Homilies on Acts, Homily 51

“And when Felix heard these things, having a more thorough knowledge of that Way, he postponed their case and said, When Lysias the tribune comes down, I will examine your case fully. And he ordered a centurion to keep Paul in custody, to relax the restrictions on him, and not to prevent any of his friends from attending to him or visiting him.” See how closely so many people investigate the matter over such a long time, so that no one could say the trial was rushed. For, since the orator had mentioned Lysias and said that he took “him away by force, Felix,” he says, “postponed their case. Having knowledge of that Way:” that is, he deliberately put them off, not because he needed to learn more, but because he wanted to get rid of the Jews. Because of them, he was unwilling to release Paul; he could not punish him, either, since that would have been (too) blatant. “And to relax the restrictions on him, and not to prevent any of his friends from attending to him.” That is how completely he too cleared him of the charges. Still, to please them, he kept him in custody, and he also sent for Paul because he expected to receive money. “And after several days, Felix came with his wife Drusilla, who was a Jew, and sent for Paul and heard him speak about faith in Christ. And as he discussed righteousness, self-control (i.e. self-control or chastity), and the judgment to come, Felix trembled and answered, Go away for now; when I have a convenient opportunity, I will call for you. He also hoped that Paul would give him money so that he might release him; therefore he sent for him more often and talked with him. But after two years Porcius Festus succeeded Felix, and Felix, wanting to do the Jews a favor, left Paul in chains.” (v. 24–27.) See how faithfully these things are recorded. He sent for him frequently, not because he admired him, or praised what he said, or wanted to believe. Why, then? “Expecting,” it says, “that he would be given money.” Notice that the writer does not conceal the judge’s motives here. “Therefore he sent for him,” etc. Yet if he had found him guilty, he would not have done this or wanted to hear a man who had been condemned and had a bad character. And notice Paul: although he is speaking with a ruler, he says nothing calculated to amuse or entertain him. Instead, (“he discussed,” it says,) “righteousness and the coming judgment,” and the resurrection. His words were so powerful that they even terrified the governor. Another man succeeds this one in office, and he leaves Paul a prisoner. Yet he should not have done this; he should have settled the case. But he leaves him there to please them. They, however, were so persistent that they petitioned the judge again. They had never opposed any of the other Apostles so stubbornly; in those cases, after attacking them, they soon gave up. So providence removes him from Jerusalem, since he has such wild beasts to deal with. Yet they still ask for him to be brought back there for trial. “Now when Festus arrived in the province, after three days he went up from Caesarea to Jerusalem. Then the high priest and the Jewish leaders brought charges against Paul and appealed to him, asking him for a favor against Paul: that he would summon him to Jerusalem, while they planned an ambush to kill him on the way.” (ch. xxv. 1–3.) Here God’s providence intervened and did not allow the governor to do this. It would have been natural for him, having just taken office, to want to please them, but God did not allow him to. “But Festus answered that Paul should be kept at Caesarea, and that he himself would leave for there shortly. So let those among you who are able, he said, go down with me and accuse this man, if there is any wrongdoing in him. And after staying among them more than ten days, he went down to Caesarea; and the next day he took his seat on the judgment seat and ordered Paul to be brought in.” (v. 4–6.) But after they came down, they immediately made their accusations shamelessly and more fiercely. Since they had been unable to convict him on charges concerning the Law, they again raised the issue of Caesar, as they usually did, just as they had done in Christ’s case. That they resorted to this is clear from Paul’s defense against charges of offenses against Caesar. “And when he arrived, the Jews who had come down from Jerusalem stood around him and brought many serious charges against Paul, which they could not prove. He answered in his own defense, I have committed no offense at all against the law of the Jews, or against the temple, or against Caesar. But Festus, wanting to do the Jews a favor, answered Paul, Will you go up to Jerusalem and stand trial there before me on these charges?” (v. 7–9.) So he too tries to please the Jews, the whole people, and the city. In these circumstances, Paul frightens him too, using a human weapon in his defense. “Then Paul said, I am standing before Caesar’s judgment seat, where I ought to be tried. I have done the Jews no wrong, as you know very well. For if I am guilty, or have committed anything deserving death, I do not refuse to die. But if there is nothing to these accusations against me, no one may hand me over to them. I appeal to Caesar.” (v. 10, 11.) Someone might ask, How is it that, after being told, “You must also bear witness to Me in Rome,” (ch. xxiii. 