Homily 35 — Acts 16, verses 13 to 24

“And on the Sabbath we went outside the city by a riverside, where prayer was customarily made; and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. And a certain woman named Lydia, a seller of purple from the city of Thyatira, who worshiped God, heard us; whose heart the Lord opened, so that she paid attention to the things spoken by Paul.” [a]

See Paul once again keeping to Jewish ways. “Where it was thought,” it says — judging both from the time and from the place — “that there would be prayer: outside the city, by a riverside.” For you must not suppose that they prayed only where there was a synagogue. They prayed outside the synagogue too; but for this purpose they set apart a certain place, so to speak, because, being Jews, they were more attached to bodily things. And it was “on the Sabbath day,” when a crowd was likely to gather. “And we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there.” Notice again how free they are of all pride.

“And a certain woman”: a woman, and a woman of low standing at that, as her trade shows. Yet notice in her a woman of lofty mind. In the first place, the fact that God called her is testimony in her favor. “And when she was baptized,” it says, “she and her household” — notice how he persuaded all of them — “she begged us, saying, ‘If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my house and stay there.’ And she compelled us” (verse 15). Then look at her wisdom: how she presses the apostles, how full of humility her words are, how full of wisdom. “If you have judged me faithful,” she says. Nothing could be more persuasive. Who would not have been softened by these words? She did not simply ask, did not simply plead; she left it to them to decide, and yet she pressed them very hard. “And she compelled us,” it says — by those words. [c]

And again, in another way: see how at once she bears fruit and counts it a great gain. “If you have judged me”: that is, “It is plain that you did judge me so, since you have handed on to me such holy mysteries.” And she did not dare to invite them before this. But why were Paul and those with him at all unwilling, so that they had to be compelled? It was either to call her to a more earnest desire, or because Christ had said, “Find out who is worthy, and stay there” (Luke 10, verse 8). It was not that they were unwilling; they did it for a purpose.

“And it happened,” it says, “as we were going to prayer, that a certain slave girl possessed by a spirit of divination met us, who brought her masters much profit by fortune-telling. She followed Paul and us and cried out, saying, ‘These men are servants of the Most High God, who show us the way of salvation’” (verses 16 and 17). What can be the reason why the demon spoke these words, and why Paul forbade him? The one acted from malice, the other from wisdom. The demon wanted, in fact, to make himself believed. For if Paul had accepted his testimony, the demon would have deceived many of the believers, as one whom Paul had welcomed. That is why he puts up with saying what told against himself, so that he might establish what told in his own favor. And so the demon himself stoops down to their level — to destroy them.

At first, then, Paul would not accept it but paid it no regard, not wanting to throw himself all at once into working miracles. But when it kept on doing this, and pointed to their work — “who proclaim to us the way of salvation” — then he ordered it to come out. For it says, “But Paul, being grieved, turned and said to the spirit, ‘I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.’ And it came out that very hour. And when her masters saw that their hope of profit was gone, they seized Paul and Silas” (verses 18 and 19). So Paul did everything, both the miracles and the teaching; but in the dangers Silas too has his share.

And why does it say, “But Paul, being grieved”? It means that he saw through the demon’s malice, as he says, “For we are not ignorant of his schemes” (Second Corinthians 2, verse 11). “And when her masters saw that their hope of profit was gone.” Everywhere money is the cause of evils! Oh, that pagan cruelty! They wanted the girl to stay demon-possessed, so that they could make money by her. “They seized Paul and Silas,” it says, “and dragged them into the marketplace before the rulers, and brought them to the magistrates, saying, ‘These men, being Jews, are greatly troubling our city’” (verse 20). By doing what? Then why did you not drag them here before this? “Being Jews”: the name was in disrepute. “And they teach customs that are not lawful for us to accept or to observe, since we are Romans” (verse 21). They turned it into a charge of treason.

Why did they not say, “They cast out the demon, so they are guilty of impiety against God”? For that was a defeat for them. Instead they fall back on a charge of treason, just like the Jews when they said, “We have no king but Caesar. Whoever makes himself a king speaks against Caesar” (John 19, verses 15 and 12). “And the crowd rose up together against them, and the magistrates tore their clothes off them and ordered them to be beaten” (verse 22). Oh, the senselessness of it! They did not examine them, did not let them speak. And yet, after such a miracle, you ought to have worshiped them, you ought to have held them as saviors and benefactors. If money was what you wanted, why, when you had found such great wealth, did you not run to it? Having the power to cast out demons would make you more famous than obeying them. Look: miracles, even, and yet the love of money proved stronger.

