Homily 13 — Acts 5, verses 17 to 33

“Then the high priest, having risen up, and those who were with him (that is, the party of the Sadducees), were filled with indignation, and laid their hands on the apostles, and put them in the public prison.” [a]

“Having risen up”: that is, roused, stirred up by what was happening, “the high priest and those who were with him (that is, the party of the Sadducees) were filled with indignation, and laid their hands on the apostles.” They now attack them more fiercely. “And put them in the public prison.” But they did not bring them to trial at once, because they expected them to soften again. “But the angel of the Lord opened the prison doors and brought them out, and said, ‘Go, stand and speak in the temple to the people all the words of this life.’ And when they heard that, they entered the temple early in the morning and taught” (verses 19 to 21). This was done both to encourage the disciples and for the benefit and instruction of the others.

And notice how what happens here is exactly like what Christ himself did. In his miracles, though he does not let people see them in the act of being done, he gives them the means of learning what was done. So in his resurrection, he did not let them see how he rose. In the water made wine, the guests do not see it done, for they have been drinking freely, and he leaves the judging of it to others. Just so here: they do not see the apostles in the act of being brought out, but they do see the proofs from which they could gather what had been done. And it was by night that the angel brought them out. Why was this? Because in this way they were believed more than they would have been the other way. Otherwise people would not even have had occasion to ask the question; they would not have believed in any other way.

So it was in the old times with Nebuchadnezzar: he saw them praising God in the furnace, and only then was he struck with amazement (Daniel 3, verse 24). So these priests ought to have asked first of all, “How did you get out?” Instead, as if nothing had happened, they ask, “Did we not strictly order you not to speak?” (verse 28). And notice: they learn all the circumstances from the reports of others. They see the prison still shut securely, and the guards standing in front of the doors. A double security, as at the tomb, where there was both the seal and the men to keep watch. See how they fought against God! Tell me, was what happened to them the work of man? Who led them out when the doors were shut? How did they get out, with the guards standing in front of the door? Truly, they must be mad or drunk to talk this way. Here are men whom neither prison, nor chains, nor shut doors could keep in, and yet they expect to overpower them. Such is their childish folly! Their own officers come and admit what has happened, as if on purpose to cut them off from any show of reason. Do you see how there is miracle upon miracle, and of different kinds, some done by the apostles, others done on them, and these more glorious than the others?

“And when they heard that, they entered the temple early in the morning and taught. But the high priest came, and those who were with him, and called together the council and all the senate of the children of Israel, and sent to the prison to have them brought. But when the officers came and did not find them in the prison, they returned and reported, saying, ‘We found the prison shut with all security, and the guards standing outside in front of the doors; but when we opened it, we found no one inside.’ Now when the high priest and the captain of the temple and the chief priests heard these things, they were at a loss about them, wondering what this would come to” (verses 21 to 25). It was well arranged that the news was not brought to them all at once. First they are completely at a loss what to think, so that when they have thought it through and seen that a divine power is at work, they may then learn the whole situation.

“Then someone came and told them, ‘Look, the men you put in prison are standing in the temple and teaching the people.’ Then the captain went with the officers and brought them, without violence, for they were afraid of the people, that they might be stoned” (verses 25 and 26). Oh, the folly of these men! “They were afraid,” he says, “of the people.” Why, what had the people done to help the apostles? They ought to have feared God, who kept delivering the apostles out of their hands as if they were birds; instead of that, “they were afraid of the people”! “And the high priest” — shameless, reckless, senseless — “asked them, saying, ‘Did we not strictly order you not to teach in this name? And look, you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching, and you intend to bring this man’s blood upon us’” (verses 27 and 28).

