Homilies on Acts, Homily 53

“After he had said this, the king rose, along with the governor, Bernice, and those sitting with them. When they had withdrawn, they talked among themselves, saying, This man is doing nothing that deserves death or imprisonment. Then Agrippa said to Festus, This man could have been released if he had not appealed to Caesar.” See how once again they rule in his favor. After saying, “You are out of your mind,” (v. 24) they acquit him as deserving neither death nor imprisonment, and indeed they would have released him altogether if he had not appealed to Caesar. But providence arranged this so that he would also depart in chains. “In chains,” he says, “as a criminal.” (2 Tim. ii. 9.) For if his Lord “was counted among the transgressors” (Mark xv. 28), how much more he would be. But just as the Lord did not share their character, neither did Paul. This is what is so wonderful: being mixed in with such people and yet suffering no harm from them. “When it was decided that we should sail to Italy, they handed Paul and some other prisoners over to a man named Julius, a centurion of Augustus’ regiment. We boarded a ship from Adramyttium and set sail, intending to sail along the coast of Asia. Aristarchus, a Macedonian from Thessalonica, was with us. The next day we landed at Sidon.” (ch. xxvii. 1–3.) See how far Aristarchus accompanies Paul too. Aristarchus is there for a good and useful purpose, since he would take a report of everything back to Macedonia. “Julius treated Paul kindly and allowed him to go to his friends to refresh himself. Julius gave Paul permission,” it says, acting “kindly, so that he could refresh himself.” It was only natural that he should be badly worn down by his chains, his fear, and being dragged back and forth. See how the writer does not hide this either: Paul wanted “to refresh himself. When we had set sail from there, we sailed in the shelter of Cyprus, because the winds were against us.” (v. 4.) Trials again, opposing winds again. See how these things are woven throughout the lives of the saints: after escaping the court of justice, they encounter shipwreck and storm. “When we had sailed across the sea off Cilicia and Pamphylia, we came to Myra, a city of Lycia. There the centurion found a ship from Alexandria sailing to Italy, and put us aboard it.” (v. 5, 6.) “A ship from Alexandria,” it says. It is likely that both those (in the former ship) would carry to Asia a report of what had happened to Paul, and these would do the same in Lycia. See how God does not introduce innovations or change the order of nature, but allows them to sail into unfavorable winds. Even so, the miracle takes place. To let them sail safely, He did not let them go out into the (open) sea; they always sailed near land. “We sailed slowly for many days and barely reached a point opposite Cnidus. Since the wind would not let us go farther, we sailed in the shelter of Crete, opposite Salmone. After passing it with difficulty, we came to a place called Fair Havens, near the city of Lasea. Much time had now passed, and sailing had become dangerous, because the fast was already over, so Paul warned them.” (v. 7–9.) By “the fast” here, I suppose he means the Jewish fast. For they left there a long time after Pentecost, so that it was around midwinter when they reached the coast of Crete. And this too was no small miracle: they too would be saved for his sake. “Paul warned them and said, Gentlemen, I can see that this voyage will bring injury and great loss, not only to the cargo and the ship, but also to our lives. Nevertheless, the centurion trusted the captain and the owner of the ship more than what Paul said. And because the harbor was unsuitable for spending the winter, the majority advised leaving there too, in the hope that they could somehow reach Phoenix and spend the winter there. It is a harbor of Crete facing southwest and northwest. When a gentle south wind began to blow, they thought they had what they wanted, so they weighed anchor and sailed close along Crete. But before long a violent wind called Euroclydon swept down against it. When the ship was caught and could not head into the wind, we let her drift” (R.V. “were driven.”) (v. 10–15.) Paul therefore advised them to stay, and foretold what would happen. But they were in a hurry, and the place stood in their way, so they wanted to spend the winter at Phoenix. Notice, then, how providence arranged these events. First, “when a gentle south wind began to blow, they thought they had what they wanted,” so they released the ship and put out to sea. Then, when the wind bore down on them, they yielded and let it drive them, and barely escaped with their lives. “Running in the shelter of a certain island called Clauda, we had great difficulty securing the boat. After hauling it aboard, they used supports to brace the ship underneath. Fearing that they would run onto the sandbanks, they lowered the sail and drifted along. We were being battered so violently by the storm that the next day they began throwing cargo overboard. On the third day we threw the ship’s equipment overboard with our own hands. When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and a fierce storm continued to beat down on us, all hope of being saved was gone. After they had gone a long time without food, Paul stood among them and said, Gentlemen, you should have listened to me and stayed in Crete, and so avoided this injury and loss.” (v. 16–21.) After such a great storm, he does not speak to insult them, but