Homily 25 — Acts 11, verses 19 to 30

“Now those who were scattered abroad by the persecution that arose over Stephen traveled as far as Phoenicia and Cyprus and Antioch, preaching the word to no one but Jews only.” [a]

The persecution turned out to be no small benefit, for “to those who love God all things work together for good” (Romans 8, verse 28). If they had made it their deliberate aim to find the best way to establish the church, they could have done nothing better than this: they scattered the teachers. Notice where the preaching spread. “They traveled,” it says, “as far as Phoenicia and Cyprus and Antioch; yet they preached the word to no one but Jews only.” Do you notice with what wise purposes of Providence so much was done in the case of Cornelius? It serves both to show that Christ was in the right and to put the Jews in the wrong. It was when Stephen had been killed, when Paul had twice been in danger, when the apostles had been flogged — then the Gentiles received the word, then the Samaritans. Paul declares this too:

“It was necessary that the word of God should be spoken to you first; but since you thrust it from you and judge yourselves unworthy, look, we turn to the Gentiles” (Acts 13, verse 46). Accordingly they went about preaching to Gentiles as well. “But some of them were men of Cyprus and Cyrene, who, when they had come to Antioch, spoke to the Greeks, preaching the Lord Jesus” (verse 20) — for it is likely both that they could now speak Greek, and that there were such people in Antioch. “And the hand of the Lord,” it says, “was with them” — that is, they worked miracles — “and a great number believed and turned to the Lord” (verse 21). Do you see why there was need of miracles now too? So that people might believe.

“Then news of these things came to the ears of the church in Jerusalem, and they sent out Barnabas to go as far as Antioch” (verse 22). Why was it that, when so great a city received the word, the apostles did not come themselves? Because of the Jews.

But they send Barnabas. Even so, it is no small part of God’s arrangement that Paul comes to be there. It is both natural and wisely ordered that the Jews are hostile to him, and so that voice of the good news, that trumpet of heaven, is not shut up in Jerusalem. Do you see how on every occasion Christ turns their bad feelings to good use, for the benefit of the church? He made use of their hatred of the man to build up the church. [c]

But look at this holy man — Barnabas, I mean — how he did not look to his own interests, but hurried off to Tarsus. “When he came and had seen the grace of God, he was glad, and he urged them all to hold fast to the Lord with steadfast purpose of heart. For he was a good man, and full of the Holy Spirit and of faith; and a great many people were added to the Lord” (verses 23 and 24). He was a very kind man, sincere, and ready to make allowances for others. “Then Barnabas went off to Tarsus to look for Saul” (verse 25).

He went to the athlete, the wrestler, the general fit to lead armies, the champion in single combat, the lion — say what I will, words fail me — the hunting dog, the killer of lions, the bull in strength, the lamp in brightness, the mouth great enough for the whole world. “And when he had found him, he brought him to Antioch” (verse 26). Truly, this is why it was there that they were given the name Christians: because Paul spent so long a time there! [d]

“And it came about that for a whole year they met with the church and taught a great many people. And the disciples were first called Christians at Antioch.” No small praise for that city! This alone is enough to set it on a level with any, that for so long a time it had the benefit of that mouth — it first, before all others. That is also why it was there, first of all, that people were counted worthy of that name. Do you see the benefit that came to that city from Paul, and to what a height that name raised it, like a standard lifted high? Where three thousand believed, where five thousand, where so great a multitude, nothing of the kind took place; there they were called “those of the Way.” Here they were called Christians.

“And in these days prophets came down from Jerusalem to Antioch” (verse 27). The fruit of almsgiving had to be planted there too. And see how, of necessity, none of the leading men becomes their teacher. For teachers they got men of Cyprus and Cyrene, and Paul — though he, in fact, surpassed the apostles themselves — just as Paul too had Ananias and Barnabas for teachers. But here it was a matter of necessity.

“And one of them named Agabus stood up and indicated by the Spirit that there would be a great famine throughout the world; and it came to pass in the days of Claudius Caesar” (verse 28). “By the Spirit,” it says. So that they would not imagine that this was the reason the famine came — because Christianity had come in, because the demons had departed — the Holy Spirit foretells it. Yet this was nothing surprising; Christ had in fact predicted it. That was not the reason; otherwise it would have happened from the beginning. It was because of the evils done to the apostles. God had long been patient with them, but when they pressed hard on the apostles, a great famine follows, a sign to the Jews of the woes to come.

