Homily 15 — Acts 6, verse 8, to 7, verse 5

“And Stephen, full of faith and power, did great wonders and miracles among the people.” [a]

See how even among the seven one stood out and carried off the first prize. The ordination was common to him and to them, yet he drew greater grace to himself. And notice that he worked no signs and wonders before this time, but only once he had been made known publicly. This shows that grace alone is not enough; there must be ordination as well, and so there came a further gift of the Spirit. For if they were already full of the Spirit, it was the Spirit that comes from the washing of baptism.

“Then there arose certain of those from the synagogue” (verse 9). Again he uses the phrase “rose up,” to show their exasperation and anger. Here we have a great crowd. And notice how the form of the charge has changed. Since Gamaliel had stopped them from finding fault on the earlier ground, they bring in another accusation. “Then there arose,” it says, “certain of those from the synagogue of those called Libertines, and of the Cyrenians and Alexandrians, and of those from Cilicia and Asia, disputing with Stephen. And they were not able to resist the wisdom and the spirit with which he spoke. Then they secretly induced men, who said, We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and against God” (verses 9 to 11).

To make the charge stick, they phrase it this way: “he speaks against God and against Moses.” And they disputed with him for the same purpose, to force him into saying something. By now he was speaking more openly, and perhaps spoke of the divine law coming to an end — or did not say it, but hinted as much. For if he had said it plainly, there would have been no need for men secretly put up to it, or for false witnesses. [d]

There were several synagogues: that of the Libertines; that of the Cyrenians, that is, the people from the regions beyond Alexandria; that of the Alexandrians; and the rest. In Jerusalem, too, they seem to have had synagogues according to their different nations, for many stayed on there so as not to be forced to keep traveling back and forth.

The Libertines were perhaps freedmen of the Romans. Since many foreigners lived there, they had their own synagogues, where the law was to be read. “Disputing with Stephen.” Look at him: not taking it on himself to teach, but forced to. Once again the miracles brought hatred on him; but when he won the argument, the answer was false witness!

For they did not want to kill him out of hand, but by means of a sentence, so that they might damage their reputation as well. … was unbearable to them. “They were not able to resist,” and so on; “then they secretly induced men.” … And leaving the apostles, they attack these others, the disciples, thinking that in this way they will frighten the apostles too. They do not say, “he speaks,” but, “he does not stop speaking.” [e]

“And they stirred up the people, and the elders, and the scribes, and came upon him, and seized him, and brought him to the council, and set up false witnesses, who said, This man does not stop speaking blasphemous words against this holy place and the law” (verses 12 and 13). “Does not stop,” they say, as if he made it his business. “For we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place, and will change the customs that Moses handed down to us” (verse 14). “Jesus,” they say, “the Nazarene” — as a term of contempt — “will destroy this place, and will change the customs.” This is also what they said about Christ: “You who destroy the temple” (Matthew 27, verse 40).

For great was their reverence for the temple — indeed, they had chosen to leave their own countries and settle there in order to be near it — and for the name of Moses. The charge is twofold. If he “will change the customs,” he will also bring in others in their place. See how bitter the charge is, and how full of danger. “And all who sat in the council, looking intently at him, saw his face as if it were the face of an angel” (verse 15). So possible is it even for one of lower rank to shine. [f]

For what, I ask, did this man have less than the apostles? He did not lack miracles, and great was the boldness he showed. “They saw his face,” it says, “as if it were the face of an angel.” This was his grace; this was the glory of Moses (Exodus 34, verse 30). God made him so gracious in appearance, now that he was about to speak, in order to awe them at once by his very look. For there are — yes, there are — faces full of spiritual grace, lovely to those who love, fearsome to those who hate and to enemies. The writer also gives the reason why they put up with his speech. “Then,” it goes on, “the high priest said, Are these things so?” (Acts 7, verse 1).

