Homily 3 — Acts 1, verses 12 to 26

John Chrysostom: Homilies on the New Testament

Homilies on the Acts of the Apostles

Homily 3 — Acts 1, verses 12 to 26

Acts 1, verses 12 to 26

“Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is a Sabbath day’s journey from Jerusalem.”

“Then they returned,” it says — that is, once they had heard. For they could not have borne it if the angel had not pointed them forward to another coming. It seems to me that these things also took place on a Sabbath day. For he would not have specified the distance this way, saying, “from the mount called Olivet, which is a Sabbath day’s journey from Jerusalem,” unless they were then walking a set distance on the Sabbath day.

“And when they had come in,” it says, “they went up into an upper room, where they were staying.” So they stayed on in Jerusalem after the resurrection. “Both Peter, and James, and John”: John is no longer named only alongside his brother; now the two of them are named together with Peter. “And Andrew, and Philip, and Thomas, Bartholomew, and Matthew, and James the son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas the brother of James” (verse 13). He did well to name the disciples. Since one had betrayed Christ and another had been unbelieving, he shows by this that all of them were kept safe except the first.

“These all continued with one accord in prayer, with the women” (verse 14). For prayer is a powerful weapon in trials, and they had been trained in it. “Continuing with one accord” — good. Besides, the trial they were facing drove them to it, for they were terribly afraid of the Jews.

“With the women,” it says, for he had said that the women had followed him; “and with Mary the mother of Jesus” (Luke 23, verse 55). How, then, is it said that at that time “that disciple took her to his own home” (John 19, verse 26)? But by then the Lord had brought them together again, and so she came back. “And with his brothers” (John 7, verse 5). These too had not believed before.

“And in those days,” it says, “Peter stood up in the midst of the disciples and said” (verse 15). He is ardent; Christ had put the flock in his charge; he held first place in honor. For all these reasons he is always the one who begins to speak. (“The number of names together was about a hundred and twenty.”) “Men and brothers,” he says, “this Scripture had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit spoke beforehand,” and so on (verse 16).

Why did he not ask Christ to give him someone in place of Judas? It is better as it is. In the first place, they were busy with other things. Second, this was the greatest proof that could be given of Christ’s presence with them: as he had chosen when he was among them, so he chose now while absent. That was no small comfort to them.

Observe how Peter does everything with the common consent, and nothing high-handedly. And he does not speak this way without reason. Observe too how he comforts them about what had happened, for in fact it had thrown them into no small dismay. If there are many people now who pick this affair over, what may we suppose they had to say then?

“Men and brothers,” says Peter. If the Lord called them brothers, much more may he. He says “Men” with all of them present. See the dignity of the church, its angelic state! There was no distinction there, “neither male nor female.” I wish the churches were like that now! No one there had his mind full of some worldly business; no one was anxiously thinking about his household affairs. Such a benefit are trials, such an advantage are hardships!

“This Scripture,” he says, “had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit spoke beforehand.” He always comforts them from the prophecies, and so does Christ on every occasion. In just the same way he shows here that nothing strange had happened, only what had already been foretold. “This Scripture had to be fulfilled,” he says, “which the Holy Spirit spoke beforehand by the mouth of David.” He does not say “David,” but the Spirit through him. See what kind of teaching the writer puts at the very start of the book! Do you see that it was not for nothing I said at the beginning of this work that this book is the Holy Spirit’s way of life?

“Which the Holy Spirit spoke beforehand by the mouth of David.” Observe how he claims David as their own, and that it is to their advantage that this was spoken by David and not by some other prophet.

“Concerning Judas,” he says, “who was guide.” Here again notice the man’s philosophy. He does not mention Judas with scorn, or say “that wretch” or “that scoundrel,” but simply states the fact. He does not even say “who betrayed him,” but does what he can to shift the guilt onto others; and he does not come down hard even on them.

“Who was guide,” he says, “to those who arrested Jesus.” Furthermore, before he declares where David had spoken, he tells what had happened to Judas, so that from things present he might draw assurance about things to come, and show that this man had already received what he deserved.

