Homily 22 — Acts 10, verses 1 to 22

John Chrysostom: Homilies on the New Testament

Homilies on the Acts of the Apostles

Homily 22 — Acts 10, verses 1 to 22

Acts 10, verses 1 to 22

“There was a certain man in Caesarea named Cornelius, a centurion of the band called the Italian band, a devout man, and one who feared God with all his household, who gave many alms to the people and prayed to God always. About the ninth hour of the day he saw clearly in a vision an angel of God coming in to him and saying to him, ‘Cornelius.’ And when he looked at him, he was afraid, and said, ‘What is it, Lord?’ And he said to him, ‘Your prayers and your alms have come up as a memorial before God.’”

This man is not a Jew, nor one of those under the law, yet he had already anticipated our way of life. Notice that so far two persons, both of high rank, have received the faith: the eunuch at Gaza and this man. And notice the pains taken on their behalf. But do not imagine that this was because of their high rank. Far from it! It was because of their devotion. The reason Scripture mentions their high positions is to show how great their devotion was, since it is more wonderful when a person in a position of wealth and power is like these men. What makes up the praise of the first is that he undertook so long a journey, and that at a time when there was no festival to require it; that he read on the road, while riding in his chariot; that he begged Philip; and countless other points. And the great praise of the second is that he gives alms and prays and is a righteous man while holding such a command.

The reason the writer describes the man so fully is so that no one may say the Scripture history tells falsehoods: “Cornelius,” he says, “a centurion of the band called the Italian band” (verse 1). A “band” is what we now call a “numerus.” “A devout man,” he says, “and one who feared God with all his household” (verse 2) — so that you may not imagine these things are done because of his high station.

When Paul was to be brought over, there was no angel; it was the Lord himself. And he did not send Paul to some great man, but to a very ordinary person. Here, on the contrary, he brings the chief apostle to these Gentiles, instead of sending them to him. In this he stoops down to meet their weakness, knowing how such people need to be treated. Indeed, on many occasions we find Christ himself hurrying to people like these, as being the weaker ones. Or perhaps it was because Cornelius was not able to leave his home himself. But here again is a high commendation of alms, just as one was given there through Tabitha. “A devout man,” it says, “and one who feared God with all his household.” Let us listen to this, those of us who neglect the people of our own household, when this man took care even of his soldiers.

“And who gave alms,” it says, “to all the people.” Both his beliefs and his life were right. “About the ninth hour of the day he saw clearly in a vision an angel of God coming in to him and saying to him, ‘Cornelius’” (verse 3). Why does he see the angel? This too was for the full assurance of Peter — or rather, not of Peter, but of the others, the weaker ones. “At the ninth hour”: when he was free of his cares and at rest, when he was occupied with prayer and heartfelt sorrow. “And when he looked at him, he was afraid” (verse 4). Notice how the angel does not speak his message at once, but first rouses and lifts up his mind. At the sight there was fear, but a measured fear, just enough to fix his attention. Then the words relieved him of his fear. The fear roused him; the praise softened what was unpleasant in the fear.

“Your prayers,” he says, “and your alms have come up as a memorial before God. And now send men to Joppa, and call for one Simon, whose surname is Peter” (verse 5). So that they would not go to some other person, he identifies the man not only by his surname but by the place. “He is lodging,” he says, “with one Simon, a tanner, whose house is by the seaside” (verse 6). Do you notice how the apostles, out of love for solitude and quiet, chose the out-of-the-way parts of the cities? “With one Simon, a tanner.” But what if there happened to be another? Look, there is another sign: his living by the seaside. All three signs could not possibly come together anywhere else. He does not tell him for what purpose, so as not to take the edge off his intense desire, but leaves him in eager and longing expectation of what he is going to hear. “And when the angel who spoke to Cornelius had gone, he called two of his household servants and a devout soldier from among those who waited on him continually; and when he had explained all these things to them, he sent them to Joppa” (verses 7 and 8). Do you see that the writer does not say this without purpose? It shows that those too “who waited on him continually” were men like him. “And when he had explained the whole matter to them”: notice the man’s unassuming character. He does not say, “Call Peter to me.” Instead, to persuade him to come as well, he explained the whole matter. This was arranged by God’s providence. He did not choose to use the authority of his rank to fetch Peter to him; that is why “he explained the matter.” Such was the man’s modesty — and yet no one would think much of a man lodging with a tanner.

