Homilies on Acts, Homily 54

“And the foreigners showed us great kindness: they lit a fire and welcomed every one of us because of the rain that was falling and because of the cold. And when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks and laid them on the fire, a viper came out because of the heat and fastened onto his hand.” “Showed,” he says, “great kindness to us—foreigners” (as they were)—“having lit a fire:” otherwise, saving their lives would have been useless if the winter weather was going to destroy them. Then Paul gathered brushwood and laid it on the fire. See how active he is; notice how we never find him performing miracles simply for the sake of performing them, but only when the need arises. During the storm, too, he prophesied because there was a reason, not for the sake of prophesying; and here again he begins by laying brushwood on the fire—nothing for empty display, but (with a simple view) simply to keep them alive and give them some warmth. Then a viper “fastened onto his hand. And when the foreigners saw the venomous creature hanging from his hand, they said among themselves, No doubt this man is a murderer: though he has escaped the sea, vengeance will not let him live.” (v. 4.) It was good that this was allowed to happen, so that they would both see the event and express their thought, and then, when the outcome followed, there would be no room to disbelieve the miracle. Notice their compassion (towards the distressed) in saying this (not aloud, but) among themselves—notice (also) the natural judgment clearly expressed even among foreigners, and how they do not condemn without giving a reason. These people, too, witness it so that they may be all the more amazed. “And he shook the creature off into the fire and suffered no harm. But they expected him to swell up or suddenly fall down dead. After they had waited a long time and saw that no harm came to him, they changed their minds and said that he was a god.” (v. 5, 6.) They expected him, it says, to fall down dead; and then, when they saw that nothing of the kind happened to him, they said, He is a god. Again (viz. as in ch. xiv. 11), these men went to another extreme. “Nearby were estates belonging to the chief man of the island, whose name was Publius. He welcomed us and kindly gave us lodging for three days. Now Publius’s father was lying sick with a fever and bloody diarrhea. Paul went in to see him, prayed, laid his hands on him, and healed him.” (v. 7, 8.) Look again at another hospitable man, Publius, who was wealthy and owned extensive property. He had seen nothing, but welcomed them and cared for them purely out of compassion for their misfortune. So he deserved to receive kindness; and therefore, in return for his hospitality, Paul “healed him. After this happened, others on the island who had diseases also came and were healed. They also honored us with many honors; and when we left, they supplied us with the things we needed” (v. 9, 10), both us and the rest. See how, once they were free of the storm, they did not grow more careless, and how generously they were entertained for Paul’s sake. They stayed there for three months, all of them supplied with food. See how all this is done for Paul’s sake, so that the prisoners, the soldiers, and the centurion would believe. Even if they had been made of stone, the advice they heard him give, the prediction they heard him make, the miracles they knew he had performed, and the food they enjoyed through him must have given them a very high opinion of him. See how, when judgment is sound and not already taken over by some passion, it immediately judges rightly and reaches sound conclusions. “And after three months we left in a ship from Alexandria that had wintered on the island and bore the sign of Castor and Pollux. We landed at Syracuse and stayed there three days. From there we sailed around and came to Rhegium. After one day a south wind began to blow, and we reached Puteoli the next day. There we found brothers, who asked us to stay with them seven days; and so we went toward Rome. When the brothers there heard about us, they came as far as the Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns to meet us. When Paul saw them, he thanked God and took courage.” (v. 11–15.) The preaching has already reached Sicily: see how it has spread (even to those lands). At Puteoli, too, they found some believers; others also came to meet them. Such was the brothers’ eagerness that Paul’s chains did not trouble them at all. But notice also how Paul himself experienced ordinary human feelings. For it says, “he took courage when he saw the brothers.” Although he had performed so many miracles, even the sight of them still gave him a boost (of confidence). From this we learn that he experienced both human comfort and its opposite. “And when we came to Rome, Paul was allowed to live by himself with a soldier guarding him.” (v. 16.) He was given permission to live by himself. This, too, is considerable proof of how greatly he was admired: clearly they did not class him with the rest. “And after three days he called together the leaders of the Jews.” After three days he called the Jewish leaders together so that they would not hear prejudicial reports first. And what dealings did he have with them? For they would not (else) have been likely to accuse him. Still, this was not his concern; he was concerned about the teaching, and about keeping what he had to say from offending them. (Recapitulation.) “And the foreigners,” etc. (v. 2.) The Jews, then, saw all the many miracles they performed and persecuted and harassed (Paul); but the foreigners, who had seen none, were kind to him simply because of his misfortune.