Homily 45 — Acts 20, verse 32, to 21, verse 17

John Chrysostom: Homilies on the New Testament

Homilies on the Acts of the Apostles

Homily 45 — Acts 20, verse 32, to 21, verse 17

Acts 20, verse 32, to 21, verse 17

“And now, brothers, I commend you to God and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up and to give you an inheritance among all those who are sanctified.”

What he does when he writes a letter, he does also when he speaks in council: after exhorting, he ends with prayer. He had greatly alarmed them by saying, “Savage wolves will come in among you” (verse 29). So, in order not to overwhelm them and make them lose all their composure, notice the comfort he gives. “And now,” he says, as always, “I commend you, brothers, to God and to the word of his grace” — that is, to his grace. It is grace that saves. He constantly reminds them of grace, to make them more earnest, as people in its debt, and to persuade them to be confident. “Which is able to build you up.” He does not say “to build,” but “to build up,” showing that they had already been built. Then he reminds them of the hope to come: “to give you an inheritance,” he says, “among all those who are sanctified.” Then exhortation again: “I have coveted no one’s silver or gold or clothing” (verse 33). He takes away the very root of evils, the love of money.

“Silver or gold,” he says. He does not say, “I have not taken,” but, “I have not even coveted.” That is no great thing; it is what follows that is great. “Yes, you yourselves know that these hands have provided for my needs and for those who were with me. I have shown you in every way that by working hard like this you ought to support the weak” (verses 34 and 35). See him at work — and not simply working, but toiling hard. “These hands have provided for my needs and for those who were with me” — so as to put them to shame. And see how worthily of them he speaks. He does not say, “You ought to show yourselves above money,” but what? “To support the weak” — not everyone without distinction — “and to hear the word of the Lord, which he spoke: It is more blessed to give than to receive.” For so that no one would think it was said with them in view, and that he was holding himself up as an example — as he says elsewhere, “giving ourselves as an example to you” (Philippians 3, verse 17) — he added the saying of Christ, who said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

He prayed over them while he exhorted them. He shows it both by action — “And when he had said this, he knelt down and prayed with them all” (verse 36); he did not simply pray, but with great feeling, and great was the comfort it gave — and by his words, “I commend you to the Lord.” “And they all wept bitterly, and fell on Paul’s neck and kissed him, sorrowing most of all for the words he had spoken, that they would see his face no more” (verses 37 and 38). He had said that “savage wolves would come in”; he had said, “I am innocent of the blood of all men”; and yet what grieved them most of all was this, “that they would see him no more,” since it was precisely this that made the war so hard to bear.

“And they accompanied him,” it says, “to the ship. And when we had torn ourselves away from them” — so much did they love him, such was their affection for him — “and had set sail, we ran a straight course to Cos, and the next day to Rhodes, and from there to Patara. And finding a ship crossing over to Phoenicia, we went aboard and set sail. When we had sighted Cyprus, we left it on the left hand, and sailed to Syria, and landed at Tyre” (Acts 21, verses 1 to 3). He came to Lycia, and, leaving Cyprus behind, sailed down to Tyre, “for there the ship was to unload her cargo. And finding disciples, we stayed there seven days. They told Paul through the Spirit that he should not go up to Jerusalem” (verse 4).

They too prophesy of the sufferings ahead. It was so arranged that these things would be spoken by them as well, so that no one would imagine Paul had said them without cause, simply to boast. And there again they part from each other with prayer. “And when we had completed those days, we left and went on our way; and they all escorted us, with their wives and children, until we were out of the city. And we knelt down on the shore and prayed. And when we had said goodbye to one another, we boarded the ship, and they returned home. And when we had finished our voyage from Tyre, we came to Ptolemais, and greeted the brothers, and stayed with them one day. And the next day we who were with Paul left and came to Caesarea, and we entered the house of Philip the evangelist, who was one of the seven, and stayed with him” (verses 5 to 8). Having come to Caesarea, it says, we stayed with Philip, who was one of the seven. “And this man had four daughters, virgins, who prophesied” (verse 9).

