Homilies on Acts 41.1–41.5

“And he entered the synagogue and spoke boldly for three months, reasoning and persuading about the kingdom of God.” See how everywhere he thrusts himself into the synagogues, and only so goes out; for everywhere he wanted to take the occasion from them, as I said. For the Gentiles were by now jealous and received him eagerly, and the Jews, when the Gentiles received him, repented. He wanted to withdraw the disciples from there, and to take the starting point from them, so that they would not assemble there; and he did not do this without reason. That is why he reasoned with them continually, because he was persuading them. So do not, because you have heard of boldness, think of harshness: he was speaking of good things, of the kingdom; who would not have listened? “But when some … the Way before the multitude, he withdrew from them and took the disciples apart, reasoning daily in the school of a certain Tyrannus. This continued for two years, so that all who lived in Asia heard the word of the Lord Jesus, both Jews and Greeks.” They rightly called the preaching “the Way”; for this truly was the way leading to the kingdom of heaven. “In the school,” it says, “of a certain Tyrannus he reasoned. And this continued for two years, so that all heard the word, both Jews and Greeks.” Do you see how much his persistence accomplished? Both Jews and Greeks heard. “And God did extraordinary works of power by the hands of Paul, so that even handkerchiefs or aprons were carried from his body to the sick, and the diseases left them and the evil spirits went out of them.” They did not only touch them while he wore them, but took them and laid them on the sick. That is why Christ did not let him go into Asia, keeping this time in reserve, as I think. “But some … also undertook to name the name of the Lord Jesus over those who had evil spirits, saying, ‘We adjure you by the Jesus whom Paul preaches.’” So they did everything for the sake of trade. See: they did not want to believe, but they wanted to drive out the demons through the name. Wonderful! How great Paul’s name was! “Seven sons of a certain Sceva, a Jewish high priest, were doing this. But the evil spirit answered and said to them, ‘Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize; but who are you?’ And the man in whom the evil spirit was, leaping on them and overpowering them, prevailed against them, so that they fled out of that house naked and wounded. And this became known to all the Jews and Greeks who lived in Ephesus.” So they were doing it secretly, and then their weakness is paraded. “And fear fell upon them all, and the name of the Lord Jesus was magnified. And many of those who had believed came …” For since they had such strength that they did such things even through the demons, naturally these things happen. “And a number of those who had practiced magic arts brought their books together and burned them in the sight of all; and they counted the value of them and found it came to fifty thousand pieces of silver. So the word of the Lord grew mightily and prevailed.” Seeing that there was no longer any use in them, they burn the books, when even the demons themselves do these things. So the name does nothing unless it is spoken with faith. Rightly then did he say, “He who believes in me will do greater works,” hinting at this matter of the shadows. See how they used the weapons against themselves. “And he reasoned,” it says, “in the school of a certain Tyrannus for two years.” There were believers there, and very faithful ones. So they thought Jesus nothing great, since they added Paul too, as though they thought him something great by this. Here one may well wonder how that demon did not cooperate with the exorcists’ deception, but exposed them and made their stage-play plain. It seems to me that he was very angry, as when someone who is in danger of his life is exposed by some pitiful and wretched person, and wants to pour out all his anger on him. For so that the name of Jesus might not seem …, he first confessed it, and so took this power. For that the weakness was not the name’s, but the whole thing was their deceit, why did these things not happen in Paul’s case? “And the man,” it says, “leaping on them.” Perhaps he tore their clothes and dashed their heads; for he showed this by saying “leaping on,” that is, springing on them with force, so that it was enough to do this. What is …? He stopped their abuse, it says. And he does this and withdraws, since he did not want to inflame their envy or throw them into greater strife. And he says “he spoke boldly,” showing that he was drawn up for battle against dangers too, and reasoned more openly, not veiling the doctrines. From this we learn not to close in battle with those who speak evil, but to withdraw from them. He did not speak evil when he himself was evil spoken of, but rather reasoned daily, and in this way above all he won over the many: that though evil was spoken of him he did not leap away or separate himself. And consider: when the temptation from those outside had ceased, it began from the demons. Do you see Jewish hardness? Seeing his garments working such things, they paid no attention. What could be greater than this? But for them it turned rather the opposite way. If any of the Greeks disbelieves, let him believe on seeing the shadow do these things. So by his withdrawing from them, those who spoke evil and slandered the doctrine (for this is what he called “the Way”) are defeated; and he withdraws so that neither should the disciples depart, nor should those men be roused to anger, showing that everywhere they were thrusting salvation away. And here at last he does not even make a defense to them, since everywhere the Gentiles had believed. And he reasons, not looking for just any place, but where there was a school, as being more suitable because people gathered there.

