Homilies on Acts, Homily 48

“And it happened that, when I had returned to Jerusalem, even while I was praying in the temple, I fell into a trance; and I saw him saying to me, Hurry, and get out of Jerusalem quickly: for they will not accept your testimony about me. And I said, Lord, they know that in every synagogue I imprisoned and beat those who believed in you: and when the blood of your martyr Stephen was shed, I too stood by, approved of his death, and guarded the clothes of those who killed him.” See how he throws himself (into danger). I came, he says, after that vision, “to Jerusalem. I fell into a trance,” etc. Again, there is no witness to this: but notice that the outcome supplies the evidence. He said, “They will not accept your testimony”: they did not accept it. Yet reasonable calculation should have led to the conclusion that they would certainly accept him. For I was the man who waged war against the Christians: so they ought to have accepted him. Here he establishes two things: that they have no excuse, since they persecuted him against all likelihood or reasonable expectation; and that Christ was God, since He predicted things contrary to expectation and did not look to past events, but knew beforehand what was to come. How, then, does He say, “He will bear My name before the Gentiles and kings and children of Israel?” (Acts ix. 15.) He does not say that he will certainly persuade them. Besides, on other occasions we find that the Jews were persuaded, but here they were not. Here, where they should have been most readily persuaded, since they knew his former zeal (in their cause), they were not persuaded. “And when the blood of Your martyr Stephen,” etc. See where his speech ends again: at its forceful main point (εἰς τὸ ἱσχυρὸν κεφάλαιον): that he was the one who persecuted, and not only persecuted but killed; indeed, if he had had ten thousand hands (μυρίαις χερσὶν ἀναιρὥν), he would have used them all to kill Stephen. He reminded them of the murderous spirit so wickedly indulged (by him and them). Then, of course, they were less willing than ever to tolerate him, since this convicted them; and the prophecy was indeed being fulfilled: such great zeal, such a fierce accusation, and the Jews themselves witnesses to the truth of Christ! “And he said to me, Leave: for I will send you far from here to the Gentiles. And they listened to him up to this statement, and then raised their voices and said, Away with such a man from the earth: for he is not fit to live.” (v. 21, 22.) The Jews would not hear his whole speech. Inflamed with rage, they shouted, it says, “Away with him; for he is not fit to live. And as they shouted, threw off their clothes, and tossed dust into the air, the tribune ordered him brought into the fortress and told them to interrogate him by whipping him, so that he could find out why they were shouting against him like this.” (v. 23, 24.) The tribune should have investigated whether these things were true—yes, and the Jews themselves should have too—or, if they were not true, ordered him whipped. Instead, he “ordered them to interrogate him by whipping him, so that he could find out why they were shouting against him like this.” Yet he should have questioned those who were shouting and asked whether they found anything objectionable in what Paul had said. Instead, without further inquiry, he indulges his own arbitrary wishes and acts to please them: his concern was not how to do what was right, but only how to stop their rage, unjust as it was. “And as they bound him with straps, Paul said to the centurion standing nearby, Is it lawful for you to whip a man who is a Roman and has not been convicted?” (v. 25.) Paul did not lie, God forbid: he was a Roman. If for no other reason, he would have been afraid (to pretend this), for fear of being found out and receiving a worse punishment. (See Sueton. Vit. Claud. §25.) And notice that he does not simply assert it (ἁπλὥς), but asks, “Is it lawful for you?” He brings two charges: that they are acting without an investigation, and that he is a Roman. At that time they considered this a great privilege: for they say that (it was only) from Hadrian’s time onward that everyone was called Roman; it had not been so before. He would have been treated with contempt if he had been whipped; as it is, he puts them in greater fear (than they him). Had they whipped him, they would also have dismissed the whole matter, or even killed him; as it is, that does not happen. See how God allows many (good results) to come about by entirely human means, both for the Apostles and for the rest (of mankind). Notice how they suspected that this was a pretext and that Paul was lying when he called himself a Roman, perhaps judging from his poverty. “When the centurion heard this, he went and told the tribune, saying, Be careful what you do: for this man is a Roman. Then the tribune came and said to him, Tell me, are you a Roman? He said, Yes. And the tribune answered, I paid a large sum for this citizenship. And Paul said, But I was born a citizen. Then those who were about to interrogate him immediately withdrew; and the tribune too was afraid when he learned that he was a Roman, and because he had bound him.” (v. 26–29.)—“But I,” he says, “was born a citizen.” So his father was a Roman too. What happens next? He bound him and brought him down to the Jews. “The next day, because he wanted to find out exactly what the Jews were accusing him of, he released him from his chains and ordered the chief priests and their entire council to assemble, and brought Paul down and stood him before them.” (v. 30.) He is no longer speaking to the crowd or to the people. “And Paul, looking intently at the council, said, Men and brothers, I have lived before God with an entirely good conscience to this day.” (ch. xxiii. 