Homily 51 — Acts 24, verse 22, to 25, verse 22

“When Felix heard these things, having a more exact knowledge of the Way, he put them off and said, ‘When Lysias the tribune comes down, I will look fully into your case.’ And he commanded a centurion to keep Paul in custody, and to let him have some freedom, and not to forbid any of his friends to serve him or to visit him.” [a]

See how much close examination is made, by many people and over a long stretch of time, so that no one could say the trial was rushed through. The orator had mentioned Lysias, that he took Paul away “with violence”; and so “Felix,” it says, “put them off, having knowledge of the Way.” That is, he put them off on purpose: not because he wanted to learn anything, but because he wanted to be rid of the Jews. On their account he did not like to let Paul go; and to punish him was impossible, for that would have been too shameless. “And to let him have some freedom, and not to forbid any of his friends to serve him.” So completely did Felix too acquit him of the charges. Even so, to please them, he kept him in custody; and besides, hoping to get money, he sent for Paul.

“After some days, when Felix came with his wife Drusilla, who was a Jew, he sent for Paul and heard him concerning faith in Christ. And as he reasoned about righteousness, self-control, and the judgment to come, Felix trembled and answered, ‘Go away for now; when I have a convenient time, I will call for you.’ He also hoped that money would be given him by Paul, so that he might release him; that is why he sent for him all the more often and talked with him. But after two years Porcius Festus succeeded Felix; and Felix, wishing to do the Jews a favor, left Paul in chains” (verses 24 to 27).

See how true to the facts the things written here are. He sent for him often — not because he admired him, nor because he approved of what was said, nor because he wanted to believe. Why, then? “Hoping,” it says, “that money would be given him.” Notice how the writer does not hide the judge’s motive here. “That is why he sent for him,” and so on. And yet if he had condemned him, he would not have done this, nor would he have wanted to listen to a man condemned and of bad character.

And look at Paul. Though he is reasoning with a ruler, he says nothing of the kind that was likely to amuse and entertain him. No, “he reasoned,” it says, “about righteousness and the judgment to come,” and about the resurrection. And such was the force of his words that they even terrified the governor.

This man is succeeded in office by another, and he leaves Paul a prisoner. He ought not to have done this; he ought to have brought the business to an end. But he leaves him, to please them. They, however, were so insistent that they pleaded with the judge once more. Yet against none of the apostles had they set themselves so stubbornly; in those cases, once they had attacked, they soon gave up. So it was by God’s providence that Paul was taken away from Jerusalem, since he had to deal with such wild beasts. And still they ask that he be brought back there to be tried.

“Now when Festus had come into the province, after three days he went up from Caesarea to Jerusalem. Then the high priest and the leading men of the Jews informed him against Paul, and they urged him, asking a favor against Paul, that he would send for him to come to Jerusalem — while they were laying an ambush along the road to kill him” (Acts 25, verses 1 to 3). Here God’s providence stepped in and did not let the governor do this. It was natural that, having just come into office, he would want to please them; but God did not allow him.

“But Festus answered that Paul should be kept at Caesarea, and that he himself would be going there shortly. ‘So,’ he said, ‘let those among you who are able go down with me and accuse this man, if there is any wrong in him.’ And when he had stayed among them more than ten days, he went down to Caesarea; and the next day he sat on the judgment seat and commanded Paul to be brought in” (verses 4 to 6).

After they came down, they at once brought their accusations, shamelessly and with more fury than before. And since they had not been able to convict him on grounds relating to the law, they once again, as their custom was, stirred up the question about Caesar — just what they had done in Christ’s case. That they fell back on this is clear from the fact that Paul defends himself against offenses toward Caesar. “And when he had come, the Jews who had come down from Jerusalem stood around him and brought many serious charges against Paul, which they could not prove, while he said in his defense, ‘Neither against the law of the Jews, nor against the temple, nor against Caesar have I committed any offense at all.’ But Festus, wishing to do the Jews a favor, answered Paul and said, ‘Do you want to go up to Jerusalem and be tried there before me on these charges?’” (verses 7 to 9).

