Homilies on Acts 43.1–43.2

“After the uproar had ceased, Paul [sent for] the disciples, and having embraced them, he departed to go into Macedonia.” There was need of much encouragement after that disturbance. This, then, is what he does: to encourage the disciples he comes to Macedonia, then to Greece. And that he encouraged them greatly, hear: “When he had gone through those regions and had encouraged them with many words, he came to Greece. There he spent three months, and when a plot was made against him by the Jews as he was about to set sail for Syria, he decided to return through Macedonia. He was accompanied by … Aristarchus and Secundus of the Thessalonians, and … and Trophimus. These went on ahead and were waiting for us at Troas.” Again he is persecuted by the Jews, and comes to Macedonia. But how does he call Timothy a Thessalonian? He does not say this; but, “These,” he says, “went on ahead … and we sailed away after the days of Unleavened Bread from Philippi, and in five days we came to them at Troas, where we stayed seven days.” For it seems to me that he was eager to keep the feasts in the great cities. He sails from Philippi, where the events of the prison had taken place. And this was the third time [he was among the Macedonians]; that is why he stays there. “On the first day of the week, [when we were gathered to break bread,] Paul talked with them, intending to depart on the morrow; and he prolonged his speech until midnight.” See how everything was secondary to the preaching. It was then Pentecost, and it was the Lord’s Day; and he prolongs the teaching even until midnight. So eager was he for the disciples’ salvation that not even at night was he silent, but rather he talked then, since it was quiet. See how he talked much, even at the very time of the meal. But the devil threw the feast into confusion; yet he did not prevail, having overwhelmed the hearer with sleep and brought him down. And how it happened he explained, adding: “There were many lamps in the upper room where we were gathered. And a young man named Eutychus, sitting at the window, was sinking into a deep sleep as Paul talked still longer; and being overcome by sleep, he fell down from the third story and was taken up dead. But Paul went down and fell upon him, and embracing him said, ‘Do not be troubled, for his life is in him.’ And when he had gone up and had broken bread and eaten, and had talked a long while, [until daybreak, he so departed. And they brought] the boy alive, and were not a little comforted.” Look at the audience, how packed it was: “When the disciples were gathered,” it says; and the sign, what a sign! “For he was sitting,” it says, “at the window,” and at the dead of night. So great was the longing to hear. Let us be ashamed, we who do not do this even by day. “But it was Paul,” someone says, “who was talking then.” What do you say? Paul talks now too; or rather, neither then was it Paul, nor now, but Christ, and no one listens. Now there is no window, no hunger, no sleep troubles you, and yet we do not listen; there is no cramped place, nothing else of the kind. And the wonderful thing is that, though he was a young man, he was not careless; and when overcome by sleep he did not leave, nor did he fear the danger of falling. And if he dozed and fell, do not wonder; for he did not doze from carelessness, but from the necessity of nature. But consider with me that they were so on fire with eagerness that they were even in the third story; for there was not yet a church building. “Do not be troubled,” he says, “for his life is in him.” He did not say, “He will rise, for I will raise him,” but what? “Do not be troubled.” See his freedom from pride, and his comforting. “And when he had gone up,” it says, “and had broken bread and eaten.” This interrupted the discourse, but did not harm it. Do you see how plain the meal was? “And having eaten,” it says, “and talked a long while, until daybreak, he so departed.” Do you see how they spent the night? Such were the tables then, that the hearers went away sober again and were fit for listening. In what do we differ from dogs? Do you see how great the difference is? “And they brought the boy alive, and were not a little comforted.” They are greatly comforted, both because they received him alive and because a sign had taken place. “But we went ahead to the ship and set sail for Assos, intending to take Paul aboard there; for so he had arranged, intending himself to go by land. And when he met us at Assos, …” Paul separates himself from the disciples. For see, again he goes on foot while they set sail in the ship; he gives the lighter part to them and chooses the more toilsome himself. He went on foot, at the same time arranging many things, and at the same time training them to bear being separated from him. “And sailing from there, on the following day we came opposite …; and the next day [we touched] at Samos; and after staying at Trogyllium, the day after we came to Miletus.” See how, with Paul hastening, they set sail and do not delay, but pass by the islands. “For Paul had decided to sail past Ephesus, so that he might not have to spend time in Asia; for he was hastening, if it were possible for him, to be at Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost.”

