Homily 8 — Acts 3, verses 1 to 11

“Now Peter and John went up together into the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour.” [a]

Everywhere we find these two apostles in close harmony with each other. “Simon Peter motioned to him” (John 13, verse 24). These two also “came together to the tomb” (John 20, verse 3 and following). And about John, Peter said to Christ, “And what about this man?” (John 21, verse 21). Now, the writer of this book passes over the other miracles, but he records the one that threw them all into an uproar. Notice again that they do not come to them on purpose, so free were they of ambition, so closely did they imitate their Teacher. Why, then, did they go up to the temple? Were they still living as Jews? No, they went for a useful purpose. Again a miraculous sign takes place, one that both strengthens the converts and draws the rest over; and it was such that, by working it, they became a sign themselves.

The disease was in the man’s very nature, and it defeated the art of medicine. He had been lame forty years, as the writer says later (Acts 4, verse 22), and in all that time no one had cured him. And the hardest diseases to cure are the ones people are born with. It was a great misfortune, so great that he could not even provide the food he needed for himself. The man was well known, both from the place where he sat and from his affliction. Listen to how the event is told: “And a certain man, lame from his mother’s womb, was being carried, whom they laid every day at the gate of the temple called Beautiful, to ask alms from those who went into the temple” (verse 2). He was hoping to receive alms, and he did not know who these men were. “Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked for alms. And Peter, fixing his eyes on him, with John, said, Look at us” (verses 3 and 4).

Even so, the man’s thoughts rose no higher; he kept on asking. That is what poverty is like: when it is refused, it forces people to keep on asking. Let this put us to shame, we who give up in our prayers! But notice, I beg you, Peter’s gentleness: he said, “Look at us.” So truly did their very bearing, by itself, show what kind of men they were. “And he paid attention to them, expecting to receive something from them. Then Peter said, I have no silver and gold, but what I have I give you” (verses 5 and 6). He did not say, “I give you something much better than silver or gold.” What, then? “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk. And he took him by the right hand and raised him up” (verse 7).

This was Christ’s way too. Often he healed by a word, often by an action, and often he stretched out his hand, where people were rather weak in faith, so that the cure would not seem to have happened by itself. “And he took him by the right hand and raised him up.” This act displayed the resurrection, for it was an image of the resurrection. “And at once his feet and ankle bones were made strong. And leaping up, he stood and walked” (verse 8). Perhaps he did this to test himself, putting the thing to further proof in case what had been done should turn out to be for nothing. His feet were weak; it was not that he had lost them. Some say he did not even know how to walk. “And he went into the temple with them.” It truly was a marvel. The apostles do not urge him; he follows of his own accord, and by following them he points out his benefactors. “And leaping and praising God”: not admiring them, but God who worked through them. The man was grateful.

“Now Peter and John went up together into the temple,” and so on. You see how they kept on in prayer. “The ninth hour”: at that hour they prayed together. “And a certain man,” and so on. The man was being carried at that very moment. “Whom they laid every day” (his bearers carried him away) “at the gate,” and so on — just when people were going into the temple. And so that you would not suppose they carried him there for some other purpose, and not so that he could receive alms, listen to what the writer says: “so that he might receive alms from those going into the temple.” This is also why he mentions the places: to give evidence for what he reports. [g]

You may ask: “And how was it that they did not bring him to Christ?” Perhaps his bearers were unbelieving men who hung about the temple; in fact, they did not bring him to the apostles either, when they saw them going in, though the apostles had done such great miracles. “He asked,” it says, “to receive alms” (verse 3). Their bearing marked the apostles out as devout and righteous men. “And Peter, fixing his eyes on him, with John, said,” and so on (verses 4 and 5). And notice how John is silent everywhere, while Peter speaks for him too. “I have no silver and gold,” he says (verse 6). He does not say, “I have none with me,” as we usually put it, but simply, “I have none.” The man might say: “What then? Are you taking no notice of me, when I am begging you?” “Not at all. But take what I do have.” Do you notice how unassuming Peter is, how he makes no show even before the man he is helping? “In the name,” and so on. “And he took him by the hand,” and so on (verse 7). The mouth and the hand did it all.

The Jews were people of this sort: lame, and when the right thing was to ask for health, they ask for money, groveling on the ground. That was why they crowded around the temple: to get money. What, then, does Peter do? He did not despise him. He did not look around for some rich man to work on. He did not say, “If the miracle is not done for some great person, nothing great is done.” He did not look for any honor from him, no, nor did he heal him in front of the people; for the man was at the entrance, not where the crowd was, that is, inside. Peter was after nothing of that kind; nor did he announce the matter when he went in. No, it was by his bearing that he drew the lame man to ask.

And the wonder is that the man believed so readily. For those set free from diseases of long standing can hardly believe their own eyes. Once healed, he stays with the apostles, giving thanks to God. “And he went into the temple with them,” it says, “walking and leaping and praising God” (verse 8). Notice how he cannot keep still in the eagerness of his delight, and at the same time how he shuts the mouths of the Jews. His leaping was also meant to rule out any suspicion of play-acting — though in any case this was beyond any possibility of deception. For if before he was entirely unable to walk, even when hunger pressed him hard (and indeed he would not have chosen to share the proceeds of his begging with his bearers if he could have managed for himself), this holds all the more in the present case. And why would he have faked it for men who had given him no alms? But the man was grateful, even after he recovered. So his faith shows itself on both sides: both by his thankfulness and by what had just happened.