So he too courts the favor of the Jews — the whole people, and the city. This being so, Paul frightens him as well, using a human weapon in his defense. “Then Paul said, ‘I am standing at Caesar’s judgment seat, where I ought to be tried. I have done no wrong to the Jews, as you very well know. If I am an offender, or have committed anything worthy of death, I do not refuse to die. But if there is nothing in the things these men accuse me of, no one can hand me over to them. I appeal to Caesar’” (verses 10 and 11).

Someone might say: “How is it that, after being told, ‘You must bear witness to me in Rome also’ (Acts 23, verse 11), he did this, as though he did not believe it?” Far from it! No, he did it because he believed so strongly. It would have been putting God to the test to act recklessly because of that promise, throwing himself into countless dangers and saying, “Let us see whether God can rescue me even so.”

But Paul does not act that way. No, he does his part, all that is in his power, and entrusts the whole to God. He also quietly rebukes the governor: “If,” he says, “I am an offender, you do well; but if not, why are you handing me over?” [d]

“No one,” he says, “can sacrifice me.” He put Festus in fear, so that even if he wanted to, he could not sacrifice Paul to them; and at the same time he had Paul’s appeal to offer the Jews as his excuse. “Then Festus, when he had conferred with the council, answered, ‘You have appealed to Caesar? To Caesar you will go.’ And after some days King Agrippa and Bernice arrived at Caesarea to greet Festus” (verses 12 and 13).

Notice that he shares the matter with Agrippa, so that there would be other hearers once again: the king, the army, and Bernice. Then comes a speech that clears Paul. “And when they had stayed there many days, Festus laid Paul’s case before the king, saying, ‘There is a man here left a prisoner by Felix. When I was at Jerusalem, the chief priests and the elders of the Jews informed me about him, asking for a sentence against him. I answered them that it is not the custom of the Romans to hand over any man to die before the accused has met his accusers face to face and has had the opportunity to answer for himself concerning the charge laid against him.

“‘So when they had come here, I made no delay: on the next day I sat on the judgment seat and commanded the man to be brought in. When the accusers stood up, they brought no charge of the kind I expected. Instead they had certain questions against him about their own religion, and about a certain Jesus, who was dead, whom Paul claimed to be alive. And because I was at a loss how to look into questions of this kind, I asked him whether he would go to Jerusalem and be tried there on these matters. But when Paul appealed to be held for the decision of the emperor, I ordered him to be kept until I could send him to Caesar.’ [e]

“Then Agrippa said to Festus, ‘I would like to hear the man myself.’ ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘you will hear him’” (verses 14 to 22).

Notice an accusation against the Jews coming not only from Paul but from the governor as well. “Asking,” he says, “for a sentence against him.” “I told them, to their shame, that ‘it is not the custom of the Romans’ to ‘sacrifice a man’ before he has been given the chance to speak for himself. But I did give him that chance, and I found no fault in him.” “Because I was at a loss,” he says, “about questions of this kind” — so he throws a veil over his own wrongdoing as well. Then Agrippa wants to see him.

But let us look again at what has been said. “And when Felix,” and so on (verse 22). Notice how on every occasion the governors try to keep the annoyance of the Jews away from themselves, and are often forced to act against justice, and look for excuses to put things off. For of course it was not out of ignorance that he put off the case; he knew it well.

And his wife hears him too, together with the governor (verse 24). To me this seems to show great honor. He would not have brought his wife to be present with him at the hearing unless he thought highly of Paul. It seems to me that she too longed for this. And notice how Paul at once speaks not only about faith, nor only about the forgiveness of sins, but also about how one ought to live. “Go away,” he says, “for now; when I have a convenient time, I will call for you” (verse 25). Notice his hardness of heart: hearing such things, “he hoped that money would be given him by Paul”! (verse 26). And not only that: even after talking with him — for this was toward the end of his term of office — he left him in chains, “wishing to do the Jews a favor”

(verse 27). So he craved not only money but glory too. You wretched man, how can you look for money from a man who preaches the very opposite?

That he did not get it is clear from his leaving Paul in chains; he would have released him if he had received it. He reasoned “about self-control,” it says; and the other was hankering to get money from the very man who spoke about these things! He did not dare to ask for it outright — such is wickedness — but he hoped for it. “And when two years had passed,” and so on: so it was only natural that he did them a favor, since he had been governor there so long.