Notice that the question is put mildly, so that he may do some great harm. That is why Stephen too begins his speech gently, and says, “Men, brothers, and fathers, listen. The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Haran” (verse 2). At the very start he overthrows their conceit. Without their suspecting where he is going, he makes it plain by what he says that the temple is nothing, and that the customs are nothing either; also that they will not overcome the preaching; and that God always devises powerful instruments out of powerless things. So watch how these threads are woven through the whole speech; and further, how it shows that though they had always enjoyed great goodness, they still repaid their Benefactor with the opposite, and that they are now attempting the impossible. [g]

“The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he came into Haran.” There was no temple, there was no sacrifice, and yet Abraham was granted a vision of God — though he had Persians for his ancestors and was in a foreign land. And he does well at the start of his speech to call him “the God of glory,” since God has made glorious those who had no honor. As he says: “It was he who made them glorious; he will make us glorious too.” See how he leads them away from bodily things — first of all from the place, since the place was what was in question. “The God of glory,” he says, implying again that God does not need the glory that comes from us, the glory that comes by the temple, for he himself is its fountain. He would say: “Do not think you can glorify him this way.”

“And from your kindred.” How then does Scripture say that Abraham’s father was willing to leave? From this we learn that it was because of Abraham’s vision that his father was moved to join in the move (Genesis 11, verse 31).

“And he said to him, Leave your country and your kindred, and come into a land that I will show you” (verse 3). It shows how obedient Abraham was, and so how far these men are from being Abraham’s children. “And from your kindred.” These are galling thoughts for them: both that he endured the labors while you reap the fruits, and that all your ancestors were in a sorry state.

“Then he came out of the land of the Chaldeans and lived in Haran. And from there, after his father died, God moved him into this land where you now live. And he gave him no inheritance in it, not even enough to set his foot on” (verses 4 and 5). See how he lifts their thoughts away from their possession of the land. For if God said that he will give it, clearly everything came from him, and nothing from themselves. For Abraham came, leaving behind both kindred and country. Why, then, did God not give it to him? It was, in truth, a figure of another land.

“And he promised to give it to him.” Do you see that he is not simply picking up the thread of his story? “He gave him none,” he says, “and he promised — and to his descendants after him, when as yet he had no child.” Again, see what God can do: out of impossibilities he does everything. Here is a man in Persia, so far away, and God says he will make this man lord of Palestine. But let us go back over what was said before.

Where, I ask you, did that grace on Stephen’s face come from? Earlier the writer gives him this testimony, that he was “full of faith” (Acts 6, verse 8). For it is possible to have a grace that does not consist in works of healing: “to one is given” the grace of the Spirit in this form, to another in that (First Corinthians 12, verses 8 and 9). But here, it seems to me, it is saying that he was also gracious to look at: “They saw his face as if it were the face of an angel” (verse 15). “Full of faith and power” — which is also the description given of Barnabas: “He was a good man, full of faith and of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 11, verse 24). From this we learn that the sincere and the guileless are, above all others, the ones to be saved, and that these same people are also the more gracious. [j]

“Then they secretly induced men, who said, We have heard him speak blasphemous words” (verse 11). In the case of the apostles, they were annoyed that they preached the resurrection and that great crowds streamed to them (Acts 4, verse 2); but in this case, that people were having their diseases healed. The things they ought to have given thanks for, they made grounds for blame. What madness! The men who had beaten them by deeds, they expected to beat by words! It is just what they did in the case of Christ: they always forced them into words. For they were ashamed to seize them without further ado, having nothing to charge them with. And notice: the men who bring them to trial are not the ones who testify against them, for they would have been refuted; they simply hire others, so that it may not look like an act of plain violence. It is all of a piece with what they did in the case of Christ.

And notice the power of the preaching. Though they are not only flogged but stoned, it still prevails. Private individuals though they are, they are not only dragged into court but attacked from every side; and, by the witness of their enemies themselves, these men were not only beaten, but “they were not able” even “to resist” (verse 10), shameless as they were. So mightily did the preaching overthrow them, for all they could do with their absurd inventions — like saying that he had a demon, he who cast out demons! For the battle was not man’s, but God’s against men. And many had joined together, not only those in Jerusalem but others as well (verse 9).

For “we have heard him,” they say, “speaking blasphemous words against Moses and against God” (verse 11). You shameless people! You do blasphemous deeds and think nothing of it. This is why Moses is added: because the things of God were no great concern to them, and it is always and everywhere Moses whom they mention: “This Moses, who brought us out” (Acts 7, verse 40). “And they stirred up the people” (verse 12). How fickle the crowd is! And yet how could a man who was a blasphemer have succeeded like this? How could a blasphemer work such miracles among the people? But the undisciplined crowd gave strength to those who had lost the argument. This was what annoyed them most.

