Homily 42 — Acts 19, verses 21 to 41

“After these things were ended, Paul resolved in the Spirit, when he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem, saying, After I have been there, I must also see Rome. So he sent into Macedonia two of those who served him, Timothy and Erastus, but he himself stayed in Asia for a while. And about that time there arose no small commotion about the Way.” [a]

He sends Timothy and Erastus into Macedonia, but he himself stays on at Ephesus. Having made a long enough stay in that city, he wants to move on elsewhere again. But how is it that, having chosen from the first to leave for Syria, he turns back to Macedonia? “He resolved,” it says, “in the Spirit,” showing that everything he did was done not by his own power. Now he prophesies, saying, “I must also see Rome.” Perhaps he said it to comfort them with the thought that he would not stay far away, but would come nearer to them again, and to rouse the minds of the disciples by the prophecy.

It was at this point, I suppose, that he wrote his letter to the Corinthians from Ephesus, saying, “I do not want you to be unaware of the trouble that came to us in Asia” (Second Corinthians 1, verse 8). He had promised to go to Corinth, so he excuses himself for having delayed, and he mentions the trial, telling of the affair of Demetrius.

“There arose no small commotion about the Way.” Do you see the renown it had won? First, it says, they contradicted; then came miracles, of two kinds; then danger again. That is how the threads alternate through the whole fabric of the history.

“For a certain man named Demetrius, a silversmith, who made silver temples of Artemis, brought no small profit to the craftsmen” (verse 24). “Who made,” it says, “silver temples of Artemis.” And how could temples possibly be made of silver? Perhaps they were like small caskets. Great was the honor paid to this goddess at Ephesus. When their temple was burned, it grieved them so much that they forbade the name of the man who set the fire ever to be spoken.

See how, wherever there is idolatry, we find money at the bottom of it in every case. In the former instance it was for money (Acts 19, verse 13), and in the case of this man it is for money. It was not for their religion, as though they thought that in danger. No, it was for their profitable trade, for fear that it would have nothing left to work on. Notice the malice of the man. He was wealthy himself, and to him the loss was no great matter; but to them the loss was great, since they were poor and lived on their daily earnings. Yet these men say nothing; only he speaks.

And notice: “He gathered them together, with the workmen of similar trades” — men who had common cause with him — “and said, Men, you know that our wealth comes from this trade” (verse 25). Then he brought the danger home to them: we are in danger of falling from this trade of ours into starvation. “Moreover, you see and hear that not only at Ephesus, but almost throughout all Asia, this Paul has persuaded and turned away a great many people, saying that gods made with hands are no gods. So there is danger not only that this trade of ours will be discredited, but also that the temple of the great goddess Artemis will be despised, and her majesty destroyed, she whom all Asia and the world worships. And when they heard these words, they were filled with rage and cried out, saying, Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!” (verses 26 to 28).

And yet the very things he said were enough to bring them to true religion. But being poor, senseless creatures, this is the part they play. For if this man Paul is strong enough to turn everyone away, and the worship of the gods is in jeopardy, one ought to reflect how great this man’s God must be, and that he will much more give you the very things you are afraid for.

From the outset Demetrius has taken hold of their minds by saying, “This Paul has turned away a great many people, saying that gods made with human hands are no gods.” See what it is that the pagans are so angry about: that he said “those made by men are no gods.” All the way through, he aims his speech at their trade. Then he brings in afterward what grieved them most. “With the other gods,” he would say, “we have no concern; but the temple of the great goddess Artemis is in danger of being destroyed.” Then, so that he would not seem to say this for the sake of profit, see what he adds: “whom the whole world worships.” Notice how he showed Paul’s power to be the greater, proving all their gods to be wretched and miserable things, since a mere man, driven from place to place, a mere tentmaker, had so much power.

Notice the testimony the apostles received from their enemies: that they were overthrowing their worship. There, at Lystra, they brought “garlands and oxen” (Acts 14, verse 13). Here he says, “This trade of ours is in danger of being discredited.” “You have filled every place with your teaching” (Acts 5, verse 28). The Jews said the same about Christ: “You see how the world is going after him” (John 12, verse 19), and, “The Romans will come and take away our city” (John 11, verse 48). And again, on another occasion, “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here too” (Acts 17, verse 6). “And when they heard these words, they were filled with rage.” What called forth that rage? Hearing about Artemis, and about their source of profit.