—“No doubt,” they say, “this man is a murderer:” (v. 4). They do not simply state their judgment, but say, “No doubt,” (i.e.) as anyone can see, “and vengeance,” they say, “will not let him live.” So they, too, believed in Providence, and these foreigners were far more philosophical than the philosophers, who do not allow the benefits of Providence to extend to things “below the moon.” But (these barbarians) suppose that God is present everywhere, and that although a (guilty) man may escape many (a danger), he will not escape in the end. They do not attack him immediately, but for a time treat him with respect because of his misfortune. Nor do they openly announce their suspicion, but say it “among themselves: a murderer”; for his chains led them to suspect this. “They showed great kindness,” even though (some of them) were prisoners. Let those who say, Do not do good to people in prison, be ashamed. Let these foreigners put us to shame: they did not know who these men were, but simply because they were suffering misfortune (they were kind). They understood this much: these were human beings, and therefore they thought them entitled to humane treatment. “And for a long time,” it says, “they expected him to die.” (v. 6.) But when he shook his hand and flung off the creature, they saw it and were astonished. The miracle did not happen suddenly; instead, the men judged by the time that passed, “after they had waited a long time.” So clearly there was no deception, no haste here (συναρπαγή). “Publius,” it says, “kindly gave them lodging” (v. 7): two hundred and seventy-six people. Consider how much he gained from his hospitality. He lodged them for three days, not because he had to, not unwillingly, but because he considered it a gain. Afterward, when he had received his reward, he naturally honored Paul much more, as the others also received healing. “They also,” it says, “honored us with many honors” (v. 10): not that he received wages, God forbid; but as it is written, “The worker deserves his food. And when we left, they supplied us with the things we needed.” (Matt. x. 10.) Clearly, having welcomed them in this way, they also accepted the message they preached. For we cannot suppose that they would have been shown all this kindness for three whole months unless these people had come to believe firmly and had shown the fruits (of their conversion) in this way. So this gives us strong evidence of how many people there believed. Even this was enough to establish (Paul’s) credibility with those (his fellow-voyagers). Notice how throughout this voyage they did not stop at a city anywhere, but (were cast) onto an island, and spent the whole winter (there, or) sailing—all this was training those men in faith, his fellow travelers, I mean. (a) “And after three months we left in a ship from Alexandria that had wintered on the island and bore the sign of Castor and Pollux.” (v. 11.) Probably this was painted on it: so devoted were they to their idols. (d) “And when the south wind blew, we reached Puteoli the next day. There we found brothers, who asked us to stay with them seven days; and so we went toward Rome.” (v. 13, 14.) (b) Notice how they stay a while, then hurry on again. (e) “When the brothers there heard about us, they came as far as the Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns to meet us” (v. 15): without fearing the danger. (c) Paul was therefore now so highly respected that he was even allowed to live by himself; for if they had treated him kindly even before this, they would do so much more now. (g) “He was allowed,” it says, “to live by himself, with a soldier guarding him.” (v. 16.) This was so that no plot could be made against him there either—for there could be no stirring up a riot now. So in fact they were not holding Paul in custody, but guarding him so that nothing unpleasant would happen to him. For now, in so great a city, with the Emperor there and with Paul’s appeal, nothing could be done contrary to proper procedure. That is how certain it is that everything always turns out in our favor through the things that seem to be against us. “With the soldier”—for he was Paul’s guard. “And having called together the leaders of the Jews” (v. 17), he speaks to them. They leave contradicting him, and he taunts them, yet they dare not say anything, for they were not allowed to handle his case however they pleased. This is something marvelous: everything works in our favor through the very opposite of the things that seem to secure our safety. To help you understand this—Pharaoh ordered the infants to be thrown into the river. (Exod. i. 22.) Unless the infants had been abandoned, Moses would not have been saved; he would not have been brought up in the palace. When he was safe, he had no honor; when he was abandoned, then he received honor. God did this to show how rich He is in resources and ways of accomplishing His purposes. The Jew threatened him, saying, “Do you want to kill me?” (ib. 14) and this, too, benefited him. It was God’s providence, so that he would see that vision in the desert, so that the appointed time would be completed, so that he would learn philosophy in the desert and live there in safety. And the same thing happens in all the Jews’ plots against him: then he becomes more distinguished. So it was with Aaron, too: they rose up against him, and this made him more distinguished (Num. xvi., xvii.), so that his ordination would be beyond question, and the bronze plates would cause him to be admired in the future as well (τὥν πετάλων τοὕ χαλκοὕ). Of course you know the story, so I will skip telling it. And if you wish, let us go over these same examples from the beginning. Cain killed his brother, but by doing this he actually benefited him. Listen to what Scripture says: “The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to Me” (Gen. iv. 10); and again elsewhere, “To the blood that speaks better things than that of Abel.” (Heb. xii. 24.) He freed him from the uncertainty of the future and increased his reward; through this we have all learned how much God loved him. How was he harmed? Not at all, by reaching his end sooner. Tell me, what do those who die more slowly gain? Nothing. For having good days depends on using life properly, not on living many years or few. The Three Children were thrown into the furnace, and through this they became more distinguished; Daniel was thrown into the pit, and from there he became more renowned. (Dan. iii. and vi.) You see that trials always produce great good even in this life, and much more in the life to come. As for malice, it is like a man taking a reed and setting out to fight a fire: it seems to beat the fire, but it makes it burn brighter and only burns itself up. For the malice of the wicked becomes fuel for virtue and an opportunity for it to shine: because God puts injustice to good use, our character shines all the more. Again, whenever the devil does something of this kind, he makes those who endure it more distinguished. How then, you will say, did this not happen with Adam? Why, on the contrary, did he become more disgraced? In fact, in this case above all others, God put (the