“And when they had laid many blows on them, they threw them into prison” — great was their anger — “ordering the jailer to keep them securely” (verse 23). “Having received such an order, he threw them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks” (verse 24). Notice that he went further and threw them into the “inner” prison. This too happened by God’s providence, because a great miracle was to take place. [k]

“Outside the city” (verse 13). The place was well suited to hearing the word, away from disturbance and danger. “On the Sabbath”: since no work was going on, they paid closer attention to what was said. “And a certain woman named Lydia, a seller of purple” (verse 14). Notice how the writer of the history is not ashamed of the converts’ trades. Nor, for that matter, was this city of the Philippians a great one. Having learned these things, let us too be ashamed of no one. Peter stays with a tanner (Acts 9, verse 43); Paul with a woman who sold purple, and a foreigner at that. Where is pride?

“Whose heart the Lord opened.” So we need God to open the heart. But God opens the hearts that are willing, for there are hardened hearts to be seen. “So that she paid attention to the things spoken by Paul.” The opening, then, was God’s work; the paying attention was hers. So it was both God’s doing and a human being’s. And she was baptized (verse 15), and she welcomes the apostles with such earnest pleading — more earnest than Abraham’s (Genesis 18, verse 3). And she points to no other token than the one by which she was saved. She does not say, “If you have judged me” a great woman, a devout woman — but what? “Faithful to the Lord.” If to the Lord, much more to you. “If you have judged me”: that is, if you do not doubt it. And she does not say, “Stay with me,” but, “Come into my house and stay” — and she says it with great earnestness. A faithful woman indeed!

“A certain slave girl possessed by a spirit of Python” (verse 16). Tell me, what is this demon? The god, as they call him, Python, named after the place. Do you see that Apollo too is a demon? And the demon wanted to lead them into temptation. So, to provoke them, “she followed Paul and us, and cried out, saying, ‘These men are servants of the Most High God, who show us the way of salvation’” (verse 17). You accursed, detestable creature! If you know that it is his way of salvation that they show, why do you not come out of your own accord? But what Simon wanted when he said, “Give it to me, so that anyone on whom I lay my hands may receive the Holy Spirit” (Acts 8, verse 19), this demon wanted too. Since he saw them becoming famous, here too he plays the hypocrite. By this means he thought he would be allowed to stay in the body, if he preached the same things they did.

But if Christ does not “accept testimony from man” (John 5, verse 34) — meaning John — much less from a demon. “Praise is not fitting in the mouth of a sinner” (Sirach 15, verse 9) — much less in the mouth of a demon. For what they preach is not from men but from the Holy Spirit. For they did not act out of a wish to boast. “And Paul, being grieved,” and so on. By their clamor and shouting the masters thought to alarm the magistrates, saying, “These men are greatly troubling our city” (verses 18 to 20). What are you saying? Do you believe the demon? Then why not here too? He says they are “servants of the Most High God”; you say, “They are greatly troubling our city.” He says, “They show us the way of salvation”; you say, “They teach customs that are not lawful for us to accept” (verse 21). Notice how they pay no attention even to the demon, but look to one thing only: their greed.

But look at Paul and Silas: they do not answer, they do not plead their own cause. “For when I am weak,” he says, “then I am strong. My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness” (Second Corinthians 12, verses 10 and 9). So they were to be admired for their gentleness as well. “And the magistrates,” and so on, “ordering the jailer to keep them securely” (verse 22) — so that they might be the means of a greater miracle. The stricter the guard, the greater the miracle. The magistrates probably did these things because they wanted to cut the disturbance short. They saw the crowd pressing hard and wanted to check its fury on the spot, so they had them beaten. At the same time they wanted to hear the case, and that is why they threw them into prison and gave orders “to keep them securely.” And, it says, “he fastened them in the stocks” (verse 24) — as we would say, the nervus.

What tears these things call for! Think what they suffer, while we live in luxury, while we sit in theaters, while we are perishing and drowning in loose living, always looking for idle amusement, unwilling to suffer pain for Christ — not even so far as words, not even so far as talk. I beg you, let us always call these things to mind: what they suffered, what they endured, how undismayed they were, how they never stumbled. They were doing God’s work, and they suffered these things! They did not say, “Why do we preach this, when God does not take our side?” [r]

But even this was a benefit to them — even leaving the truth aside, in the thing itself. It made them more vigorous, stronger, fearless. “Trouble produces endurance” (Romans 5, verse 3). So let us not go looking for a loose and dissolute life. For just as in the one case the good is twofold — the sufferers are made strong, and the rewards are great — so in the other the evil is twofold: such people are made feebler, and it leads to no good, only to evil.