What, then, do the apostles say? Again they speak to them mildly. And yet they might have said, “Who are you, to overrule God?” But what do they say? Again they answer by way of urging and advice, and with great mildness. “Then Peter and the other apostles answered and said, ‘We must obey God rather than men’” (verse 29). What greatness of soul! He shows them too that they are fighting against God. For, he says, the one you killed, God has raised up. “The God of our fathers raised up Jesus, whom you killed and hanged on a tree. God has exalted him with his right hand to be a Prince and a Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins” (verses 30 and 31). And again they refer the whole thing to the Father, so that Jesus would not seem to be a stranger to the Father. “And has exalted him,” he says, “with his right hand.” He declares not only the resurrection but the exaltation as well. “To give repentance to Israel.” Notice here, as before, what they stand to gain; notice the fullness of teaching delivered in the form of a defense.

“And we are witnesses of these things” (verse 32). Great boldness of speech! And here is the ground for believing them: “And so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him.” Do you notice that they do not appeal to the Spirit’s testimony alone? And they did not say “whom he has given” to us, but “to those who obey him.” In this they show at once their own unassuming spirit, and hint at the greatness of the gift, and show their hearers that it was possible for them too to receive the Spirit. See how these people were instructed both by deeds and by words, and yet they paid no attention, so that their condemnation might be just. For this is why God allowed the apostles to be brought to trial: so that their opponents might be instructed, and everyone might learn, and the apostles might be strengthened in their boldness of speech.

“And when they heard that, they were cut to the heart” (verse 33). The others, on an earlier occasion, “when they heard these things, were pierced” (Acts 2, verse 37); these were cut through, as if with a saw, “and wanted to kill them.”

But now we must go over again what we have read. “But the angel of the Lord by night opened the prison doors, and brought them out, and said, ‘Go, stand and speak in the temple to the people all the words of this life’” (Acts 5, verses 19 and 20). “Brought them out.” He did not bring them out so that they could look after themselves; no, “Stand,” he says, “and speak in the temple to the people.” If the guards had let them out, as the rulers thought, they would have fled — that is, supposing they had been persuaded to come out at all. And if the guards had let them go, they would not have stood in the temple; they would have run away. No one is so senseless as not to see this at once. “Did we not strictly order you?” (verse 28). Well, if they had promised to obey you, you would be right to call them to account. But if at the very time they told you they would not obey, what account have you to call them to? What defense is there for them to make?

“And look, you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching, and you intend to bring this man’s blood upon us.” Notice how the accusations contradict each other, and how great the folly is. They want to make it look now as though the Jews were bloodthirsty at heart, as if the apostles were doing these things not for the truth’s sake but out of a wish for revenge. That is also why the apostles do not answer them defiantly, for they were teachers. And yet where is the man who, with a whole city behind him and gifted with such great grace, would not have spoken out and said something grand? But these men did not. They were not angry; no, they pitied these men and wept over them, and looked for a way to free them from their error and their anger. And they no longer say to them, “You judge” (Acts 4, verse 19), but simply declare, “The one God raised up, him we preach; it is by the will of God that these things are done.” They did not say, “Didn’t we tell you even then that ‘we cannot help speaking about the things we have seen and heard’?” (Acts 4, verse 20). For they are not quarreling for glory. Instead they tell the same story again: the cross, the resurrection. And they do not say why he was crucified — that it was for our sakes. They hint at it, but not yet openly, wishing to put some fear into them for a while. [e]

And yet what kind of rhetoric is there here? None at all. Everywhere it is still his suffering, and the resurrection, and the ascension, and the purpose of it all: “The God of our fathers raised up Jesus,” and the rest (verses 30 and 31). And yet how improbable these claims are! Very improbable, no doubt. But for all that, neither rulers nor people had a word to say against them: the rulers had their mouths stopped, and the people received the teaching. “And we,” he says, “are witnesses of these things” (verse 32). Of what things? That he has promised forgiveness and repentance, for the resurrection was by now acknowledged. But that he gives forgiveness, both we are witnesses, “and so is the Holy Spirit,” who would not have come down unless sins had first been forgiven. So this is a proof no one can dispute.

