Homily 31 — Acts 14, verses 14 to 28

“But when the apostles Barnabas and Paul heard of it, they tore their clothes and ran in among the people, crying out and saying, Men, why are you doing these things? We too are men, just like you, and we preach to you that you should turn from these worthless things to the living God, who made heaven and earth and the sea and everything in them.” [a]

Notice the intensity with which the apostles do all this: “they tore their clothes, ran in, cried out” — all of it from the strong feeling of a soul revolted by what was being done. For it was a grief, and indeed a grief beyond comfort, that they should actually be taken for gods and so bring in idolatry, the very thing they had come to destroy! This too was a scheme of the devil — but he did not win.

But what do they say? “We too are men, just like you.” At the very outset they overthrew the evil. They did not say simply, “Men,” but “just like you.” Then, so that they would not seem to be honoring the gods, listen to what they add: “Preaching to you that you should turn from these worthless things to the living God, who made heaven, the sea, and everything in them.”

Notice how they nowhere mention things invisible. For they had learned that one should aim not so much at saying something worthy of God as at saying what benefits the hearers. What then? If he is the Maker of all things, why does he not also look after these things by his providence? “Who in past generations allowed all the nations to walk in their own ways” (verse 16). But why he allowed them, he does not say, for at present he keeps to the matter of immediate importance, nowhere bringing in the name of Christ. Notice: he does not wish to swell the accusation against them, but wants them rather to refer everything to God themselves.

“Yet he did not leave himself without witness, in that he did good, giving you rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling your hearts with food and gladness” (verse 17). See how quietly he slips in the accusation: “in that he did good,” and so on. And yet, if God did this, he could not have “let them alone.” On the contrary, they deserved to be punished, because, while enjoying such great benefits, they had not acknowledged him, not even as the one who fed them. [c]

“From heaven,” he says, “giving you rain.” David too spoke this way: “They were made to abound with the fruit of their grain and wine and oil” (Psalm 4, verse 7). In many places, when he speaks of creation, he brings forward these benefits. And Jeremiah mentions first creation, and then providence, shown by the rains (Jeremiah 5, verse 24). So the apostle here speaks as one taught by those Scriptures. “Filling,” he says, “with food and gladness.” The food is given with lavish generosity, not merely for a frugal sufficiency, and not stinted to bare need.

“And saying these things, they barely restrained the crowds” (verse 18) — and indeed by this very thing they won the most admiration — “from sacrificing to them.” Do you see that their one concern was to put an end to that madness?

“But some Jews came there from Antioch and Iconium” (verse 19). Truly children of the devil! Not only in their own cities but beyond them as well they did these things, and they made it as much their business to put an end to the preaching as the apostles were eager to establish it! “And having persuaded the crowd and stoned Paul, they dragged him out of the city.” So then, the Gentiles took them for gods, but these men “dragged” him “out of the city, supposing that he was dead. Having persuaded the crowd” — for it is not likely that all of them revered the apostles in this way. In the very city where they received this reverence, they were treated this terribly. And this too did the onlookers good.

“So that no one,” he says, “may think more of me than what he sees me to be, or hears from me.” “But as the disciples stood around him, he got up and went into the city” (verse 20). Here that saying is fulfilled: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness” (Second Corinthians 12, verse 9). This was greater than the raising of the lame man! [d]

“Went into the city.” Do you see the zeal? Do you see how fervent he is, how set on fire? He went into that very city again — proof that if at any time he did withdraw, it was because he had already sown the word, and because it was not right to inflame their anger. Then they went through all the cities in which they had been in danger. “And the next day,” it says, “he went out with Barnabas to Derbe. And when they had preached the good news to that city and had taught many, they returned to Lystra, and to Iconium, and to Antioch, strengthening the souls of the disciples, urging them to continue in the faith, and saying that we must enter the kingdom of God through much distress” (verses 21 and 22).