“If it was because of them, it ought in any case to have stopped with them when it came. What harm had the Gentiles done, that they should share in the evils? They ought rather to have been counted as having done well, since they were doing their part — killing, punishing, taking vengeance, persecuting on every side. And notice, too, at what time the famine comes: exactly when the Gentiles were from then on being added to the church. But if, as you say, it was because of the evils the Jews did, these ought to have been spared.”

How so? Christ, heading off this very objection, said, “You will have distress” (John 16, verse 33).

It is just as if you were to say that they ought not to have been flogged either. “Then the disciples, each according to his ability, determined to send relief to the brothers living in Judea” (verse 29). See how the famine becomes for them a means of salvation, an occasion for almsgiving, the herald of many blessings. And so it could have been for you too, one might say, if you had been willing; but you were not. But it is foretold so that they might be prepared for almsgiving ahead of time. “To the brothers living in Judea”: for they were enduring great hardships; but before this they were not suffering from famine. [h]

“And they did so, and sent it to the elders by the hands of Barnabas and Saul” (verse 30). Do you see how no sooner do they believe than they bear fruit, not only for their own people but for those far away? And Barnabas and Saul are sent to carry out this service. It is of this occasion that Paul says to the Galatians, “And James, Cephas, and John gave to me and Barnabas the right hands of fellowship; only they asked that we should remember the poor” (Galatians 2, verse 9). James was still alive.

“Now those who were scattered abroad by the persecution,” and the rest. [i]

Do you see how even in their distress, instead of falling into laments and tears as we do, they give themselves up to a great and good work? “They traveled as far as Phoenicia and Cyprus and Antioch,” and there they preached the word with more safety. “And some of them, who were men of Cyprus and Cyrene,” and the rest (verse 20). They did not say,

“What? We, men of Cyrene and Cyprus, take on this splendid, great city?”

No; trusting in the grace of God, they applied themselves to the work of teaching. Nor did the Gentiles themselves think it beneath them to learn something from them. See how everything is brought about by small means. See how the preaching spreads. See how those in Jerusalem care for all alike and treat the whole world as one household. “They heard that Samaria had received the word” (Acts 8, verse 14), and they send the apostles to Samaria. They heard what had happened at Antioch, and they send Barnabas to Antioch. And again they send prophets as well.

For the distance was great, and it was not right for the apostles to leave Jerusalem just yet, or they might be thought fugitives who had run away from their own people. But the time of their parting from Jerusalem comes almost exactly when the condition of the Jews was shown to be past cure, when the war was close at hand and they were bound to perish, when the sentence had been made final. For until Paul went to Rome, the apostles were there. Yet they did not leave for fear of the war — how could that be? — since the very people they went to were the ones who would bring the war; and besides, the war broke out only after the apostles were dead. For the apostle says of them, “The wrath has come upon them to the end” (First Thessalonians 2, verse 16).

The more insignificant the people, the more brilliant the grace, working great results by small means. “And he urged them to hold fast to the Lord; for he was a good man” (verses 23 and 24). By “a good man,” I take it, he means one who is kind, sincere, and eager above all for the salvation of his neighbors. “For he was a good man, and full of the Holy Spirit and of faith.” “To hold fast to the Lord with steadfast purpose of heart”: this is said by way of commendation and praise. [k]

“And a great many people were added to the Lord”: for like rich soil, this city received the word and bore much fruit. “Then Barnabas went off to Tarsus,” and the rest (verse 25). But why did he take Paul from Tarsus and bring him here? Not without good reason. Here there were good hopes, a greater city, and a great body of people. See how grace does everything, not Paul: the work was making its beginning by small means. When it becomes difficult, the apostles take it up.

Why did they not send Barnabas before this? Because they had their hands full with Jerusalem. Again, they had their answer ready for the Jews: the Gentiles were receiving the word even without having so much attention given to them. A dispute was about to arise; that is why the affair of Cornelius came first and headed it off. Then, indeed, they say, “That we should go to the Gentiles, and they to the circumcised” (Galatians 2, verse 9). Notice that from now on the very pressure of the famine brings in fellowship on the Gentiles’ part — through the alms, I mean. For the believers in Judea receive the gifts sent by them.

“Now those who were scattered abroad,” and the rest (verse 19). They did not do as we do, who spend our time in laments and tears when calamities come. They spent their time with more fearlessness, since they had got away from those who were hindering them and were among people who were not afraid of the Jews; this too helped. And they came to Cyprus, where they had the sea between them and more freedom from anxiety. So they paid no attention to the fear of men, but they still gave first place to their regard for the law: “they spoke to Jews only. But there were in Antioch certain men of Cyprus and Cyrene” — these cared less than anyone about the Jews — “who spoke to the Greeks, preaching the Lord Jesus” (verse 20). It was probably because they did not know Hebrew that they called them Greeks.

