Homilies on Acts 48.1–48.2

“And when I had returned to Jerusalem and was praying in the temple, I fell into a trance and saw him saying to me, ‘Hurry, and leave Jerusalem quickly, because they will not accept your testimony about me.’ And I said, ‘Lord, they themselves know that I used to imprison and beat in the synagogues those who believed in you; and when the blood of Stephen your witness was being shed, I myself was standing by and approving his killing, and guarding the garments of those who were killing him.’” See how he thrusts himself into the dangers. For he goes on: “And when I had returned to Jerusalem,” that is, I came to Jerusalem again after that vision. “And as I was praying in the temple, I fell into a trance and saw him saying to me, ‘Hurry, and get out quickly, because they will not accept your testimony about me.’” See, not even this is without witness, but the witness comes from the outcome. He said, “They will not accept your testimony,” and they did not accept it. And yet by reasoning one would have expected that they would certainly accept it. “For I was the one who imprisoned and beat them,” he says. So for this reason they ought to have accepted it; and yet they did not. That is why he learns this too in the trance, that it would not be accepted. Here he establishes two things: that they have no excuse, for they were persecuting him neither reasonably nor with cause; and that Christ was God, foretelling what was beyond expectation, and not looking at what had happened, but foreseeing what was to come. How then does he say, “He will carry my name before Gentiles and kings and the sons of Israel”? “He will carry,” he said, not “he will certainly persuade.” Besides, Jews were persuaded elsewhere, but not here. Where they most ought to have been persuaded, knowing his former zeal, there they were not persuaded. “And when the blood of Stephen your witness was being shed, I myself was standing by and approving his killing.” See again where the speech ends: at the strongest point. For he shows that he himself was the persecutor, and not only a persecutor, but one who killed Stephen with countless hands. He reminded them of a terrible murder. Then indeed they could bear it least, since this convicted them; and the prophecy was already being fulfilled. So the zeal was great, and the accusation strong, and the witnesses of the truth of Christ spoke with boldness. But the Jews would not bear to hear the rest of the address, but, greatly inflamed with anger, they shouted. “And he said to me, ‘Go, for I will send you far away to the Gentiles.’ They listened to him up to this word, and then they raised their voices, saying, ‘Away with such a fellow from the earth! For he ought not to live.’ And as they were shouting and throwing off their garments and tossing dust into the air, the tribune ordered him to be brought into the barracks, saying that he should be examined by flogging, to find out why they were shouting against him like this.” And the tribune ought to have examined whether these things were so, or examined those men themselves; but he did nothing more, and gives orders to examine him by flogging. “For he ordered him,” it says, “to be brought into the … to find out why they were shouting against him like this.” And yet he ought to have learned from those who were shouting, and asked whether they found fault with anything that had been said; but he simply uses his authority, and acts to please them. For what he sought was not how to act justly, but how to stop their anger, unjust as it was. “But when they had stretched him out with the thongs, he said to the centurion who was standing by, ‘Is it lawful for you to flog a man who is a Roman citizen and uncondemned?’” Paul did not lie, God forbid, in calling himself a Roman; for he was a Roman; that is why the tribune, too, is afraid when he hears it. “And why,” one says, “was he afraid?” If it had been otherwise, he would have been afraid of being caught and paying a heavier penalty. And see: he does not speak simply, but, “Is it lawful for you?” Two charges: both that it was without cause, and that he was a Roman. Those who were thought worthy of that name had a great privilege at that time; and not all obtained it; for they say that all were named Romans from the time of Hadrian, but of old it was not so. Or he called himself a Roman so as to escape the punishment; for once flogged he would have become contemptible; but now by saying this he throws them into greater fear. If they had flogged him, they would also have perverted the matter, or even killed him; but now it does not turn out so. See how God allows many things to happen in a human way too, both in their case and in that of the rest. “And the tribune answered … [with a large sum I] acquired [this citizenship].” He shows that he suspected Paul’s calling himself a Roman to be a pretext; and perhaps he supposed this from Paul’s evident plainness. “When the centurion heard this, he went to the tribune and reported it, saying, ‘Watch what you are about to do; for this man is a Roman.’ The tribune came and said to him, ‘Tell me, are you a Roman?’ And he said, ‘Yes.’ The tribune answered, ‘I acquired this citizenship for a large sum.’ And Paul said, ‘But I was born one.’ Immediately those who were about to examine him drew back from him; and the tribune too was afraid when he realized that he was a Roman and that he had bound him.” “But I,” he says, “was born one.” So his father too was a Roman. What, then, comes of this? “Having released him, he brought him down before the Jews.” So it was no lie to call himself a Roman, since he even profited from it, being freed from his bonds; and how, hear: “On the next day, wishing to know for certain why he was being accused by the Jews, he released him and ordered the chief priests and the whole council to meet; and he brought Paul down and set him before them. And Paul, looking intently at the council, said.” No longer to the tribune, but to the crowd and the whole people he speaks. And what does he say? “Brothers, I have lived my life before God in all good conscience up to this day.” What he says is this: I am not conscious of having wronged you in anything, or of doing anything worthy of these bonds. What then does the high priest do? When he ought to have been struck to the heart that Paul had been unjustly bound to please them, he even adds more, and orders him to be struck, as is clear from what he went on to say. “And the high priest Ananias ordered those standing by him to strike him on the mouth.” Fine indeed! A gentle high priest! “Then Paul said to him, ‘God is going to strike you, you whitewashed wall! Are you sitting to judge me according to the law, and in violation of the law you order me to be struck?’ Those who stood by said, ‘Do you revile God’s high priest?’ And Paul said, ‘I did not know, brothers, that he was the high priest; for it is written, “You shall not speak evil of a ruler of your people.”’”