1.) He means: I am not aware of having wronged you at all or done anything to deserve these chains. What did the high priest say, then? How justly, how like a ruler, how gently he acted: “And the high priest Ananias ordered those standing beside him to strike him on the mouth. Then Paul said to him, God will strike you, you whitewashed wall: do you sit there to judge me according to the law, and order me struck in violation of the law? And those standing nearby said, Are you insulting God’s high priest? Then Paul said, I did not know, brothers, that he was the high priest: for it is written, You must not speak evil of the ruler of your people.” (v. 3–5.) Because “I did not know that he was high priest.” Some ask: Why, then, does he defend himself as though he were being accused, and add, “You must not speak evil of the ruler of your people?” For if he were not the ruler, would that alone make it right to insult (him or any) other person? Paul himself says, “When insulted, we bless; when persecuted, we endure it” (1 Cor. iv. 12); but here he does the opposite, and not only insults him but curses him. These are words of boldness rather than anger; he did not want the tribune to look down on him. Suppose the tribune himself had refrained from whipping him, only for him to be handed over to the Jews: being beaten by their servants would have emboldened the tribune still further. This is why Paul attacks the person who gave the order, not the servant. But the saying, “You whitewashed wall, do you sit there to judge me according to the law?” means, You are (yourself) guilty: as though he had said, And (yourself) deserve countless blows. See, then, how deeply his boldness impressed them: although their aim was to overturn the whole case, they instead commend him. (below, v. 9.) “For it is written,” etc. He wants to show that he speaks this way neither out of fear nor because (Ananias) did not deserve this name, but out of obedience to the law in this matter too. And I am fully convinced that he did not know this was the high priest, since he had now returned after a long absence and was not in the habit of regularly associating with the Jews. Besides, he saw him among many others: for the high priest could no longer be easily recognized at a glance, since there were many of them, of different kinds. So it seems to me that in this too he spoke with his defense against them in mind, to show that he obeys the law; that is why he (thus) clears himself. (Recapitulation.) (b) But let us review what has been said. (a) “And when I had returned to Jerusalem,” etc. (v. 17.) How was it that, though he was a Jew and had been brought up and educated there, he did not stay there? Indeed, he could not remain there unless he wanted to give them countless grounds to act against him: everywhere he was like an exile, fleeing from place to place. (c) “While I was praying in the temple,” he says, “it happened that I fell into a trance.” (To show) that this was not simply a figment of his imagination, (the Lord) stood beside him “while he was praying.” And he shows that he fled not from fear of the dangers they posed, but because they would “not accept” his “testimony.” (v. 18.) But why did he say, “They know I imprisoned?” (v. 19.) Not to contradict Christ, but because he wanted to understand what was so contrary to every reasonable expectation. Christ, however, did not explain (this) to him, but simply told him to leave, and he obeys: that is how obedient he is. “And they raised their voices,” it says, “and said, Away with him: this man is not fit to live.” (v. 22.) No, you are the ones unfit to live, not he, who obeys God in everything. You villains and murderers! “And shaking out their clothes,” it says, “they threw dust into the air” (v. 23), to make the riot more intense, because they wanted to frighten the governor. And notice: they do not state the charge, since in fact they had nothing to allege, but merely expect to terrify him by shouting. “The tribune ordered,” etc. Yet he should have learned from the accusers “why they were shouting against him like this. And as they bound him,” etc. “And the commander was afraid after he learned that he was a Roman.” So it was no lie. “The next day, because he wanted to find out exactly why the Jews were accusing him,” etc., “he brought him down before the council.” (v. 24–30.) He should have done this at the outset. He brought him in without his chains. This, above all, would have puzzled the Jews. “And Paul,” it says, “looking intently at them.” This shows his boldness and how it awed them (τὸ ἐντρεπτικόν). “Then the high priest Ananias,” etc. (ch. xxiii. 1, 2.) Why, what offensive thing has he said? What is he being beaten for? What audacity, what shamelessness! So (Paul) put him in his place (with a rebuke): “God will strike you, you whitewashed wall.” (v. 3.) As a result, (Ananias) himself is brought to a halt and does not dare say a word; only those around him could not bear Paul’s boldness. They saw a man ready to die * * * for if this was the case, (Paul) had only to remain silent, and the tribune would have taken him and gone away; he would have sacrificed him to them. He both shows that he willingly endures what he endures and so defends himself before them—not because he wanted to defend himself to them, since he even strongly condemns those men, but for the people’s sake. “In violation of the law, do you order me beaten?” He has every reason to say this: for to kill a man who had done (them) no harm, an innocent person, violated the law. Nor were his words abusive, unless someone would call Christ’s words abusive when He says, “Woe to you, Scribes and Pharisees, for you are like whitewashed walls.” (Matt. xxiii. 27.) True, you will say; but if he had said it before he was beaten, it would have shown boldness rather than anger. But I have already explained the reason for this. And (at this rate) we often find Christ Himself “speaking abusively” to the Jews when they abuse Him, as when He says, “Do not think that I will accuse you.” (John v. 45.) But this is not abuse, God forbid. See how gently he addresses these men: “I did not know,” he says, “that he was God’s high priest” (v. 4, 5); and (to show) that he was not pretending (εἰρωνεύεται), he adds, “You must not speak evil of the ruler of your people.” He even acknowledges that he is still ruler. Let us also learn his gentleness, so that we may be perfect in both qualities. We must examine them closely to learn what each one is: closely, because these virtues have their corresponding vices right beside them—mere aggressiveness passing itself off as boldness, mere cowardice as gentleness. We need to scrutinize them so that someone who has the vice does