And “when” Barnabas, it says, “came and had seen the grace of God” — not the diligence of men — “he urged them to hold fast to the Lord” (verse 23); and by this he converted still more. “And a great many people were added to the Lord.” Why do they not write to Paul, but send Barnabas? They did not yet know the man’s excellence; but it is arranged by Providence that Barnabas should come. Since there was a multitude and no one to hinder, the faith might well grow — and above all because they had no trials to undergo. Paul also preaches, and is no longer forced to flee.

And it is well arranged that it is not the apostles who speak of the famine, but the prophets. The people of Antioch, too, did not take it badly that the apostles were not sent to them; they were content with their teachers, so fervent were they all for the word. They did not wait for the famine to come, but sent before it: “each according to his ability.” And notice that among the apostles others are put in charge of this trust, but here it is Paul and Barnabas. For this was no small arrangement of Providence. Besides, it was the beginning, and it was not right that they should be made to stumble.

“Each according to his ability, they sent.” But now no one does this, though there is a famine more grievous than that one. For the cases are not alike: for everyone to bear a calamity in common, and for the poorer to go hungry while everyone else has plenty. And the words show that the givers too were poor, for it says, “as each of them had the means.” It is a twofold famine, just as the plenty is twofold. It is a severe famine — a famine not of hearing the word of the Lord, but of being fed by alms. [n]

Then, both the poor in Judea had the benefit and so did those in Antioch who gave their money — yes, these more than those. But now both we and the poor are starving: they lack the food they need, and we, living in luxury, lack the mercy of God. Yet this is a food than which nothing can be more necessary. It is not a food that makes one suffer the evils of overeating, not a food most of which ends up in the latrine. Nothing is more beautiful, nothing healthier, than a soul fed on this food. It is set high above all disease, every epidemic, every indigestion and ailment; nothing will be able to overcome it. Just as, if someone’s body were made of diamond, no iron or anything else would have power to hurt it, so when the soul is made firm and solid by almsgiving, nothing at all will be able to overcome it.

Tell me, what can ruin this? Poverty? It cannot, for it is stored in the royal treasuries. Robber and housebreaker, then? No, those are walls that no one will be able to break through. The worm? No, this treasure is set far above the reach of that harm as well. Envy and the evil eye? No, it cannot be overcome by these either. False accusations and evil plots? No, not this either, for this treasure is as safe as in a place of asylum. [o]

But it would be shameful of me to make it seem as if the advantages of almsgiving were only these — the absence of these evils — and not the presence of their opposites. For in truth it is not merely secure from ill will; it also wins abundant blessing from those it benefits. The cruel and unmerciful have as enemies not only those they have wronged; those who have not been hurt themselves share the grief and join in the accusation. In the same way, those who have done great good have not only those they have helped but also those who were not affected to speak their praises. Again, it is secure from the attacks of the ill-disposed, of robbers and housebreakers. But is that all the good in it? Is it not this as well: that besides suffering no loss, it grows and multiplies?

What was more shameful than Nebuchadnezzar, what fouler, what more wicked? The man was ungodly. After signs and wonders without number he refused to come to his senses, but threw the servants of God into a furnace — and yet after all this he worshiped. What, then, did the prophet say? “Therefore, O king,” he says, “let my counsel be acceptable to you: ransom your sins by alms, and your wrongdoings by mercy to the poor. Perhaps there will be pardon for your offenses” (Daniel 4, verse 27). In saying this he was not in doubt — no, he spoke with complete confidence — but he wanted to put the king in greater fear and to make it more urgent for him to do these things. For if he had said it as a thing beyond question, the king would have grown careless.

It is just the same with us. We press someone hardest when people say to us, “Urge so-and-so,” and do not add, “He is sure to listen,” but only, “Perhaps he will listen.” By leaving it in doubt, the fear is made greater and presses him the more. That is why the prophet did not make the matter certain for him.

“What are you saying? For such great ungodliness there will be pardon?”

Yes. There is no sin that alms cannot cleanse, none that alms cannot put out. All sin lies beneath it; it is a medicine suited to every wound. What is worse than a tax collector? The very business of his trade is injustice through and through; and yet Zacchaeus washed all these sins away. See how Christ too shows this, by taking care to have a money bag and to carry what was put into it. And Paul also says, “Only that we should remember the poor” (Galatians 2, verse 10). Everywhere Scripture has much to say about this matter. “The ransom of a man’s soul,” it says, “is his own wealth” (Proverbs 13, verse 8). And with good reason, for Christ says, “If you want to be perfect, sell what you have and give to the poor, and come, follow me” (Matthew 19, verse 21). This may well be part of perfection.

