Homily 8 — Romans 4, verses 1 to 22

“What then shall we say that Abraham, our father according to the flesh, has found? For if Abraham was counted righteous by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God.” [a]

Paul had said that the world had become guilty before God, that all had sinned, that boasting was excluded, and that it was impossible to be saved in any other way than by faith. Now he sets out to show that this salvation, far from being something to be ashamed of, was actually the cause of a bright glory — a greater glory than the one that comes through works. Being saved, but saved with shame, would carry something dispiriting with it, so next he removes this suspicion too. In fact he has already hinted at it, by calling it not simply salvation but “righteousness”: “In it,” he says, “the righteousness of God is revealed” (Romans 1, verse 17). For the one who is saved as a righteous man has confidence along with his salvation. And he calls it not only “righteousness,” but also the showing forth of the righteousness of God. And God is shown forth in things that are glorious and shining and great.

Even so, he draws support for this from the matter now in hand, and carries his argument forward by way of questions. He always does this, both for the sake of clarity and for the sake of confidence in what is said. He did it earlier, for instance, where he says, “What advantage, then, has the Jew?” (Romans 3, verse 1), and, “What then? Are we any better off than they?” (Romans 3, verse 9), and again, “Where then is boasting? It is excluded” (Romans 3, verse 27). And here: “What then shall we say that Abraham our father has found?”

Now the Jews kept turning over and over the fact that the patriarch, the friend of God, was the first to receive circumcision. So Paul wants to show that he too was counted righteous by faith. And this was a point that gave him an overwhelming victory. For a man who had no works to be counted righteous by faith was nothing unlikely. But for a man richly adorned with good deeds to be made righteous, not because of them but by faith — that is what causes wonder, and sets the power of faith in a strong light. This is why he passes over all the others and leads his argument back to this man. And he calls him “father according to the flesh” to shut them out of a true-born kinship with him, and to pave the way for the Gentiles to become his kin.

Then he says, “For if Abraham was counted righteous by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God.” He had said that God “counted the circumcised righteous by faith, and the uncircumcised through faith,” and had made this sure enough in what went before. Now he proves it from Abraham, more clearly than he promised. He pitches the battle for faith against works, and makes this righteous man the subject of the whole contest — and not without a special purpose. That is also why he sets him up so high, calling him “forefather,” and so compels them to agree with him on every point.

“Do not talk to me about the Jews,” he would say, “and do not bring this man or that before me. I will go up to the very head of them all, to the source from which circumcision took its rise.”

For “if Abraham,” he says, “was counted righteous by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God.” What is said here is not plain, so we must make it plainer. There are two kinds of boasting: one from works, and one from faith. So after saying, “If he was counted righteous by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God,” he points out that Abraham might have something to boast about from faith as well — and much greater reason for it. For Paul’s great power shows itself above all in this: he turns an objection around to the other side, and shows that what seemed to belong rather to salvation by works — that is, boasting, or boldness of claim — belonged much more truly to salvation by faith.

The one who boasts in his works has his own labors to put forward. But the one who finds his honor in having faith in God has a much greater ground for boasting to show, since it is God whom he glorifies and magnifies. For in receiving by faith in him things that the nature of the visible world does not tell him of, he at once shows sincere love toward him and proclaims his power plainly. Now this is the mark of the noblest soul, of the philosophic spirit, of a lofty mind. To keep from stealing and murdering is a trifling achievement. But to believe that God can do things that are impossible takes a soul of no small stature, one deeply devoted to him; for this is the sign of sincere love.

The one who keeps the commandments honors God, it is true; but the one who practices philosophy by his faith honors him far more. The first obeys him; the second holds the opinion of him that is fitting, glorifies him, and shows more wonder at him than works can show. The first kind of boasting belongs to the one who does well; this kind glorifies God and rests wholly in him. For he boasts in conceiving great things about God, things that redound to God’s glory. That is why Paul speaks of having something to boast about before God.

