Homily 38 — Acts 17, verses 16 to 31

“Now while Paul was waiting for them at Athens, his spirit was stirred within him when he saw that the city was wholly given over to idolatry. So he reasoned in the synagogue with the Jews and with the devout persons, and in the marketplace every day with those who met him.” [a]

Notice how he meets with greater trials among the Jews than among the Gentiles. In Athens, for instance, he suffers nothing of the kind. The matter goes as far as ridicule, and there it ends; and yet he did win some converts. Among the Jews, on the other hand, he went through many dangers, so much greater was their hostility toward him.

“His spirit,” it says, “was roused within him when he saw the city all full of idols.” Nowhere else were so many objects of worship to be seen. But again, “he reasoned with the Jews in the synagogue, and in the marketplace every day with those who met him. Then certain philosophers of the Stoics and of the Epicureans encountered him” (verse 18). It is a wonder the philosophers did not laugh him to scorn, speaking the way he did. “And some said, What does this babbler mean to say?” They said it insolently, on the spot. This is far from philosophy. “Others said, He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign gods” — they judged from his preaching, because he had no arrogance about him. They did not understand or grasp the subjects he was speaking of. How could they? Some of them held that God is a body, and others that pleasure is true happiness. “Of foreign gods, because he preached to them Jesus and the Resurrection.” For in fact they supposed that “Anastasis,” the Resurrection, was some deity, since they were used to worshiping female divinities as well.

“And they took him and brought him to the Areopagus” (verse 19) — not to punish him, but in order to learn — “to the Areopagus,” where the trials for murder were held. Notice, then, that they ask him in the hope of learning, saying, “May we know what this new teaching is that you speak of? For you are bringing some strange things to our ears” (verse 20). Everywhere the charge is novelty. “So we would like to know what these things mean.” It was a city of talkers, that city of theirs. “For all the Athenians and the strangers living there spent their time in nothing else but telling or hearing something new. Then Paul stood in the middle of Mars Hill and said, Men of Athens, I regard you as being in every way” (verses 21 and 22) — he puts it as praise; the word does not seem to mean anything offensive — “more religious. For as I passed by and looked at the objects of your worship, I found an altar with this inscription: To an Unknown God. What therefore you worship without knowing it, this I proclaim to you” (verse 23).

“On which was inscribed, To an Unknown God.” The Athenians, you see, had on many occasions taken in gods from foreign parts as well — for instance, the temple of Minerva, and Pan, and others from different countries. They were afraid that there might be some other god not yet known to them but worshiped elsewhere, and so, for more security, if you please, they set up an altar to that god too; and since the god was not known, it was inscribed, “To an Unknown God.” This God, then, he tells them, is Christ — or rather, the God of all. “Him I proclaim to you.” Notice how he shows that they had already received him. “It is nothing strange,” he says, “nothing new that I am bringing in to you.” For all along, this is what they had been saying:

“What is this new teaching that you speak of? For you are bringing some strange things to our ears.” So he immediately removes this suspicion of theirs, and then says, “God, who made the world and everything in it, since he is Lord of heaven and earth.” So that they would not imagine him to be one of many, he sets them right on this point at once, and adds, “does not live in temples made with hands” (verse 24), “nor is he worshiped by human hands, as though he needed anything.” Do you see how little by little he brings in the philosophy? How he ridicules the error of the pagans? “Since he himself gives to all life and breath and all things; and he has made from one blood all the nations of men to live on all the face of the earth.” This belongs to God alone. Look, then, and see whether these things cannot be said of the Son as well. [e]

“Being Lord,” he says, “of heaven and earth” — which they considered to be God’s. He declares that both the creation and mankind are his work. “Having determined,” he says, “the times appointed for them, and the boundaries of where they would live” (verses 25 and 26), “so that they would seek the Lord, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being; as some of your own poets have also said, For we are also his offspring” (verses 27 and 28). This was said by the poet Aratus. Notice how he draws his arguments from things they themselves did, and from sayings of their own.