Some say that he knew and was speaking ironically; but to me it seems that he did not know at all that he was the high priest; for otherwise he would have honored him. That is why he excuses himself as though there were an accusation, and adds, “You shall not speak evil of a ruler of your people.” “What then?” one says. “If he had not been a ruler, ought he simply to have insulted another?” Not at all; rather he ought to have borne it when insulted. But it is worth asking how the same man, who says elsewhere, “When reviled, we bless,” does the opposite here, and not only reviles but even curses. Away with that! He is seen to have done neither of these; but to one who looks closely, the words come from boldness rather than anger. Besides, he did not want to seem contemptible to the tribune. For if the tribune had refrained from flogging him, as one about to be handed over to the Jews, his being struck by the servants would have made the tribune bolder; that is why he does not address the servant, but the one who gave the order, accomplishing this. And “You whitewashed wall! Are you sitting to judge me according to the law?” he said, almost saying this to him: “You are guilty yourself and deserve countless blows.” See, at any rate, how the people were astonished at his boldness. For when they ought to have overturned everything, they rather behave outrageously. And he even reads them the law, since he wants to show that he said this not out of fear, nor because he did not deserve to hear …, but obeying the law in this too. And I am fully persuaded that he did not know that he was high priest, since he had come back after a long time, and was not continually in the company of Jews, and saw him in the midst along with many others; for the high priest was no longer conspicuous, there being many and various ones. Thus it seems to me that he addressed this too to them, showing that he obeys the law, and that this is why he excuses himself.

But let us look at what was said from the beginning. “As I was praying,” he says, “in the temple, I fell into a trance.” To show that it was not simply an illusion, he added, “As I was praying.” “Hurry and get out quickly,” he says, “because they will not accept your testimony.” Here he shows that he fled not from fear of their dangers, but because they did not accept his testimony. And why did he say, “They themselves know that I used to bind”? Not contradicting Christ, God forbid, but wishing to learn the reason for something so unexpected. “Go,” he says, “for I will [send] you far away to the Gentiles.” See: Christ did not teach him what to do, but only told him to go, and he obeys: so ready to be persuaded was he. “And they raised their voices,” it says, “saying, ‘Away with him! For he ought not to live.’” Oh, the effrontery! It is you who ought not to live, not this man who obeys God in everything. Oh, you defiled men and murderers! “And shaking out their garments,” it says, “they threw dust.” They do this to make the riot worse, or wishing to frighten the ruler. And see: they do not state the charge, since they had nothing to say, but they think to overwhelm him with shouting; and yet he ought to have learned it from the accusers. “And the tribune …” Was it a lie, then, for Paul to say that he was a Roman? “And he released him from his bonds,” it says, “and brought him down and set him in the council.” This he ought to have done at the beginning, and neither to bind him nor to want to flog him, but to have let him alone, since he had done nothing of the kind to deserve even being bound. “And he released him,” it says, “and brought him down and set him before them.” At this most of all the Jews were at a loss. “And Paul, looking intently at the council,” it says, “said, ‘Brothers.’” Here it shows his boldness, his fearlessness. But see their recklessness too; for it goes on: “And the high priest Ananias ordered them to strike him on the mouth.” Why do you strike? What insult did he utter? Oh, the shamelessness! Oh, the effrontery! “Then Paul,” it says, “said to him, ‘God is going to strike you, you whitewashed wall.’” What boldness! He tears him apart for hypocrisy and lawlessness; that is why, indeed, he is checked. And he himself, at a loss, dares to say nothing, but those beside him, unable to bear his boldness. So they saw a man ready to die, and they could not stand it. “I did not know,” he says, “that he is high priest.” So the rebuke was from ignorance; for if this had not been so, he would have taken him and gone off, and not kept silent, and the tribune would have handed him over to them. Here he shows that he suffers willingly what he suffers; and so he makes his defense to them in obedience to the law, not wishing to show them deference; for he had utterly condemned them. So he makes his defense because of the law, not because of the people; rightly; for to kill one who had done no wrong, and an innocent man at that, was against the law. So what he said was not an insult either, unless one would also call Christ’s words an insult, when he says, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, for you are like whitewashed walls.” “Yes,” one says, “but if he had said it before being struck, it would have been not anger but boldness.” But we have stated the reason: that he did not want … And indeed Christ in many places insulted the Jews when he himself was insulted, as when he says, “Do not think that I will accuse you.” But this is not an insult, God forbid. See, at any rate, with how much mildness he speaks to them: “I did not know,” he says, “that he is the high priest of God.” He said this, and did not stop; but, showing that he is not speaking ironically, he adds, “You shall not speak evil of a ruler of your people.” Do you see how he still acknowledges him as a ruler?