What is this haste? Not for the sake of the feast, but for the sake of the multitude. At the same time by this he drew the Jews to him, as one who honored the feasts; and, wishing to win over his enemies, he hastened at the same time to bring down the word among them. See, at any rate, what gain there was, with everyone present. Besides, so that the affairs of Ephesus might not be neglected because of this, he arranged things otherwise. But let us look at what was said from the beginning. “And having embraced the disciples,” it says, “he departed to go into Macedonia; and having encouraged them with many words, he came to Greece.” And by this he restored them again, giving them ample comfort. See how everywhere he achieves everything through words, not through signs. “As he was about to set sail,” it says, “for Syria.” He continually shows him to us hastening toward Syria. The reason was the church, and Jerusalem; so much did he long to set things right there too. And yet Troas is not large; why then do they spend a number of seven days in it? Perhaps it was large in its believers. And having spent seven days there, on the following day he spent the night in teaching; so hard was it for him to tear himself from them, and for them to tear themselves from him. “When we were gathered,” it says, “to break bread.” At the very time when he showed hunger (and it was not untimely), the discourse took its start and was prolonged; so that he did not come down principally to teach, but they had come together to break bread, and when the discourse came up, he prolonged the teaching. See how all shared Paul’s table. It seems to me that he talked even while sitting at table, teaching us to count everything else as secondary. Picture to me that house, where the lamps were, where the crowd was, where Paul stood in the midst and talked, where many even took the windows, so as to hear that trumpet and see that gracious face. What must those being taught have been like, and how much pleasure must they have gathered? And why did he talk at night? Since he was about to leave and would no longer see them; but this he does not say to them, since they were weaker, though he said it to the others. At the same time, the sign that took place made them always remember that evening. Great was the pleasure of the hearers, since even when interrupted it was only heightened; so that the fall turned out to the teacher’s advantage. Besides, that young man would rebuke all the careless, he who died for this, in order to hear Paul. “And why,” someone says, “does he list everything: where they came, where they went away, where he stayed, and what places he sailed past?” To show for the moment that he sailed more slowly, and this in a human way, and sailed past. “For he had decided to sail past Ephesus, so that he might not,” it says, “have to spend time in Asia.” Rightly; for once there, he could not have sailed past, since he did not want to grieve those who would beg him to stay. This, then, is what one can say; and that he was in haste. “For he was hastening,” it says, “if it were possible for him, to keep the day of Pentecost in Jerusalem.” So for this reason too it was not possible to stay. See him moved in a human way too, desiring and hastening and often not succeeding. For this is why these things happen, so that we may not think that he was above human nature. For those holy and great men shared the same nature as we do, but not the same will; that is why they drew down much grace. See, at any rate, how many things they arrange of themselves. That is why he said, “so that we may give no offense to those who want it”; and again, “so that our ministry may not be blamed.” See both a blameless life and great condescension. This is called management: to be at the summit and height of virtue, and of humble condescension. And hear how the one who went beyond Christ’s commands was again the humblest of all: “I have become all things to all,” he says, “that I might win all.” The same man threw himself into dangers, as he says elsewhere: “In much endurance, in afflictions, in hardships, in distresses, in beatings, in prisons.” And great was his longing for Christ. For if this is lacking, everything is superfluous, both the management and the blameless life and the life of danger. “Who is weak,” he says, “and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?” [3] Let us too imitate these words, I beg you, and throw ourselves into dangers for our brothers. Even if there is fire, even if there is the sword, throw yourself in, beloved, to rescue your member; throw yourself in, do not be afraid. You are a disciple of Christ, who laid down his life for his brothers; a fellow disciple of Paul, who chose to suffer countless terrible things for his enemies, for those who were at war with him. Be filled with