Homily 48 — Acts 22, verse 17, to 23, verse 5

“And it happened that, when I had come back to Jerusalem, while I was praying in the temple, I fell into a trance and saw him saying to me, ‘Hurry, and get out of Jerusalem quickly, for they will not accept your testimony about me.’ And I said, ‘Lord, they know that in every synagogue I imprisoned and beat those who believed in you. And when the blood of your martyr Stephen was shed, I too was standing by and approving of his death, and I kept the clothes of those who killed him.’” [a]

See how he throws himself into danger. “I came,” he says — after that vision — “to Jerusalem. I fell into a trance,” and so on. Again, this has no witness; but notice that the outcome serves as its witness. He said, “They will not accept your testimony,” and they did not accept it. And yet, if one had reckoned by reason, the guess would have been that they would certainly accept him. For, he means, I was the man who made war on the Christians; so they ought to have accepted him.

Here he establishes two things: that they have no excuse, since they persecuted him against all likelihood and all reasonable reckoning; and that Christ was God, since he foretold things contrary to expectation, not looking to what was past but knowing beforehand what was to come. How, then, does he say, “He will carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel” (Acts 9, verse 15)? He does not say “persuade,” certainly. Besides, on other occasions we find the Jews were persuaded, but here they were not. Where they ought most of all to have been persuaded, since they knew how zealous he had once been for their cause, here they were not persuaded.

“And when the blood of your martyr Stephen,” and so on. See where his speech ends up once more: in the strong main point. It was he who persecuted — and not only persecuted but killed; indeed, had he had ten thousand hands, he would have used them all to kill Stephen. He reminded them of the murderous spirit so wickedly indulged, by him and by them alike. Then, of course, they would bear him least of all, since this convicted them. And truly the prophecy was being fulfilled: great was the zeal, forceful the accusation, and the Jews themselves were witnesses to the truth of Christ!

“And he said to me, ‘Go, for I will send you far away to the Gentiles.’ And they listened to him up to this word, and then they raised their voices and said, ‘Away with such a fellow from the earth, for he is not fit to live!’” (Acts 22, verses 21 and 22). The Jews would not bear to hear his public speech through to the end. Fired up beyond measure by their anger, they shouted, it says, “Away with him, for he is not fit to live! And as they were shouting, and throwing off their cloaks, and flinging dust into the air, the tribune ordered him to be brought into the barracks, and said that he should be examined by flogging, to find out why they were shouting against him like this” (verses 23 and 24). [c]

The tribune ought to have examined whether these things were so — yes, and so ought the Jews themselves — and only then, if they were so, to have ordered him flogged. Instead he “ordered him to be examined by flogging, to find out why they were shouting against him like this.” And yet he ought to have learned it from the men who were shouting, and asked them whether they could lay hold of anything in what had been said. Instead, without more ado, he indulges his own arbitrary will and pleasure and acts to please them. For he did not look to how he might do what was right, but only to how he might stop their rage, unjust as it was.

“And as they were tying him up with the straps, Paul said to the centurion who stood by, ‘Is it lawful for you to flog a man who is a Roman, and uncondemned?’” (verse 25). Paul did not lie — far from it! — for he was a Roman. If there were nothing else, he would have been afraid to pretend this, for fear of being found out and suffering a worse punishment. And notice that he does not say it flatly, but asks, “Is it lawful for you?” The charges he brings are two: that it is being done without a hearing, and that he is a Roman. They held this to be a great privilege at that time. For they say that it was only from the time of Hadrian that everyone was called Roman; in the old days it was not so.

Had he been flogged, he would have been treated with contempt; but as it is, he puts them in greater fear than they had put him in. Had they flogged him, they would also have dismissed the whole matter, or even have killed him; but as it is, things did not turn out that way. See how God allows many good results to be brought about in quite a human way, both in the case of the apostles and in the case of everyone else.

