There are many poor men and poor women. Set aside a place for one (of these) to live there permanently. Let the poor man be (thine inmate), even if only as a guard for your house. Let him be your wall and fence, your shield and spear. Where alms are given, the devil dares not approach, nor does any other evil thing. Let us not overlook such a great gain. Yet now a place is set aside for a chariot, and another for litters (βαστερνίοις), but not even one for Christ as He wanders! Abraham welcomed the strangers in the place where he himself lived; his wife took a servant’s place, and the guests took the masters’ place. He did not know he was welcoming Christ; he did not know he was welcoming Angels. Had he known, he would have lavished all he owned on them. But we, who know that we welcome Christ, do not show even as much eagerness as he did when he thought he was welcoming men. “But many of them are impostors,” you will say, “and ungrateful.” Then your reward is all the greater when you welcome them for the sake of Christ’s name. If you actually know that they are impostors, do not welcome them into your house. But if you do not know, why accuse them so lightly? “That is why I tell them to go to the guesthouse.” But what excuse can we have when we do not even welcome those we know, but shut our doors against everyone? Let our house be a place that welcomes Christ in all who come. Let us ask them for this reward—not money, but that they make our house a place that welcomes Christ. Let us run everywhere, drag them in, seize our booty: the benefits we receive are greater than those we give. He does not tell you to kill a calf. Give bread to the hungry, clothing to the naked, shelter to the stranger. But so that you cannot use this as your excuse, there is a shared room belonging to the Church. Put your money into it, and then you have welcomed them, since (Abraham) also received the reward for what his servants did there. “He gave the calf to a young man, and he hurried to prepare it.” (Gen. xviii. 7.) His servants too were so well trained! They ran and did not grumble as ours do, for he had made them devout. He led them out to war, and they did not grumble: they were so well disciplined. (Gen. xiv. 14.) For he cared for them all as much as for himself. He all but said, as Job did, “We were formed alike in the same womb.” (Job xxxi. 15.) So let us also give thought to their salvation, and make it our duty to care for our servants so that they may be good. Let our servants too be taught about the things of God. Then living virtuously will not be difficult for us, if we train them to live in an orderly way. Just as in war a general wages war easily when his soldiers are well disciplined, while the opposite happens when they are not; and just as the helmsman easily handles the rudder ropes when the sailors are of one mind, so it is here too. Consider this: if your servants have been trained this way, you will not be easily irritated; you will not have to find fault, become angry, or insult them. You may even feel respect and awe for your servants, if they deserve admiration, and they will be your helpers and give you good advice. From all this will come everything that pleases God, and so the whole house will be filled with blessing. And as we do what pleases God, we will enjoy abundant help from above. May we all attain this through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with Whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit together, be glory, might, and honor, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.