“We have heard him,” they say, “speaking blasphemous words against Moses and against God” (verse 11); and again, “This man does not stop speaking blasphemous words against this holy place and the law,” and with an addition, “the customs that Moses handed down to us” (verse 14) — Moses, not God. On the claim that he meant to overturn their way of life, they accused him of impiety as well. But it shows that such a man was not the kind to say such things, and harshly at that: “Then all who sat in the council, looking intently at him, saw his face as if it were the face of an angel” (verse 15). So mild was he, even in his face. For in cases where people were not falsely accused, Scripture mentions nothing of this kind; but since here it was all false accusation, God rightly sets it straight by the very look of the man. The apostles, you see, were not falsely accused; they were forbidden to speak. But this man is falsely accused, and so before anything else his face pleads for him. This abashed even the priest. “And he said,” and so on (Acts 7, verse 1).

He shows here that the promise was made before the place, before circumcision, before sacrifice, before the temple; that it was not by their own merit that they received either circumcision or the law; and that the land was the reward of obedience alone. Further, that not even when circumcision was given does the promise find its fulfillment. Also, that these things were figures; and so was his leaving his country at God’s command — which was not against the law, for home and country are wherever God leads: “Then he came out,” it says, “of the land of the Chaldeans” (verse 4). And that, if one looks closely into the matter, the Jews are of Persian origin. And that, even without miracles, one must do as God bids, whatever hardships follow, since the patriarch left both his father’s grave and everything he had in obedience to God’s command. But if Abraham’s father was not allowed to share with him the privilege of moving to Palestine, because he was unworthy, much more will the children be shut out in the end, for all that they may have gone a good distance along the way.

“And he promised,” it says, “to give it to him and to his descendants after him” (verse 5). Here is shown the greatness both of God’s goodness and of Abraham’s faith. For the words “when as yet he had no child” show his obedience and faith. “He promised to give it to him and to his descendants.” And yet events showed the opposite: after he came, he did not have “even enough to set his foot on,” and he did not have a child — the very things that ran against his faith.

Having seen these things, let us likewise accept whatever God promises, however contrary the events may be. And yet in our case they are not contrary, but entirely fitting. For where there are promises, then when the opposite turns out, it really is contrary; but in our case it is just the reverse. For he has told us that we would have distress here, but our rest there. Why do we confuse the times? Why do we turn things upside down? Tell me, are you in trouble, living in poverty and dejection? Do not be disturbed. It would be worth being disturbed if you were destined to be in trouble in that world; but this present trouble is the cause of rest. “This sickness,” he says, “is not to death” (John 11, verse 4). That trouble is punishment; this is schooling and correction. [m]

This present life is a contest. If so, fighting is our business now: it is war and battle. In war no one looks for rest; in war no one looks for fine living; no one is anxious about riches; no one’s care then is about a wife. A man looks at one thing only: how he may overcome his enemies. Let this be our care too. If we overcome and come back with the victory, God will give us everything. Let this be our one concern: how we may overcome the devil — though after all it is not our own effort that does it, but God’s grace does the whole work. Let our one concern be how we may attract his grace, how we may draw that help to ourselves.

“If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8, verse 31). Let us make one thing our concern: that he not be our enemy, that he not turn away from us. [n]

Being in trouble is not the evil; the evil is sinning. This is the grievous trouble, however much we pass our days in luxury — not to speak of the life to come, it is so even in this present life. Think how our conscience is stung with remorse, and whether this is not worse than any kind of torture! I would like to put the question searchingly to those who live wickedly: do they never come to reflect on their own sins? Do they not tremble, and live in fear and anguish? Do they not count those people blessed who live lives of self-denial — those in the mountains, those who live under a strict rule? Do you want to find rest in the life to come? Suffer trouble in this life for Christ’s sake; there is no rest equal to this. The apostles rejoiced when they were flogged. Paul gives this charge, saying, “Rejoice in the Lord” (Philippians 4, verse 4).