“Since, then, we are the offspring of God, we ought not to think that the divine nature is like gold, or silver, or stone, carved by art” (verse 29). “And yet for this very reason we ought to think so.” By no means! Surely we are not like such things, and neither are these souls of ours. “And by human imagination.” How so? But someone might say: “We do not think this.” But he was speaking to the many, not at this point to the philosophers. How, then, did they come to think so unworthily of him? Again he lays it to their ignorance, and says, “The times of ignorance God overlooked.” Having shaken their minds with fear, he then adds this; and yet he says, “but now he commands all people everywhere to repent” (verse 30). “Because he has appointed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by the man whom he has ordained; and he has given assurance of this to all people by raising him from the dead” (verse 31). But let us look over again what has been said.

“And while Paul was waiting,” and so on (verse 16). It was arranged by God’s providence that he stays there against his will, while he waits for the others. “His spirit,” it says, “was stirred within him.” It does not mean anger or exasperation here, just as elsewhere it says, “There was a sharp contention between them” (Acts 15, verse 39). What, then, does the word mean? That he was roused; for the gift is far removed from anger and exasperation. He could not bear it, but was pining away. [g]

“So he reasoned in the synagogue,” and so on (verse 17). Notice him reasoning with Jews again. By “devout persons” he means the converts. For the Jews had been scattered everywhere before Christ’s coming. The law was from then on, so to speak, in the process of being dissolved, but at the same time the scattered Jews were teaching people religion. They gained nothing by it, however, except that they got witnesses to their own calamities.

“And certain philosophers,” and so on (verse 18). How did they come to be willing to talk with him? They did it when they saw others reasoning, and the man gaining a reputation in the encounter. And notice at once the overbearing insolence: “Some said, What would this babbler say?” “For the unspiritual man does not receive the things of the Spirit” (First Corinthians 2, verse 14). “Others, He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign deities” — “deities,” for that is what they called their gods.

“And they took him and brought him,” and so on (verse 19). The Athenians no longer lived under their own laws, but had become subject to the Romans. Why, then, did they drag him to the Areopagus? They meant to overawe him, taking him to the place where they held the trials for bloodshed. “May we know what this new teaching is that you speak of? For you are bringing some strange things to our ears; so we would like to know what these things mean. For all the Athenians and the strangers living there spent their time in nothing else but telling or hearing something new” (verses 20 and 21). The point to notice here is that although they were always busy with nothing but this telling and hearing, they still thought these things strange — things they had never heard.

“Then Paul stood in the middle of the Areopagus and said, Men of Athens, I regard you as being in every way more religious” (verse 22). For the cities were full of gods; that is why he says “more religious.” “For as I passed by and looked at the objects of your worship” — he does not simply say “your demons,” but prepares the way for what he has to say — “I found an altar,” and so on (verse 23). That is why he says, “I regard you as being more religious”: because of the altar.

“God,” he says, “who made the world” (verse 24). He spoke one word, and with it he overturned all the teachings of the philosophers. For the Epicureans claim that everything was formed by chance, from a coming together of atoms, and the Stoics held it to be body and fire. “The world and everything in it.” Do you notice the brevity, and in the brevity, the clearness? Notice what things were strange to them: that God made the world! What any of the most ordinary people know now, the Athenians, and the wise men of the Athenians, did not know.

“Since he is Lord of heaven and earth.” For if he made them, it is clear that he is Lord. Notice what he says is the mark of being God: creation. And the Son has this too. For the prophets everywhere declare that to create belongs to God alone. It is not as those people claim, that another is the Maker but not the Lord, on the assumption that matter had no beginning. Here he quietly states and establishes his own teaching while he overthrows theirs.

“Does not live in temples made with hands.” He does indeed live in temples, but not in such as these: he lives in the human soul. He overthrows bodily worship. What then? Did he not live in the temple at Jerusalem? No indeed; but he worked there. “Nor is he worshiped by human hands” (verse 25). How, then, was he worshiped by human hands among the Jews? Not by hands, but by the understanding. “As though he needed anything”: for even those acts of worship he did not ask for in that way, as though he needed them. “Shall I eat the flesh of bulls,” he says, “or drink the blood of goats?” (Psalm 50, verse 13). Nor is this enough — the needing nothing, which he has stated. For though this belongs to God, a further mark must still be added.