But alms can be given not only with money but with deeds. For example, one may kindly stand by someone to help and defend him; one may reach out a helping hand to him. The protection given by deeds has often done more good than money. Let us put every kind of almsgiving to work. Can you give alms with money? Do not be slack. Can you do it by doing people good turns? Do not say, “Because I have no money, this counts for nothing.” This is a very great thing; look on it as if you had given gold. [q]

Can you do it by caring for people? Do this too. For instance, if you are a physician, give your skill, for this too is a great thing. Can you do it by counsel? This service is much greater than all the rest. This alms is better than all, or rather it is greater still, by as much as the gain it brings is greater.

For by doing this you drive away not starvation but a terrible death (Acts 3, verse 6; Acts 6, verse 4). The apostles were rich beyond measure in alms of this kind. That is why they put the distribution of money into the hands of those who came after them, while they themselves gave the mercy that is shown by words. Or do you think it a small alms, when a soul is lost and cast away, in the utmost danger, gripped by a burning fever, to be able to rid it of its disease? For example, do you see someone possessed by the love of money?

Pity the man. Is he in danger of choking? Put out his fire. [r]

“What if he will not be persuaded?”

Do your part, and do not be slack. Have you seen him in chains? For wealth really is chains (Matthew 25, verses 35 and following). Go to him, visit him, comfort him, try to set him free from his chains. If he refuses, the blame will be his own. Have you seen him naked, and a stranger? For he really is naked, and a stranger to heaven. Bring him into your own inn, clothe him with the garment of virtue, give him the city that is in heaven.

You may say: “What if I myself am naked?”

Then clothe yourself first. If you know that you are naked, you certainly know that you need to be clothed — if you know what kind of nakedness this is. How many women now wear silk clothing and yet are really naked of the garments of virtue! Let their husbands clothe these women.

“But they will not accept those garments; they choose to have these.”

Then do this first too: lead them to long for those garments. Show them that they are naked. Speak to them of the judgment to come. Answer me: what clothing will we need there? But if you will bear with me, I will show you this nakedness too.

Someone who is naked in cold weather shrinks and shivers and stands there cowering, with his arms folded; in summer heat, not so. So if I prove to you that your rich men and rich women are the more naked the more they put on, do not take it badly. How is it, then, I ask you, when we raise the subject of the fire of hell and the torments there? Do they not shrink and shiver more than those naked people? Do they not groan bitterly and condemn themselves? What else? When they come to this man or that and say to him, “Pray for me,” are they not speaking the very words of those naked wretches? Now, indeed, for all we can say, the nakedness is not yet plain to see; but there it will be plain enough.

How, and in what way? When these silk garments and precious stones have perished, and all people are shown only by the garments of virtue and of vice; when the poor are clothed with surpassing glory, but the rich, naked and disgraced, are hauled off to their punishments. What was more naked than that rich man who dressed himself in purple? What was poorer than Lazarus? Yet there, which of them spoke a beggar’s words? Which of them had plenty? [s]

Tell me: if someone were to deck his house with a wealth of tapestry hangings while he himself sat naked inside, what good would it do? So it is with these women. Truly, they hang the house of the soul — the body, I mean — with plenty of garments, but the mistress of the house sits naked inside. Lend me the eyes of the soul, and I will show you the soul’s nakedness. For what is the soul’s garment? Virtue, of course. And what is its nakedness? Vice.

If someone were to strip any decent person, that person would be ashamed and would shrink and hide from sight. Just so, the soul that lacks these garments, if we care to look at it, blushes for shame. How many women, do you think, feel ashamed at this very moment, and would gladly sink into the depths, as if looking for some curtain or screen, so as not to hear these words? But those who have no evil on their conscience are cheered; they rejoice, they take delight, and they adorn themselves gladly with what is said.

Hear about that blessed Thecla: how, to see Paul, she gave even her gold. And you will not give even a penny to see Christ! You admire what she did, but you do not imitate her. Do you not hear that “Blessed are the merciful, for they will obtain mercy” (Matthew 5, verse 7)? What do you gain by your costly clothes? How long will we go on gaping at this finery? Let us put on the glory of Christ; let us dress ourselves in that beauty, so that we may be praised here and attain the eternal good things there, by the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit together, be glory, dominion and honor, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.