And how can there be rejoicing where there are chains, where there are tortures, where there are law courts? There, most of all, is rejoicing. But tell me, how can there be rejoicing where these things are not?

For the man who is conscious of no wrongdoing will have a kind of overflowing delight, so that the more distress you describe, the more you are describing his delight. The soldier who has taken countless wounds and come home again — will he not return with overflowing delight, with his wounds as his right to speak up boldly, and as the proof of his glory and renown? And you, if you are able to cry out as Paul does, “I bear the marks of Jesus” (Galatians 6, verse 17), will be able to become great and glorious and renowned. “But there is no persecution.” Take your stand against the love of glory. And if anyone says anything against you, do not be afraid of being spoken ill of for Christ’s sake. Take your stand against the tyranny of pride, against the fighting of anger, against the torment of craving. These too are “marks”; these too are tortures. For what, I ask, is the worst thing in tortures? Is it not that the soul is in pain and on fire? In the other case the body has its share too; but in this, the whole of it belongs to the soul.

On the soul alone falls all the smart, when someone is angry, when someone is envious, whatever else of this kind he does — or rather, suffers. For in fact, being angry or feeling envy is not an action but a passion — not a doing, but a suffering. That is exactly why these things are called passions, or sufferings, of the soul — yes, wounds and bruises. For it truly is a suffering, and worse than a suffering. Think about it, you who are angry: you do such things in “passion,” in a state of suffering. [o]

So the man who is not angry does not suffer. Do you see that it is not the one who is insulted who is the sufferer, but the one who insults, as I said above? That he is the sufferer is clear, first of all, from the very fact that the thing is called by this name of passion; and it is clear too from what it does to the body. For the disorders anger breeds are called by the same name, “affections,” as we say: dimness of sight, madness, and countless others. You say: “But he insulted my servant boy! He called him a boor!”

Do not think it weakness not to do the same thing yourself. For tell me, was it a good thing to do? You will not say so. Then leave undone what would not be good to do. I know what passions spring up in such cases. You say: “But what if he despises me? What if he says it again?” Show him he is in the wrong. Rebuke him, plead with him; anger is put down by gentleness. Go and reason with him. For although, when the wrong is done to ourselves, it is right not to do even this, it is quite necessary to do it on behalf of others. Do not look on it as an insult to yourself that your servant boy has been insulted. You may be upset for his sake, but not as though you yourself had been insulted. It does not follow, just because your boy has been mistreated, that you are disgraced; the one who did the wrong is disgraced.

Quench your anger, that sharp sword; let it lie in its sheath. If we keep it drawn, we will be apt to use it even when the time is not right, carried away by it. But if it is put away, then even if a need should arise, while we are looking for it in order to draw it, the anger will die down.

Christ would not have us be angry on his account — listen to what he says to Peter: “Put your sword back into its sheath” (Matthew 26, verse 52) — and are you angry on account of a servant boy? Teach your boy too to be philosophical. Tell him what you yourself have suffered; imitate your Teacher in this. When his disciples too were about to be treated with dishonor, he did not say, “I will avenge you,” but: “They have done the same to me as well. Bear it nobly, for you are not better than I.” Say these words to your son and to your servant boy as well: “You are not better than your master.” But these words of philosophy are counted as the talk of some widow woman. Alas, that words cannot bring it home to people the way actual experience can teach it! And so that you may learn this, stand between two people fighting; take the side of the one who is wronged, not of the wrongdoers, and see whether you will not have the victory on your side, whether you will not win splendid crowns. [q]

Look how God is insulted, and how he answers — how gently. “Where,” he says, “is Abel your brother?” And what does the other say? “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4, verse 9). What could be more defiant than this? Would anyone have put up with it even from a son? And if it came from a brother, would he not have taken such conduct as an insult? What then? See how gently God answers again: “The voice of your brother’s blood,” he says, “cries out to me.” Someone will say: “But God is above anger.” Yes; but this is why the Son of God came down: to make you a god, as far as human power can go. Someone says: “But I cannot; I am a man.” Very well, then, let us give you men as examples. And do not suppose I mean Paul or Peter. No, I mean people of a lower sort — yes, much lower. Eli’s servant insulted Hannah, saying, “Put away your wine from you” (First Samuel 1, verse 14).