“Since he himself gives to all life and breath and all things.” Here are two proofs that he is God: that he himself needs nothing, and that he supplies all things to all people. Bring Plato forward here, and all the philosophy he produced about God, and all of Epicurus’ as well: it is all mere trifling next to this! “Gives,” he says, “life and breath.” Look, he makes him the Creator of the soul too, not its begetter. See again how he overthrows the teaching about matter. “And he made,” he says, “from one blood every nation of men to live on all the face of the earth” (verse 26). These things are better than the former ones. And what an indictment of both the atoms and matter, that the creation is not a work done in parts, and neither is the human soul! But what those people describe is not being a Creator. But he is worshiped by the mind and the understanding. [p]

“He is the one who gives,” and so on: he, and not the gods who rule a part. “And all things”: it is “he,” he says. How man also came into being. First he showed that “he does not live,” and so on, and then declared that he “is not worshiped as though he needed anything.” If he is God, he made all things; but if he did not make them, he is not God. Gods that did not make heaven and earth — let them perish! He brings in much greater teachings, though he does not yet mention the great teachings; he spoke to them as to children. And these were much greater than those others. Creation, lordship, needing nothing, being the author of every good thing — these he has declared. “But how is he worshiped? Tell us.” It is not yet the right time for that. What could equal this sublimity? This too is marvelous: that from one he made so many; and not only that, but having made them, he himself holds them together in being, “giving life and breath and all things.”

“And he has determined the times appointed, and the boundaries of where they would live, so that they would seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him” (verse 27). This means either that he did not compel them to go about seeking God, but that it was according to the boundaries of where they lived; or that he determined their seeking of God, yet did not determine that it be done constantly, but set certain appointed times for it. He shows now that they had found him without seeking; for since they had sought and not found, he shows that God was now as plain to see as though he were among them, to be touched with the hand. “Though he is not far,” he says, “from each one of us,” but is near to all. See again the power of God. What does he say? That he not only gave “life and breath and all things,” but, as the sum and substance of everything, brought us to the knowledge of himself, by giving us the very things by which we are able to find him and lay hold of him. But we did not want to find him, though he was close at hand.

“Though he is not far from each one of us.” Why, look: he is near to all, to every one throughout the whole world! What could be greater than this? See how completely he gets rid of the gods who rule a part! Why do I say “far off”? He is so near that without him we do not live: “For in him we live and move and have our being” (verse 28). “In him”: to put it by a bodily comparison, just as it is impossible to be unaware of the air, which is spread out on every side around us and is “not far from each one of us” — or rather, is inside us. [r]

For it was not the case that there was a heaven in one place and none in another, or a heaven at one time and none at another. So at every “time” and within every “boundary” it was possible to find him. He arranged things so that people were hindered neither by place nor by time. For of course this, if nothing else, was a help to them in itself: that the heaven is in every place and stands through all time. See how he declares his providence and the power by which he holds all things together: that everything exists from him, that from him comes their working, and from him their being kept from perishing. And he does not say “through him,” but what is nearer than that: “in him.”

That poet said nothing to equal this. “For we are his offspring.” The poet, however, said it of Jupiter, but Paul takes it of the Creator. He does not mean the same being the poet meant — far from it! — but what is properly said of God, just as he spoke of the altar with reference to him, and not to the being they worshiped. It is as if he said, “Certain things are said and done with reference to this true God, but you do not know that they refer to him.” For tell me, of whom would it properly be said, “To an Unknown God”? Of the Creator, or of the demon? Clearly of the Creator, because him they did not know, while the other they knew. Again, that all things are filled — with God? Or with Jupiter, a wretch of a man, a detestable impostor? But Paul did not say it in the same sense as the poet — far from it! — but with quite a different meaning. For he says we are God’s offspring, that is, God’s own, his nearest neighbors, as it were. And so that when he says, “Since we are the offspring of God” (verse 29), they would not say again, “You are bringing some strange things to our ears,” he brings the poet forward.

He does not say, “You ought not to think the divine nature is like gold or silver, you cursed and detestable people!” He speaks more humbly: “We ought not.” For what does he say? That God is above this? No, he does not say that either, but for the present only this: “We ought not to think the divine nature is like such things” — for nothing is so unlike human beings. “But we do not claim that the divine nature is like this. Who would say that?” Notice how he brought in the truth that God is bodiless when he said, “In him,” and the rest; for when the mind imagines a body, it brings in the idea of distance at the same time. Speaking to the many, he says, “We ought not to think the divine nature is like gold, or silver, or stone, shaped by art”; for if we are not like those things in our soul, much less is God. So far, he draws them away from that notion. But neither, he means, is the divine nature subject to any other human conception. For if what art or thought has discovered — this is why he puts it this way, “by art or human imagination” — if what human art or thought has discovered is God, then God’s being is even in the stone.