“When they heard that, they were cut to the heart, and took counsel to kill them” (verse 33). You hear of the forgiveness of sins, you wretched man, and that God does not demand punishment, and do you want to kill them? What wickedness this was! And yet they ought either to have proved them liars or, if they could not do that, to have believed. And if they did not choose to believe, still they ought not to have killed them. For what was there that deserved death? Such was their drunkenness that they did not even see what had happened. Notice how everywhere the apostles, when they have mentioned the crime, add the mention of forgiveness. They show that while what had been done deserved death, what was given was offered to them as if they were benefactors! In what other way could anyone have won them over? [f]

“Then the high priest rose up,” and the rest. As men held in high esteem, the apostles were about to take their place beside the prophets. It was the Sadducees who were most sore on the subject of the resurrection.

But perhaps someone will say: “Why, what man gifted as the apostles were would not have been great?” But consider, I beg you, how before they were given the grace, “they were continuing steadfastly with one accord in prayer” (Acts 1, verse 14), and depending on help from above. And do you, my beloved, hope for the kingdom of heaven, yet endure nothing? Have you received the Spirit, yet do not suffer such things or face dangers? But they, before they had caught their breath from their earlier dangers, were led into others again. And this too, that there is no arrogance, no conceit — how great a good it is! To speak mildly — what a gain it is! For not all they did was the direct work of grace; there are many marks of their own zeal as well. That the gifts of grace shine out in them came from their own diligence. See, for instance, from the very beginning, how careful Peter is, how sober and watchful; how those who believed threw away their riches, had no private property, continued in prayer, showed they were of one mind, and spent their time in fasting. Was it grace alone, I ask, that did all this?

That is why God brings the proof home to them through their own officers, just as in the case of Christ it was their officers who said, “Never has a man spoken the way this man speaks” (John 7, verse 46). Proofs like these are more readily believed than the resurrection. Notice also the restraint the rulers themselves show, and how they give ground. “The high priest asked them, saying,” and the rest (verse 27). Here, if you please, he reasons with them in a moderate tone, for he was frightened. Indeed, what he wanted was to stop them rather than to kill them, since that he cannot do. And to rouse them all and show them the extreme danger they are in, he says to the apostles, “And you intend to bring this man’s blood upon us.” Do you still take him for a mere man? He wants to make it look as though the order had been needed for their own safety.

But notice what Peter says: “God has exalted him with his right hand to be a Prince and a Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins” (verse 31). Here he refrains from mentioning the Gentiles, so as not to give them a handle against him. “And they wanted,” it says, “to kill them” (verse 33). See again: the rulers perplexed and in pain, the apostles at peace, cheerful and delighted. It is not merely “They were grieved,” but “They were cut to the heart.” Truly this bears out the proverb “Do evil, fare evil,” as we can see here. Here were these men in chains, standing at the bar of judgment, and the men sitting in judgment over them were distressed and helplessly at a loss. For just as someone who strikes a blow on a diamond feels the shock of the blow himself, so it was with these men. For they saw that not only had the apostles’ boldness of speech not been stopped, but their preaching grew all the more, and that they spoke without a thought of fear and gave them no handle against them.

Let us imitate them, my beloved: let us be undaunted in all our dangers. Nothing is fearful to the one who fears God; all that is fearful is for others. For when a person has been set free from his passions and regards everything present as a shadow, tell me, from whom will he suffer anything fearful? Whom will he have to fear? Whom will he need to plead with? Let us flee to this Rock, which cannot be shaken. [g]

Suppose someone were to build us a city and put a wall around it, and move us to an uninhabited land where there was no one to disturb us, and there supply us with plenty of everything, and not let us have any trouble with anyone. He would not set us in such perfect safety as Christ has now. Let it be a city made of bronze, if you like, surrounded on every side by a wall, high and impregnable; let there be no enemy near it; let it have land plentiful and rich; let there be plenty of other things besides; let the citizens too be mild and gentle, and no wrongdoer there — no robber, no thief, no informer, no law court, only business agreements. And let us live in this city. Not even so would it be possible to live in security. Why? Because there could not fail to be quarrels with servants, with wives, with children, the ground of much discomfort. But with the apostles there was nothing of the kind; nothing at all pained them or caused them discomfort. More wonderful still, the very things that are thought to cause discomfort became a source of all joy and gladness. For tell me, what was there for them to be annoyed at? What was there to take badly?