11), he did this, as though he did not believe? God forbid! On the contrary, he did it because he believed so strongly. For it would have been putting God to the test to become reckless because of that declaration, throw himself into countless dangers, and say, “Let us see whether God can rescue me even in these circumstances.” Paul does nothing of the kind. He does his part, everything in his power, while entrusting the whole matter to God. He also quietly rebukes the governor: “If,” he says, “I am guilty, you are right to act; but if I am not, why are you handing me over?” “No one,” he says, “may sacrifice me.” He frightened him, so that even if he wanted to, he could not sacrifice him to them. At the same time, he could cite Paul’s appeal as his excuse to them. “Then Festus, after consulting with the council, answered, Have you appealed to Caesar? To Caesar you will go. And after several days King Agrippa and Bernice came to Caesarea to greet Festus.” (v. 12, 13.) Notice that he tells Agrippa about the matter, so that once again there will be more listeners: the king, the army, and Bernice. Then comes a speech in his own defense. “And after they had been there many days, Festus laid Paul’s case before the king, saying, There is a man whom Felix left in chains. When I was in Jerusalem, the chief priests and the elders of the Jews brought charges against him, asking for a judgment against him. I answered them that it is not the Roman custom to hand anyone over to die before the accused has faced his accusers and has had an opportunity to defend himself against the charge. So when they came here, I wasted no time, but the next day took my seat on the judgment seat and ordered the man to be brought in. When his accusers stood up, they brought none of the charges I had expected. Instead, they had certain disputes with him about their own superstition and about a certain Jesus, who was dead, but whom Paul claimed was alive. And because I was at a loss about questions of this kind, I asked whether he would go to Jerusalem and stand trial there on these matters. But when Paul appealed to be held for a hearing before Augustus, I ordered him kept in custody until I could send him to Caesar. Then Agrippa said to Festus, I would like to hear the man myself. Tomorrow, he said, you will hear him.” (v. 14–22.) And notice the accusation against the Jews, coming not only from Paul, but also from the governor. “Asking,” he says, “for a judgment against him.” I told them, to their shame, that “it is not the Roman custom,” before giving a man an opportunity to defend himself, “to sacrifice him.” But I did give him (such opportunity), and I found no fault in him. “Because I was at a loss,” he says, about “questions of this kind”: he also draws a veil over his own wrongdoing. Then the other man wants to see Paul. (b) But let us look again at what has been said. (Recapitulation.) “And when Felix,” etc. (v. 22.) Notice how the governors always try to spare themselves the harassment of the Jews, are often driven to act unjustly, and look for excuses to postpone matters. Of course, he postponed the case not because he did not understand it, but because he did. His wife also listens, along with the governor. (v. 24.) This seems to me a sign of great respect. He would not have brought his wife to attend the hearing with him unless he thought highly of Paul. It seems to me that she too longed for this. And notice how Paul immediately speaks not only about faith or the forgiveness of sins, but also about practical duties. “Go away,” he says, “for now; when I have a convenient opportunity, I will call for you.” (v. 25.) Notice his hardness of heart: after hearing such things, “he hoped to receive money from him!” (v. 26.) And beyond that, even after talking with him—for this was toward the end of his governorship—he left him in chains, “wanting to do the Jews a favor” (v. 27). So he coveted not only money, but also glory. You wretch, how can you expect money from a man who preaches the opposite? That he did not get it is clear from his leaving Paul in chains; if he had received it, he would have released him. He discussed “self-control,” it says, yet the other man was craving money from the very person who spoke about these things! He did not dare ask for it outright—for that is how wickedness behaves—but he hoped for it. “And when two years had passed,” etc., so it was only natural that he did them a favor, since he had been governor there so long. “Now when Festus arrived in