Notice how they suspected the thing was a pretext, and that Paul was lying in calling himself a Roman — perhaps guessing this from his poverty. “When the centurion heard that, he went and told the tribune, saying, ‘Be careful what you are doing, for this man is a Roman.’ Then the tribune came and said to him, ‘Tell me, are you a Roman?’ He said, ‘Yes.’ And the tribune answered, ‘I obtained this citizenship for a large sum.’ And Paul said, ‘But I was born a citizen.’ Then those who were about to examine him immediately left him, and the tribune too was afraid, once he knew that he was a Roman, and because he had tied him up” (verses 26 to 29). “But I,” he says, “was born a citizen.” So his father was a Roman too. What comes of this, then? He tied him up, and brought him down to the Jews.

“The next day, because he wanted to know for certain why he was accused by the Jews, he released him from his chains, and ordered the chief priests and all their council to appear, and brought Paul down and set him before them” (verse 30). He is no longer speaking to the crowd or to the people. “And Paul, looking intently at the council, said, ‘Brothers, I have lived in all good conscience before God up to this day’” (Acts 23, verse 1). What he means is this: I am not aware of having wronged you in any way, or of having done anything that deserves these chains.

What did the high priest say, then? How very just, how like a ruler, how mild! “And the high priest Ananias ordered those who stood by him to strike him on the mouth. Then Paul said to him, ‘God will strike you, you whitewashed wall! Do you sit there to judge me according to the law, and order me to be struck contrary to the law?’ And those who stood by said, ‘Do you insult God’s high priest?’ Then Paul said, ‘I did not know, brothers, that he was the high priest; for it is written, “You shall not speak evil of the ruler of your people”’” (verses 3 to 5). “I did not know that he was the high priest.”

Some say: “Why, then, does he defend himself as though it were a matter for accusation, and add, ‘You shall not speak evil of the ruler of your people’? Even if the man was not the ruler, was it right, for no better reason than that, to abuse him or anyone else? Paul himself says, ‘When we are insulted, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it’ (First Corinthians 4, verse 12). But here he does the opposite: he not only insults, he curses.”

These are the words of boldness rather than of anger. He did not want to look contemptible in the tribune’s eyes. For suppose the tribune himself had held back from flogging him: still, since Paul was about to be handed over to the Jews, being beaten by their servants would have made the tribune bolder still. That is why Paul does not attack the servant but the man who gave the order. As for the words, “You whitewashed wall, do you sit there to judge me according to the law?” they stand for “You who are guilty yourself” — as if he had said, “and deserving countless lashes yourself.” See, then, how greatly they were struck by his boldness: where the aim was to overthrow the whole matter, they instead speak well of him (verse 9 below).

“For it is written,” and so on. He wants to show that he speaks this way not from fear, nor because Ananias did not deserve to be called this, but out of obedience to the law in this point too. And indeed I am fully convinced that he did not know it was the high priest. He had come back after a long absence and was not in the habit of constant dealings with the Jews, and he saw the man in the middle, among many others; for the high priest was no longer easy to pick out at a glance, since there were many of them, and various ones. So, it seems to me, in this too he spoke with a view to his defense against them, to show that he does obey the law; and in this way he clears himself.

But let us go back over what has been said. “And when I had come back to Jerusalem,” and so on (verse 17). How was it that, though he was a Jew, brought up and taught there, he did not stay there? And indeed he did not stay there — unless he meant to hand them countless occasions against himself — but everywhere, just like an exile, he went fleeing from place to place. “While I was praying in the temple,” he says, “I fell into a trance.” This was to show that it was not simply a phantom of the imagination; that is why it was “while he was praying” that the Lord stood by him. And he shows that it was not out of fear of the dangers there that he fled, but because they would “not accept” his “testimony” (verse 18). [i]

But why did he say, “They know that I imprisoned” (verse 19)? Not to contradict Christ, but because he wanted to learn the reason for something so contrary to all reasonable expectation. Christ, however, did not teach him this, but only told him to go; and he obeys — so obedient is he. “And they raised their voices,” it says, “and said, ‘Away with him; this fellow is not fit to live!’” (verse 22). No, you are the ones not fit to live — not he, who obeys God in everything. O you villains and murderers! “And shaking out their clothes,” it says, “they threw dust into the air” (verse 23), to make the uproar fiercer, because they wanted to frighten the governor. And notice: they do not say what the charge was, since in fact they had nothing to allege; they only think to strike terror by their shouting.