“For he was numbered with us,” he says, “and had obtained a share in this ministry. Now this man acquired a field with the reward of wrongdoing” (verses 17 and 18). He gives his words a moral turn, and quietly names the cause of the crime, since that carried its own rebuke. And he does not say “the Jews,” but “this man acquired” it. For since the minds of weak people pay less attention to things to come than to things present, he speaks of the punishment that fell at once.

“And falling headlong, he burst open in the middle.” He does well to dwell not on the sin but on the punishment. “And all his intestines gushed out,” he says. This brought them comfort. “And it became known to all who lived in Jerusalem, so that that field is called in their own language Akeldama, that is, the Field of Blood” (verse 19). Now the Jews did not give it this name for this reason, but because of Judas; here, however, Peter gives the name this reference. He brings forward the opponents themselves as witnesses, both by the fact that they gave it the name and by saying “in their own language.” That is what he means.

Then, after the event, he aptly brings in the prophet, saying, “For it is written in the Book of Psalms, ‘Let his dwelling become desolate, and let no one live in it’” (verse 20; Psalm 69, verse 25). This is said of the field and the dwelling. “And let another take his bishopric”: that is, his office, his priesthood. So this, he is saying, is not my advice, but the advice of the one who foretold these things. For so that he might not seem to be taking on a great matter, the very kind of thing Christ had done, he brings in the prophet as a witness.

“So it is necessary that, of these men who have accompanied us all the time…” (verse 21). Why does he make it their business too? So that the matter would not become a cause of strife, and they would not fall to quarreling over it. For if the apostles themselves once did this, much more might these. This is something he always avoids. That is why at the beginning he said, “Men and brothers,” and, “it is necessary” to choose from among you. He leaves the decision to the whole body. In this way he both makes those chosen objects of respect and keeps himself clear of all ill will from the rest. For such occasions always give rise to great evils.

That someone must be appointed, he brings in the prophet to witness. But from among whom? “Of these men,” he says, “who have accompanied us all the time.” To have said, “The worthy must come forward,” would have been an insult to the others. As it is, he puts the matter down to length of time. For he does not say simply, “these who have accompanied us,” but, “all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day that he was taken up from us, one must be ordained to be a witness with us of his resurrection” (verse 22) — so that their band would not be left maimed.

Then why was it not left to Peter to make the choice himself? What was the reason? This: so that he would not seem to be handing it out as a favor. Besides, he had not yet received the Spirit.

“And they put forward two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias” (verse 23). It was not Peter who put them forward. He introduced the proposal, and at the same time pointed out that even this was not his own idea, but had been prophesied long ago. So he acted as an interpreter, not as one who gives orders.

“Joseph called Barsabbas, who was surnamed Justus.” Perhaps both names are given because there were others of the same name, just as among the apostles too several shared a name: James, and James the son of Alphaeus; Simon Peter, and Simon the Zealot; Judas the brother of James, and Judas Iscariot. The surname, however, may have come from a change in his way of life, and very likely in his character as well.

“They put forward two,” it says, “Joseph called Barsabbas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias. And they prayed and said, ‘You, Lord, who know the hearts of all, show which of these two you have chosen, to take part in this ministry and apostleship, from which Judas by his transgression fell away, to go to his own place’” (verses 24 and 25). They do well to mention the sin of Judas. It shows that what they are asking for is a witness: they are not adding to the number, only not letting it shrink. “And they gave forth their lots” (for the Spirit had not yet been sent), “and the lot fell on Matthias, and he was numbered with the eleven apostles” (verse 26).

Going Back Over the Passage

“Then,” it says, “they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away.” So they did not have a long way to go, which would have alarmed them while they were still trembling and afraid. “And when they had come in, they went up into an upper room.” They did not dare show themselves in the city. They also did well to go up into an upper room, since there they could not so easily be arrested at once.

“And they continued,” it says, “with one accord in prayer.” Do you see how watchful they were? “Continuing in prayer,” and “with one accord” — as though with one soul — continuing in it: two things are reported in their praise. And so on, from “where they were staying” down to “and with Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers.”