“And the next day, as they were on their journey and drew near to the city” (verse 9) — notice how the Spirit fits the times together: no sooner than this and no later he causes it to happen — “Peter went up on the housetop about the sixth hour to pray”: that is, privately and quietly, as in an upper room.

“And he became very hungry and wanted to eat; but while they were preparing it, a trance fell on him” (verse 10). What does this word “trance” mean? Rather, a kind of spiritual seeing was presented to him: the soul, so to speak, was made to stand outside the body. “And he saw heaven opened, and a certain vessel coming down to him, like a great sheet tied at the four corners and let down to the earth. In it were all kinds of four-footed animals of the earth, and wild beasts, and creeping things, and birds of the air. And a voice came to him: ‘Get up, Peter; kill and eat.’ But Peter said, ‘Not so, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is common or unclean.’ And the voice spoke to him again, the second time: ‘What God has cleansed, do not call common.’ This happened three times, and the vessel was taken back up into heaven” (verses 11 to 16).

What is this? It is a symbol of the whole world. The man was uncircumcised, and since he had nothing in common with the Jews, they would all accuse Peter as a lawbreaker: “You went in to uncircumcised men and ate with them” (Acts 11, verse 3). This was altogether offensive to them. See, then, what God’s providence arranges. Peter himself also says, “I have never eaten” — not that he himself was afraid; far be the thought from us! — but the Spirit arranged it so that he would have this to say in answer to his accusers: that he did object. For it was altogether necessary for them to keep the law. He was on the point of being sent to the Gentiles; so, to keep these men from accusing him as well, see how many things are arranged by God’s providence. So that it may not seem a mere fancy, “this happened three times.” “I said,” he says, “‘Not so, Lord, for I have never eaten anything common or unclean.’ And the voice came to him: ‘What God has cleansed, do not call common’” (Acts 11, verse 8, with Acts 10, verse 14). It seems to be spoken to him, but the whole of it is meant for the Jews. For if the teacher is rebuked, how much more are they!

The earth, then — this is what the linen sheet stands for — and the wild beasts in it are those of the Gentiles. The command “Kill and eat” means that he must go to them as well. And the fact that it happened three times stands for baptism. “What God has cleansed,” it says, “do not call common.” What great daring! Why, then, did he object? So that no one might say God was testing him, as in the case of Abraham — that is why he says, “Not so, Lord,” and the rest. He was not contradicting. In the same way the Lord said to Philip too, “How many loaves do you have?” — not to learn, but “testing him,” or “proving him.” And yet it was the same Lord who had spoken earlier, in the law, about clean and unclean things. “But in that sheet were also all the four-footed animals of the earth” — the clean with the unclean. And for all this, he did not know what it meant.

“Now while Peter was puzzled within himself as to what the vision he had seen might mean, look, the men who had been sent from Cornelius had asked their way to Simon’s house and were standing at the gate, and they called out and asked whether Simon, who was surnamed Peter, was lodging there.” “But while Peter,” it says, “was puzzled within himself” (verses 17 and 18), the men arrive at the right moment to resolve his doubt — just as the Lord let Joseph first be troubled in mind, and then sent the angel. For the soul accepts the answer easily when it has first been at a loss. His perplexity did not last long, nor did it come before this, but just at the moment when they “asked whether he was lodging there.” “While Peter was thinking about the vision, the Spirit said to him, ‘Look, three men are looking for you. Get up, then, go down, and go with them, doubting nothing, for I have sent them’” (verses 19 and 20). And this again is a defense for Peter in answer to the disciples: that he did doubt, and was told to doubt nothing. “For I,” he says, “have sent them.” Great is the authority of the Spirit! What God does, the Spirit is said to do. The angel did not speak like this. He first said, “Your prayers and your alms have gone up as a memorial before God,” to show that he was sent from there, and only then added, “And now send men,” and the rest. The Spirit does not speak so, but says, “For I have sent them.”

“Then Peter went down to the men who had been sent to him from Cornelius, and said, ‘Look, I am the one you are looking for. What is the reason you have come?’ And they said, ‘Cornelius the centurion, a righteous man and one who fears God, well spoken of by the whole nation of the Jews, was directed by God through a holy angel to send for you to come to his house and to hear words from you’” (verses 21 and 22). They speak his praises in order to persuade Peter that an angel really has appeared to him. “Then he invited them in” — so that they would come to no harm — “and gave them lodging.” From then on he eats with them without scruple. “And the next day Peter went away with them, and some of the brothers from Caesarea went with him. And the day after, they entered Caesarea” (verses 23 and 24). The man was a person of note, and the city he was in at the time was a city of note.