Wonderful! How great is the power of those who believed, enabling others to do the same things! And how great … of those who even after the proof of the power still … in unbelief! Just as Simon, for the sake of trade, [wanted to buy] the grace of the Spirit, so these too did this for the sake of the same thing. What hardness! Why does Paul not rebuke them? Because the matter would have seemed to be envy. That is why it is so arranged. This happened also in the time of Christ; but then it was not prevented, for it was the beginning of things; since even the thief was not prevented; but Ananias and Sapphira were put to death; and many Jews …, and suffered nothing, while Elymas was blinded. “For I came,” he says, “not to judge the world, but that the world [might be saved].” See the vileness! While still remaining Jews, they wanted to make money from the name; so they did everything for gain and profit. Look how everywhere men turn not … from good things … the church, and they did not dare to join them; so then they came confessing their sins. From the leaping on them, the … of the demons is shown to be great, when it has to do with unbelievers. Why did the evil spirit not say who Jesus is, but rather spoke those useless words? He was afraid that he too might be punished; for he knew that it was the name that had allowed him to take vengeance on those who mocked it. And why did the wretches not say to him, “We believe”? They were afraid of Paul. How much more illustrious would they have been, had they said this and made his lordship their own! … what happened at Philippi … these too. But consider here the writer’s … and how he writes history only, and does not …. This made the apostles admired. … whose sons they were, he gives the name and the number, giving the people of that time a trustworthy proof of what he wrote. And why did they go about? For the sake of trade … proclaiming the word; for how could they? … they ran about, preaching by what they suffered. Showing this, he says, “And it became known to all the Jews and Greeks who lived in Ephesus.” Did this not … even those who were hardened, tell me? But it did not convert them. And do not wonder; for nothing persuades wickedness. Come, let us see how great the wickedness of the exorcists’ act is. Why this did not happen in Christ’s time … to seek out the time, and not the present one; yet … this happened here, and usefully. It seems to me that they did this in mockery; hence the punishment, so that from this no one should dare any longer to name the name, even … This led many of those … to confession; this also struck them with fear, and became the greatest proof that God knows everything. Before being exposed by the demons, they accused themselves, fearing to suffer the same things; and rightly. For when the demons who help them are … and not their allies, what confession of deeds is left? But see what evils happen, though such signs had taken place: human nature quickly forgets what has happened. Do you remember that this very thing happened also in what took place among us? For tell me, did not God shake the whole city last year? What then? Did not all run to baptism? Did not fornicators and effeminate men and the corrupt leave their houses and the places in which … But when three days had passed, they went back again to their own wickedness. Where does this come from? From great sluggishness. And what wonder, if this happens when the events have passed, seeing that the same thing happens even when the images remain continually? Tell me, do not the things at Sodom remain continually? What then? Have those who live nearby become better from them? Not at all. And what of Noah’s son? Was he not such a man? Was he not wicked, though he saw with his own eyes such desolation? So let us not wonder how they did not believe when these things happened, when even the healing itself is often turned by them to the opposite, to wickedness; as when they say that the Son of God has a demon. Or do you not see these things happening now too, and many men like vipers, unbelieving and ungrateful, who, like snakes, when they have enjoyed benefits, [bite] their benefactors? These things have been said by us so that no one may wonder how, when such signs took place, not all believed. [3] For see, in our own times there took place the events concerning the blessed Babylas, the events at Jerusalem, the events of the demolition of the temples, and not all were converted. Why speak of the old things? Last year I told you