Joseph was perhaps dead by then. For it is not to be supposed that when the brothers had come to believe, Joseph did not — he who in fact had believed before anyone. Certainly we nowhere find him regarding Christ as a mere man. So it was when his mother said, “Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you” (Luke 2, verse 48). And on another occasion it was said, “Your mother and your brothers are looking for you” (Matthew 12, verse 47). So Joseph knew this before all others. And to the brothers Christ said, “The world cannot hate you, but it hates me” (John 7, verse 7).

Again, consider the modesty of James. He was the one who received the bishopric of Jerusalem, and here he says nothing. Notice too the great modesty of the other apostles: how they yield the throne to him and no longer quarrel with one another. For that church was, as it were, in heaven. It had nothing to do with the affairs of this world, and it shone not with walls, no, nor with numbers, but with the zeal of those who made up the assembly. They were “about a hundred and twenty,” it says: perhaps the seventy whom Christ himself had chosen, and others of the more earnest disciples, such as Joseph and Matthias (verse 14). There were many women, he says, who followed him (Mark 15, verse 41). “The number of names together”: they were together on every occasion.

“Men and brothers,” and so on. Here is forethought for providing a teacher; here was the first man to ordain a teacher. He did not say, “We are enough.” So far was he above all empty glory, and he looked to one thing alone. And yet he had the same power to ordain as all of them together. But it was right that these things should be done this way, because of the man’s noble spirit, and because presiding in the church was not then a matter of rank but of watchful care for those in one’s charge. So it did not make those chosen become puffed up, for it was to dangers that they were called; nor did it make those not chosen feel wronged, as though they had been disgraced. But things are not done this way now — quite the opposite.

Observe: they were a hundred and twenty, and he rightly asks for one out of the whole body, since he had been put in charge of them. For Christ had said to him, “And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers” (Luke 22, verse 32).

“For he was numbered with us,” says Peter. For this reason another must be put forward, to be a witness in his place. And see how he imitates his Teacher, always reasoning from the Scriptures, and saying nothing yet about Christ — that is, that Christ had often foretold this himself. Nor does he cite the places where Scripture speaks of Judas’s treachery, such as “The mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful are opened against me” (Psalm 109, verse 2), but only where it speaks of his punishment, for this was most to their advantage.

It shows again the Lord’s love for humankind: “For he was numbered with us,” he says, “and obtained his lot in this ministry.” Everywhere he calls it a “lot,” showing that the whole thing comes from God’s grace and choosing, and reminding them of the old times, since God chose Judas into his own lot, or portion, as long ago he took the Levites.

He also dwells on what happened to Judas, showing that the reward of the treachery was itself made the herald of the punishment. For he “acquired,” he says, “a field with the reward of wrongdoing.” Observe God’s arrangement in the event. “Of wrongdoing,” he says. For there are many wrongdoings, but there was never anything more wrong than this; so the whole affair was one of wrongdoing.

Now the event became known not only to those who were present but to everyone afterward, so that without meaning to, or knowing what they were doing, they gave it a name, just as Caiaphas had prophesied without knowing it. God compelled them to call the field in Hebrew “Akeldama.” By this, too, the evils that were to come upon the Jews were announced, and Peter shows that the prophecy which says, “It would have been good for that man if he had not been born” (Matthew 26, verse 24), had so far been fulfilled in part. We may rightly apply this same word to the Jews as well; for if the one who was their guide suffered this, how much more they! So far, however, Peter says nothing of this.

Then, showing that the name “Akeldama” well fitted his fate, he brings in the prophet, saying, “Let his dwelling become desolate.” For what worse desolation could there be than to become a burial ground? And the field may well be called his. For the one who threw down the price, even though others did the buying, may rightly be counted the owner of a great desolation. This desolation was the prelude to the desolation of the Jews, as will appear if we look closely at the facts. For they destroyed themselves by famine, and killed many, and the city became a burial ground for strangers, for soldiers. As for those, they would not even have let them be buried, for in fact they were not thought worthy of burial.

“So of these men who have accompanied us,” Peter goes on. Observe how anxious he is that they be eyewitnesses. It is true that the Spirit would soon come; and yet great care is taken over this point. “Of these men,” he says, “who have accompanied us all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us.” He shows that they had lived with Christ, not simply been present as disciples. In fact, from the very beginning there were many who followed him. Observe, for instance, how this appears in the words, “One of the two who heard John speak and followed Jesus” (John 1, verse 40).