“And they cried out, saying, Great is Artemis of the Ephesians! And the whole city was filled with confusion, and they rushed with one accord into the theater” (verse 29). That is the way with common minds: any trivial occasion carries them away and inflames their passions. That is why things must be done only after careful examination. But see how contemptible they were, to be so exposed to every kind of excitement! “Having seized Gaius and Aristarchus, men of Macedonia, Paul’s traveling companions, they dragged them” — once again recklessly, just as the Jews did with Jason; and everywhere they attack them. [h]

“And when Paul wanted to go in among the people, the disciples would not let him” (verse 30) — so far were they from all display and love of glory. “And some of the Asiarchs, who were his friends, sent to him, begging him not to venture into the theater” (verse 31), before a disorderly mob and an uproar. And Paul complies, for he was not one to seek empty glory. “Some therefore cried one thing, and some another, for the assembly was confused.” Such is the nature of a crowd: it follows recklessly, like fire when it has fallen on fuel. “And most of them did not know why they had come together” (verse 32).

“And they drew Alexander out of the crowd, the Jews putting him forward.” It was the Jews who thrust him forward; but as providence arranged it, this man did not speak. “And Alexander motioned with his hand, and wanted to make his defense to the people” (verse 33). “But when they recognized that he was a Jew, all with one voice cried out for about two hours, Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!” (verse 34). A childish understanding indeed! As if they were afraid their worship would be snuffed out, they shouted without stopping. Paul had stayed there two years, and see how many pagans there still were!

“And when the town clerk had quieted the crowd, he said, Men of Ephesus, who is there who does not know that the city of the Ephesians is temple keeper of the great goddess Artemis, and of the image that fell down from Zeus?” (verse 35). As if the thing were not plain to see! With this saying he first put out their rage. “And of the Diopetes.” There was another sacred object that was called by this name. He means either the piece of baked earth or her image. This is a lie.

“Since, then, these things cannot be denied, you ought to be quiet and do nothing rash. For you have brought these men here who are neither robbers of temples nor blasphemers of your goddess” (verses 36 and 37). All this he says to the people. But so that the workmen too might become more reasonable, he says: “So if Demetrius and the craftsmen who are with him have a complaint against anyone, the courts are open, and there are proconsuls; let them bring charges against one another. But if you are seeking anything about other matters, it will be settled in the lawful assembly. For we are in danger of being called to account for today’s riot, since there is no cause for it, and on that matter we will not be able to give an account of this disorderly gathering” (verses 38 to 40).

“In the lawful assembly,” he says, because there were three assemblies held by law each month, and this one was against the law. Then he frightened them as well by saying, “We are in danger of being called to account” — for sedition. But let us look again at what was said.

“After these things were ended,” it says, “Paul resolved in the Spirit, when he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem,” saying, “After I have been there, I must also see Rome” (verse 21). Here he no longer speaks in a merely human way; or else it means, He resolved to pass through those regions without staying longer. Why does he send away Timothy and Erastus? It is of this, I suppose, that he says, “So when we could bear it no longer, we thought it good to be left behind at Athens alone” (First Thessalonians 3, verse 1). “He sent,” it says, “two of those who served him,” both to announce his coming and to make them more eager. “But he himself stayed in Asia for a while” (verse 22). He spends most of his time in Asia, and with good reason: that was where the tyranny of the philosophers was. Afterward, too, he came and spoke to them again. [m]

“About that time,” and the rest (verse 23) — for indeed the superstition there was excessive. “You both see and hear” — so plain to see was the result that was taking place — “that not only at Ephesus, but almost throughout all Asia, this Paul has persuaded and turned away” — by persuading, not by force; this is the way to win over a city. Then comes what touched them closely: “that gods made with hands are no gods” (verse 26). He is overturning our trade, he says.

“From this work we have our wealth.” “Has persuaded.” How did he persuade — he, a man of no standing? How could a mere man prevail over so great a force? Even this saying of his is enough: the thing ought to have been condemned long ago. If it was strong, it ought not to have been overthrown so quickly. For so that they would not think that a human being should have such power as this — and that if a human being has power to do such things, then surely one ought to be persuaded by that man — he adds: “Not only is this trade of ours in danger of being discredited, but also” — as though, if you please, he were putting forward a weightier reason — “the temple of the great goddess Artemis,” and the rest. [p]

“Whom all Asia and the world worships. And when they heard these words, they were filled with rage, and shouted, Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!” (verse 28). For each city had its own gods. They thought to make their voice a barrier against the divine Spirit. Children indeed, these Greeks! Their feeling was that by their voice they could restore her worship and undo what had taken place!

“And the whole city,” and the rest (verse 29). See a disorderly crowd! “And when Paul,” and the rest (verse 30). Paul wanted to go in so that he could address them, for he took his persecutions as occasions for teaching. “But the disciples would not let him.” Notice how much forethought we always find them taking for him. From the very first they got him away, so that they would not receive a mortal blow in his person — and yet they had heard him say, “I must also see Rome.” But it was by providence that he foretold it beforehand, so that they would not be thrown into confusion when it happened. Still, they did not want him to suffer any harm at all. “And some of the Asiarchs begged him not to go into the theater.” Knowing his eagerness, they “begged him”: so much did all the believers love him.