what had happened, and no one paid attention, but again little by little they slipped away and fell. Heaven stands continually crying out that it has a Master, and that all this (I mean the world) belongs to some craftsman, and some say it does not. The things that happened in the matter of that Theodore last year, whom did they not astonish? And yet nothing more came of it; but those who had become devout for a time went back again to where they were before they became devout. This happened then among the Hebrews too; that is why the prophet said, “When he killed them, then they sought him, and turned and came early to God.” And why speak of public things? How many have fallen into sicknesses? How many promised, if they got up, to make a great change, and became the same as before? This above all shows us our free choice and the freedom of our nature: the sudden change. For if evils were natural, this would not have happened; for we cannot be changed from what is by nature and necessity. “And yet we are changed,” someone says. “For do we not see some who by nature are able to see, but are blinded by fear?” Since this too belongs to nature, to be contracted when another nature comes upon it; so that it is natural for us not to see when we are frightened, and natural too that, when a greater fear comes, the other gives way. “What then,” someone says, “if self-control is natural, and fear prevails and drives it out?” What then if I show some who are not brought to self-control even then, but are reckless even in these fears? Is this not natural? Shall I tell the old cases, or the new? How many remained in those very fears laughing and mocking, and suffered nothing of the kind? Tell me, did not Pharaoh change at once, and run back to his former wickedness? But here, in the case of those who had demons, although they were not ignorant, those who spoke simply added, “We adjure you by the Jesus whom Paul preaches”; for by the very words with which they excuse themselves it is shown that they knew. And they simply say “Jesus,” when they should have said, “the Savior of the world, the one who rose”; but they did not want to confess his glory. That is why the demon exposes them, leaping on them and saying, “Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize”; as if he said: You do not believe, but you say these things by misusing the name. So the temple is empty, the vessel easy to overcome; so you are not heralds, but you are mine, he says. Great is the demon’s rage. The apostles could have done these things to them, but they did not, meanwhile. For those who master the ones who did these things to them are much more masters of them. See how their gentleness is shown: that the demons that were driven out do such things, while those that were served do the opposite. “Jesus I know,” he says: so be ashamed, you who do not know him. “And Paul I recognize”: rightly this too; for he knew him to be God’s herald. Then he leaps on them and tears their garments, by what he did to them all but saying: Do not think that I do these things in contempt of those men. Great is the demon’s fear. And why did he not tear their clothes without these words? For so he would have satisfied his anger and stopped the deceit. He feared, as I said, the unapproachable power, and he would not have prevailed so far, had he not said this. And see how everywhere the demons are more reasonable than the Jews, not daring to contradict or accuse the apostles or Christ. There they say, “We know who you are,” and, “Why have you come here to torment us before the time?” and again, “I know who you are, the Son of God”; and here, “These men are servants of the Most High God”; and again, “Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize.” For they greatly feared and trembled at those saints. Perhaps one of you, hearing this, longs to have this power, so that demons could not look him in the face, and calls those saints blessed for this reason, that they had such strength. But let him hear Christ saying, “Do not rejoice that the demons are subject to you”; since he knew that all people rejoice at this most of all, out of vainglory. For if you seek what pleases God and what is for the common good, there is another, greater way. It is not so great a thing to free someone from a demon as to rescue him from sin. A demon does not hinder one from obtaining the kingdom of heaven, but even helps, unwillingly indeed, but helps, by making the one who has him more self-controlled; but sin casts out.