the province,” etc. (ch. xxv. 1, 2.) The priests came to him at the very beginning. They would not have hesitated to go even to Caesarea if they had not seen him coming up at once, since they approach him immediately on his arrival. And he spends ten days there, I suppose to make himself available to those who wanted to corrupt him with bribes. But Paul was in prison. “They appealed to him,” it says, “to send for him.” Why did they ask for it as a favor if Paul deserved death? But in this way their plotting became clear even to him, so that when he describes it (to Agrippa), he says, “asking for a judgment against him.” They wanted to persuade him to pass sentence immediately, because they were afraid of Paul’s tongue. What are you afraid of? Why are you in such a hurry? In fact, the expression “that he should be kept” (v. 4) shows this. Does he want to escape? “So let those among you,” he says, “who are able, accuse him.” (v. 5.) Again there are accusers, again they are at Caesarea, again Paul is brought out. And immediately on arriving, “he took his seat on the judgment seat” (v. 6), in such a hurry: that is how they drove and rushed him. Before he had become acquainted with the Jews or experienced the honor they paid him, he answered rightly. But now that he has spent ten days in Jerusalem, he too wants to please them (by sacrificing Paul to them). Then, also to win Paul over, he says, “Will you stand trial there before me on these charges?” (v. 9.) I am not handing you over to them—though that was what he was doing—and he leaves the decision to Paul himself, hoping that this show of respect will persuade him to yield; since the sentence was his to pass, and it would have been too blatant to take Paul back there when he had been convicted of nothing here. “But Paul said, I am standing before Caesar’s tribunal,” etc. (v. 10). He did not say, I will not, for fear of making the judge more hostile. But (here) again we see his great boldness: They themselves have cast me out once and for all, and they think they can condemn me by showing that I have offended against Caesar. I choose to be tried at his court, before the very person supposedly injured. “I have done the Jews no wrong, as you too know very well.” Here he rebuked him for wanting to sacrifice him to the Jews as well. Then, in turn, he softens (the sternness of) his speech: “If, then, I am guilty, or have committed anything deserving death, I do not refuse to die.” I pass sentence on myself. For boldness of speech must be accompanied by a just cause, so as to put (the hearer) to shame. “But if there is nothing to these accusations against me, no one”—however much he may want to—“no one may sacrifice me to please them.” He did not say, I do not deserve death, or, I deserve to be acquitted, but, I am ready to stand trial before Caesar. At the same time, remembering the dream, he was all the more confident in making his appeal. (ch. xxiii. 11) And he did not say, You (may not), but, no other man either may sacrifice me, so that it would not be an insult to him. “Then Festus, after consulting with the council”—do you notice how he tries to please them? For this is a favor—“after consulting,” it says, “with the council, he said, Have you appealed to Caesar? To Caesar you will go.” (v. 12.) See how his trial is drawn out again, and how the plot against him becomes an opportunity for preaching, so that he can be taken to Rome easily and in safe custody, with no one to plot harm against him. For simply arriving there was not the same as arriving on a case like this. In fact, this was what brought the Jews together there. (ch. xxviii. 17.) Then again, some time passes while he remains at Jerusalem, so that you may learn that, although time passes, the evil design against him achieves nothing, because God does not allow it. But this King Agrippa, who was also a Herod, was a different Agrippa, who came after the one in James’ time, so that this is the fourth (Herod). See how his enemies cooperate with him against their will. To make the audience large, Agrippa develops a desire to hear him; and he does not simply hear him, but does so with great ceremony. And see what a vindication (απολογιαν)! Festus writes in these same terms, and the Jews’ ruthlessness is publicly exposed. For when the governor says these things, he is a witness beyond all suspicion, so that he too condemns the Jews. For only after everyone had passed sentence against them did God bring punishment upon them. But notice: Lysias ruled against them, Felix against them, Festus against them—although he wanted to please them—and Agrippa against them. Who else? The Pharisees—even they ruled against themselves. No wrongdoing, Festus says, “of the kind I expected: they brought no accusation against him.” (v. 18.) Yet they did bring an accusation. True, but they did not prove it. Their malicious intent and their bold plot against him gave grounds for such