Shall we set a particular case beside them for comparison? Very well. Let there be a man of consular rank; let him have great wealth; let him live in the imperial city; let him have no troublesome business with anyone, but simply live in luxury and have nothing else to do, seated at the very summit of wealth and honor and power. And against him let us set a Peter, in chains if you like, in countless troubles. We will find that it is Peter who lives with the most delight. For when joy is so great that a man is delighted even in chains, think how great that joy must be! Just as people high in office do not feel whatever evils may happen but go on enjoying themselves, so these rejoiced all the more because of these very evils. For it is impossible, impossible to put into words how great a pleasure falls to those who suffer for Christ’s sake. They rejoice in their sufferings more than in their good things. Whoever loves Christ knows what I mean.

But what about safety? Who, I ask, however rich, could have escaped so many dangers, going about among so many different nations for the sole purpose of reforming their way of life? It was as if they carried everything before them by royal command — no, far more easily, for no command could ever have been as effective as their words were. A royal edict compels by force, but these drew people willingly and freely, and with hearts overflowing with thanks. What royal edict, I ask, would ever have persuaded people to give up all their property and their lives, to despise home, country, relatives, even self-preservation? Yet the voices of fishermen and tentmakers achieved this. So they were both happy, and more powerful and stronger than anyone else.

You will say: “Yes, of course they were: they worked miracles.” But I ask, what miracles did those who believed work — the three thousand and the five thousand? And yet these, we read, spent their time in gladness. And well they might, for the ground of all discomfort, the possession of riches, had been done away with. For that — that, I say — has always been the cause of wars and fighting and grief and discomfort and every evil. It is that which makes life full of toil and trouble. And indeed you would find that many more rich people than poor have reason to be sad. If anyone thinks this is not true, his notion comes not from the nature of things but from his own imagination. And if the rich do enjoy some sort of pleasure, that is no wonder, for even people covered all over with an itching rash get a good deal of pleasure. That the rich are exactly like these, and that their minds are affected the same way, is plain from this: their cares annoy them, and yet they choose to be absorbed in them for the sake of a moment’s pleasure, while those who are free of these ailments are healthy and without discomfort.

Which is more pleasant, I ask, and which of the two is safer: to have to think only about a single loaf of bread and one set of clothes, or about an enormous household, slaves and free, with the care of far more than oneself? For as the poor man has his fears for himself, so you have yours for all those who depend on you.

Why, I ask you, does poverty seem something to be avoided? In the same way that other good things, in the judgment of many, are things to pray against. You will say: “Yes, but it is not that those good things are to be prayed against; it is that they are hard to attain.” Well, poverty too is not something to be prayed against, but something hard to attain. So if a person could bear it, there would be no reason to pray against it. For how is it that the apostles did not pray against it? How is it that many even choose it, and far from praying against it, run to it? For something that really is to be prayed against can be chosen by no one but a madman. But if it is people of lofty minds, given to philosophy, who withdraw into poverty as into a safe and healthy retreat, no wonder if it looks different to everyone else. For truly the rich man seems to me just like a city without walls, set in a plain and inviting attack from every side; but poverty is a secure fortress, as strong as bronze can make it, and hard to climb up to.

You will say: “And yet the facts are just the reverse. These are the people who are often dragged into the law courts; these are the ones who are overpowered and mistreated.” No: not the poor as poor, but those who are poor and want to be rich. I am not speaking of them, but of those who make it their study to live in poverty. For tell me, how is it that no one ever drags the brothers in the hills into the law courts? And yet if being poor makes a person a target for oppression, they ought to be dragged there most of all, since they are poorer than anyone. How is it that no one drags the common beggars into the courts? Because they have reached the very limit of poverty. How is it that no one does them violence, no one lays malicious charges against them? Because they live in a stronghold too secure for that. How many people think it a hard condition to struggle against — poverty, I mean, and begging! What then, I ask, is it a good thing to beg?