But it is not they who foretell Paul’s future, though they were prophetesses; it is Agabus. “And as we stayed there many days, a certain prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. And when he had come to us, he took Paul’s belt, and bound his own hands and feet, and said, This is what the Holy Spirit says: So will the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man who owns this belt, and will hand him over into the hands of the Gentiles” (verses 10 and 11). The same man who had earlier foretold the famine (Acts 11, verse 28) now says, “The man who owns this belt, so will they bind him.” He did what the prophets used to do when they spoke of the captivity, acting events out before people’s eyes, as Ezekiel did. “And” — this is the grievous part of it — “will hand him over into the hands of the Gentiles. And when we heard these things, both we and the people of that place begged him not to go up to Jerusalem” (verse 12).

Many even begged him not to leave, and still he would not give in.

“Then Paul answered, What do you mean by weeping and breaking my heart?” (verse 13).

Do you notice? These things are foretold so that, having heard him say, “I go bound in the Spirit” (Acts 20, verse 22), you would not imagine that it was a matter of compulsion, or that he walked into it without knowing. But they wept, and he comforted them, grieved by their tears. For “what do you mean,” he says, “by weeping and breaking my heart?” Nothing could be more affectionate. Because he saw them weeping, he grieved — he who felt no pain at his own trials. “For I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus. And when he would not be persuaded, we stopped, saying, The will of the Lord be done” (verses 13 and 14).

You wrong me by doing this. Is it for myself that I grieve? They stopped when he said, “breaking my heart.” I weep for you, he says, not on account of my own sufferings; as for those men, I am willing even to die for them. But let us look over again what has been said.

A Second Look at the Passage

“Silver or gold or clothing,” and the rest (Acts 20, verses 33 and 34; First Corinthians chapter 9; Second Corinthians chapter 11). So it was not only in Corinth that they did this, those who were corrupting the disciples, but in Asia as well. Yet nowhere, when he writes to the Ephesians, does he throw this up at them as a reproach. And why? Because he did not come upon any subject that obliged him to speak of it. But to the Corinthians he says, “My boasting has not been stopped in the regions of Achaia” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 10). And he does not say, “You did not give to me,” but, “I coveted no one’s silver or gold or clothing,” so that it would not seem to be their fault that they had not given. Nor does he say, “I coveted the necessities of life from no one,” so that again it would not look like an accusation against them. But he hints as much quietly, since he provided a living for others as well as for himself.

See how earnestly he worked, “night and day,” speaking to others, “warning each one of them with tears” (verse 31). Here again he makes them afraid. “I have shown you everything,” he says: you cannot take refuge in the excuse of ignorance. “I have shown you” by deeds “that by working hard like this you ought to work.” And he does not say that receiving is bad, but that not receiving is better. For “remember,” he says, “the words of the Lord, which he spoke: It is more blessed to give than to receive” (verse 35). And where did he say this? Perhaps the apostles handed it down by unwritten tradition; or else it is plain from sayings that were written down, from which one could infer it.

For in fact he has shown here courage in facing dangers, sympathy for those in his charge, teaching with unshrinking boldness, humility, and a poverty freely chosen. But what we have here is even more than that poverty. For if he says there, in the Gospel, “If you want to be perfect, sell what you have and give to the poor” (Matthew 19, verse 21),

then when a man, besides receiving nothing himself, also provides a living for others, what could equal this? The first step is to throw away one’s possessions; the second, to be able to supply one’s own needs; the third, to provide for others as well; and the fourth, to do all this as one who preaches and has a right to receive. So here is a man far better than those who merely give up their possessions. “In this way you ought to support the weak”: this is indeed sympathy for the weak, for to give out of other people’s labors is easy.

“And they fell on his neck,” it says, “and wept” (verse 37). He shows their affection also by saying “on his neck,” as though they were embracing him one last time, and then one last time more. Such was the love they had come to feel from his teaching; such was the spell of love that bound them. If we groan when we simply part from one another, though we know we will have each other back again, what a tearing away it must have been for them! I think Paul wept too. “Having torn ourselves away,” he says: he shows how violent it was by saying “having torn ourselves away from them.” And with reason; otherwise they could never have put to sea.