suspicions, but the examination revealed nothing of the kind. “And about a certain Jesus,” he says, “who was dead.” (v. 19.) Naturally enough, he says “a certain” (Jesus), since he is a public official with no interest in these things. “And being at a loss myself about the inquiry into these things” (v. 20)—of course, investigating these matters went beyond a judge’s hearing. If you are at a loss, why do you drag him to Jerusalem? But Paul would not agree to this. No: “To Caesar,” he says, since the accusations against him did in fact concern Caesar. Do you hear the appeal? Do you hear about the Jews’ plotting? Do you hear their factional spirit? All these things stirred Agrippa’s desire (of hearing him): and he grants them the satisfaction of a hearing, and Paul becomes more widely known. For, as I said, this is what comes of the malicious schemes (of enemies). If these things had not happened, none of these rulers would have been willing to hear him; none would have listened so quietly and silently. He seems to be teaching, he seems to be making a defense, but really he is delivering a public address in a very orderly way. So let us not think that plots against us are something terrible. As long as we do not plot against ourselves, no one will be able to plot against us—or rather, people may do so, but they do us no harm. Indeed, they benefit us enormously. For it is up to us whether we suffer harm or do not suffer harm. Look! I testify and proclaim in a loud voice, more piercing even than a trumpet—and if I could climb up high and shout it out, I would not hesitate—that no human being on earth has the power to harm a Christian. And why do I say human beings? Not even the Evil Spirit himself, the tyrant, the Devil, can do this unless the person harms himself. Whatever anyone does, he does it in vain. For just as no human being could harm an angel if he were on earth, neither can one human being harm another. Nor, in turn, will he himself be able to harm another as long as he is good. What could compare with this: being unable either to be harmed or to harm another? For this second thing, not wanting to harm another, is no less than the first. Such a man is a kind of angel, yes, like God. For that is how God is, except that He is this way by nature, while this man is this way by moral choice: neither can be harmed or harm another. But do not think that this “cannot” comes from any lack of power—for the opposite is a lack of power. No, I mean moral incompatibility (τὸ ἀνενδεκτόν). For the (Divine) Nature is neither Itself vulnerable to harm nor capable of harming another, since doing so is itself a harm. For we harm ourselves in no other way than by harming another, and our greatest sins are such because we injure ourselves. So this is another reason why the Christian cannot be harmed: because he cannot harm anyone either. But come, let us examine this statement in detail and see how we harm ourselves by harming others. Suppose a man wrongs another, insults him, or cheats him. Whom has he harmed? Has he not harmed himself first? This is plain to everyone. For the other man’s loss is in money; his own is in his soul, leading to destruction and punishment. Again, suppose another man is envious: has he not injured himself? For injustice is like this: it first does incalculable harm to the person who commits it. “Yes, but does it not harm someone else too?” True, but not enough to matter—or rather, not even a little. Indeed, it even benefits him. For suppose—since examples like these bring out the whole point most clearly—suppose there is a poor man with little property and (barely) enough necessary food, and another who is rich, wealthy, and very powerful. Then suppose the rich man takes the poor man’s property, strips him naked, and leaves him to starve, while he himself lives in luxury on what he has unjustly taken from the other. He has not harmed that man at all; he has even benefited him. As for himself, he has not merely failed to benefit himself; he has actually harmed himself. How could it be otherwise? First, he is tormented by a guilty conscience, condemning himself every day and being condemned by everyone else; and second, he faces the judgment to come. But how does the other man benefit? Because suffering wrong and bearing it nobly is a great gain: this suffering of wrong takes away sins, trains him in philosophy, and disciplines him in virtue. Let us see which of the two is in a bad condition, this man or that one. For if the one has a well-ordered mind, he will bear it nobly; the other will live every day in constant trembling and apprehension. Which one, then, is harmed, this man or that one? “You are talking nonsense,” you say. “When a man has nothing to eat, and is forced to mourn his condition and feel utterly miserable, or goes begging and receives nothing, is that not the ruin of both soul and body?” No, you are the one talking nonsense, for I offer facts as