A Second Look at the Passage

But let us go over again what has been said. “There was a certain man in Caesarea,” and the rest (verses 1 and 2). Notice with whom the beginning of the Gentiles is made: with “a devout man,” and one proved worthy by his works. For if they still take offense even so, what would the result not have been if this had not been the case! But notice how great the assurance is. That is why everything is done the way it is done, and why the affair takes its beginning from Judea.

“He saw clearly in a vision,” and the rest (verse 3). It was not in his sleep that the angel appeared to him, but while he was awake, in the daytime, “about the ninth hour. He saw an angel of God coming in to him and saying to him, ‘Cornelius.’ And when he looked at him, he was afraid.” So absorbed was he in himself. The implication is that he saw the angel only because the angel called him aloud; had the angel not called him, he would not have seen him, so taken up was he with what he was doing. But the angel says to him, “Your prayers and your alms have come up as a memorial before God. And now send men to Joppa and call for one Simon, who is called Peter” (verse 5). So far he indicated that sending for Peter would lead to good results, but in what way good he did not say. So neither does Peter tell the whole matter. Everywhere the accounts are given only in part, to make the hearers apply their minds to what is said. “Send and call for Simon”: in the same way the angel only summons Philip.

“And as they were on their journey and drew near to the city” (verse 9): so that Peter would not be perplexed too long. “Peter went up on the housetop,” and the rest. Notice that not even his hunger drove him to turn to the sheet. “Get up, Peter,” says the voice, “kill and eat” (verse 13). He was probably on his knees when he saw the vision. It seems to me that this too stands for the preaching of the good news. That what was happening was from God, the circumstances made plain: he sees it coming down from above; he is in a trance; the voice comes from there; three times he declares that the creatures there were unclean; and it comes from there and is drawn back up there. All this is a mighty sign of the cleanness given to them. But why is this done? For the sake of those afterward, to whom he is going to tell it. For to Peter himself it had been said, “Do not go into the way of the Gentiles” (Matthew 10, verse 5). If Paul needed both to circumcise and to offer sacrifice, much more was some assurance needed then, at the beginning of the preaching, while they were still weaker (Acts 16, verse 3; Acts 21, verse 26).

Notice too how he did not receive them at once. For it says they “called out and asked whether Simon, who was surnamed Peter, was lodging there” (verse 18). Since it was a poor-looking house, they asked below; they inquired of the neighbors. “And while Peter was thinking, the Spirit said to him, ‘Get up, go down, and go, doubting nothing, for I have sent them’” (verses 19 and 20). He does not say, “This is why the vision appeared to you,” but, “I have sent them.” “Then Peter went down” (verse 21). This is how the Spirit must be obeyed: without demanding reasons. For it is enough for complete assurance to be told by him, “Do this; believe this.” Nothing more is needed. “Then Peter went down and said, ‘Look, I am the one you are looking for. What is the reason you have come?’” He saw a soldier; he saw a man. It was not that he was afraid. On the contrary, he first acknowledged that he was the person they were looking for, and only then asked the reason for their coming, so that no one would suppose he asked the reason because he wanted to hide himself. He asks it so that, if the matter was pressing, he might go out with them at once, and if not, he might receive them as guests. “And they said,” and so on, down to “into his house” (verse 22). This was what Cornelius had ordered them. Do not think he did this out of disdain. It was not out of disdain that he sent for Peter, but because he had been ordered to. “And Cornelius was waiting for them, and had called together his relatives and close friends” (verse 24). It was right that his relatives and friends should be gathered around him. And being there, they would hear it from him.

The Spring of Mercy

See how great the power of alms is, both in the earlier sermon and here! There it rescued from the death of this life; here, from eternal death, and it opened the gates of heaven. Such pains are taken to bring Cornelius to the faith that an angel is sent, the Spirit works, the chief of the apostles is fetched to him, such a vision is shown — in short, nothing is left undone. How many other centurions were there, and tribunes, and kings, and none of them obtained what this man did! Listen, all you who hold military commands, all you who stand beside kings. “A righteous man,” it says, “fearing God, devout” (verses 2 and 22); and what is more than all, “with all his household.” Not like us, who do everything to make our servants afraid of us, but nothing to make them devout. And with our household staff it is the same. Not so this man. He was “one who feared God with all his household” (verse 2), for he was like a common father to those with him and to all the others under his command. But notice what the soldier himself says. Because he was afraid, he adds this too: “well spoken of by the whole nation.” So what if Cornelius was uncircumcised? Those very people speak well of him.