What does “We ran a straight course to Cos” mean? It is the same as saying, “We did not go around, or stop at other places.” Then “to Rhodes” (Acts 21, verse 1). See how he hurries on. “And finding a ship crossing over to Phoenicia” (verse 2). Perhaps the ship they had come in was staying there for a while. So they changed to another, and, not having found one going to Caesarea, but finding this one bound for Phoenicia, they boarded it and went on, leaving behind Cyprus, and Syria too. But the words “we left it on the left hand” are not said merely in that sense; they mean that they hurried on so as not to put in at Syria either. “We landed at Tyre” (verse 3). Then they stay seven days with the brothers. Now that they had come near Jerusalem, they no longer rush.

“Who told Paul through the Spirit that he should not go up to Jerusalem” (verse 4). Notice how, when the Spirit does not forbid it, he gives way. They said, “Do not venture into the theater,” and he did not venture (Acts 19, verse 31). Often they carried him off out of dangers, and he gave way; another time he escaped through a window. But now, though countless people, so to speak, beg him — both those at Tyre and those at Caesarea — weeping as well, and foretelling countless dangers, he refuses to give way.

And yet they did not merely predict the dangers; they spoke “through the Spirit.” If, then, the Spirit gave the command, why did he go against it? “Through the Spirit” means that, knowing through the Spirit what would happen, they spoke to him. It certainly does not mean that the advice they gave came from the Spirit. They did not simply foretell the dangers to him through the Spirit; they added of their own accord that he ought not to go up, because they wanted to spare him. “But when we had completed the days” — that is, had fulfilled the appointed days — “we left and went on our way, and they all escorted us, with their wives and children” (verse 5). See how earnestly they pleaded! And again they part with prayer. At Ptolemais they stay one day, but at Caesarea many days (verses 6 to 8). Now that they are near Jerusalem, they no longer hurry. For look, please, at all the days.

“After the days of Unleavened Bread” they came “to Troas in five days” (Acts 20, verse 6). Then they spent “seven” there: twelve in all. Then to Assos, to Mitylene, to Trogyllium and “opposite Chios,” and to Samos and Miletus (Acts 20, verses 13 to 17): eighteen in all. Then to Cos, to Rhodes, to Patara: twenty-one. Then say five to Tyre: twenty-six. There, “seven”: thirty-three. Ptolemais: thirty-four. Then to Caesarea, “many days” (Acts 21, verses 1 to 10). And then, after that, the prophet sends them up from there. When Paul has heard that he must suffer countless dangers, then he is in a hurry — not flinging himself into danger, but counting it to be the Spirit’s command.

And Agabus does not say, “They will bind Paul,” so that he would not seem to be speaking by arrangement with Paul, but “the man who owns this belt” (verse 11). So he wore a belt too. But when they could not persuade him — this was why they wept — then they “fell silent.” Do you see how they accepted it? Do you see their love?

“They fell silent,” it says, “saying, The will of the Lord be done” (verses 12 to 14). The Lord himself, they say, will do what is pleasing in his sight. For they saw that it was the will of God; otherwise Paul would not have been so set on going — he who on every other occasion gets himself out of dangers. “And after these days,” it says, “having packed our baggage” — that is, having received the supplies needed for the journey — “we went up to Jerusalem” (verse 15). “And some of the disciples from Caesarea also went with us, bringing us to one with whom we were to lodge, Mnason of Cyprus, a disciple of long standing” (verse 16). “And when we had come to Jerusalem, the brothers received us gladly” (verse 17).

“Bringing us,” it says, “to the one with whom we were to lodge” — not to the church. On the former occasion, when they went up about the decrees (Acts 15, verse 4), they lodged with the church; but now they lodge with a certain “disciple of long standing.” The expression shows that the preaching had been going on a long time. From this it seems to me that the writer of the Acts is summarizing the events of many years, relating only the most important matters. So unwilling were they to burden the church when there was someone else to lodge them, and so little did they stand on their dignity. “The brothers,” it says, “received us gladly.” Things among the Jews were now full of peace; there was not much fighting among them.