proof. Tell me, do none of the rich feel miserable? What then? Is poverty the cause of their misery? “But he does not starve.” And what of that? His punishment is greater when he behaves this way despite having wealth. For wealth does not make a man strong-minded, nor does poverty make him weak. Otherwise, none of those living in wealth would lead a miserable life, nor would any of those in poverty (not) curse his fate. But I will show you from this that it is indeed you who are talking nonsense. Was Paul poor or rich? Did he go hungry or not? You can hear him say himself, “In hunger and thirst.” (2 Cor. xi. 27.) Did the prophets go hungry or not? They too had a hard time. “Again you bring up Paul, again the prophets, some ten or twenty men.” But where am I to get examples? “Show me some among the many who bear suffering nobly.” But such people are always rare. Still, if you like, let us examine the matter in itself. Let us see whose worries are greater and sharper, and whose are easier to bear. One worries about the food he needs; the other is free of that worry but worries about countless other matters. The rich man does not fear hunger, but he fears other things, often for his very life. The poor man is not free from anxiety about food, but he is free from other anxieties; he has safety, quiet, and security. If injuring another is something good rather than evil, why are we ashamed? Why do we cover our faces? Why are we upset and disconcerted when we are reproached? If being injured is not a good thing, why do we take pride in it, glory in it, and use it to justify ourselves? Would you like to learn how this is better than that? Look at those in the one condition and those in the other. Why are there laws? Why are there courts of justice? Why are there punishments? Is it not because of those men, because they are diseased and unsound? But the pleasure is great, you will say. Let us leave the future aside and examine the present. What is worse than a man under such suspicion? What is more precarious? What is more unsound? Is he not always in a state of shipwreck? Even if he does something just, no one believes him, since everyone condemns him because of his power (of injuring). Everyone who lives with him is an accuser. He cannot enjoy friendship, for no one would readily choose to befriend a man with such a reputation, for fear of sharing in the bad opinion people have of him. Everyone turns away from him as though he were a wild beast. They shrink from the unjust man as from a plague, an adversary, a murderer, and an enemy of nature. If someone who has wronged another is brought into a court of justice, he does not even need an accuser: his character condemns him in an accuser’s place. It is different for the injured man: everyone takes his side, sympathizes with him, and reaches out a helping hand. He stands on safe ground. If injuring another is good and safe, let someone admit that he is unjust. But if he does not dare do this, why does he pursue injustice as something good? Now let us look within ourselves and see what evils result if the same thing happens there: (I mean,) if any of our internal parts or functions oversteps its proper bounds and seizes another’s role. Suppose the spleen leaves its proper place, if it likes, and takes over the space belonging to another organ along with its own. Is this not disease? Let the fluid within us fill every place: is that not dropsy and gout? Does it not ruin itself along with the other? Again, let the bile seek more room, and let the blood spread throughout every part. And what happens in the soul with anger, lust, and all the rest, if the food exceeds its proper measure? Again, in the body, suppose the eye wants to take in more, or see more than its allotted share, or admit more light than is proper. But if light is good, and yet the eye is ruined when it chooses to see more than it should, consider what must happen with something evil. If the ear takes in a (too) loud voice, its sense is stunned. If the mind reasons about things beyond itself, it is overwhelmed. Everything in excess spoils the whole. For this is πλεονεξία: wanting more than what has been marked out and allotted. It is the same with money. When we insist on putting on (us) more burdens (than is meet), we are feeding a wild beast within ourselves to our own great harm, although we do not realize it. We have much, yet still want more; we entangle ourselves in countless worries and give the devil many ways to get a grip on us. With the rich, however, the devil does not even need to work, so surely do their business concerns ruin them on their own. Therefore I beg you to turn away from the lust for these things, so that we may escape the evil one’s snares, take hold of virtue, and attain eternal good things, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with Whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit together, be glory forever. Amen.