“Now when Festus had come into the province,” and so on (Acts 25, verses 1 and 2). At the very beginning the priests came to him. They would not have hesitated to go even to Caesarea, had he not been seen coming up to Jerusalem at once; for they come to him immediately on his arrival. And he spends ten days there? To make himself available, I suppose, to those who wanted to corrupt him with bribes. But Paul was in prison. “They urged him,” it says, “to send for him.” Why did they ask it as a favor, if he deserved death? But in this way their plotting became plain even to Festus, so that when he tells Agrippa about it, he says, “asking for a sentence against him.” They wanted to get him to pass sentence immediately, because they were afraid of Paul’s tongue. What are you afraid of?

Why are you in such a hurry? In fact, the phrase “that Paul should be kept” (verse 4) shows this. Does he want to run away? “So let those among you who are able,” he says, “accuse him” (verse 5). Again accusers, again at Caesarea, again Paul is brought out. And having come, at once “he sat on the judgment seat” (verse 6), in all haste: so hard did they drive him, so did they hurry him. [g]

While he was not yet acquainted with the Jews, and had not yet tasted the honor they paid him, he answered rightly. But now that he had been in Jerusalem ten days, he too wants to do them a favor by sacrificing Paul to them. Then, to deceive Paul as well, he says, “Do you want to be tried there before me on these charges?” (verse 9). “I am not handing you over to them.” But that was exactly what it was. And he leaves the point to Paul’s own choice, so that by this mark of respect he might get him to give way. For the sentence was in his own hands, and it would have been too shameless, when Paul had been convicted of nothing here, to take him back there.

“But Paul said, ‘I am standing at Caesar’s judgment seat,’” and so on (verse 10). He did not say, “I will not,” so as not to make the judge more heated. But here again is his great boldness: “They themselves have thrown me out once and for all, and they think they can condemn me by making out that I have offended against Caesar. I choose to be tried at his court, the court of the injured party himself.” “I have done no wrong to the Jews, as you also know very well.” Here he rebuked Festus, because he too wanted to sacrifice him to the Jews. Then, on the other hand, he softens the sternness of his speech: “If I am an offender, or have committed anything worthy of death, I do not refuse to die.” “I pronounce sentence against myself.” For along with boldness of speech there must also be a just cause, if the hearer is to be put to shame. “But if there is nothing in the things these men accuse me of, no one” — however much he may want to — “no one can sacrifice me to please them.” He did not say, “I do not deserve death,” nor, “I deserve to be acquitted,” but, “I am ready to stand trial before Caesar.” At the same time, too, remembering the dream, he was all the more confident in making his appeal

(Acts 23, verse 11). And he did not say, “You may not,” but, “no one else either may sacrifice me,” so that it would be no insult to Festus. “Then Festus, when he had conferred with the council” — do you see how he tries to please them? For this is a favor — “having conferred,” it says, “with the council, he said, ‘You have appealed to Caesar? To Caesar you will go’” (verse 12). [h]

See how his trial is drawn out once again, and how the plot against him becomes an occasion for the preaching. In this way he would be taken away to Rome easily and in safe custody, with no one to plot evil against him. For it was not the same thing for him simply to arrive there, and to arrive there on such a case. In fact, this was what brought the Jews together there (Acts 28, verse 17). Then again, some time passes while he stays at Jerusalem, so that you may learn that, though time went by, the evil design against Paul accomplished nothing, because God did not allow it.

This King Agrippa, who was also a Herod, was a different Agrippa from the one in James’s time, and came after him; so this is the fourth Herod. See how Paul’s enemies work together with him against their will. To make the audience large, Agrippa is seized with a desire to hear him; and he does not simply hear him, but with great pomp. And see what a defense this is! That is how Festus puts it, and the cruelty of the Jews is put on open display. When it is the governor who says these things, he is a witness beyond all suspicion; so the Jews are condemned by him too. For when all had pronounced sentence against them, then, and not before, God brings the punishment upon them. Notice: Lysias gave his verdict against them, Felix against them, Festus against them — though he wanted to please them — Agrippa against them. What more? The Pharisees — even they gave their verdict against themselves.