“And they drew Alexander,” and the rest (verse 33). This Alexander — why did he want to make a defense? Was he accused? No, it was to find an opportunity to overturn the whole matter and inflame the anger of the people. “But when they recognized that he was a Jew, all with one voice cried out for about two hours, Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!” (verse 34). Do you notice the wild rage?

And rightly, with a rebuke, the town clerk says, “Who is there who does not know that the city of the Ephesians—” (verse 35), coming to the very point they were frightened about. Is it this, he says, that you do not worship her? And he does not say, “Who does not know” Artemis, but “our city,” that it has always worshiped her. “Since, then, these things cannot be denied” (verse 36): why, then, do you make a question of them, as though these things were not plain? Then he quietly scolds them, showing that they had come together for no reason. “And do nothing rash,” he says, showing that they had acted rashly. “For you have brought here,” and the rest (verse 37). They wanted to make religion the pretext for what concerned their own money-making. And it was not right to hold a public assembly over private charges.

For he left them at a loss, without a word to say for themselves. “There being no cause,” he says, “for this disorderly gathering, on which matter we will not be able to give an account” (verse 40). See how prudently, how shrewdly the unbelievers act! So he put out their rage. For as it is easily kindled, so it is easily put out. “And when he had said this,” it says, “he dismissed the assembly” (verse 41).

Do you see how God permits trials, and by them stirs up and awakens the disciples, and makes them more energetic? Then let us not sink down under trials, for he himself will “also make the way of escape, so that we may be able to bear them” (First Corinthians 10, verse 13). Nothing makes friends and binds them together so firmly as affliction; nothing so fastens and knits together the souls of believers; nothing is so timely for us teachers, so that what we say may be heard. When the hearer is at ease, he is listless and lazy, and seems to be annoyed by the speaker. But when he is in affliction and distress, he falls into a great longing to hear. When his soul is distressed, he looks everywhere for comfort in his affliction, and the preaching brings no small comfort. [r]

You will say: “What, then, about the Jews? How was it that because of their faintheartedness they did not listen?”

Why, they were Jews, those ever weak and miserable creatures. Besides, the affliction in their case was great, and we are speaking of affliction in moderation. For notice: they expected to be freed from the evils that surrounded them, and they fell into countless greater evils — and that is no ordinary distress to the soul.

Afflictions cut us off from our attachment to the present world. It shows in this: we wish for death at once and stop loving the body. And this very thing is the greatest part of wisdom, to have no longing and no ties to the present life. The afflicted soul does not want to be busy about many things. Rest and stillness are all it desires, content for its part to be done with present things, even if nothing else were to follow. When the body is weary and distressed, it does not want to indulge in love affairs or gluttony, but only to rest and lie down in quiet. In the same way the soul, harassed by countless evils, longs to be at rest and free.

The soul that is at ease is apt to be fluttered, alarmed, unsettled; but in the afflicted soul there is no emptiness, nothing running to waste. The one is more manly, the other more childish. The one has more water … is tossed to and fro; just so is the soul … That our greatest faults arise from too much pleasure, anyone may see.

Come, if you like, let us picture to ourselves two houses, one where people are celebrating a wedding, the other where they are mourning. Let us enter each in imagination and see which of the two is better. Why, the house of the mourner will be found full of seriousness; the house of the one marrying, full of indecency. Look: here are shameful words, unrestrained laughter, still more unrestrained movements, dress and walk alike full of indecency, words packed with mere nonsense and foolery. In short, everything there is ridicule, everything ridiculous. I do not say the marriage is this — far from it! — but the things that go along with the marriage. Then nature is beside itself in an excess of riot. Instead of human beings, those present become animals without reason, some neighing like horses, others kicking like donkeys. Such utter license, such loose unrestraint! Nothing serious, nothing noble: it is the devil’s parade — cymbals and pipes, and songs teeming with sexual immorality and adultery.

But it is not so in the house where there is mourning. Everything there is orderly: such silence, such rest, such composure; nothing disorderly, nothing extravagant. And if anyone does speak, every word he says is full of true philosophy. And the wonderful thing is that at such times not only the men but even servants and women speak like philosophers — for such is the nature of sorrow — and while they seem to be consoling the mourner, they are in fact uttering countless truths full of sound philosophy. To begin with, there are prayers that the affliction may stop there and go no further. Many a one comforts the sufferer, and there are endless stories of the many who have had the same cause for mourning. “For what is man?” they ask, and then comes a serious examination of our nature: “Yes, then, what …” — reminding one another of things to come, of the Judgment.