This is what they said, and this is what they showed. But it is done this way on purpose, not only for the apostles but for the disciples too, so that they would learn from the very outset both the power of the preaching and that they themselves must also suffer such things — so that they would stand nobly, not gaping idly after miracles, but far more ready for trials. That is why the apostle himself said, “Having the same struggle that you saw in me and heard” (Philippians 1, verse 30). Persecutions followed on persecutions: wars, fights, stonings. These things, no less than the miracles, both made them more illustrious and prepared a greater joy for them. Scripture nowhere says that they returned rejoicing because they had done miracles; but it does say that they rejoiced because “they were counted worthy to suffer shame for that Name” (Acts 5, verse 41). And this they were taught by Christ, who said, “Do not rejoice that the demons obey you” (Luke 10, verse 20). For this is joy indeed, joy with nothing mixed in: to suffer something for Christ’s sake.

“And that through much distress”: what kind of encouragement is this? How did they persuade them, when they told them about distresses at the very outset? Then comes another consolation as well. “And when they had appointed elders for them in every church, and had prayed with fasting, they commended them to the Lord in whom they had believed” (verse 23). Do you see Paul’s ardor? Then another consolation: “They commended them,” it says, “to the Lord. And after they had passed through Pisidia, they came to Pamphylia. And when they had preached the word in Perga, they went down to Attalia (verses 24 and 25), and from there they sailed to Antioch, where they had been commended to the grace of God for the work which they had completed” (verse 26).

Why do they come back to Antioch? To report what had happened out there. Besides, a great purpose of providence is at work here, for from then on they had to preach to the Gentiles with boldness. So they come and report these things, so that the others may know of them. And it is providentially arranged that just then there came those who forbade keeping company with the Gentiles, so that the apostles might receive great encouragement from Jerusalem and so go on their way with boldness. Besides, it shows that there was nothing self-willed in their character. For in coming they show at once their boldness, in that they had preached to the Gentiles without the authority of those in Jerusalem, and their obedience, in that they refer the matter to them. They were not carried away with pride, as men might be who had won such great successes.

“Where,” it says, “they had been commended to the grace of God for the work which they had completed.” And yet, besides this, the Spirit had said, “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them” (Acts 13, verse 2). “And when they had come and gathered the church together, they reported all that God had done with them, and how he had opened the door of faith to the Gentiles. And they stayed there a long time with the disciples” (verses 27 and 28). For the city was large and needed teachers. But let us look again over what has been said. [g]

“But when the apostles heard of it,” and so on (verse 14). First they checked the people by what they could see, by tearing their clothes. Joshua the son of Nun did this when the people were defeated. So do not think this action was beneath them. The people’s eagerness was so great that they could not otherwise have checked it, could not otherwise have put out the blaze. So when there is need to do something that is fitting to be done, let us not refuse it. For if even after all this they barely persuaded them, what might have happened if they had not acted this way? Had they not done so, they would have been thought to be putting on a show of humility, and to be all the more eager for the honor.

And notice their language: how, in rebuking, it is kept in measure, full of wonder and of rebuke alike. What held the people back more than anything was this saying: “Preaching to you to turn from these worthless things to God” (verse 15). We are men indeed, they say, but greater than these, for these are dead things. Notice how they not only overturn the false but teach the true, saying nothing about things invisible: “Who made,” they say, “heaven and earth, and the sea, and everything in them. Who in past generations,” and so on (verses 16 and 17). He even calls the years, as they run their course, to be his witnesses.

“And some Jews came there,” and so on (verse 19). Oh, that Jewish madness! Among a people that had so honored the apostles, they had the nerve to come and stone Paul. “And they dragged him out of the city,” because they were afraid of the others, “supposing that he was dead.” “But,” and so on, “he went into the city” (verse 20). For so that the disciples’ spirits would not be downcast because those who had been taken for gods suffered such treatment, they went in to them and spoke with them. “Then the next day,” and so on. And notice: first he goes out to Derbe, and then comes back to Lystra and Iconium and Antioch (verse 21), giving way to them while their passions are roused, and attacking again once they have died down. Do you see that it was not by supernatural grace that they managed everything they did, but by their own diligence? “Strengthening,” it says, “the souls of the disciples” — that is, strengthening them further: they were already established, but the apostles added more. “And that we must,” and so on (verse 22): they foretold this so that the disciples would not stumble.