Let us too, then, learn mildness, so that we may be complete in both. For great exactness is needed to learn what is the one and what is the other; and exactness is needed because vices stand alongside them: alongside boldness, rashness; alongside mildness, unmanliness. And one must look carefully, lest someone holding the vice should seem to have the virtue, as if someone who thought he was [living with] the mistress should not know that he was with the maidservant. What, then, is mildness, and what unmanliness? When we do not defend others who are wronged, but keep silent ourselves, this is unmanliness; but when we bear it ourselves when we are ill-treated, this is mildness. What is boldness? Again the same, when we contend on behalf of others. And what is rashness? When we want to avenge ourselves. So great-souledness and boldness go together, and again rashness and unmanliness. For one who is not pained on his own account will hardly fail to be pained on behalf of others; and one who does not avenge himself will hardly fail to defend others. For when our character is pure of passion, it receives virtue too. Just as a body free of fever receives strength, so the soul too, if it is not further corrupted by the passions, receives strength. Mildness is the mark of great strength; mildness needs a noble, youthful and very lofty soul. Or do you think it a small thing to be ill-treated and not grow savage? And no one would err in calling care for one’s neighbors courage; for one who has become strong enough to be able to master so great a passion will be strong enough to dare against another too. For example, these are two passions, cowardice and anger: if you master anger, it is plain that you will also master cowardice; and you master anger by being mild; so if you also master cowardice, you will be courageous. Again, if you do not get the better of anger, you have become rash; and not getting the better of this, you cannot get the better of fear either; so you will also be a coward. And it is the same as if a body were so weak and ill-tempered as to hold out against no labor: it is quickly overcome by both cold and heat; for such is the ill-tempered body, while the well-tempered withstands everything. Again, great-souledness is a virtue, and prodigality stands alongside it; economy is a virtue, and being economical; alongside it stand stinginess and pettiness. Come, then, again … So the prodigal is not great-souled. How so? For one who is overcome by countless passions, how could he be great of soul? For this is not despising money, but being commanded by other passions; just as, if someone were commanded by robbers to obey them, he would not be free. For spending does not come from despising money, but from not knowing how to manage it properly; since if it were possible both to keep it and to enjoy it, he would have wanted that. But he who spends his money on what is needed, he is great-souled; for truly great is the soul that is not a slave to passion, that counts money as nothing. Again, economy is a good thing; so too the economical man would be the best, the one who spends on what is needed, and not simply without management. But stinginess is not the same. For the one spends everything on what is needed; but this man does not touch his money even when necessary need demands it. So the economical man would be the brother of the great-souled. Let us, then, put together the great-souled and the economical, and the prodigal and the petty; for both of these suffer this from smallness of soul, just as the others act from greatness of soul. Let us not, then, call great-souled the one who simply spends, but the one who spends on what is needed; nor call the economical man petty and stingy, but the one who spares his money out of season. How much did that rich man spend, dressed in purple and fine linen? But he was not great-souled; for his soul was held by cruelty and countless pleasures; and how could such a soul be great? Abraham was great-souled, spending on the reception of strangers, slaughtering the calf, and, where it was needed, sparing not only his money but not even his own life. If, then, we see someone setting out a costly table, keeping prostitutes and parasites, let us not call him great-souled, but very small-souled. For see how many passions he serves and is subject to: gluttony, unseemly pleasure, flattery; and how could anyone call great-souled one who is held by so many and cannot escape even one of them? So we shall call him small-souled most of all when he spends most; for the more lavishly he spends, the more he shows the tyranny of those passions; for if they did not rule him strongly, … Again, if we see someone giving nothing to any of these, but feeding the poor and supplying those in need, while he himself keeps a cheap table, let us call him very great-souled; for it truly belongs to a great soul to despise its own comfort and to care for that of others. For tell me: if you saw someone despising all the tyrants and counting their commands as nothing, and rescuing those tyrannized by them and those ill-treated, would you not think this something great? Let us reason so here too. The passions are a tyrant: if, then, we despise them, we shall be great; and if we also rescue others, much greater; rightly. For those who are sufficient not only for themselves but for others too are greater than those who are neither. But if someone, commanded by a tyrant, strikes one of his subjects, drags another, insults another, shall we call this great-souledness? Surely not; and the more so, the greater he is. So too with us: the soul is set before us, a noble and free thing; and the prodigal has ordered it to be struck by the passions; shall we, then, call great-souled the one who strikes himself? Not at all. Let us learn, then, what great-souledness is and what prodigality, what economy and what pettiness, what mildness and unmanliness, what boldness and what rashness, so that, distinguishing these from one another, we may be able to pass the present life in a way pleasing to the Lord and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for humankind of his only-begotten Son, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, honor, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.