“All the time,” he says, “that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John.” Rightly so! For no one knew what came before that event, though they did learn it through the Spirit. “Until the day that he was taken up from us, one must be ordained to be a witness with us of his resurrection.” He did not say a witness of the rest of his actions, but a witness of the resurrection alone. For the witness with the better claim to be believed was the one who could declare that he who ate and drank and was crucified was the same one who rose again. So he needed to be a witness not only of the time before this event, nor only of what followed it and of the miracles; the thing required was the resurrection. The other matters were plain and acknowledged, but the resurrection took place in secret and was plain to these men only. And they do not say, “Angels have told us,” but, “We have seen.” For this was what was most needed at that time: that they should be men with a right to be believed, because they had seen.

“And they put forward two,” it says. Why not many? So that the disappointment would not spread further and reach many. Again, it is not without reason that he puts Matthias last. He wants to show that often the one who is honored among men is lesser before God.

And they all pray together, saying, “You, Lord, who know the hearts of all, show.” “You,” not “we.” And very fittingly they use the title “heart-knowing,” for the choice had to be made by the one who is that. So confident were they that one of the two must certainly be appointed. They did not say, “Choose,” but, “Show the one you have chosen,” knowing that all things had been foreordained by God. “Whom you have chosen, one of these two,” they say, “to take his lot in this ministry and apostleship.” For there was also another ministry.

“And they gave out their lots.” For they did not yet consider themselves worthy to be told by some sign. Besides, if in a case where no prayer was made and no men of worth were involved, the casting of lots had such power because it was done with a right intention — I mean the case of Jonah (Jonah 1, verse 7) — much more did it here. So the one designated filled up the company and completed the order. But the other candidate was not annoyed. For the apostolic writers would not have hidden that, or any other failing of their own, since they have told of the very chief apostles that on other occasions they were indignant (Matthew 20, verse 24, and 26, verse 8), and that not once only, but again and again.

The Burden of a Bishop

Let us, then, imitate them too. And now I am no longer speaking to everyone, but to those who are eager for promotion in the church. If you believe that the choice lies with God, do not be displeased (Mark 10, verses 14 and 21; 14, verse 4). For it is with him that you are displeased, and with him that you are angry: he is the one who has made the choice. You are doing exactly what Cain did. Because his brother’s sacrifice was preferred, if you please, he was indignant, when he ought to have been pierced to the heart.

But that is not my point here. My point is this: God knows how to arrange things for the best. In many cases you are, in character, more worthy of esteem than the other man, but not the right person for the work. Or again, your life is beyond reproach and your habits are those of a well-brought-up man; but in the church that is not all that is wanted. Besides, one man is suited to one thing and another to another. Do you not see how much the holy Scripture has to say on this matter?

But let me tell you why the thing has become a matter of competition. It is because we come to the office of bishop not as to a work of governing and watching over the brothers and sisters, but as to a post of dignity and rest. If you only knew that a bishop is bound to belong to everyone and to carry everyone’s burden; that others are pardoned when they are angry, but he never is; that others have excuses made for them when they sin, but he has none — you would not be eager for the dignity, and you would not run after it. That is how it is: the bishop is exposed to everyone’s tongue, to everyone’s criticism, whether they are wise or fools. He is harassed with cares every day — no, every night as well. He has many who hate him, many who envy him.

Do not talk to me about those who court everyone’s favor, those who want to sleep, those who come to this office as to a place of rest. We have nothing to do with them. We are speaking of those who keep watch over your souls, who put the safety and welfare of those in their care before their own. Tell me: suppose a man has ten children who always live with him and are constantly under his control; even so, he is anxious about them. Then what must a bishop be, who has such great numbers — not living under the same roof with him, yet owing obedience to his authority!