He was so well known to everyone that “they recognized him. And all the people,” it says, “saw him walking and praising God; and they recognized that it was he who used to sit for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple” (verse 9). “They recognized” is well said, since what had happened had now made him a stranger to them; for we use this word of things we have difficulty recognizing. “And they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.” It must surely be believed that the name of Christ forgives sins, when it produces even effects like this. “And as he held on to Peter and John, all the people came together at the porch called Solomon’s, greatly wondering” (verse 11). Out of his good feeling and love for the apostles, the lame man would not leave them; perhaps he was thanking them openly and praising them. “And all the people,” it says, “ran together to them. And when Peter saw them, he answered” (verse 12). Again it is he who takes action and addresses the people. [h]

In the former instance it was the business of the tongues that roused them to listen; now it was this miracle. Then he took his starting point from their accusations; now, from their supposition. Let us consider, then, how this speech differs from the former one, and how it agrees with it. The former was given in a house, before anyone had come over and before the apostles themselves had done anything; this one, when everyone is wondering and the healed man is standing by, when no one doubts, as they did in the other case, where some said, “These men are full of new wine” (Acts 2, verse 13). At the first, he spoke with all the apostles around him; at this one he has John alone, for by now he is bold and has grown more forceful. That is the nature of virtue: once it gets going, it advances and never stops. [i]

Notice also how it was arranged by God that the miracle should take place in the temple, so that others too might grow bold, while the apostles do not work in holes and corners and in secret — though not in the inner part of the temple either, where most of the people were. How, then, I ask you, did people come to believe it? The man who was healed announced the benefit himself. He had no reason to lie, nor any reason to have joined a different set of people. So he worked the miracle there either because the place was spacious or because the spot was out of the way. And look at how it turned out: they went up for one purpose and accomplished another. Cornelius did the same: he was praying and fasting. But up to now they always call him “of Nazareth.” “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth,” said Peter, “walk.” For at the start, what was needed was that he be believed in.

Let us not, I beg you, give up at the beginning of the story. And if anyone has named some particular achievement of virtue and then dropped it for a while, let us begin over again. If we get into the right frame of mind, we will soon arrive at the end, soon reach the summit. For earnestness, they say, breeds earnestness, and dullness breeds dullness. Whoever has made some small improvement is encouraged by it to go on to greater things, and from there to go on to something more still. Just as fire grows fiercer the more wood it catches hold of, so zeal, the more devout thoughts it kindles, the better armed it is against their opposites.

For example: planted in us like so many thorns are perjury, lying, hypocrisy, deceit, dishonesty, abusive talk, mockery, clowning, indecency, coarse joking; then, under another heading, greed, grasping, injustice, slander, scheming; again, wicked lust, impurity, lewdness, sexual immorality, adultery; again, envy, rivalry, anger, rage, bitterness, revenge, blasphemy, and countless others. If we bring about a reform in the first of these, success will have been won not only there but, through them, in the ones that follow as well. For by then reason has gained more strength to overthrow those other vices.

For instance, if someone who has often sworn once roots out that satanic habit, he has not only gained this point; a habit of reverence in other respects will have come in as well. For no one, I think, who shrinks from swearing would easily agree to do any other wicked act; he will respect the virtue he has already won. Just as a man wearing a beautiful robe would be ashamed to roll in the mud, so it is here. From this beginning he will learn not to be angry, not to strike, not to insult. For once he has got things right in small matters, the whole thing is done.

Often, however, something like this happens: a person has reformed once, and then through carelessness slips back all too readily into the old sins, so that the case becomes past remedy. For instance, we have made it a law for ourselves not to swear. We have done well for three or even four days; after that, when hard pressed, we scattered all the gain we had gathered, and then we fall into laziness and recklessness. Still, it is not right to give up; one must set to work zealously again. They say that the man who has built a house and then sees his building pulled down will have less heart for building again. Yes, but even so, one must not lose heart, but must set to work zealously once more.

So let us lay down laws for ourselves every day. For now, let us begin with the easier ones. Let us cut away all that excess of oaths and put a bridle on our tongues. Let no one swear by God. There is no expense here, no fatigue, no cost of time. It is enough to will it, and it is all done. It is a matter of habit. I beg and plead with you, let us put in this much zeal. Tell me, if I had asked you to contribute money, would not each one of you gladly have put in according to his means? If you saw me in extreme danger, would you not, had it been possible, have cut off your own flesh to give me? Well, I am in danger now, and in great danger — so great that if I were shut up in a dungeon besides, or had received ten thousand lashes, or were a convict in the mines, I could not suffer more. So give me your hand. Think how great the danger is, that I should not have been able to reform this, the least of things — I say “least” in terms of the labor it requires. What will I have to say later, when I am called to account like this?