Christ Comes as Your Guest

“Bringing us,” it says, “to the one with whom we were to lodge.” Paul was the guest this man took in. Perhaps one of you says: “Ah, if only I were given the chance to have Paul as my guest, I would do it readily and with great eagerness!” Look, it is in your power to have Paul’s Master as your guest, and you will not. For “whoever receives one of these least,” he says, “receives me” (Matthew 18, verse 5; Luke 9, verse 48). The less the brother counts for, the more surely it is Christ who comes to you through him. For the one who receives the great often does it out of empty glory as well; but the one who receives the lowly does it purely for Christ’s sake. It is in your power to have even the Father of Christ as your guest, and you will not. For “I was a stranger,” he says, “and you took me in” (Matthew 25, verse 35).

And again: “What you have done to one of the least of these brothers who believe in me, you have done to me” (Matthew 25, verse 40). Even if it is not Paul, if it is a believer and a brother, even the least, Christ comes to you through him. Open your house; take him in. “Whoever receives a prophet,” he says, “will receive a prophet’s reward” (Matthew 10, verse 41).

So too whoever receives Christ will receive the reward of one who has Christ as his guest. Do not disbelieve his words, but be a believer. He himself has said, “Through them I come to you.” And so that you will not disbelieve, he lays down both punishments for those who do not receive him and honors for those who do. He would not have done this unless both the one honored and the one insulted were himself. “You received me into your lodging; I will receive you into the kingdom of my Father. You took away my hunger; I take away your sins. You saw me bound; I see you set free. You saw me a stranger; I make you a citizen of heaven. You gave me bread; I give you a whole kingdom, for you to inherit and possess.” He does not say “receive,” but “inherit” — the word used of those who hold something by right of ownership, as when we say, “I inherited this.” “You did it for me in secret; I will proclaim it openly. And of your deeds I say that they were a free gift, but mine are a debt.”

“For since you began,” he says, “I follow and come after. I am not ashamed to acknowledge the kindnesses done to me, nor the things you freed me from: hunger and nakedness and wandering. You saw me bound; you will not see the fire of hell. You saw me sick; you will not see the torments or the punishments.” O hands truly blessed, which serve in services like these, which are counted worthy to serve Christ! Feet that go into prisons for Christ’s sake easily defy the fire. Hands that saw him bound will never know what it is to be bound. You clothed him with a garment, and you put on a garment of salvation. You were in prison with him, and with him you find yourself in the kingdom, not ashamed, knowing that you visited him.

The patriarch did not know that he was entertaining angels, and still he entertained them (Genesis 18, verse 3). Let us be ashamed of ourselves, I beg you. He was sitting there at midday, in a foreign land where he had no inheritance, “not even enough to set his foot on” (Acts 7, verse 5). He was a stranger, and the stranger entertained strangers, for he was a citizen of heaven.

So even while he was on earth, he was no stranger to God. We are more truly strangers than that stranger, if we do not take in strangers. He had no home; his tent was his guest room. And see his generosity: he killed a calf and kneaded fine flour. See his willingness: he did it himself, he and his wife. See his modesty: he bows down before them and begs them. All these qualities should be found in the one who entertains strangers: readiness, cheerfulness, generosity. For a stranger’s soul is timid and feels ashamed, and unless his host shows great joy, he feels slighted and goes away; and to be received like that is worse than not being received at all. That is why Abraham bows down before them, why he welcomes them with words, why he gives them a seat. For who would have hesitated, knowing that this service was done to the Lord himself?

“But we are not in a foreign land.” If we are willing, we will be able to imitate him. How many of the brothers are strangers! There is a common lodging, the church’s, which we call the Xenon. Busy yourselves over them; sit by the doors; receive those who come yourselves. Even if you do not want to take them into your own houses, at least receive them in some other way, by supplying them with what they need. “Why, doesn’t the church have funds?” It does. But what is that to you? That they are fed from the church’s common funds — can that benefit you? If another man prays, does it follow that you are not bound to pray? Why don’t you say, “Don’t the priests pray? Then why should I pray?” “But I give to the one who cannot be taken in there.” Give, even if it is to him; what we care about is that you give, one way or another. Hear what Paul says: “So that it may relieve those who are truly widows, and that the church may not be burdened” (First Timothy 5, verse 16). Do it however you like, only do it. But I put it this way — not “that the church may not be burdened,” but “that you may not be burdened” — for at this rate you will do nothing, leaving everything to the church. That is why the church has set apart a common room: so that you cannot say these things.