But perhaps someone will say, “May I never meet with such a correction!” Nor do I wish it for you, but the other kind: doing everything from longing for Christ. But if, which God forbid, it should happen, one must give thanks for this too. If, then, the demon does not cast out, but sin does cast out, to free someone from sin is a greater benefit. So let us be eager to free our neighbors from it, and before our neighbors, ourselves. Let us see whether we have a demon; let us examine ourselves closely. Sin is harder than a demon; for the demon makes people humble. Or do you not see the demon-possessed, when they recover from the illness, how downcast they are, how gloomy, how their faces are full of shame, how they do not even dare to look you in the face? See the absurdity: they are ashamed of what they suffer, but we are not ashamed of what we do; they are abashed when wronged, we are not abashed when we do wrong. And yet their case deserves not shame but pity, kindness and pardon, much admiration and countless praises, when, while wrestling with such a demon, they bear everything with thanksgiving; but ours truly deserves laughter, shame, accusation, punishment, vengeance, the worst evils and hell, and no pardon at all. Do you see that sin is harder than a demon? And they gain a double gain from what they suffer: first, being corrected and becoming more given to philosophy; second, paying here the penalty for their own sins, and so departing pure to the Master. For we have often spoken about this too, and shown that those who are punished here, if they bear it gratefully, are likely to put away many of their sins. But from sins come double evils: first, that we offend; second, that we become worse. Attend to what I say. We are not harmed by sin only in this, that we sin, but in another way too: that the soul takes on a habit, as in the case of the body; for it will be clearer said by an example. For just as one who has had a fever is harmed not only in being ill, but in that after the illness he becomes weaker from then on, even if he returns to health after a long illness; so too with sin: even if we become healthy, we still need much strength. For show me someone who has insulted another and not been punished: one ought to weep, not only because he does not pay the penalty for the insult, but it is worth mourning for another reason as well. What is that? That his soul is now more shameless. For with each of our sins a kind of poison is laid in our soul. Do you not hear some say, when they have recovered from an illness, “I no longer dare to drink water”? And yet they have recovered; but the illness has done this harm too. And they, while suffering ill, give thanks; but we, while doing well, blaspheme God and are discontented; for you would find more people doing this in health and wealth than in poverty and sickness. For the demon stands over them like a truly stern executioner, threatening much, like a tutor holding up the strap, and allowing no slackness anywhere. And if some do not become sober even so, at least they pay no penalty. And this is no small thing; for as fools, as madmen, as … children are not called to account, so neither are those …; for no one is so cruel as ever to exact a penalty for what is done without knowledge. So we who sin are in a far worse state than the demon-possessed. … that we do not foam at the mouth, nor twist our eyes, our hands? Would that we did this in the body, and not in the soul! Do you want me to show you a soul foaming, …, and the twisting of the eyes of the mind? Consider those who are angry and drunk with rage, how they spew out foul spittle as it were. And just as those know none of those present, so neither do these. For when their mind is …, and their eyes are twisted, they see neither friend, nor enemy, nor the honorable, nor the contemptible, but everything simply …. Are they not … and trembling like those? Do they not fall to the ground? But their soul … to the ground and falls gasping; for if it stood upright, it would not have suffered what it suffered. Or does it not seem to you the act of a soul overthrown and stripped of its own sobriety, what they do and say when drunk with rage? There is another kind of madness harder than this. What is that? When they will not even let go of their anger, but nurse within themselves resentment as a domestic executioner. For resentment first of all punishes them themselves, already here, before the things to come. For how great a torment do you think it is for a man wounded in soul to consider every day how he may … his enemy? Such a man first punishes himself, and takes vengeance on himself, swelling up, fighting against himself, …. For he must burn continually with the fire within; and by prolonging the fever so long, you do not let it subside, and you think you are giving him …, but you are wasting yourself away, carrying the fever always at its height, not letting your soul rest, but turning ever more savage, and keeping your mind in turmoil and storm.