For nothing is more worthless than a man who spends all his time in idleness and luxury. The untested man, as the saying goes, is also unproven — unproven not only in the contests but in everything else. Idleness is a useless thing. And even as regards luxury itself, nothing so defeats its own aim as living a life of luxury. It grows stale from too much, so that neither the enjoyment of the food nor the enjoyment of rest is so great; everything turns flat and runs to waste.

So let us not go after this. If we consider who has the pleasanter life — the man who toils and works hard, or the man who lives in luxury — we will find it is the former. In the first place, the bodily senses are neither clear nor sound, but slack and sluggish; and when they are not right, there is plainly no enjoyment even of health. Which horse is useful, the pampered one or the exercised one? Which ship is serviceable, the one that sails or the one that lies idle? Which water is best, the running or the stagnant? Which iron is best, the kind that is much used or the kind that does no work? Does not the one shine bright as silver, while the other becomes rusty all over, useless, and even loses some of its own substance? [t]

The same thing happens to the soul through idleness: a kind of rust spreads over it and eats away both its brightness and everything else. How, then, will one rub off this rust? With the whetstone of distress. That is how one will make the soul useful and fit for everything. Otherwise, I ask you, how will it be able to cut away the passions, when its edge is turned and it bends like lead? How will it wound the devil?

And then, to whom can such a man be anything but a disgusting sight — a man cultivating his fat, dragging himself along like a seal? I do not say this of those who are built that way by nature, but of those who have brought their bodies into that condition by luxurious living, though they are lean by nature.

The sun has risen; it has sent out its bright rays on every side and roused everyone to his work. The farmer goes out with his spade, the smith with his hammer, every craftsman with his own instruments, and you will find each one handling the tools of his trade. The woman, too, takes up her distaff or her weaving. But he, like a pig, goes out at first light to feed his belly, looking for ways to provide a lavish table. And yet feeding from morning to night belongs only to animals without reason — and to them because their only use is to be slaughtered. Indeed, even among the animals, those that carry burdens and can be put to work go out to their work while it is still night.

But this man gets out of bed when the noonday sun has filled the marketplace and people are tired from their various work. Then this man gets up, stretching himself out just like a hog being fattened, having wasted the best part of the day in darkness. Then he sits for a long time on his bed, often not even able to lift himself up after last night’s carousing. Having wasted still more time in this listlessness, he sets about dressing himself up, and goes out, an unseemly spectacle with nothing human about him, looking in every way like a beast in human shape: his eyes watery from wine, while his wretched soul, like a cripple, cannot rise, carrying its bulk of flesh around like an elephant.

Then he comes and sits here and there, and says and does such things that it would be better for him to be still asleep than awake. If bad news happens to be brought, he shows himself weaker than any girl; if good news, sillier than any child. On his face there is a constant yawn. He is a target for everything that would do harm — if not for all people, then at least for all the evil passions. Anger easily stirs such a man, and craving, and envy, and all the other passions. Everyone flatters him, everyone courts him, making his soul weaker than it already is, and every day he goes on and on, adding to his disease. If he happens to run into some trouble in his affairs, he turns to dust and ashes, and his silk clothes are no help to him.

We have not said all this without a purpose, but to teach you that none of you should live idly and aimlessly. For idleness and luxury do nothing for work, for a good name, or for enjoyment. Who will not condemn such a man? His family, his friends, his relatives will say, “He is nothing but a burden on the earth.” Such a man has come into the world for nothing — or rather, not for nothing, but for harm: harm to himself, to his own ruin, and to the injury of others.

But now for the claim that the life of work is the more pleasant — let us look into that, for that is the question. Well then, what could be less pleasant than a man who has nothing to do? What more wretched and miserable? Is it not worse than all the chains in the world to sit in the marketplace always gaping and yawning and staring at the passersby? For the soul, whose nature is to be always in motion, cannot bear to be still. God made it a thing of action: working belongs to its very nature, and idleness is against its nature. Let us not judge these things by those who are diseased, but put the matter itself to the test of fact.

Nothing is more harmful than leisure and having nothing to do. That is exactly why God laid on us the necessity of working: idleness harms everything. Even for the members of the body, doing nothing is ruinous. The eye, if it does not do its work, and the mouth, and the stomach, and every member one could name, falls into the worst kind of disease — but none so much as the soul.

But as doing nothing is an evil, so is being active in things that ought to be left alone. It is just like the teeth: if you do not eat, they suffer harm, and if you eat things you should not, it jars them and sets them on edge. So it is here: whether the soul is inactive, or active in the wrong things, it loses its proper strength. Then let us shun both alike — both doing nothing, and the activity that is worse than doing nothing. And what is that?

Greed, anger, envy, and the other passions. In these let us make it our aim to do nothing, so that we may obtain the good things promised to us, by 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, forever and ever. Amen.