“The church has lands, it has money and revenues.” And doesn’t she have expenses? I ask. Doesn’t she have daily outlays? “No doubt.” Then why don’t you lend a hand to her modest means? I am ashamed, really, to say these things. But I force no one, in case anyone imagines that I am saying this for gain. Make a guest room for yourself in your own house. Set up a bed there, set up a table there, and a lampstand (compare Second Kings 4, verse 10). Is it not absurd that if soldiers come, you have rooms set apart for them, and take great care of them, and furnish them with everything, because they keep off from you the visible war of this world, and yet strangers have no place to stay? Win a victory over the church. Do you want to put us to shame? Then do this: outdo us in generosity.

Have a room to which Christ may come. Say, “This is Christ’s room; this building is set apart for him.” Even if it is only an underground room, and a poor one, he does not disdain it. Christ goes about “naked and a stranger”; it is only shelter he wants. Give him that, if nothing more. Do not be without compassion, or inhuman. Do not be so earnest about worldly matters and so cold about spiritual ones. Let the most trustworthy of your servants be the one entrusted with this office, and let him bring in the crippled, the beggars, and the homeless.

I say these things to shame you. You really ought to receive them in the upper part of your house. But if you will not do this, then even if it is below, even if it is only where your mules and your servants are housed, receive Christ there. Perhaps you shudder to hear this. What then, when you do not do even this? Look, I urge you; look, I tell you: let this be something taken up in earnest. But perhaps you do not want it this way? Then do it some other way. There are many poor men and poor women. Set apart one of them to stay there all the time. Let the poor man live with you, even if only as a guard for your house; let him be your wall and fence, your shield and spear. Where there is almsgiving, the devil does not dare approach, nor any other evil thing. Let us not overlook so great a gain. But as things are, one place is set apart for a carriage and another for litters, but for Christ, who goes about as a wanderer, not even one!

Abraham took in the strangers in the very place where he himself lived. His wife stood in the place of a servant, and the guests in the place of masters. He did not know that he was receiving Christ; he did not know that he was receiving angels. So if he had known it, he would have poured out his whole fortune. But we, who know that we receive Christ, do not show even as much zeal as he did, who thought he was receiving men. “But many of them are impostors, and ungrateful.” Then all the greater is your reward, when you receive them for the sake of Christ’s name. If you really know that they are impostors, do not receive them into your house; but if you do not know this, why do you accuse them so lightly? “That is why I tell them to go to the guest house.” But what excuse do we have when we do not receive even those we know, but shut our doors against everyone?

Let our house be Christ’s common shelter. Let us ask of them as our reward, not money, but that they make our house a shelter for Christ. Let us run around everywhere, let us drag them in, let us seize our prize: the benefits we receive are greater than the ones we give. He does not tell you to kill a calf. Give bread to the hungry, clothing to the naked, shelter to the stranger. But so that you do not make this your excuse, there is a common lodging, the church’s: throw your money into that, and you have received them. For Abraham, there, had the reward of the things his servants did as well. “He gave the calf to a young man, and he hurried to prepare it” (Genesis 18, verse 7). So well trained were his servants too! They ran, and did not grumble as ours do, for he had made them devout. He led them out to war, and they did not grumble, so well disciplined were they (Genesis 14, verse 14). For he cared for all of them as he did for himself; he all but said what Job said, “We were formed alike in the same womb” (Job 33, verse 6).

So let us too take thought for their salvation. Let us make it our business to care for our servants, so that they may be good, and let our servants also be taught the things of God. Then virtue will not be hard for us, if we train them properly. It is just as in war: when the soldiers are well disciplined, the general wages war easily, but the opposite happens when they are not. And when the sailors too are of one mind, the helmsman easily handles the steering ropes. So it is here as well. Tell me: if your servants have been trained like this, you will not be easily provoked, you will not have to find fault, you will not be made angry, you will not need to scold them. You may even come to stand in awe of your servants, if they are worthy of admiration, and they will be your helpers and give you good advice. From all these will come everything that is pleasing to God. So the whole house will be filled with blessing, and we, doing what is pleasing to God, will enjoy abundant help from above. May we all attain it, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit together, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.