What is harder than this madness: to be … continually, and to swell and be inflamed? Such are the souls of the resentful. Wherever they see the one they want to take vengeance on, at once they are struck; if they hear his voice, they collapse, they tremble; if they are in bed, they [imagine] countless [evils for] that enemy; and besides this, if they see him held in honor, what a punishment! Let go of his sin, and free yourself from the torment. You remain continually punished, so as to [punish] him once …? Why do you keep your anger, which wants to be rid of you? “Do not let it remain even until evening,” says the [Apostle]. For like some wasting or moth, it gnaws through the … of our mind. Why do you shut up a wild beast in your bowels? It would be better to have a snake lying in your heart than anger and resentment; for the snake would quickly have released us, but this one stays continually, fixing its teeth, injecting its poison, sending harsh thoughts against us. “But I do these things,” one says, “so that he may not laugh at me, so that he may not despise me.” O wretched and miserable man, you do not want to be laughed at by your fellow slave, but you are willing to be hated by the Master? You do not want to be despised by your fellow slave, but you despise the Master? You cannot bear to be despised by him, and do you not think that God is indignant that you laugh at him, that you despise him, being unwilling to obey him? And that he will not laugh at you either is clear from this: if you take vengeance, the laughter is great, the contempt great, for the thing shows a small soul; but if you let it go, the admiration is great, for this shows a great soul. “But he does not know it,” one says. Let God know it, so that you may have a greater reward. “Lend,” he says, “to those from whom you do not hope to receive.” So let us do good also to those who do not even perceive that they are being done good, so that they may not, by repaying us with praise or anything else, lessen our reward. For when we receive nothing from men, then we shall receive more from God. What is more ridiculous, what is more contemptible, than a soul that is always angry and wants to take vengeance? This disposition is womanish and childish. For just as a child is angry even with lifeless things, and unless it strikes the ground does not let go of its anger, so these too want to take vengeance on those who have grieved them. So they are the ones who deserve laughter; for to be mastered by anger belongs to a childish mind, but to master it belongs to manliness. So it is not we who are laughed at when we practice philosophy, but they. It is not the mark of contemptible people not to be overcome by passion; but it is the mark of contemptible people to fear the laughter of outsiders so much as, on that account, to choose to fall under one’s own passion, to offend God, and to take vengeance on oneself. These things truly deserve laughter. So let us flee these things. Let him say that after doing us countless evils he suffered nothing himself; let him say that even if he should run riot over us again, he will suffer nothing. He could not have proclaimed our virtue otherwise; he would not have looked for other words, if he wanted to praise us, than these which he seems to speak in reproach. Would that all said this of me: “He is a spiritless man, and wretched; everyone insults him, and he bears it; everyone leaps on him, and he does not take vengeance.” Would that they added, “Not even if he wanted to could he,” so that my praise might be from God and not from men. Let him say that we do not take vengeance out of spinelessness. This does us no harm, so long as God knows; rather, he sets our treasure in greater safekeeping. If we look to those men, we shall fall away from everything. Let us not consider what they say, but what befits us. But some say, “Do not let him laugh at me,” and some even boast. What folly! “No one who has wronged me has laughed at me,” one says; that is, “I have taken vengeance.” And yet you ought to be laughed at for this, that you took vengeance. Where did these words come in, which are a disgrace and a destruction, the overturning of our life and our way of living? Is it not from speaking in opposition to God? For what makes one equal to God, not taking vengeance, you think laughable. Do we not deserve to be laughed at for this, both by ourselves and by the Greeks, contradicting God in this way? I want to tell something that happened among the ancients, not about anger but about money. A man had a field that held a treasure hidden in it, without the owner’s knowing; he sold that field. The buyer, digging it up to plant and cultivate it, found the treasure laid up there. When the seller learned this, … for he said that he had sold a field, not a treasure. The other in turn pushed it back on him, saying that he had bought the field with the treasure and took no account of it. Both came into dispute, the one wanting the other to take it, the other contending not to … And they met a certain man and talked with him; then they asked him to whom the treasure ought to go. He gave no verdict, but said he would end their dispute; for he himself would be its owner. And taking the treasure, the others yielding it willingly, he later suffered countless evils, and learned by experience that those men had rightly stood back from it. This is what must happen with anger too: that we contend not to take vengeance, and those who have grieved us contend to pay the penalty. But perhaps these things even seem laughable; for when madness gains the upper hand, the sane are laughed at, and among many madmen the one who is not mad seems mad. So I beg you to recover yourselves and become your own masters, so that, being clean of this destructive passion, we may be counted worthy of the kingdom of heaven, by the grace and compassion of his only-begotten Son, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.