What could be more insulting than this? And what did she say? “I am a woman whose lot is hard.” Truly, there is nothing like trouble: it is the mother of true philosophy. And this same woman, though she had her rival, did not insult her. What does she do instead? She takes refuge with God, and in her prayer she does not even mention her, or say, “Avenge me, for so-and-so taunts me.” So great-hearted was that woman — let us men be ashamed! And yet you know that there is nothing like jealousy. [u]

The tax collector, when insulted by the Pharisee, did not insult him back, though he could have done so if he had wished. He bore it like a philosopher, saying, “Be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18, verse 13). Mephibosheth, accused and slandered by his servant, neither said nor did anything bad to him, not even in the presence of the king himself (Second Samuel 19, verse 26).

Shall I tell you even of a prostitute, and what great-hearted philosophy she showed? Listen to Christ saying, as she was wiping his feet with her hair, “The tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom ahead of you” (Matthew 21, verse 31). Do you see her standing there, taking courage, and washing away her own sins? Notice how she was not angry even with the Pharisee when he reproached her — “If he had known,” he says, “that this woman is a sinner, he would not have let her” (Luke 7, verse 39) — and how she did not say to him, “What then? Tell me, are you pure of sins?” No, she felt it more deeply, wept more, and let hotter tears fall. But if women and tax collectors and prostitutes act like philosophers, and that before grace was given, what excuse can they have who, after so great a grace, fight and savage and kick one another, worse than wild beasts? Nothing is more base than passion, nothing more shameful, nothing more frightful, nothing more hateful, nothing more harmful.

I say these things not only so that we may be gentle toward other people, but also so that, if your wife is a talker, you may bear it. Let your wife be a wrestling school and a training ground for you. For is it not absurd to submit to exercises that bring no profit, where we punish the body, and not to practice the exercises at home that, even before the contest, hold out a crown to us? Does your wife abuse you? Do not become a woman yourself. Being abusive is womanly; it is a disease of the soul, a weakness. Do not think it beneath you when your wife abuses you. What is beneath you is when you are abusive and she bears it with philosophy: then you are acting disgracefully, then you are shamed. But if you are abused and bear it, that is great proof of your strength. I do not say this to encourage wives to be abusive — far from it! — but only in case it should happen at Satan’s prompting. It is the part of strong men to bear with the weak.

And if your servant talks back to you, bear it with philosophy. Do not say or do to him what he deserves, but what it is fitting for you both to do and to say. Never insult a maidservant by uttering some foul word against her. Never call your servant “scoundrel”: it is not he who is disgraced, but you. It is impossible to be master of oneself while in a passion. Like a sea rolling mountain-high, it is all turmoil; or it is like a pure spring when mud is thrown into it: it turns muddy, and everything is stirred up. You may beat him, you may tear his coat to rags, but it is you who suffer the greater damage. For him the blow falls on the body and the garment; for you, on the soul. It is your own soul you have cut open; it is there you have dealt the wound. You have thrown your own charioteer from his horses, and you have him dragged along the ground on his back. It is just as if one driver, in a passion with another, should choose to be dragged along like that himself.

You may rebuke, you may scold, you may do whatever it may be — only let it be without anger and passion. For if the one who rebukes is the physician of the one who does wrong, how can he heal another when he has first hurt himself, when he does not heal himself? Tell me, if a physician were going to heal someone else, would he first wound his own hand, first blind his own eyes, and then set about healing that other person? Far from it! So too, however much you rebuke, however much you scold, let your eyes see clearly. Do not muddy your mind; otherwise how will the cure be done? It is impossible to have the same calm when one is in a passion as when one is free of passion. Why do you first throw your master from his seat, and then talk with him as he lies sprawling on the ground? Do you not see how judges, when they are about to hold court, seat themselves on the bench in their proper robes? Do the same: dress your soul in the judge’s robe, which is gentleness.

You say: “But he will not be afraid of me.” He will be more afraid. In the other case, even if you speak justly, your servant will put it down to passion; but if you do it with gentleness, he will condemn himself. And, what matters most, God will accept you, and so you will be able to attain the eternal blessings, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, dominion, and honor to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.