because he wants them, at least, to believe him from now on. That is why he also points to what has happened as evidence that what he is about to say is true. “And now I urge you to take courage, for none of you will lose your life; only the ship will be lost. For last night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve stood beside me, saying, Do not be afraid, Paul. You must stand before Caesar. And see, God has given you everyone sailing with you. So take courage, gentlemen, for I believe God: it will happen just as I was told. But we must run aground on a certain island.” (v. 22–26.) He foretells two things: that they must run aground on an island, and that although the ship would be lost, those aboard would be saved. He said this as prophecy, not as a guess. He also foretells that he “must stand before Caesar.” But when he says, “God has given you everyone,” he is not boasting; he wants to win over those sailing in the ship. For (he spoke this way) so that they would believe what he was saying, not so that they would feel indebted to him. “God has given you”: this means (as to say), They do deserve death, since they would not listen to you; nevertheless, this is being done as a favor to you. “When the fourteenth night came, as we were being driven back and forth in Adria, around midnight the sailors suspected that they were approaching land. They took a sounding and found twenty fathoms. A little farther on, they took another sounding and found fifteen fathoms. Fearing that they would run onto rocks, they dropped four anchors from the stern and longed for daylight. The sailors were trying to escape from the ship and had lowered the boat into the sea, pretending that they were going to put out anchors from the bow. Paul said to the centurion and the soldiers, Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved. Then the soldiers cut the boat’s ropes and let it fall away.” (v. 27–32.) The sailors, however, were about to escape because they had no faith in what had been said. But the centurion does believe Paul. For he says that if these men flee, “you cannot be saved.” He says this, not because their safety depended on that, but to restrain them and keep the prophecy from coming to nothing. See how they are instructed, as though in a church, by Paul’s calm behavior, and how he saved them from the very midst of danger. Providence arranged for Paul to be disbelieved so that, once the facts proved him right, he would be believed. And that is what happened. He again urges them to eat something, and they do as he tells them. He eats some first, to persuade them by action as well as words that the storm had done them no harm, but had instead benefited their souls. “As day was approaching, Paul urged them all to eat, saying, Today is the fourteenth day that you have waited and gone without food, eating nothing.” (v. 33.) (b) And how, you ask, did they go without food, eating nothing? How did they bear it? Fear had taken hold of them and kept them from wanting food, since they were in such extreme danger; (f) but they had no concern for food. “So I urge you to eat something, for this is for your health. Not a hair will fall from any of your heads. After saying this, he took bread and gave thanks to God in front of them all. Then he broke it and began to eat. They all took courage and ate some food too,” (v. 34–36) since their lives were no longer in question. (d) “There were 276 souls altogether aboard the ship. When they had eaten enough, they lightened the ship by throwing the wheat into the sea. When daylight came, they did not recognize the land, but they noticed a bay with a beach where they intended to run the ship ashore if possible. They took up the anchors and committed themselves to the sea, untied the rudder ropes, hoisted the mainsail to the wind, and headed for shore.” (v. 37–41.) “They headed for shore,” having given the rudder handles over to the wind; for often they do not do it this way. They were carried along, having loosened the rigging, that is, the sails. “But striking a place where two seas met, they ran the ship aground. The bow stuck fast and remained immovable, while the stern was broken apart by the force of the waves.” For when there is a strong wind, this is what happens: the stern takes the brunt (of the storm). (a) “The soldiers planned to kill the prisoners, so that none of them could swim away and escape.” (v. 42.) Again the devil tries to obstruct the prophecy. They wanted to kill some of them, but the centurion would not let them, because he wanted to save Paul; that is how attached the centurion had become to him. “But the centurion, wanting to save Paul, kept them from carrying out their plan. He ordered those who could swim to jump into the sea first and get to land, and the rest to follow, some on boards and some on broken pieces of the ship. And so they all reached land safely.” (v. 43, 44.) “After they had escaped, they learned that the island was called Malta.” (ch. xxviii. 