So from both these scenes each person returns home: from the wedding, grieved, because he himself does not enjoy the same good fortune; from the mourning, light-hearted, because he has not himself suffered the same affliction, and with all the fever inside him quenched.

But what do you want? Shall we take the prisons and the theaters for another contrast? The one is a place of suffering, the other of pleasure. … Where there is sadness, there must be seriousness. The man who was once rich and inflated with his own importance will now let any common person talk with him, because fear and sorrow, like some mightier fire, have fallen on his soul and softened his harshness. Then he becomes humble, then his face is sad, then he feels the changes of life, then he bears up bravely against everything.

But in a theater everything is the reverse: laughter, coarse jokes, the devil’s parade, loose living, time wasted, days spent uselessly, schemes for extravagant lust, adultery made a study, practical training in sexual immorality, schooling in lack of self-control, encouragement to filthiness, matter for laughter, patterns for practicing indecency. Not so the prison. There you will find humility, exhortation, incentive to seriousness, contempt for worldly things; these are all trampled underfoot and spurned, and fear stands over the man there like a schoolmaster over a child, keeping him to all his duties.

But if you like, let us examine it another way. I would like you to meet a man on his way back from a theater, and another coming out of prison. You would see the soul of the one fluttered, disturbed, actually tied and bound; that of the other you would see enlarged, set free, buoyant as if on wings. For the one comes back from the theater shackled by the sight of the women there, carrying about chains harder than any iron: the scenes, the words, the gestures he saw there. But the other, coming back from the prison, released from all bonds, will no longer … his own case with that of those others. The thought that he is not in chains will make him thankful ever after. He will despise human affairs, having seen so many rich men there in calamity, men who once had power to do many great things and now lie there in chains. And if he should suffer anything unjustly, he will bear up against that too, for there were many examples of this there as well. He will be led to think about the Judgment to come, and he will shudder, seeing in the earthly prison here how it will be there. For as it is with one shut up in prison here, so it is in that world too, before the Judgment, before the Day that is to come. Toward his wife, his children and his servants he will be gentler.

Not so the man who comes from the theater. He will look on his wife with more dislike, he will be peevish with his servants, bitter toward his children, and savage toward everyone. Great are the evils theaters cause to cities, great indeed, and we do not even know that they are great.

Shall we examine other scenes of laughter as well — I mean the feasts, with their hangers-on and flatterers and abundance of luxury — and compare them with places where the lame and the blind are? As before, in the first there is drunkenness, luxury and loose living; in the second, the reverse.

See also how it is with the body. When it is full-blooded and in fine condition, it is the quickest to change over into sickness; not so when it has been kept low. Let me make my meaning clearer to you. Suppose there is a body with plenty of blood, plenty of flesh, plump with good living. Such a body is apt to breed a fever from any chance food, if it is simply idle. But suppose there is another, struggling rather with hunger and hardship. This one is not easily overcome, not easily wrestled down by disease. Blood, though it may be healthy in us, often breeds disease by its very quantity; but if it is small in quantity, even though it is not healthy, it can easily be worked off. So too with the soul. The soul that leads an easy, luxurious life has its impulses quickly swayed toward sin, for such a soul is next-door neighbor to folly, to pleasure, and to empty glory too, and envy, and plotting, and slander.

Look at this great city of ours — what a size it is! Where do its evils come from? Is it not from those who are rich? Is it not from those who live in enjoyment? Who are the ones who “drag” people “before the courts” (James 2, verse 6)? Who are the ones who squander property? Those who are wretched and outcasts, or those who are inflated with their own importance and live in enjoyment? It is not possible for any evil to come from a soul that is afflicted.

Paul knew the gain of this. That is why he says, “Trouble produces endurance, and endurance proven character, and proven character hope, and hope does not put us to shame” (Romans 5, verses 3 to 5). So let us not sink in our afflictions, but in all things give thanks, so that we may win great gain and be well pleasing to God, who permits afflictions. Affliction is a great good. We learn this from our own children: without afflictions a boy would learn nothing useful. But we need affliction more than they do. For if there, while the passions are still quiet, discipline benefits them, how much more does it benefit us, gripped as we are by so many! Indeed, we ought to have schoolmasters more than they, since the faults of children cannot be great. Our schoolmaster is affliction. So let us not draw it down on ourselves willingly; but when it has come, let us bear it bravely, since it is always the cause of countless good things. So may we obtain grace from God, and the good things laid up for those who love him, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power and honor, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.