How is it, then, if “in him we live,” that we do not find him? The charge is twofold: both that they did not find him, and that they found such things as these instead. Human understanding is not in itself to be relied on at all.

But when he has shaken their souls by showing that they are without excuse, see what he says: “The times of ignorance God overlooked, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent” (verse 30). What then? Are none of these men to be punished? None of those who are willing to repent. He says it of these men — not of those who have died, but of those whom he commands to repent. He does not call you to account, he means. He does not say “took no notice”; he does not say “permitted”; but, “You were ignorant.” “Overlooked”: that is, he does not demand punishment from you as from people who deserve punishment. You were ignorant. And he does not say, “You did evil on purpose”; but this he showed by what he said earlier. “All people everywhere to repent”: again he hints at the whole world. Notice how he draws them away from the gods who rule a part!

“Because he has appointed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by the man whom he has ordained; and he has given assurance of this to all people by raising him from the dead” (verse 31). Notice how he again declares his suffering. Notice the terror again: for that the judgment is true is clear from his raising him up, since that is brought forward as its proof. That everything he has been saying is true is clear from the fact that he rose again. For he did give this “assurance to all people,” his rising from the dead; so the judgment too is certain from now on. These words were spoken to the Athenians, it is true; but it would be timely for someone to say to us as well, “All people everywhere must repent, because he has appointed a day on which he will judge the world.” See how he brings him in as Judge too: him who provides for the world, and is merciful and forgiving and powerful and wise — in a word, who has all the qualities of a Creator. “Having given assurance to all people”: that is, he has given proof in the rising of Jesus from the dead.

Let us repent, then, for we must certainly be judged. If Christ did not rise, we will not be judged; but if he rose, we will without doubt be judged. “For to this end,” it says, “he also died, that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living” (Romans 14, verse 9). “For we will all stand before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive according to what he has done” (Romans 14, verse 10, and Second Corinthians 5, verse 10). Do not imagine that these are only words. Look! He brought in the resurrection of all people as well, for in no other way can the world be judged. And the words “by raising him from the dead” refer to the body, for that is what was dead, that is what had fallen. Among the Greeks, their notions of the judgment, like their notions of creation, are children’s fancies, the ravings of drunken men.

But let us, who know these things accurately, do something to the purpose: let us become friends of God. How long will we be at enmity with him? How long will we go on disliking him? You will say: “Far from it! Why do you say such things?” I would rather not say the things I say, if you did not do the things you do. But as things are, what use is there now in keeping silent with words, when the plain evidence of deeds cries out so loudly?

How, then — how will we love him? I have told you thousands of ways, thousands of times; but I will tell you now as well. One way I seem to myself to have discovered, a very great and admirable way. It is this. After we have acknowledged to him the kindnesses we all share — which no one could put into words — let us also think over what has been done for each of us personally, for these have great force. Let each of us count them up by himself and search them out carefully, and let him have God’s benefits written down, as it were, in a book. For instance: if at any time he fell into danger and escaped the hands of his enemies; if he ever set out on a journey at a bad hour and escaped harm; if he ever had a run-in with wicked men and got the better of them; or if he ever fell sick and recovered when everyone had given him up. For this does much to bind us to God.

Mordecai, when his services were brought back to the king’s memory, found them of such use that in return he rose to that height of splendor (Esther 6, verses 2 to 11). How much more will we, if we call to mind and carefully search out these two things — what sins we have committed against God, and what good he has done us — become thankful as a result, and freely give him all that is ours!

But no one gives a thought to any of these things. Just as with our sins we say that we are sinners but do not look into them one by one, so with God’s benefits we say that God has done us good, but we do not look into them one by one: where, how many, and when. But from now on let us be very exact in our reckoning. If anyone can recall even things that happened long ago, let him count them all up accurately, as one who is going to find a great treasure. This also helps to keep us from despair. For when we see that he has often protected us, we will not despair or suppose that we have been cast off. We will take it as a strong pledge of his care for us, when we remember how, though we have sinned, we have not been punished, but even enjoy his protection.