You will say: “It is good, if there is comfort in it, if there is someone to give. It is a life so free of trouble and reversals, as everyone knows.” But I do not mean to praise begging. Far from it! What I advise is not to aim at riches. [l]

For tell me, whom would you rather call blessed: those who are well suited to virtue, or those who stand far from it? Those who are near to it, of course. Tell me, then, which of the two is the one to learn anything useful and to shine in the true wisdom, the first or the second? The first, anyone can see. If you doubt it, satisfy yourself this way. Bring here from the marketplace one of the poor wretches there; let him be a cripple, lame, maimed. Then bring some other person, handsome, strong in body, full of life and vigor in every part, overflowing with riches; let him be of distinguished birth and possessed of great power. Then let us bring them both into the school of philosophy. Which of them, I ask, is more likely to take in what is taught? The first command, at the very start, is “Be lowly and think modestly of yourself” (for this is Christ’s command). Which will be better able to keep it, this one or the other? “Blessed are those who mourn” (Matthew 5, verse 4): which will take this saying to heart? “Blessed are the lowly”: which will listen more readily to this? “Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake” (Matthew 5, verses 8, 6, and 10). Which will take in these sayings with ease? And if you like, let us apply all these rules to the two of them and see how they fit. Is not the one inflamed and swollen all over, while the other is always humble-minded and subdued in his whole bearing? It is quite plain.

Yes, and there is a saying to this effect among those outside: “I was a slave, Epictetus by name, crippled in body, as poor as Irus, and a friend of the immortals.” For how, I ask, can the soul of the rich man fail to teem with evils — folly, empty glory, countless cravings, anger and passion, greed, wrongdoing, and what not? So even for philosophy, the poor man is better suited than the rich.

By all means look into which life is more pleasant, for I see that this is the question argued everywhere: whether such and such a person has the more enjoyable way of life. Yet even on this we need not be in doubt, for to be near to health is also to have much enjoyment. But which of the two, I ask, is better suited to the matter now in hand, the thing we are determined to see carried through — our law, I mean — the poor man or the rich? Which of them is likely to swear? The man who has children to be angry with, the man who has contracts with countless parties, or the man whose only concern is to ask for a loaf of bread or a garment? Such a man has no need even of oaths, however much he might want them, but always lives free of the cares of business. What is more, it is often seen that the one who has been trained to swear not at all will also despise riches. And you will see in his whole behavior that his ways all branch out from this one good habit and lead to gentleness, to contempt for riches, to godliness, to a subdued soul, to heartfelt sorrow.

So let us not be idle, my beloved, but let us again show great earnestness. Let those who have succeeded hold on to what they have achieved, so that they are not easily caught by the receding wave, or carried back again by the ebbing tide. Let those who are still behind rise up again and strive to make up what is lacking. And meanwhile let those who have succeeded help those who have not yet been able to do the same, and, reaching out their hands as they would to people struggling in deep water, bring them into the harbor of never swearing. For it truly is a harbor of safety, to swear not at all. Whatever storms break on us, there we are in no danger of sinking. Be it anger, be it insult, be it passion, be it what it may, the soul rides there secure. Yes, even if someone has let slip some chance word that ought not to have been spoken and would have been better unsaid, he has still bound himself under no necessity, no law.

See what Herod did for his oath’s sake: he cut off the head of the Forerunner. “But because of his oaths,” it says, “and because of those who sat at table with him” (Mark 6, verse 26), he cut off the head of the prophet. Think what the tribes had to suffer for their oath in the matter of the tribe of Benjamin (Judges 21, verses 5 to 10), and what Saul had to suffer for his oath (First Samuel 14, verse 24, and following). Saul, indeed, broke his oath, but Herod did what was even worse than breaking an oath: he committed murder. And Joshua, again — you know how it went with him because of his oath in the matter of the Gibeonites (Joshua, chapter 9). For this swearing truly is a snare of Satan. Let us break the cords. Let us bring ourselves into a state in which it will be easy not to swear. Let us break loose from every entanglement, and from this snare of Satan. Let us fear the command of the Lord. Let us settle ourselves in the best of habits, so that, making progress, and having achieved this and the rest of the commandments, we may obtain the good things promised to those who love him, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit together, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.