“Why did you not protest? Why did you not command? Why did you not set the law before them? Why did you not restrain the disobedient?” It will not be enough for me to say that I did warn them. The answer will come: “You should have rebuked them more sharply, since Eli also warned” (First Samuel 2, verse 24). But far be it from me to compare you with Eli’s sons. He did warn them, and said, “No, my sons, do not do this; it is an evil report I hear about you.” Yet afterward Scripture says that he did not warn his sons (First Samuel 3, verse 13), since he did not warn them severely or with threats. [k]

For is it not a strange thing that in the synagogues of the Jews the laws have such force, and whatever the teacher commands is carried out, while here we are despised and rejected like this? It is not my own glory I care about (my glory is your good name); it is your salvation. Every day we raise our voice and shout in your ears, but there is no one to hear. Still, we take no strong measures. I fear we will have to give an account on the Day to come for this excessive and ill-timed leniency.

So with a loud, clear voice I proclaim to everyone and solemnly declare: those known for this offense, who speak words that come “from the evil one” (Matthew 5, verse 37) — for that is what swearing is — will not step over the threshold of the church. Let this present month be the time you are given to reform in this matter. Do not tell me: “The demands of business force me to use oaths; otherwise people do not believe me.” To begin with, cut away the oaths that come merely from habit. I know many will laugh, but it is better to be laughed at now than wept over later. The ones who laugh will be the mad. For who in his right mind, I ask you, would laugh at the keeping of a commandment? But suppose they do: it is not at us but at Christ that such people will be laughing. You shudder at the words! I knew you would. If this law were of my making, the laughter would be at me; but if Another is the Lawgiver, the mockery passes on to him. Yes, and Christ was once spat on and slapped, struck in the face. Now too he puts up with this, and it is no wonder. For this, hell is prepared; for this, the worm that does not die. [l]

Look, again I say it and solemnly declare: let anyone laugh who wants to, let anyone mock who likes. This is what we are appointed for: to be laughed at and mocked, to suffer everything. We are “the scum of the world” (First Corinthians 4, verse 13), as blessed Paul says. If anyone refuses to conform to this rule, I, by my word, as with a trumpet blast, forbid him to set foot over the church’s threshold, whether he is a ruler, or even the one who wears the crown. Either remove me from this post, or, if I am to stay, do not expose me to danger. I cannot bear to go up to this throne without bringing about some great reform; if that is impossible, it is better to stand below. Nothing is more wretched than a ruler who does his people no good.

Do exert yourselves, and pay attention to this, I beg you. Let us strive, and surely more good will come of it. Fast, and plead with God (we will do the same with you) that this destructive habit may be rooted out. It is no great task to become teachers to the world, and no small honor to have it said everywhere that in this city there is truly not one man who swears. If this happens, you will receive a reward not only for your own good deeds; what I am to you, you will become to the world. Surely others will copy you; surely you will be a lamp set on a lampstand.

You will say: “And is this the whole matter?” No, this is not all, but it is the beginning of other virtues. The man who does not swear will certainly reach reverence in other respects too, whether he wants to or not, out of self-respect and awe. But you will object that most people do not keep it up but fall away. Well, better one who does the will of the Lord than ten thousand lawbreakers. In fact, this is what overturns everything and turns everything upside down: I mean that, the way they do in the theater, we want numbers, not a select number. For what good will a crowd be able to do? [p]

Do you want to learn that it is the holy, not the numbers, who make up a multitude? Lead out to war a million men and one holy man, and let us see who achieves more. Joshua the son of Nun went out to war and achieved everything alone; the rest were of no use. Do you want to see, beloved, that a great crowd, when it does not do God’s will, is no better than nothing? I do wish and long — and would gladly be torn in pieces for it — to adorn the church with a multitude, yes, but a select multitude; yet if that is impossible, my desire is that the few be select.

Do you not see that it is better to own one precious stone than ten thousand pennies? Do you not see that it is better to have a sound eye than to be loaded with flesh and yet deprived of sight? Do you not see that it is better to have one healthy sheep than ten thousand sick with disease; that fine children, though few, are better than many who are sickly besides; that in the kingdom there will be few, but in hell many? What do I want with a crowd? What good is there in it? None. Rather, they are a plague to the rest. It is as if someone who had the choice of ten healthy people or ten thousand sick ones were to take on the sick ones in addition to the ten. The many who do nothing well will serve us only for punishment later and for disgrace in the meantime. For no one will count it in our favor that we are many; we will be blamed for being useless. In fact, this is what people always tell us when we say, “We are many”: “Yes, but bad.”

Look, again I give warning and proclaim with a loud voice — let no one think it a laughing matter: I will shut out and bar the disobedient; and as long as I sit on this throne, I will not give up one of its rights. If anyone removes me from it, then I am no longer answerable; but as long as I am answerable, I cannot neglect them — not because of my own punishment, but because of your salvation. For I long exceedingly for your salvation. To advance it I endure pain and distress. But give your obedience, so that both here and hereafter you may receive a rich reward, and that together we may reap eternal blessings, through the grace and mercy of the only Son of God, to whom with the Father and the Holy Spirit be glory, power and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.