There is nothing like alms. Great is the power of this practice, when the alms is poured out from clean stores. When it comes from unjust stores, it is like a spring spewing mud; but when it comes from honest gains, it is like a clear, pure stream in a garden — sweet to see, sweet to touch, light and cool, when it is given in the heat of noon. That is what alms is like. Beside this spring grow not poplars or pines or cypresses, but other plants than these, far better and of fine stature: friendship with God, praise from people, glory before God, goodwill from everyone, the blotting out of sins, great boldness, contempt for wealth. This is the spring that nourishes the plant of love, for nothing nourishes love so well as being merciful; it makes its branches lift themselves high. This spring is better than the one in Paradise (Genesis 2, verse 10): a spring that does not divide into four heads, but reaches to heaven itself. It gives birth to that river “which springs up to eternal life” (John 4, verse 14). Let death fall on it, and like a spark it is put out by the spring. Such are the mighty blessings it brings wherever it drops. It quenches the river of fire as though it were a spark; it strangles that worm as nothing else can (Mark 9, verse 44). Whoever has it will not gnash his teeth. Let a drop of its water fall on chains, and it dissolves them; let it only touch the burning brands, and it puts them all out.

A spring does not send out streams for a while and then run dry — otherwise it would no longer be a spring — but gushes always. So let our spring pour out the streams of mercy more abundantly. This cheers the one who receives. This is what alms is: pouring out a stream not only abundant but never failing. If you want God to rain his mercy down on you as from springs, have a spring yourself. And yet there is no comparison between his spring and yours. If you open the mouths of this spring, the mouths of God’s spring are such as to surpass every abyss. God only looks for an opening on our part, and he pours out his blessings from his storehouses. When he spends, when he lavishes, then he is rich, then he has plenty. Wide is the mouth of that spring, pure and clear its water. If you do not stop up the spring here, neither will you stop up that one. Let no fruitless tree stand beside it, or it will waste its spray. Do you have wealth? Do not plant poplars there, for that is what luxury is: it consumes much, shows nothing for it in itself, and spoils the fruit besides. Do not plant a pine — that is what extravagance in dress is: beautiful only to look at, and useful for nothing — nor a fir, nor any other tree of the kind that consumes but is of no use at all. Plant it thick with young shoots. Plant everything that bears fruit, in the hands of the poor — whatever you like. Nothing is richer than this soil. Though the hand reaches only a little way, the tree it plants shoots up to heaven and stands firm. This is what planting means. Whatever is planted in the earth will perish — if not now, then surely a hundred years from now. You plant many trees whose fruit you will never enjoy; before you can enjoy it, death comes upon you. This tree will give you its fruit when you are dead.

If you plant, do not plant in the gullet of gluttony, so that the fruit does not end in the latrine. Plant in the pinched belly, so that the fruit may shoot up to heaven. Refresh the cramped soul of the poor, so that you do not cramp your own roomy soul. Do you not see that plants watered too much at the root rot, but grow when they are watered in moderation? In the same way, do not drench your own belly, or the root of the tree will rot. Water what is thirsty, so that it may bear fruit. If you water in moderation, the sun will not wither the plants; but if you water to excess, it withers them. That is the nature of the sun. In all things excess is bad; so let us cut it off, so that we too may obtain the things we ask for. Springs, they say, rise in the loftiest places. Let us be lofty in soul, and our alms will flow in a rushing stream. The lofty soul cannot help being merciful, and the merciful soul cannot help being lofty; for whoever despises wealth stands higher than the root of evils. Springs are most often found in lonely places: let us draw our soul away from the crowd, and alms will gush out from us. The more springs are cleaned out, the more abundantly they flow; so it is with us: the more we spend, the more every good thing grows. Whoever has a spring has nothing to fear; then let us not be afraid either. Indeed, this spring serves us for drinking, for watering, for building, for everything.

Nothing is better than this drink; it cannot make anyone drunk. Better to own such a spring than to have springs running with gold. Better than any gold-bearing soil is the soul that bears this gold. For it brings us not into these palaces on earth, but into those above. This gold becomes an ornament to the church of God. From this gold is forged “the sword of the Spirit” (Ephesians 6, verse 17), the sword that beheads the dragon. From this spring come the precious stones on the King’s head. So let us not neglect such great wealth, but give our alms generously, so that we may be found worthy of the mercy of God, by the grace and tender compassion of his only Son, with whom be glory, dominion and honor to the Father and the Holy Spirit together, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.