“The tribune ordered,” and so on. And yet he ought to have learned from the accusers “why they were shouting against him like this. And as they were tying him up,” and so on. “And the tribune was afraid, once he learned that he was a Roman.” So it was no falsehood, then. “The next day, because he wanted to know for certain why he was accused by the Jews,” and so on, “he brought him down before the council” (verses 24 to 30). This he should have done at the start. He brought him in unbound. This, above all, the Jews would not know what to make of.

“And Paul,” it says, “looking intently at them.” This shows his boldness, and how it awed them. “Then the high priest Ananias,” and so on (Acts 23, verses 1 and 2). Why, what has he said that was insolent? What is he being struck for? What recklessness, what shamelessness! So Paul put him in his place: “God will strike you, you whitewashed wall” (verse 3). And so Ananias himself is brought up short and dares not say a word; only those around him could not bear Paul’s boldness. They saw a man ready to die. For if that was how things stood, Paul had only to keep quiet, and the tribune would have taken him and gone his way; he would have sacrificed him to them.

He shows both that he suffers willingly what he suffers, and in this way he clears himself before them — not that he wanted to clear himself to them, since as for them, he even condemns them strongly, but for the sake of the people. “Breaking the law, do you order me to be struck?” Well may he say so: for to put to death a man who had done them no wrong, and an innocent man at that, was breaking the law. Nor was what he said abuse — unless someone would call Christ’s words abusive when he says, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, for you are like whitewashed walls” (Matthew 23, verse 27). You will say: “True; but if he had said it before he was beaten, it would have shown not anger but boldness.” But I have already given the reason for this. And by that reckoning we would often find Christ himself “speaking abusively” to the Jews when they abused him, as when he says, “Do not think that I will accuse you” (John 5, verse 45). But this is not abuse — far from it!

See how gently he addresses these men: “I did not know,” he says, “that he was God’s high priest” (verses 4 and 5). And to show that he was not speaking in irony, he adds, “You shall not speak evil of the ruler of your people.” He even acknowledges that the man is still ruler.

Let us also learn this gentleness, so that we may be complete in both the one and the other. For we must look closely into them, to learn what the one is and what the other is. Closely, because these virtues have their matching vices right beside them: mere brashness passes itself off as boldness, and mere cowardice as gentleness. We need to examine them carefully, so that no one who has the vice may seem to have the virtue. That would be just as if a man imagined he was living with the mistress of the house, and did not know it was the maidservant.

What, then, is gentleness, and what is mere cowardice? When others are wronged and we do not take their part but keep silent, that is cowardice; when we are the ones ill-treated and we bear it, that is gentleness. What is boldness? Again the same, when it is others we are contending for. What is brashness? When it is in our own cause that we are ready to fight. So greatness of soul and boldness go together, as do mere brashness and mere cowardice. For the man who does not resent wrongs on his own account will hardly fail to resent them on behalf of others; and the man who does not stand up for his own cause will hardly fail to stand up for others.

For when our settled disposition is clean of passion, it has room for virtue as well. Just as a body free of fever takes on strength, so the soul, unless it is corrupted by the passions, takes on strength. This gentleness is a sign of great strength; it needs a noble and gallant soul, one of exceptional loftiness, this gentleness. Or do you think it a small thing to suffer wrong and not be provoked? Indeed, one would not be wrong to call the disposition to stand up for our neighbors the spirit of manly courage. For the man who has had the strength to overcome so strong a passion as selfishness will have the strength to dare to confront someone else.