malice of) that (wicked one) to good use. But if (Adam) was worse off because of it, he harmed himself. For the wrongs others do to us become the means of great good to us; the wrongs we do ourselves do not. Indeed, because we grieve when others hurt us, but not when we hurt ourselves, God shows that someone who suffers unjustly at another’s hands gains renown, while someone who harms himself suffers injury, so that we may courageously endure the former but avoid the latter. Besides, the whole thing in that case was Adam’s own doing. Why did you do what the woman told you? (Gen. iii. 6.) Why did you not reject her when she advised you to act contrary (to God)? You yourself were certainly the cause. Otherwise, if the devil was the cause, then everyone who is tempted ought to perish. But if not everyone perishes, the cause (of our destruction) lies with us. “But,” you will say, “everyone who is tempted ought (at that rate) to succeed.” No, for the cause lies with us. “Then it ought to follow that (some) perish without the devil having anything to do with it.” Yes, and in fact many do perish without the devil being involved. Certainly the devil does not bring about all (our evil doings); much also comes from our own laziness alone. And if he is involved anywhere as a cause, it is because we give him the opportunity. Tell me, why did the devil prevail in Judas’s case? You will say, When “Satan entered into him” (John xiii. 27). Yes, but listen to the cause: it was because “he was a thief and took what was put in the bag.” (ib. xii. 6.) He himself gave the devil plenty of room to enter him. So the devil does not initiate evil in us; we receive and invite him. “But,” you will say, “if there were no devil, the evils would not have become so great.” True, but then there would be no plea for reducing our punishment. As it is, beloved, our punishment is milder, whereas if we had committed these evils on our own, the punishments would be unbearable. Tell me, if Adam had committed his sin without anyone advising him, who would have rescued him from the dangers? “But he would not have sinned,” you will say. What grounds do you have for saying that? For someone with so little firmness, so sluggish and so ready for foolishness that he accepted advice like this, would have been even more likely to become this (that he did become) without anyone advising him. What devil stirred Joseph’s brothers to envy him? If, then, we stay watchful, brothers, the devil becomes a cause even of renown for us. How was Job worse off for falling into such helpless misery? “Do not bring up that example,” you will say: “(Job was not the worse,) but the weak person is worse off.” Yes, and the weak person is worse off even if there is no devil. “But to a greater degree,” you will say, “when the devil’s power is working with him.” True, but he receives less punishment when he has sinned with the devil’s help, for the punishments are not the same for all sins. Let us not deceive ourselves: if we stay watchful, the devil does not cause us harm. Instead, what he does is wake us from our sleep; what he does is keep us alert. Let us examine these things for a while. Suppose there were no wild beasts, no unsettled weather, no sicknesses, no pains, no sorrows, or anything else of the kind: what would humanity not have become? A hog rather than a human being, reveling in gluttony and drunkenness and troubled by none of these things. As it is, cares and anxieties exercise and discipline us in philosophy and provide the best kind of training. Tell me, let a man be brought up in a palace, with no pain, care, or anxiety, with no reason for anger and no failure. Let him do whatever he sets his mind on, succeed in it, and have everyone obey him: (see whether) such a man would not become more irrational than any wild beast. As it is, our setbacks and afflictions are like a whetstone that sharpens us. This is why the poor are usually wiser than the rich: they are driven about and tossed by many waves. In the same way, a body that is idle and never moves is sickly and unattractive, while one that gets exercise and endures labor and hardship is more attractive and healthy. We would find that this holds true of the soul as well. Iron, too, deteriorates when it lies unused, but shines brightly when it is worked; so does a soul that is kept active. And these setbacks are precisely what keeps the soul active. The arts, too, die out when the soul is inactive; but it becomes active when things are not all easy for it. Difficulties make it active. If there were no difficulties, there would be nothing to stir it. Thus, if everything already existed beautifully made, the arts would have found nothing on which to exercise themselves. Likewise, if everything were easy for our understanding, the soul would find nothing on which to exert itself; if it had to be carried around everywhere, it would be an unattractive sight. Do you not see how we urge nurses not to make a practice of always carrying children, so that they do not get them into a habit (of wanting to be carried) and make them helpless? This is why children brought up under their parents’ eyes are weak: indulgence, by sheltering them too much, harms their health. Even pain in moderation is a good thing; care is a good thing; deprivation is a good thing, for they make us strong. Their opposites are good, too; but each of these destroys us when taken to excess. One makes us slack, while the other (by overmuch tension) breaks us. Do you not see that Christ also trains His own disciples this way? If they needed these things, we need them much more. But if we need them, let us not grieve; let us even rejoice in our afflictions. For these are remedies suited to our wounds, some bitter, others mild; but either kind by itself would be useless. Let us therefore thank God for all these things, for He does not let them happen at random, but for the benefit of our souls. So, showing our gratitude, let us thank Him, let us glorify Him, let us endure courageously, remembering that this lasts only for a time and directing our minds toward the things to come. In this way we may bear our present troubles with ease and be considered worthy to receive the good things to come, through the grace and mercy of His only-begotten Son, with Whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit together, be glory, might, and honor, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.