“And when they had appointed elders for them,” and so on. Again ordinations are accompanied by fasting — and again fasting, that cleansing of our souls. “And having prayed,” it says, “with fasting, they commended them to the Lord” (verse 23): they taught them to fast in their trials as well. Why did they not appoint elders in Cyprus or in Samaria? Because Samaria was near Jerusalem, and Cyprus near Antioch, and the word was strong there; whereas in these parts they needed much consolation, especially those from among the Gentiles, who had to have much instruction.

“And when they had come,” and so on (verse 27). They came, teaching them that it was with good reason they had been appointed by the Spirit. They did not say what they themselves had done, but “what God had done with them.” It seems to me that they mean their trials. It was not for nothing that they came here, nor to rest, but under the providential guidance of the Spirit, so that the preaching to the Gentiles might be firmly established.

And notice Paul’s ardor. He does not ask whether it is right to speak to Gentiles; he speaks to them at once. That is why he says, “I did not consult with flesh and blood” (Galatians 1, verse 16). For it truly is a great thing — a great and generous soul like this! How many have believed since then, and not one of them all has shone like him!

What we need is earnestness, surpassing ardor, a soul ready to meet death. Otherwise it is impossible to reach the kingdom without being crucified. Let us not deceive ourselves. If in war it is impossible to come through safely while living in luxury, trading, peddling and idling, much more is it impossible in this war. Or do you not think it a war worse than all others? “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood,” he says (Ephesians 6, verse 12). Even while we eat our meals, walk, and bathe, the enemy is with us, and he knows no time of truce except sleep alone — and often he carries on the war even then, injecting unclean thoughts into us and stirring up lust in us through dreams. We do not keep watch, we do not rouse ourselves, we do not look at the multitude of the forces set against us. We do not reflect that this very thing is the greatest misfortune: that though surrounded by such great wars, we live in luxury as if in peacetime.

Believe me, things worse than Paul suffered may have to be suffered now. Those enemies wounded him with stones; there is a wounding with words that is worse even than stones. What, then, must we do? The same as he did. He did not hate those who threw stones at him; after they had dragged him out, he went back into their city to do good to those who had done him such wrongs. If you too put up with the man who harshly insults you and has wronged you, then you too have been stoned. Do not say, “I have done him no harm.” What harm had Paul done, that he should be stoned? He was proclaiming a kingdom; he was leading people away from error and bringing them to God — benefits worthy of crowns, worthy of being proclaimed by a herald’s voice, worthy of countless good things, not of stones. And yet, far from resenting it, he did just the opposite. For this is the splendid victory.

“And they dragged him,” it says (verse 19). People often drag you about too; but do not be angry. On the contrary, preach the word yourself, with gentleness. Has someone insulted you? Keep quiet, and bless him if you can, and you too have preached the word; you have given a lesson in mildness, a lesson in gentleness. I know that many do not smart so much under wounds as under the blow that words inflict, since the body receives the one wound and the soul the other. But let us not smart — or rather, feeling the smart, let us endure it. Do you not see the boxers, how, with their heads badly battered, they bite into their lips and so bear the pain calmly? You need not grind your teeth; you need not bite your lips. Remember your Master, and by remembering him you have at once applied the remedy. Remember Paul. Reflect that you, the one beaten, have won, and he, the one beating, is defeated; and by this you have healed everything. It is the turn of the scale in a single moment, and you have won the whole. Do not be swept away, do not even stir, and you have put out the whole fire. There is great power of persuasion in suffering something for Christ: you are not preaching the word of faith, but you are preaching the word of patience.