For example, here are two passions, cowardice and anger. If you have overcome anger, it is quite plain that you overcome cowardice too. But you master anger by being gentle; so do the same with cowardice, and you will be manly. Again, if you have not got the better of anger, you have become brash and quarrelsome; and not having got the better of this, neither can you get the better of fear, so you will be a coward too. It is the same as with the body: if it is weak, it is quickly overcome by both cold and heat. That is what a poor constitution is like, but a good constitution can stand every change.

Again, greatness of soul is a virtue, and right beside it stands extravagance. Thrift — being a good manager — is a virtue; right beside it stand stinginess and meanness. Come, let us again set the virtues beside their vices and compare them. Well, then, the spendthrift is not to be called great-souled. How could he be? The man who is overcome by countless passions — how could he be great of soul? For this is not despising money; it is only being ordered about by other passions. Just as a man at the beck and call of robbers, obeying their orders, could not be free, so it is here. His lavish spending does not come from contempt for money, but simply from not knowing how to use it properly. Otherwise, if it were possible both to keep it and to spend it on his pleasure, that is what he would like. But the man who spends his money on fitting objects — he is the man of lofty soul. For that soul is truly lofty which is not a slave to passion and counts money as nothing.

Again, thrift is a good thing: for the best manager will be the one who spends properly, and not at random and without management. But stinginess is not the same as this. For the one does not touch the capital of his money even when urgent need demands it, while the other will be brother to the first. Well, then, we will pair the man of great soul with the prudent manager, and likewise the spendthrift with the mean man; for both of these are affected this way from smallness of soul, as the others are from the opposite. So let us not call a man great-souled who simply spends, but the one who spends rightly; and let us not call the thrifty manager mean and stingy, but only the man who is sparing of his money when he should not be.

What a quantity of wealth that rich man spent “who was clothed in purple and fine linen” (Luke 16, verse 19)! But he was not great-souled, for his soul was possessed by a merciless disposition and by countless cravings. How, then, could it be great? Abraham had a great soul, spending as he did to receive his guests and killing the calf, and, where there was need, not sparing his property, nor even his life.

If, then, we see a man with a lavish table, with his prostitutes and his hangers-on, let us not call him a man of great mind, but a man of an exceedingly small mind. For see how many passions he is enslaved and subject to: gluttony, unbridled pleasure, flattery. But the man who is possessed by so many, and cannot escape even one of them — how can anyone call him great-souled? No, let us call him small-minded most of all when he spends the most. For the more he spends, the more he shows the tyranny of those passions; had they not gained an excessive mastery over him, he would not have spent to excess.

Again, if we see a man giving nothing to people like these, but feeding the poor and helping those in need, while keeping a plain table himself — let us call him an exceedingly great-souled man. For it truly is the mark of a great soul to despise one’s own comfort and to care for that of others. For tell me: if you saw a man despising all tyrants and holding their commands of no account, but rescuing from their tyranny those who are oppressed and ill-treated, would you not think him a great man? Let us think the same of the man in this case. The passions are the tyrant. If we despise them, we will be great; but if we rescue others from them as well, we will be far greater, since we are then sufficient not only for ourselves but for others too.

But if someone at a tyrant’s bidding beats some other of his subjects, is this greatness of soul? No indeed; it is the extreme of slavery, and all the more so the greater the man is. And now, too, there is set before us a soul that is noble and free; but the spendthrift has ordered it to be beaten by his passions. The man, then, who beats himself — shall we call him great-souled? By no means.

Well, then, let us see what greatness of soul is, and what extravagance; what thrift is, and what meanness; what gentleness is, and what dullness and cowardice; what boldness is, and what brashness; so that, having told these things apart, we may be able to pass this life in a way that pleases the Lord, and attain the good things promised, by the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen.