Homily 29 — Acts 13, verses 16 to 41

John Chrysostom: Homilies on the New Testament

Homilies on the Acts of the Apostles

Homily 29 — Acts 13, verses 16 to 41

Acts 13, verses 16 to 41

“Then Paul stood up, and motioning with his hand said, ‘Men of Israel, and you who fear God, listen. The God of this people Israel chose our fathers, and made the people great when they lived as foreigners in the land of Egypt, and with an uplifted arm he brought them out of it.’”

Look at Barnabas giving way to Paul — and how could it be otherwise? — to the very man he had brought from Tarsus, just as we find John giving way to Peter on every occasion. And yet Barnabas was more highly regarded than Paul. True, but they looked only to the common good. “Then Paul stood up,” it says — this was a custom of the Jews — “and motioned with his hand.” And see how he prepares the way for what he has to say. First he praises them and shows his great regard for them with the words “you who fear God,” and only then does he begin his speech. He does not say, “You converts,” since that name put them at a disadvantage.

“The God of this people chose our fathers, and the people…” See, he calls God their God in a special way, though he is the God of all people alike; and he shows how great God’s kindnesses to them were from the very first, just as Stephen does. They do this to teach them that now too God has acted by the same custom in sending his own Son, as Christ himself does in the parable of the vineyard (Luke 20, verse 13). “And the people,” he says, “he made great when it lived as a foreigner in the land of Egypt.” And yet the opposite was the case! True, but they increased in numbers; besides, the miracles were done on their account. “And with an uplifted arm he brought them out of it.” The prophets are continually recalling these wonders done in Egypt. And notice how he passes over the times of their calamities and nowhere brings up their faults, but speaks only of God’s kindness, leaving the faults for them to think over by themselves.

“And for about forty years he put up with their ways in the wilderness” (verse 18). Then the settlement: “And when he had destroyed seven nations in the land of Canaan, he divided their land among them by lot” (verse 19). And the time was long: four hundred and fifty years. “And after that he gave them judges for about four hundred and fifty years, until Samuel the prophet” (verse 20). Here he shows that God varied his arrangements for them from one time to another. “And afterward they asked for a king” — and still not a word about their ingratitude; all the way through he speaks of God’s kindness. “And God gave them Saul the son of Kish, a man of the tribe of Benjamin, for forty years” (verse 21). “And when he had removed him, he raised up David to be their king, to whom he also gave testimony and said, ‘I have found David the son of Jesse, a man after my own heart, who will do all my will.’ From this man’s offspring God has, according to his promise, raised up for Israel a Savior, Jesus” (verses 22 and 23). It was no small thing that Christ should come from David.

Then John bears witness to this: “John had first preached, before his coming, the baptism of repentance to all the people of Israel. And as John was finishing his course, he said, ‘Who do you think I am? I am not he. But look, one is coming after me, the sandals of whose feet I am not worthy to untie’” (verses 24 and 25). And John does not merely bear witness to the fact; he does it in such a way that, when people were bringing the glory to him, he declines it. For it is one thing not to reach for an honor that nobody thinks of offering, and another to reject it when everyone is ready to give it — and not only to reject it, but to do so with such humility.

“Brothers, children of the family of Abraham, and whoever among you fears God, to you the message of this salvation has been sent. For those who live in Jerusalem, and their rulers, because they did not recognize him, nor the voices of the prophets that are read every Sabbath, have fulfilled them by condemning him. And though they found no cause for death in him, they asked Pilate to have him put to death” (verses 26 to 28).

On every occasion we find them taking great pains to show this: that the blessing belongs to them in a special way. That way they would not run from Christ, thinking they had nothing to do with him because they had crucified him.

“Because they did not recognize him,” he says — so the sin was one of ignorance. See how gently he makes an excuse even for the men who crucified him. And not only this: he adds too that it had to happen this way. How so? “By condemning him they fulfilled the voices of the prophets.” Then again from the Scriptures: “And when they had carried out all that was written of him, they took him down from the tree and laid him in a tomb. But God raised him from the dead. And for many days he was seen by those who had come up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem, who are his witnesses to the people” (verses 29 to 31) — witnesses that he rose again.

“And we bring you the good news that the promise made to the fathers God has fulfilled for us their children, in that he has raised up Jesus again; as it is also written in the second psalm, ‘You are my Son; today I have begotten you.’ And as for his raising him from the dead, no more to return to decay, he spoke in this way: ‘I will give you the sure mercies of David.’ That is why he also says in another psalm, ‘You will not let your Holy One see decay.’ For David, after he had served his own generation by the will of God, fell asleep, and was laid with his fathers, and saw decay; but he whom God raised again saw no decay.

“Let it be known to you, therefore, brothers, that through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him everyone who believes is counted righteous from all things from which you could not be counted righteous by the law of Moses” (verses 32 to 39).

Notice how Paul is more forceful in his speech here; nowhere do we find Peter saying this. Then he adds the frightening words as well: “Beware, therefore, that what is spoken of in the prophets does not come upon you: ‘Look, you scoffers, and wonder, and perish; for I am doing a work in your days, a work you will never believe, even if someone tells you’” (verses 40 and 41).

Notice how he weaves his speech together, drawing now on things present, now on the prophets. So: “From this man’s offspring, according to the promise” (verse 23). The name of David was dear to them. Well then, would it not be a thing to wish for, he says, that a son of his should be their king? Then he brings in John; then the prophets again, where he says, “By condemning him they fulfilled them,” and again, “all that was written”; then the apostles as witnesses of the resurrection; then David bearing witness. For the proofs from the Old Testament did not seem as convincing taken by themselves as they are this way, nor the later testimonies apart from the earlier ones. That is why he makes them confirm each other.

“Brothers,” and the rest (verse 26). They were in the grip of fear, since they had killed him, and their conscience made them feel like outsiders. So the apostles do not speak to them as to Christ-killers, nor as though putting into their hands a good thing that was not theirs, but one that was specially their own. “For those who live in Jerusalem, and their rulers” — as much as to say, not you, but they. And again he makes excuses even for those: “Because they did not recognize him, nor the voices of the prophets that are read every Sabbath, they fulfilled them by condemning him.” It is a great charge against them that they heard continually and did not heed. But no wonder: what was said above about Egypt and the wilderness was enough to show their ingratitude.

And notice how this apostle too, as one moved by the Spirit himself, constantly proclaims his suffering and his burial: “Having taken him down from the tree.” Notice what a great point they make of this. He speaks of the manner of his death. What is more, they bring Pilate prominently forward, so that the fact of his suffering may be proved by the mention of the court that condemned him, and at the same time to accuse the crucifiers more heavily, since they handed him over to a foreigner. And he does not say, “They brought a complaint against him,” but, “Though they found no cause for death in him, they asked that he be put to death.”

“Who appeared,” he says, “for many days to those who came up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem.” Instead of … he says, “Who are his witnesses to the people” — that is, “the men who came up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem.” Then he brings forward David and Isaiah as witnesses. “The faithful mercies”: the abiding ones, the ones that never perish. Paul loved them exceedingly.

And notice that he does not dwell on the ingratitude of the fathers, but sets before them what they must fear. Stephen does that, and with good reason, since he was about to be put to death and was not teaching them, and he was showing them that the law was even then on the point of being abolished (Acts 7). Not so Paul: he only threatens them and puts them in fear. And he does not dwell long on these things, taking it for granted that the message is of course believed. Nor does he enlarge on how great their punishment will be, or attack what they love so dearly by showing the law about to be thrown out. Instead he dwells on what is for their good, telling them that great blessings await them if they obey, and great evils if they disobey.

But let us go over again what has been said. “Men of Israel,” and the rest (verses 16 to 21). The fathers, then, he says, received the promise; you receive the reality.

And notice, he nowhere mentions any good deeds of theirs, but only kindnesses on God’s part: “He chose,” “he made great,” “he put up with their ways.” None of these is to their credit. “They asked; he gave.” But David he does praise, and him alone, because the Christ was to come from him: “I have found David the son of Jesse, a man after my own heart, who will do all my will” (verse 22). Notice too that it is with praise that he says of him, “David, after he had served the will of God” — just as Peter, since it was then the beginning of the good news, said when he mentioned him, “Let me be permitted to speak freely about the patriarch David” (Acts 2, verse 29). And he does not say “died,” but “was added to his fathers.”

“From this man’s offspring,” and the rest. “When John,” he says, “had first preached, before his entry” — by “entry” he means his becoming man — “the baptism of repentance to all the people of Israel” (verses 23 to 25). So too John, when he wrote his Gospel, constantly turns to him, for his name was highly thought of in every part of the world. And notice that he does not say “From this man’s offspring,” and the rest, on his own authority, but brings in John’s testimony.

“Brothers, children of the family of Abraham” — he calls them after their forefather too — “to you the message of this salvation was sent” (verse 26).

Here the words “to you” do not mean “to you Jews.” Rather, they give them the right to separate themselves from those who dared to commit that murder. What he adds shows this plainly: “For those who live in Jerusalem,” he says, “because they did not recognize him” (verse 27). But you will say: “And how could they not recognize him, with John telling them?” What wonder is that, when they did not recognize him with the prophets continually crying out to them?

Then comes another charge: “And though they found no cause for death in him” — and here ignorance had nothing to do with it. Suppose they did not hold him to be the Christ: why did they also kill him? “And they asked Pilate,” he says, “to have him put to death” (verse 28). “And when they had carried out all that was written of him” (verse 29). Notice what a point he makes of showing that the whole thing was an arrangement of God. Look: by saying what did they persuade people? By telling them that he was crucified? Why, what could be less persuasive than that? That he was buried — and by the very people to whom it had been promised that he would be their salvation? That he who was buried forgives sins, and does more than the law had power to do? And notice, he does not say, “from which you would not,” but, “from which you could not be counted righteous by the law of Moses” (verse 39). “Everyone,” he says — whoever he may be. For those ordinances are of no use unless some benefit comes from them. That is why he brings in forgiveness afterward, and shows it to be the greater thing, since, though the thing was otherwise impossible, it is nevertheless accomplished.

“Who are his witnesses,” he says, “to the people” — the people that killed him. They would never have been witnesses if they had not been strengthened by a divine power; they would never have borne such witness to bloodthirsty men, to the very people who had killed him. But: “He has raised up Jesus again: ‘Today,’ he says, ‘I have begotten you’” (verse 33). Yes: once this is granted, the rest follows as a matter of course. Why did he not bring forward some text to persuade them that forgiveness of sins comes through him? Because the great point with them was to show, first of all, that he had risen. Once this was acknowledged, the other was beyond question. “Through this man” — or rather, by him — “is forgiveness of sins” (verse 38). Besides, he wanted to bring them to long for this great thing.

Well then, his death was not his being abandoned, but the fulfilling of prophecy. For the rest, he reminds them of events in their history in which, through ignorance, they suffered countless evils. He hints at this in the conclusion, where he says, “Look, you scoffers, and see.” And notice how, since this was harsh, he cuts it short. Let what was spoken of those others not come upon you, he says: “I am doing a work that you will never believe, even if someone tells you” (verse 41). Do not be surprised that it seems unbelievable: this very thing was foretold from the first — that it would not be believed.

“Look, you scoffers” — this is said of those who do not believe in the resurrection.

This too might rightly be said to us: “Look, you scoffers.” For the church is in a very bad way, even though you think her affairs are at peace. The mischief of it is that while we labor under so many evils, we do not even know we have any. “What are you saying? We have our churches, our church property, and everything else. The services are held, and the congregation comes to church every day.” True, but one must not judge the state of a church from these things. From what, then? From whether there is godliness; whether we go home each day having gained something; whether we reap some fruit, be it much or little; whether we are doing it not merely out of routine and to discharge a duty for form’s sake. Who has become a better person by attending the service every day for a whole month? That is the point. Otherwise the very thing that seems to show a flourishing church in fact shows an ailing one, when all this is done and nothing comes of it.

If only that were all — that nothing comes of it! But as things are, it even turns out for the worse. What fruit do you get from your services? Surely, if you were getting any profit from them, you would long ago have been living the life of true philosophy, with so many prophets speaking to you twice every week, so many apostles and evangelists, all setting forth the teachings of salvation and putting before you, with great exactness, what can shape the character rightly.

The soldier becomes more perfect in his tactics by going to drill. The wrestler becomes more skillful at wrestling by frequenting the training ground. The physician, by attending on his teacher, becomes more exact, and knows more, and learns more. And you — what have you gained? I am not speaking to those who have belonged to the church only a year, but to those who have been attending the services from their earliest years. Do you think that being religious means going to church regularly? This is nothing unless we reap some fruit for ourselves. If from our gathering together in church we do not gather something for ourselves, it would be better to stay at home.

For our forefathers did not build the churches for us just to bring us out of our private houses and show us to one another — that could have been done in a marketplace too, and in the baths, and in a public procession — but to bring learners and teachers together and make the one better by means of the other. With us it has all become mere customary routine and the discharge of a duty for form’s sake: a thing we are used to, and that is all. Easter comes, and then there is a great stir, a great uproar, and a crush of — I would rather not call them human beings, for their behavior is not what human behavior usually is.

Easter goes, the uproar dies down, but then the quiet that follows is again fruitless of any good. “Vigils, and holy hymn-singing!” And what is gained by these? No, it is all the worse. Many do it merely out of empty glory. Think how sick at heart it must make me to see it all, like so much water poured into a cask with holes in it! But you will certainly say to me: “We know the Scriptures.” And what of that? If you show the Scriptures in your works, that is the gain, that is the profit. The church is a dyer’s vat: if time after time you keep going away from here without taking any dye, what is the use of coming here continually? Why, the harm is all the greater.

Which of you has added anything to the customary practices he received from his fathers? For example, a certain man has the custom of keeping the memorial of his mother, or his wife, or his child. He does this whether we tell him to or not, drawn to it by force of habit and conscience. You ask: “Does this displease you?” Far from it! On the contrary, I am glad of it with all my heart. Only I would wish that he had gained some fruit from our preaching too, and that our teaching would do what habit does — produce another habit in him besides. Otherwise why do I tire myself for nothing and talk to no purpose, if you are to stay in the same state, if the church services do you no good? You will say: “But we pray.” And what of that? “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 7, verse 21).

Many a time I have made up my mind to keep silent, seeing no benefit coming to you from my words. Or perhaps some benefit does come, but I, through an insatiable appetite and strong desire, feel the same way as people who are mad for riches. For just as they think they have nothing however much they get, so I, because I long so ardently for your salvation, think nothing has been done until I see that you have made good progress, so eagerly do I want you to reach the very summit. I wish that were the case, and that my eagerness were at fault and not your laziness. But I fear I guess only too rightly. For you must be convinced that if any benefit had come in all this length of time, we ought to have stopped speaking long ago. In that case you would have had no need of words, since enough would have been said to you in those already spoken, and you would yourselves be able to correct others. But the very fact that we still need to preach to you only shows that things with you are not in a state of high perfection.

Then what do we want to see done? For one must not merely find fault. I beg and entreat you not to think it enough to have rushed into church, but to go away from here having taken something with you, some medicine to cure your own illnesses. And if not from us, at any rate from the Scriptures you have the remedies suited to each one.

For instance, is anyone quick-tempered? Let him pay attention to the Scripture readings, and he will surely find such remedies there, either in the histories or in the exhortations. In the exhortations, where it is said, “The sway of his fury is his destruction” (Sirach 1, verse 22); and, “A hot-tempered man is not respectable” (Proverbs 11, verse 25), and the like; and again, “A man full of words will not prosper” (Psalm 140, verse 11); and Christ again, “Whoever is angry with his brother without a cause” (Matthew 5, verse 22); and again the prophet, “Be angry, and do not sin” (Psalm 4, verse 4); and, “Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce” (Genesis 49, verse 7). And in the histories, as when you hear of Pharaoh, filled with great rage, and of the Assyrian.

Again, is anyone held captive by the love of money? Let him hear that “There is nothing more wicked than a greedy man, for such a man puts even his own soul up for sale” (Sirach 10, verse 9); and how Christ says, “You cannot serve God and mammon” (Matthew 6, verse 24); and the apostle, that “the love of money is a root of all evils” (First Timothy 6, verse 10); and the prophet, “If riches flow in, do not set your heart on them” (Psalm 62, verse 10); and many other sayings like these. And from the histories you hear of Gehazi, of Judas, of the chief scribes, and that “gifts blind the eyes of the wise” (Exodus 23, verse 8, and Deuteronomy 16, verse 19). Is someone else proud? Let him hear that “God opposes the proud” (James 4, verse 6); and, “Pride is the beginning of sin” (Sirach 10, verse 14); and, “Everyone who is high-hearted is unclean before the Lord” (Proverbs 16, verse 5). And in the histories, the devil, and all the rest.