not seem to have the virtue. It would be just like someone thinking he was sleeping with the mistress of the house without knowing that it was the servant girl. What, then, is gentleness, and what is mere cowardice? When others are wronged and we do not take their side but remain silent, that is cowardice; when we ourselves are mistreated and bear it, that is gentleness. What is boldness? Again, it is the same distinction: when we fight on behalf of others. What is aggressiveness? When we are willing to fight for our own cause. So greatness of soul and boldness go together, as do (mere) aggressiveness and (mere) cowardice. For someone who (does not) resent wrongs on his own behalf will hardly fail to resent them on behalf of others; and someone who does not stand up for his own cause will hardly fail to stand up for others. When our habitual disposition is free of passion, it can also receive virtue. Just as a body free of fever can gain strength, so the soul can gain strength unless the passions corrupt it. This gentleness shows great strength; it requires a generous, courageous soul, a soul of exceptional greatness. Or do you think it is a small thing to suffer mistreatment without becoming enraged? Indeed, one would be right to call the disposition to stand up for our neighbors a spirit of manly courage. For someone strong enough to overcome so powerful a passion (as this of selfishness) will have the strength to dare an attack on another. Take these two passions, cowardice and anger: if you have overcome anger, you clearly overcome cowardice too. But you master anger by being gentle; therefore (do so) with cowardice too, and you will show manly courage. Again, if you have not overcome anger, you have become aggressive (and quarrelsome); but if you have not overcome this, you cannot overcome fear either. Consequently, you will be a coward too. It is the same with the body: if it is weak, both cold and heat quickly overcome it, because that is what a poor constitution is like; a good constitution can withstand all (changes). Again, greatness of soul is a virtue, and wastefulness stands right beside it; economy, being a good manager, is a virtue, and stinginess and pettiness stand right beside it. Come, let us again compare the virtues (with their vices). Well then, a wasteful person should not be called great-souled. How could he be? How could a man overcome by countless passions have a great soul? This is not contempt for money; it is simply taking orders from other passions. A man at the beck and call of robbers, obeying their orders, could not be free (so it is here). His lavish spending does not come from contempt for money, but simply from not knowing how to use it properly. Otherwise, if he could both keep it and spend it on his pleasure, that is what he would want. But the man who spends his money on worthwhile things has a great soul: for a truly great soul is not enslaved to passion and regards money as nothing. Again, economy is a good thing: the best manager is someone who spends properly, rather than at random without managing anything. But stinginess is not the same thing. For the former does not touch the principal of his money even when an urgent need demands it; but the latter will be a brother to the former. Well then, we will pair the man of great soul with the prudent manager, and likewise the wasteful man with the stingy one: for both of these act as they do from smallness of soul, just as the others act (from the opposite). So let us call someone great-souled not simply because he spends, but because he spends rightly; and let us call someone petty and stingy not because he manages his money carefully, but because he holds on to it when he should spend it. How much wealth did that rich man spend, “who was dressed in purple and fine linen?” (Luke xvi. 19.) But he did not have a great soul: his soul was possessed by a merciless disposition and countless lusts. How, then, could it be great? Abraham had a great soul: he spent what he did to welcome his guests, killed the calf, and, when necessary, spared neither his property nor even his life. So if we see someone with a lavish table, prostitutes, and hangers-on, let us call him a man with an exceedingly small soul, rather than a great one. See how many passions enslave and rule him—gluttony, excessive pleasure, flattery. How can anyone call a man great-souled when so many passions possess him and he cannot escape even one? Indeed, let us say his soul is small most of all when he spends the most: for the more he spends, the more he displays the tyranny of those passions. If they had not gained such complete mastery over him, he would not have spent excessively. Again, if we see someone who gives nothing to people like these but feeds the poor and helps those in need, while keeping a modest table himself, let us call him a man of exceedingly great soul. For it truly marks a great soul to disregard one’s own comfort while caring for the comfort of others. Tell me: if you saw someone who despised all tyrants and ignored their commands, but rescued those they oppressed and mistreated from their tyranny, would you not consider him a great man? Let us think the same of the man in this case too. The passions are the tyrant: if we despise them, we will be great; but if we also rescue others from them, we will be far greater, since we will be capable of helping not only ourselves but others too. But if someone, at a tyrant’s command, beats another of his subjects, is that greatness of soul? Certainly not: it is the extreme of slavery, in proportion to his greatness. And here too we have before us (πρόκειται) a noble and free soul; but the wasteful man has ordered his passions to beat it. Shall we call a man who beats himself great-souled? By no means. Well then * *, but let us see what greatness of soul is and what wastefulness is; what economy is and what stinginess is; what gentleness is and (what) dullness and cowardice are; what boldness is and what aggressiveness is. By distinguishing these things from one another, may we be enabled to spend (this life) in a way that pleases the Lord and attain the good things promised, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, to Whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.