zeal; imitate Moses. He saw a man being wronged and defended him; he despised royal luxury, and for the sake of the oppressed became an exile, a wanderer, bereft of kinsmen and home. He lived so long a time in a foreign land, and did not complain to himself or say, “What is this? I despised a kingdom, so great an honor and glory; I chose to defend the wronged, and God has overlooked me, and not only has he not restored me to my former honor, but I spend forty years in a foreign land. A fine reward! I have not received my wages.” But he said and thought nothing of this. So you too: even if you suffer some evil for doing good, even if …, God will certainly repay you the reward. The longer the repayment is delayed, the more the interest grows. So let us have a sympathetic soul; let us have a mind that knows how to share pain; let nothing among us be cruel, nothing inhuman. Even if you can contribute nothing, weep, groan, grieve over what happens; not even these things will be in vain for you. If one must share the pain of those justly punished by God, much more of those who suffer unjustly at the hands of men. “The inhabitants of Zaanan,” it says, “did not come out to mourn for the house next to them; they will receive pain for … ,” because they did not share the pain. What are you saying, prophet? God punishes, and shall I share the pain of those being punished? Yes; for this is what the punisher himself wants; for he himself is not pleased in punishing, but rather is grieved. Since, then, not even he who punishes rejoices, do not you rejoice either. “But if they are punished justly,” someone says, “one ought not to grieve.” And yet one ought to grieve for this very reason, that they have proved deserving of punishment. Tell me, when you see your son being cauterized or cut, do you not grieve? Obviously you do; and you do not say to yourself, “What is this? The cutting looks to health; the burning is for his release.” But still, when you hear him wailing, unable to bear the pains, you grieve, and the hope of health is not enough to remove the turmoil of nature. So too in these cases: even if they are punished for their health, let us show toward them a brotherly will and a fatherly disposition. God’s punishments are cuttings and burnings; but we ought to weep for this, that they fell sick, that they needed such treatment. If someone suffers these things for crowns, like Paul, like Peter, then do not grieve; but when he pays the penalty as a punishment, then weep, then groan. Such were the prophets. That is why one of them said, “Alas, O Lord, will you wipe out the remnant of Israel?” We see murderers, vile men, often being punished, and we are stung and grieved. Let us not be philosophers beyond measure; let us become merciful, so that we may obtain mercy. Nothing equals this good; nothing so shows the human character in us as showing mercy, as loving humankind. That is why the laws too entrust everything to the executioners, compelling the judge to punish only as far as the sentence, and bring those men out for the deed. So, even if it is done justly, punishing is not for a philosophic soul, but needs someone else; since God too does not punish by himself, but through the angels. Are the angels executioners, then? God forbid! I do not say that, but they are powers that carry out punishment. When Sodom was overthrown, everything was done through them; when the things in Egypt happened, through them. “He sent,” it says, “a mission of evil angels.” But when he must save, he does it himself; so he sent the Son for the salvation of the race. And again: “Then,” he says, “I will say to the angels, ‘Gather those who do lawlessness, and throw them into the furnace.’” But of the righteous not so, but, “He who receives you receives me”; and again, “Bind his hands and feet and throw him into the outer darkness.” See there the servants ministering; but when he must do good, he himself does good, he himself calls: “Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you.” When he must speak with Abraham, he himself comes; when he must go to Sodom, he sends his servants, like a judge who appoints those who are to punish. And again: “Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will set you over many.” And this one he blesses himself; but that wicked one, not he himself, but servants bind. Knowing these things, let us not rejoice over those who are punished, but grieve as well; let us mourn for them, let us weep for them, so that we may receive the reward for this too. But now many rejoice even over those who suffer ill unjustly. But let us not do so, but let us show every sympathy, so that we too may be counted worthy of the love for humankind that comes from God, by the grace and love for humankind of his Only-begotten, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.