You will say: “But he is honored.” Honored — and with what sort of honor! Why, the poor and the beggars insult him openly in the marketplace. “Then why does he not shut their mouths?” Yes, that would be fitting work for a bishop, would it not! And again, if he does not give to everyone, the idle and the hardworking alike, look — a thousand complaints on every side. No one is afraid to accuse him and speak evil of him. With civil governors, fear steps in; with bishops, nothing of the kind. As for the fear of God, it does not affect the way people treat bishops in the least. Why should I speak of the anxiety over the word and its teaching? Or of the painful work of ordinations? Either I am perhaps a poor, wretched, incompetent creature, or else the case is as I say.

A bishop’s soul is for all the world like a ship in a storm, lashed from every side: by friends, by enemies, by his own people, by strangers. Does not the emperor rule the whole world, and the bishop a single city? Yet a bishop’s anxieties go beyond the emperor’s as far as the swelling, raging sea goes beyond, in turmoil, the waters of a river merely stirred by the wind. And why? Because in the one case there are many to lend a hand, since everything goes by law and by rule. In the other there is none of this, and no authority to command. If he shows strong feeling, then he is harsh; if the opposite, then he is cold! In him these opposites must meet, so that he may be neither despised nor hated. Besides, the very demands of business take up his whole attention. How many people he has to offend, whether he wants to or not! How many he has to be severe with! I am not describing it otherwise than it is, but as I find it in my own actual experience.

I do not think there are many among bishops who will be saved, but many more who perish. The reason is that the thing requires a great mind. Many are the pressures that throw a man out of his natural temper, and he needs a thousand eyes on every side. Do you not see how many qualities a bishop must have? He must be able to teach, patient, holding fast to the trustworthy word in his teaching (see First Timothy 3, verses 2 to 9, and Titus 1, verses 7 to 9). What trouble and pains this requires! And then, others do wrong, and he bears all the blame.

To pass over everything else: if one soul departs unbaptized, does this not overturn all his own hope of salvation? The loss of one soul carries a penalty that no words can describe. For if the salvation of that soul was worth so much that the Son of God became man and suffered so much, think how heavy a punishment losing it must bring! And if in this present life the one who causes another’s destruction deserves death, much more in the world to come. Do not tell me that the presbyter is at fault, or the deacon. The guilt of all of these falls, of necessity, on the head of those who ordained them.

Let me mention another case. It happens that a bishop has inherited from his predecessor a number of men of poor character. What steps is it right to take about their past offenses, so as neither to let the offender go unpunished nor to cause the rest to stumble? For here there are two cliffs, one on either side. Should one’s first step be to cut the man off? There are no present grounds for that. Then is it right to let him pass unmarked? You say: “Yes, for the fault lies with the bishop who ordained him.” Well then, should one refuse to ordain him again and raise him to a higher rank of the ministry? That would be to announce to everyone that he is a man of poor character, and so, once again, one would cause people to stumble, in a different way. Or is one to promote him to a higher rank? That is much worse.

If, then, there were nothing in the office of bishop for people to run after except its responsibility, no one would be so quick to accept it. But as things are, we run after it just as we run after the high offices of the world. To have glory among people, we lose ourselves before God. What profit is there in such honor? How plainly it is nothing! When you long for the rank of bishop, put in the other pan of the scale the account that must be given after this life. Weigh against it the happiness of a life free from toil, and take into account the different measure of punishment. I mean this: if you have sinned, but only on your own account, you will have no such great punishment, nothing like it; but if you have sinned as a bishop, you are lost.

Remember what Moses endured, what wisdom he showed, what good deeds he did. Yet for committing one sin only, he was bitterly punished — and rightly so, because his fault brought harm to the rest. It was not because the sin was public, but because it was the sin of a spiritual ruler. For in truth we do not pay the same penalty for public faults as for hidden ones. The sin may be the same, but not the harm it does — no, not even the sin itself, for it is not the same thing to sin in secret and unseen and to sin openly.

But a bishop cannot sin unobserved. He does well if he escapes blame even when he does not sin; much less can he expect to go unnoticed if he does. Let him be angry, let him laugh, let him merely dream of a moment’s rest, and there are many who scoff, many who stumble over it, many who lay down the law, many who recall the former bishops and abuse the present one. It is not that they want to sing the praises of those men; no, it is only to find fault with him that they bring up his fellow bishops and the presbyters.