Now let me tell you a case I heard from someone. There was a child who happened to be in the country with his mother, when he was not yet fifteen years old. Just then a bad air set in, and a fever attacked them both, for it was in fact the autumn season. The mother managed to get into the town first. But the boy, when the doctors there ordered him to gargle his throat while the fever burned within him, refused. He had, if you please, his own wise view of the matter, and thought he would put out the fire better if he took nothing at all; and so, in his untimely stubbornness, as boys are, he would take nothing. But when he came into the town, his tongue was paralyzed, and for a long time he was speechless, so that he could not pronounce anything clearly. He could read, it is true, and he went to his teachers for a long time, but that was all; there was nothing to show any progress. So all his hopes were cut off, and his mother was full of grief. And though the doctors suggested many remedies, and many others did too, no one could do him any good, until the merciful God loosed the string of his tongue (compare Mark 7, verse 35). Then he recovered, and was restored to his former readiness and clearness of speech.

His mother also told how, when he was a very little child, he had a disease in his nose which they call a polypus. Then too the doctors had given him up, and his father cursed him — for his father was living then — and even his mother prayed that he would die, and everything was full of distress. But suddenly he coughed, because of the mucus that had gathered, and the force of his breath drove the creature out of his nostrils, and all the danger was gone. But when this trouble had been put out, a sharp, sticky discharge from the eyes gathered so thickly that it was like a skin drawn over the pupil; and what was worse, it threatened blindness, and everyone said that was how it would end. But he was quickly freed from this disease too, by the grace of God.

So much for what I have heard from others; now I will tell you what I know myself. Once a suspicion of usurpers arose in our city — I was only a youth at the time — and all the soldiers, as it happened, had been posted on watch outside the city, and they were searching strictly for books of sorcery and magic. The man who had written the book had thrown it, unbound, into the river. He was arrested, and when he was asked for it, he could not produce it, and he was led around the whole city in chains. When the evidence had been brought home to him and he had been punished, it happened just then that I, on my way to the Martyrs’ Church, was making my way back through the gardens by the river with another person. He saw the book floating on the water and at first thought it was a linen cloth; but when he got near, he saw it was a book, so he went down and picked it up. I, for my part, called out for a share in the find, and laughed about it. He said: “But let us see what in the world it is.” So he turns back part of a page and finds that the contents are magic. At that very moment a soldier happened to come by; then he went off. We froze there with fear. For who would have believed our story that we had picked it up out of the river, when everyone at that time, even those under no suspicion, was being closely watched? We did not dare throw it away, in case we were seen, and tearing it to pieces put us in the same danger. God gave us a way, and we threw it away, and at last, for that time, we were free from the extreme danger.

I could mention countless cases, if I wanted to tell them all. And even these I have told for your sakes, so that if anyone has other cases, even if they are not like these, he may keep them constantly in mind. For example, if a stone was ever thrown and was about to hit you, and did not hit you, keep this always in your mind. These things produce great love for God in us. For if, when we remember people who have been the means of saving us, we are deeply pained if we cannot repay them, how much more should we feel so toward God!

This is useful in other ways too. When we want not to be overwhelmed by grief, let us say, “If we have received good things from the hand of the Lord, shall we not endure evil things?” (Job 2, verse 10). And when Paul told them what he had been rescued from (Second Timothy 4, verse 17), the reason was to remind them as well. See too how Jacob kept all these things in his mind. That is why he said, “The angel who redeemed me from my youth” (Genesis 48, verse 16) — and not only that he redeemed him, but how, and for what purpose. See how he also recalls the particular benefits he had received: “With my staff,” he says, “I crossed the Jordan” (Genesis 32, verse 10). The Jews too always remembered what had happened to their forefathers, turning over in their minds the things done in Egypt.

Much more, then, let us bear in mind the particular mercies that have come to us too — how often we have fallen into dangers and disasters, and would have perished long ago if God had not held his hand over us. Let us all, I say, think about these things and count them over day by day, and give thanks together to God, and never stop glorifying him, so that we may receive a great reward for our thankful hearts, through the grace and compassion of his only Son, with whom be glory, power and honor to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.