1.) Do you notice what good came from the storm? The storm’s coming upon them, then, was no sign that they had been abandoned. (c) Now what happened was a result of the season of the year. But the wonder is all the greater that at such a season they were saved from the midst of danger, both he and, for his sake, the rest, (e) and this in the Adriatic too. There were 276 souls altogether: this too was no small thing, if indeed they believed. The voyage took place at an unsuitable time of year. (g) It is natural to suppose that they would ask why they were sailing and would learn everything. Nor did the voyage last so long for nothing: it gave Paul an opportunity to teach. (Recapitulation.) And Paul says, “I can see that (this voyage will be) marked by injury and loss.” (v. 10.) Notice how modestly he puts it. To avoid seeming to prophesy, and to sound as though he is making a guess, he says, “I can see.” For they would not have accepted it if he had said this at the outset. In fact, he does prophesy on this first occasion, just as he does afterward, when he says (there), “The God whom I serve,” leading them forward. Then why was there no “loss” (of any) “of their lives?” There would have been, if God had not brought them safely through. For by the nature of the situation, they would have perished, but God prevented it. Then, to show that he did not speak from guesswork, the ship’s captain said the opposite (v. 11), though he was experienced in these matters. That is how far Paul’s advice was from being a guess. Moreover, the place itself suggested the same thing (which the master said), “being unsuitable”; and it was clearly “the majority” who “advised” (v. 12) as they did on the basis of guesswork, rather than Paul. Then the storm (that followed) was fierce, and the darkness deep. And so that they would not forget, the ship too breaks apart, and the grain and everything else are thrown out, so that afterward they have no excuse for being shameless. This is why the ship breaks apart, while their souls are tightly braced. Moreover, both the storm and the darkness did a great deal to win him the hearing he received. Notice, then, how the centurion does as he tells him, even letting the boat go and destroying it. And although the sailors did not yet follow his instructions, they do so afterward; for these are, in fact, a reckless sort of people. (v. 13–20.) “Gentlemen, you should have listened to me,” etc. (v. 21.) Someone who scolds people in the midst of a disaster is unlikely to be welcomed. But when he tells them how much more of the disaster there is (to come), and then predicts good things, he is welcome. That is why he first confronts them when “all hope of being saved was gone,” so that no one could say, Nothing has come of it. Their fear also bears witness. Moreover, the location was dangerous, for they were in the Adriatic; and then there was their long time without food. They were in the midst of death. It was now the fourteenth day that they had gone without food, eating nothing. “So,” he said, “I urge you to eat something, for this is for your health” (v. 34): you must eat so that you do not die of hunger. Notice how his giving thanks after everything that had happened strengthened them. It showed a mind confident that they would be saved. (b) “Then they all took courage and ate some food too.” (v. 36.) And more than that: from then on, they entrusted all their concerns to Paul so completely that they even threw out the grain (v. 37), despite there being so many of them. (a) Two hundred and seventy-six souls (v. 38): what did they have left to live on? (c) See how they do their part as human beings, and how Paul does not stop them. “When daylight came,” etc., “they untied the rudder ropes.” (v. 39, 40.) And the ship breaks apart in daylight, so that they will not completely fall apart with terror, and so that you may see the prophecy become fact. “The soldiers planned,” etc. (v. 42.) Do you notice how in this respect too they were given to Paul? For it was for his sake that the centurion would not let them be killed. Those men seem to me to have been plainly wicked, so much so that they would even have chosen to kill them. But some swam ashore, others were carried on boards, and in this way all were saved and the prophecy was fulfilled. (a prophecy,) although it had not gained solemnity from the passage of time, since he had not delivered it years earlier, but it stayed close to the events themselves: (still a prophecy it was,) for everything was beyond hope. And (so) it was by being saved themselves that they learned who Paul was. But someone may ask: Why did he not save the ship? So that they would recognize how great a danger they had escaped, and that everything depended on God’s hand saving them without a ship, rather than on human help. So righteous people, even when they are in a storm, or on the sea, or in the deep, suffer nothing dreadful, and even save others along with themselves. If (here was) a ship in danger and being wrecked, and prisoners were saved for Paul’s sake, consider what it means to have a holy man in a house. For many storms attack us too, storms far more severe than these (natural ones). But He can also give us to the holy man to be saved for his sake, if only we obey holy men as those (in the ship) did, if we do what they tell us. For they are not merely saved; they themselves also helped bring other people to believe (πίστιν εἰσήνεγκαν). Even in chains, the holy man does greater works than those who are free. Look at how this happened here. The free centurion needed his chained prisoner; the skilled pilot needed the man who was no pilot—or rather, the man who was the true pilot. For the vessel he piloted was not of this (earthly) kind, but the Church of the whole world, having learned from Him Who is Lord of the sea as well. (He steered it,) not by human skill, but by the wisdom of the Spirit. In this vessel there are many shipwrecks, many waves, spirits of wickedness; “within are conflicts, outside are fears” (2 Cor. vii. 5). So he was the true pilot. Look