“War is sweet to those who have not tried it,” says the proverb. But now it may rather be said that even after a man has come out of the war, most people have seen nothing of it. In their eyes it is not war at all; to them we are like those shepherds in Ezekiel, who slaughter and devour (Ezekiel 34, verse 2). And which of us can show that he has taken as much care of Christ’s flocks as Jacob did of Laban’s (Genesis 31, verse 40)? Which of us can tell of frost in the night? Do not talk to me of night vigils and all that show; the plain fact is the opposite. Prefects and governors of provinces do not enjoy such honor as the man who governs the church. If he goes into the palace, who comes before him? If he visits the ladies, or the houses of the great, no one is given preference over him. The whole state of things is ruined and corrupt.

I am not saying this because I want to put us bishops to shame, but to check your craving for the office. For with what conscience — even if you do succeed in becoming a bishop, having canvassed for it yourself or through someone else — with what eyes will you look in the face the man who worked with you to that end? What will you plead in your own defense? The man who was raised to the office unwillingly, under compulsion and without his own consent, may have something to say for himself. For the most part even such a man has no pardon to expect; yet to that extent he truly does have something to plead in his defense.

Think what happened to Simon the magician. What does it matter that you do not give money, if in place of money you pay court, lay many plans, and set every device to work? “May your money perish with you!” (Acts 8, verse 20). That is what was said to him, and that is what will be said to these men: May your canvassing perish with you, because you thought you could buy the gift of God by human scheming!

But is there anyone like that here? May there never be! It is not that I want any of what I have been saying to apply to you; it is only that the thread of the subject has led us on to these topics just now. In the same way, when we speak against greed, we are not preaching at you, nor against any one person. God grant that these remedies of ours were prepared when there was no need of them! A physician’s wish is that after all his trouble his medicines may be thrown away because they are not wanted. That is exactly what we desire: that our words may not have been needed, and so may have been spoken to the wind, and be nothing but words. I would put up with anything rather than be forced to use this kind of language. But if you like, we are ready to stop; only let our silence do no harm. No one, I imagine, however much he loved empty glory, would want to make a show of severity when there is nothing to call for it.

I will leave the teaching to you, for the best teaching is the kind that teaches by actions. Indeed, the best physicians, even though their patients’ sickness brings them fees, would rather their friends were well. So we too want everyone to be well (Second Corinthians 13, verse 7). It is not that we desire to be approved and you to be disapproved.

If it were possible, I would gladly show you with my very eyes the love I have for you; then no one could reproach me, however rough my language. For “words from friends, even if they are insults, can be borne”; and “the wounds of a friend are more to be trusted than the ready kisses of an enemy” (Proverbs 27, verse 6). There is nothing I love more than you — no, not even light itself. I would gladly have my eyes put out ten thousand times over, if by that means I could convert your souls; so much dearer to me is your salvation than light itself. For what good to me are the rays of the sun, when dejection on your account makes everything thick darkness before my eyes? Light is good when it shines on cheerfulness; to a sorrowful heart it even seems a burden. How true this is — may you never learn by experience!

But if any of you happens to fall into sin, just stand by my bed when I have lain down to rest and ought to be asleep, and see whether I am not like a paralyzed man, like a man beside himself; and, in the prophet’s words, “the light of my eyes, even that has gone from me” (Psalm 38, verse 10). For where is our hope, if you do not make progress? And where is our dejection, if you do well? I seem to have wings when I hear anything good about you. “Complete my joy” (Philippians 2, verse 2). This one thing is the burden of my prayers: I long for your progress.

But the one thing in which I would compete with anyone is this: that I love you, that I am bound up in you, that you are everything to me — father, mother, brothers and sisters, children. So do not think that anything I have said was said in a hostile spirit; no, it was for your improvement. It is written, “A brother helped by his brother is like a strong city” (Proverbs 18, verse 19). So do not take it with disdain, for I do not look down on what you have to say either. I would even want to be corrected by you. “For you are all brothers, and One is our Teacher”; yet even among brothers it falls to one to direct and to the others to obey. So do not disdain it, but let us do everything to the glory of God, for to him belongs glory forever and ever. Amen.