No wrong, says Festus: “they brought no charge against him of the kind I expected” (verse 18). And yet they did bring charges. True, but they did not prove them. Their malice and their daring plot against him gave reason to suspect something of the kind, but the examination brought nothing of the kind to light. “And about a certain Jesus,” he says, “who was dead” (verse 19). He says “a certain” Jesus quite naturally, being a man in office who cared nothing for these things. “And being at a loss, for my part, how to inquire into these things” (verse 20) — of course; examining such matters was beyond what a judge could hear. If you are at a loss, why do you drag him to Jerusalem? But Paul would not stoop to this. No, “To Caesar,” he says — since in fact it was on the score of Caesar that they were accusing him.

Do you hear the appeal? Do you hear the plotting of the Jews? Do you hear their spirit of faction? All these things stirred Agrippa to a desire to hear him; and he grants them the pleasure, and Paul becomes more famous. For such, as I said, are the plots of enemies. Had things not gone this way, none of these rulers would have deigned to hear him, and none would have heard him with such quiet and silence. He seems indeed to be teaching, he seems to be making a defense; but rather he is making a public speech, and with great orderliness.

So let us not think that plots against us are a grievous thing. As long as we do not plot against ourselves, no one will be able to plot against us; or rather, people may do it, but they do us no harm — no, they even benefit us to the highest degree. For it rests with ourselves whether we suffer evil or not. Look!

I bear witness, and I proclaim it with a loud voice, more piercing even than a trumpet — and if it were possible to climb up high and shout it, I would not shrink from doing so: no one among all the human beings who live on the earth will have the power to harm a Christian. And why do I say human beings? Not even the evil spirit himself, the tyrant, the devil, can do this, unless the man harms himself; whatever anyone works against him, he works it in vain. For just as no human being could harm an angel, if the angel were on earth, so neither can one human being harm another. [l]

But neither, again, will the Christian himself be able to harm another, as long as he is good. What, then, can equal this: that it is not possible either to be harmed or to harm another? For this second thing, not wanting to harm another, is no less than the first. Why, such a man is a kind of angel — yes, like God. For such is God; only, he is so by nature, and this man by moral choice: for neither of them is it possible to be harmed, or to harm another. But when I say “not possible,” do not think it comes from any lack of power — for the opposite is what is lack of power. No, I mean what is morally out of the question. For the divine nature is neither open to harm itself, nor capable of harming another, since harming is in itself a harm.

In no other way do we harm ourselves than by harming another, and what makes our greatest sins so great is the injury we do to ourselves. So I say that this too is why the Christian cannot be harmed: because neither can he harm. But how, in harming others, we harm ourselves — come, let us take this saying in hand and examine it in detail. Let a man wrong another, insult him, take advantage of him: whom, then, has he harmed? Is it not himself first? This is plain to everyone. For the other suffers damage in money; he himself suffers it in his soul, to his destruction and to his punishment. Again, let another man be envious: is it not himself he has injured?

For such is the nature of injustice: it does its own author incalculable harm first of all. [m]

“Yes, but it harms the other man too?” True, but nothing worth considering; or rather, not even a little. No, it even benefits him. For let us suppose — since the whole question rests mostly on examples like these — let us suppose a poor man, with little property and barely supplied with the food he needs, and another man, rich and wealthy and very powerful. And let the rich man take the poor man’s property, strip him naked, and give him over to starvation, while he himself lives in luxury on what he has unjustly taken. Not only has he not harmed that man at all — he has even benefited him; while himself he has not only failed to benefit, but has actually harmed. How could it be otherwise? First, he is harassed by an evil conscience, condemning himself day by day and condemned by everyone; and second, there is the judgment to come.

But the other — how is he benefited? Because to suffer wrong and bear it nobly is great gain. This suffering of wrong wipes away sins; it is a training in philosophy, a discipline of virtue. Let us see which of the two is badly off, this man or that. The one, if he has a well-ordered mind, will bear it nobly; the other will live every day in constant fear and misgiving. Which, then, is harmed, this man or that?