But you will say: “The more he sees my gentleness, the more he attacks me.” Is that what pains you, then — that he is increasing your rewards all the more? You say: “But this is the way to make him unbearable.” This is a mere excuse of your own smallness of mind. On the contrary, the way to make him unbearable is the other one: taking revenge yourself. If God had known that refraining from revenge made the unjust unbearable, he would not have done it himself; on the contrary, he would have said, “Avenge yourself.” But he knew that the other way is the more likely to do good. Do not make a law contrary to God’s: do as he tells you. You are not kinder than the one who made us. He has said, “Bear being wronged”; you say, “I repay wrong with wrong, so that he will not become unbearable.” Do you, then, care more for him than God does? Such talk is nothing but passion and bad temper, arrogance, and the setting up of laws against God’s laws. Even if the man were harmed by our forbearance, would it not still be our duty to obey? When God orders anything, let us not make a law to the contrary. “A submissive answer,” we read, “turns away wrath” (Proverbs 15, verse 1) — not an answer of opposition. If it does you good, it does him good too; but if it harms you, who are supposed to set him right, how much more will it harm him? “Physician, heal yourself.”

Has someone spoken ill of you? Speak well of him. Has he reviled you? Praise him. Has he plotted against you? Do him a kindness. Repay him with the opposite, if you care at all for his salvation and do not wish to avenge your own suffering. And yet you will say: “Though he has often met with patience from me, he has become worse.” That is not your concern, but his. Do you want to learn what wrongs God suffered? They threw down his altars and killed his prophets (First Kings 19, verse 10), and yet he bore it all. Could he not have hurled a thunderbolt from above? No: when he had sent his prophets and they killed them, then he sent his Son (Matthew 21, verse 37). When they committed greater impieties, then he sent them greater benefits.

And you too, if you see someone exasperated, give way all the more, since this madness has greater need of soothing. The more grievous his abuse of you, the more gentleness he needs from you. Just as a gale, when it blows hard, must be given way to, so must the man in a passion. When a wild beast is at its most savage, we all run from it; so too we should run from the man who is angry. Do not think this is an honor to him. Is it an honor we show to wild beasts and madmen when we turn out of their way? Not at all: it is dishonor and contempt — or rather, not dishonor and contempt, but compassion and kindness to a fellow human being. Do you not see how sailors, when the wind blows violently, take in their sails so that the ship will not sink? And how, when the horses have bolted with the driver, he simply guides them into the open plain and does not pull against them, so as not to wear out his own strength for nothing? Do the same yourself. Anger is a fire, a quick flame that needs fuel. Do not feed the fire, and you will soon have put out the evil. Anger has no power of its own; there must be someone else to feed it.

For you there is no excuse. He is possessed with madness and does not know what he is doing. But when you, seeing what he is, fall into the same evils, and are not brought to your senses by the sight, what excuse can there be for you? If you came to a banquet and saw, at the very start of the feast, someone drunk and behaving disgracefully, would not the man who got drunk himself after seeing him be far less excusable? It is just the same here. Do we think it any excuse to say, “I was not the one who started it”? That is the very thing against us: that even the sight of the other man in that state did not bring us to our right senses. It is just as if someone were to say, “I did not murder him first.” This is the very thing that makes you deserve punishment: that even with the warning of such a spectacle you did not restrain yourself.

If you saw the drunken man in the act of vomiting — retching, bursting, his eyes straining, filling the table with his filth, everyone hurrying out of his way — and then fell into the same state yourself, would you not be more hateful still? The man in a passion is like him. More than the man who vomits, his veins swell, his eyes are inflamed, his insides are racked; he vomits out words far filthier than that food. Everything he utters is raw, nothing properly digested, for his passion will not let it be. Just as there an excess of sour juices, raising an uproar in the stomach, often throws up everything in it, so here an excess of heat, raising a tumult in the soul, does not let him keep back what he ought to leave unsaid. Fit and unfit to be spoken, he says it all alike, shaming not his hearers but himself.