In a word, since it is impossible to list them all, let each person choose out of the divine Scriptures the remedies for his own wounds. So wash them away — if not the whole at once, then at least a part: part today and part tomorrow, and then the whole. And with regard to repentance too, and confession, and almsgiving, and justice as well, and self-control, and all the other things, you will find many examples. “For all these things,” says the apostle, “were written for our warning” (First Corinthians 10, verse 11). If, then, Scripture in all it says is for our warning, let us pay attention to it as we ought. Why do we deceive ourselves for nothing? I fear it may be said of us too that “our days have failed in emptiness, and our years in haste” (Psalm 77, verse 33). Who has given up the theaters from hearing us? Who has given up his greed?

Who has become more ready to give alms? I would like to know this, not for the sake of empty glory, but so that I might be spurred on to greater zeal, seeing the fruit of my labors plainly before me. But as things are now, how am I to set my hand to the work, when I see that for all the rain of teaching pouring down on you, shower after shower, our crops still stay at the same measure, and the plants have grown no taller?

Soon the time of threshing will be here, and he with the winnowing fork. I fear it may all be straw. I fear we may all be thrown into the furnace. The summer is past, the winter has come; and we sit, young and old alike, taken captive by our own evil passions. Do not tell me, “I do not commit sexual immorality.” What are you the better for it if, though you are not sexually immoral, you are greedy? It makes no difference to the sparrow caught in the snare that he is not held tight all over, but only by the foot. He is a lost bird all the same. He is in the snare, and it does him no good that his wings are free, as long as his foot is held fast. In just the same way you are caught, not by sexual immorality, but by the love of money; but caught you are all the same. And the point is not how you are caught, but that you are caught.

Let the young man not say, “I am no lover of money.” Well, but perhaps you are sexually immoral, and then again, what are you the better? The fact is, it is not possible for all the passions to attack us at one and the same time of life. They are divided and marked off — and that through the mercy of God — so that they may not become unconquerable by assailing us all at once, and so make our wrestling with them harder. What wretched sluggishness it shows, not to be able to conquer our passions even when they come one at a time, but to be beaten at each period of our life, and to take credit to ourselves for those that leave us alone — not because of our own earnest efforts, but merely because, by reason of our age, they are asleep!

Look at the charioteers. Do you not see how very careful and strict they are with themselves in their training, their labors, their diet, and everything else, so as not to be thrown from their chariots and dragged along by the reins? See what a thing skill is. Often even a strong man cannot master a single horse, yet a mere boy who has learned the art will often take the pair in hand, and with ease lead them and drive them wherever he likes. Why, in India it is said that a huge monster of an elephant will give way to a lad of fifteen, who handles him with the utmost ease. Why have I said all this? To show that if by study and practice we can throttle into submission even elephants and wild horses, much more can we do so with the passions inside us.

Why is it, then, that all through life we keep failing? We have never practiced this art. Never, in a time of leisure when there is no contest, have we talked over with ourselves what will be useful to us. We are never seen in our place in the chariot until the time for the contest has actually come. That is why we make such a ridiculous figure there. Have I not often said, let us practice on the members of our own household before the time of trial? At home we are often exasperated with our servants; let us quell our anger there, so that in dealing with our friends we may come to have it easily under control. And so with all the other passions: if we trained ourselves beforehand, we would not make a ridiculous figure in the contests themselves. But as it is, we have our equipment and our exercises and our training for other things — for the crafts and the feats of the wrestling school — but for virtue nothing of the kind. The farmer would not venture to touch a vine unless he had first been trained in tending it, nor the helmsman to sit at the helm unless he had first practiced well at it. But we, untrained in every respect, want the first prizes!

It would be good to be silent, good to have no dealings with anyone in deed or word, until we were able to charm the wild beast that is within us. The wild beast, I say: for is it not worse than the attack of any wild beast when anger and craving make war on us? Do not burst into the marketplace with these beasts until you have fastened the muzzle firmly on their mouths, until you have tamed them and made them manageable.

Those who lead their tame lions around the marketplace — do you not see what gain they make from it, what admiration they win, because they have produced such tameness in an animal without reason? But if the lion suddenly has a savage fit, how he scares everyone out of the marketplace! And then the man leading him around is in danger himself, and if others lose their lives, it is his doing. Well then, you too must first tame your lion, and only then lead him about — not to receive money, but to acquire a gain that has no equal. For there is nothing equal to gentleness, which is exceedingly useful both to those who have it and to those toward whom it is shown. Let us pursue this, then, so that, keeping to the way of virtue and finishing our course in it with all diligence, we may be able to attain the eternal good things, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, might, and honor to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.