You say: “You are talking nonsense. When a man has nothing to eat, and is forced to lament and feel himself utterly wretched, or goes and begs and gets nothing, is that not the ruin of both soul and body?” No, it is you who are talking nonsense, for I am showing you facts as proof. Tell me: does none of the rich feel himself wretched?

What then? Is poverty the cause of his wretchedness? [n]

“But he does not starve.” And what of that? The punishment is all the greater when he does this while having riches. For wealth does not make a man strong-minded, nor does poverty make him weak. Otherwise none of those living in wealth would lead a wretched life, and every one of those in poverty would curse his lot.

But that it is you who are talking nonsense I will make plain to you from this. Was Paul in poverty or in wealth? Did he go hungry, or did he not? You can hear him saying himself, “In hunger and thirst” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 27). Did the prophets go hungry, or did they not? They too had a hard time of it. “Again you bring up Paul to me, again the prophets — some ten or twenty men.” But where else am I to bring examples from? “Show me some, from among the many, who bear hardships nobly.” But what is rare is always like that. However, if you like, let us examine the matter as it is in itself. Let us see whose care is the greater and the sharper, and whose is easier to bear.

The one is anxious about the food he needs; the other, freed from that care, is anxious about countless other matters. The rich man is not afraid of hunger, but he is afraid about other things — often for his very life. The poor man is not free of anxiety about food, but he is free of other anxieties: he has safety, he has quiet, he has ease.

If injuring another is not an evil but a good, why are we ashamed of it? Why do we cover our faces? Why, when we are reproached for it, are we annoyed and put out? If being injured is not a good thing, why do we take pride in it, and glory in it, and use it to declare ourselves in the right? Would you learn how the one is better than the other? Look at those in the one condition and those in the other. Why are there laws? Why courts of justice? Why punishments? Is it not because of those men, as being diseased and unsound?

You will say: “But the pleasure is great.” Let us not speak of the future; let us look into the present. What is worse than a man who lies under such a suspicion as this? What is more precarious? What more unsound? Is he not always in a state of shipwreck? Even if he does something just, he is not believed, condemned as he is by everyone because of his power to injure; for in everyone who lives with him he has an accuser. He cannot enjoy friendship, for no one would readily choose to become the friend of a man with such a character, for fear of being implicated with him in the opinion people hold of him. As from a wild beast, everyone turns away from him; as from a plague, a foe, a murderer, and an enemy of nature, so they shrink from the unjust man. If the one who has wronged another happens to be brought into a court of justice, he does not even need an accuser: his character condemns him in place of any accuser.

Not so the one who has been injured. He has everyone to take his side, to share his grief, to stretch out a helping hand; he stands on safe ground. If injuring another is a good and safe thing, let anyone confess that he is unjust. But if he does not dare to do this, why then does he pursue it as a good thing?

But let us see in our own persons what evils come of it if the same thing happens there — I mean, if any of the parts or functions within us oversteps its proper bounds and grabs at the work of some other.

Let the spleen, if it will, leave its proper place and seize the part belonging to some other organ along with its own: is this not disease? Let the moisture within us fill every place: is this not dropsy and gout? Is this not to ruin itself along with the other part? Again, let the bile look for a wide room, and let the blood spread through every part. And how is it in the soul with anger, craving, and all the rest? Or if food exceeds its proper measure? Again in the body: if the eye wants to take in more, or to see more than is allotted to it, or to let in more light than is proper. Now if, even when the light is good, the eye is ruined when it chooses to see more than is right, consider what it must be in the case of something evil. If the ear takes in too loud a sound, the sense is stunned. The mind, if it reasons about things above itself, is overpowered. And whatever is in excess ruins everything. [o]

For this is greed: wanting to have more than what has been marked off and allotted. So too with money. When we insist on loading ourselves with more burdens than is fitting, then, though we do not perceive it, to our great harm we are feeding a wild beast within ourselves. Having much, yet wanting much, we tangle ourselves in countless cares and hand the devil many handles to seize us by. With the rich, however, the devil does not even need to work, so surely do their very business affairs ruin them by themselves. [p]

So I beg you to keep away from the craving for these things, so that we may be able to escape the snares of the evil one, and, having taken hold of virtue, may attain the eternal good things, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, forever. Amen.