So as we get out of the way of those who vomit, let us get out of the way of those who are angry. Let us throw dust over their vomit. By doing what? By keeping quiet. Let us call the dogs to eat up the vomit. I know that you are disgusted to hear this; but I want you to feel this same disgust when you see these things happen, and not to take pleasure in them. The abusive man is filthier than the dog that returns to its own vomit. If, having vomited once, he were done with it, he would not be like that dog; but if he vomits up the same things again, it is plain that he does so because he has eaten the same things again. What, then, is more loathsome than such a man? What is filthier than the mouth that chews such food? And yet the one is a work of nature, and the other is not — or rather, both the one and the other are against nature. How so? Because it is not natural to be abusive without cause; it is against nature. So he says nothing like a man, but speaks partly as a beast and partly as a madman. Just as disease of the body is against nature, so is this. And to show that it is against nature: if he continues in it, he will perish little by little; but if he continued in what is natural, he would not perish.

I would rather sit at table with a man who eats dirt than with one who speaks such words. Do you not see the pigs devouring dung? These people do the same. For what stinks worse than the words abusive men utter? They make it their business to say nothing wholesome, nothing clean; whatever is base, whatever is indecent, that is what they make it their business both to do and to say. And what is worse, they think they are disgracing others, when in fact they are disgracing themselves.

That it is themselves they disgrace is plain. Leave aside those who tell lies in their abuse. Suppose it is some notorious prostitute, or someone else off the stage, and suppose that person is fighting with someone else. Then let the second throw up at the first what he or she is, and let the first throw the same reproach back at the second. Which of them is more damaged by the words? The first is only called what he or she really is, which is not so with the other. So the first gains no further shame, while on the other a great load of disgrace is heaped.

Again, suppose there are some hidden deeds, and only the one doing the abusing knows of them. He has kept quiet until now; then let him parade the reproach openly. Even so, he disgraces himself more than the other. How? By making himself the herald of the wickedness, and so bringing on himself either the suspicion that he knew nothing of the kind, or the name of a man who is not to be trusted. And you will see everyone accuse him at once: “If he really knew of a murder being done, he ought to have revealed the whole thing.” So they turn from him as not even human; they hate him; they say he is a wild beast, fierce and cruel; while the other they pardon far more readily than him. For we do not hate those who have wounds so much as those who force them to uncover and display them.

So that man has disgraced not only the other but himself as well, and his hearers, and the common nature of humankind. He has wounded the hearer and done no good. That is why Paul says, “If there is any word that is good for building up, that it may give grace to the hearers” (Ephesians 4, verse 29). Let us have a tongue that speaks only good things, so that we may be lovely and lovable. But in fact everything has come to such a pitch of wickedness that many boast of the very things they should hide their faces over. For the threats of the many are of this kind:

“You won’t be able to stand my tongue,” they say. These are words fit only for a woman — a shameless, drunken old hag, one of those who are dragged off to punishment through the marketplace, a woman who trades in prostitutes. Nothing is more shameful than these words, nothing more unmanly, more womanish, than to have your strength in your tongue and to think highly of yourself because you can hurl abuse, just like the fellows in the processions, like clowns, hangers-on, and flatterers. Pigs rather than men are those who pride themselves on this. You ought sooner to have buried yourself; if someone else gave you this character, you should have recoiled from the charge as hateful and unmanly. Instead, you have made yourself the herald of your own disgrace. But you will not be able to hurt the one you speak ill of. [p]

So I beg you, since the wickedness has risen so high that many boast of it, let us come back to our senses. Let us bring those who are mad in this way back to health. Let us take these councils out of the city. Let us make our tongue gracious and rid it of all evil speaking, so that, clean of sins, we may be able to draw down on ourselves the goodwill from above and be granted mercy from God, through the grace and compassion of his only Son, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.