at our whole life: it is just like that (as was this voyage). At one time we meet kindness, at another a storm. Sometimes through our own poor judgment, sometimes through our laziness, we fall into countless evils, because we do not listen to Paul when we are eager to go somewhere he tells us not to go. For Paul is sailing with us even now, though no longer in chains as he was then. He warns us even now, saying to those who are (sailing) on this sea, “Watch yourselves, for after my departure fierce wolves will come in among you” (Acts xx. 29); and again, “In the last times dangerous times will come, and people will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful.” (2 Tim. iii. 1, 2.) This is more dreadful than all storms. So let us stay where he tells us—in faith, in the safe harbor. Let us listen to him rather than to the pilot within us, that is, our own reason. Let us not immediately do whatever it suggests, or whatever the ship’s owner suggests, but what Paul suggests: he has passed through many such storms. Let us not learn (to our cost) through experience, but before experiencing it let us “avoid both injury and loss.” Hear what he says: “Those who want to be rich fall into temptation.” (1 Tim. vi. 9.) So let us obey him. Otherwise, see what they suffered because they did not take his advice. And again, elsewhere he tells us what causes shipwrecks: “Who,” he says, “have suffered shipwreck in their faith. But you, continue in the things you have learned and become convinced of.” (1 Tim. i. 19; 2 Tim. iii. 14.) Let us obey Paul. Even if we are in the midst of a storm, we will certainly be freed from danger. Even if we go without food for fourteen days, even if hope of safety has left us, even if we are in darkness and mist, by doing what he tells us we will be freed from danger. Let us think of the whole world as a ship, with evildoers and people who have countless vices aboard it, some rulers, others guards, others righteous men like Paul, and others prisoners, bound by their sins. If, then, we do what Paul tells us, we will not perish in our chains, but will be released from them: God will give us to him too. Or do you not think that sins and passions are heavy chains? For it is not only the hands that are bound, but the whole person. Tell me, when someone has a great deal of money and neither uses nor spends it, but keeps it locked away, is he not more tightly bound than any prisoner by his miserliness, a chain that cannot be broken? Again, when a man gives himself over to (the belief in) Fate, is he not bound with other shackles? What about when he gives himself over to observances (of times)? What about omens? Are these not heavier than all chains? Again, what about when he gives himself over to irrational lust and love? Who will break these chains for you? God’s help is needed to undo them. But when there are both chains and a storm, think how great the dangers are. For which of them is not enough to destroy someone—the hunger, the storm, the wickedness of those aboard, the unsuitable season? But Paul’s glory stood firm against all these things. So it is now: let us keep the saints near us, and there will be no storm. Or rather, even if there is a storm, there will be great calm and peace, and freedom from danger. For that widow had the saint as her friend, and her child’s death was undone, and she received her son back alive. (1 Kings xvii. 17.) Where the feet of saints step, there will be nothing painful; and if something painful does happen, it is to test us and bring greater glory to God. Let the floor of your house become accustomed to such feet walking on it, and an evil spirit will not walk there. For just as a bad smell finds no place where there is a sweet fragrance, so where the holy ointment is, the evil spirit is choked, while the ointment gladdens those near it, delights them, and refreshes the soul. Where there are thorns, there are wild beasts; where there is hospitality, there are no thorns. For when almsgiving enters, it destroys the thorns more effectively than any sharp sickle, more fiercely than any fire. Do not be afraid: (the wicked one) fears the tracks of saints as foxes fear lions. For “the righteous,” it says, “is as bold as a lion.” (Prov. xxviii. 1.) Let us bring these lions into our house, and all the wild beasts are driven away. The lions do not need to roar; they need only make their voices heard. For a lion’s roar does not drive away wild beasts as powerfully as a righteous man’s prayer drives away evil spirits. Let him merely speak, and they cower. And where can such men be found now, you will ask? Everywhere, if we believe, if we seek, if we make the effort. Tell me, where have you looked? When did you take up this work? When did you make it your business? But if you do not look, do not be surprised that you do not find. For “the one who seeks finds” (Matt. vii. 8), not the one who does not seek. Listen to those who live in deserts: get rid of your gold and silver. (Such holy men) can be found in every part of the world. Even if you do not welcome such a man into your house, go to him, live with him, stay at his dwelling place, so that you may obtain and enjoy his blessing. For receiving a blessing from the saints is a great thing. Let us take care to obtain it, so that, helped by their prayers, we may receive mercy from God, through the grace and loving-kindness of His only-begotten Son, with Whom, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honor, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.