And not for this reason only, but for another as well. The believer boasts again, not only because he loves God sincerely, but also because he has received great honor and love from him. For just as he shows his love for God by having great thoughts about him — and this is a proof of love — so God also loves him. Though he deserved punishment for countless sins, God not only frees him from punishment but even makes him righteous. So he has something to boast about, as one counted worthy of a mighty love.

Verse 4: “For to the one who works, the reward is not counted as grace, but as a debt.” [f]

“Then is the worker’s reward not the greater?” he means. Not at all: for it is to the believer that something is counted. But it would not have been counted unless there were something he contributed himself. So he too has God for his debtor, and a debtor not for common things, but for great and lofty ones. To show the believer’s greatness of mind and spiritual understanding, he does not simply say “to the one who believes,” but, in verse 5, “to the one who believes in him who counts the ungodly righteous.” Think what a great thing it is to be persuaded, and fully confident, that God is able all at once not only to free a man who has lived in ungodliness from punishment, but even to make him righteous, and to count him worthy of those immortal honors.

So do not suppose that the believer is lowered because the worker’s reward is not counted as grace, while his is. This is the very thing that makes the believer glorious: that he enjoys such great grace, and shows such great faith. And notice that the recompense is greater too. To the worker a reward is given; to the believer, righteousness. And righteousness is far greater than a reward, for righteousness is a recompense that contains many rewards within it.

So after proving this from Abraham, he brings in David as well, casting his vote for what has been said. What then does David say? Whom does he call blessed? The one who takes pride in his works, or the one who has received grace — who has obtained pardon and a gift? And when I speak of blessedness, I mean the chief of all good things. For as righteousness is greater than a reward, so blessedness is greater than righteousness.

He has shown, then, that this righteousness is the better one, not only because Abraham received it but also by reasoning — for he says Abraham has something to boast about before God. Now he uses yet another way of showing that it has the greater dignity, bringing David in to cast his vote the same way. For David too, he says, calls the one who is counted righteous in this way blessed, when he says, in verse 7, “Blessed are those whose wrongdoings are forgiven.”

Now he seems to be bringing in a testimony that is off his point, for it does not say, “Blessed are those whose faith is counted as righteousness.” But he does this on purpose, not by oversight, to show how much greater the advantage is. For if the one who received forgiveness by grace is blessed, much more is the one who is counted righteous and who shows faith. Where blessedness is, all shame is taken away and there is great glory, since blessedness is a greater measure both of reward and of glory.

That is why he states the worker’s advantage without any Scripture behind it — “Now to the one who works, the reward is not counted as grace” — but for the believer’s advantage he brings the testimony of Scripture, saying, as David says, “Blessed are those whose wrongdoings are forgiven, and whose sins are covered.” What is it you are saying? he means. That the believer receives forgiveness not as a debt but by grace? But look: it is this very man who is called blessed. And David would not have called him so unless he saw him enjoying great glory. And Paul does not go on to say that this forgiveness, then, comes upon the circumcised. What does he say?

Verse 9: “Does this blessedness then” — the greater thing — “come upon the circumcised, or upon the uncircumcised?” [g]

For now the question is this: with whom is this good and great thing to be found — with the circumcised, or with the uncircumcised? And notice how it excels! He shows that, far from shunning the uncircumcised state, it even dwelt gladly with it before circumcision came. The one who pronounced the blessing was David, who was himself circumcised and was speaking to the circumcised. Yet see how eagerly Paul contends to apply what he said to the uncircumcised. He joins the pronouncing of blessedness to righteousness, and shows that they are one and the same thing. Then he asks how Abraham came to be righteous. For if blessedness belongs to the righteous, and Abraham was made righteous, let us see how he was made righteous — uncircumcised, or circumcised? Uncircumcised, he says: “For we say that faith was counted to Abraham as righteousness.”

He had mentioned the Scripture above, for he said, “What does the Scripture say? Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.” Here he goes on to secure the judgment of the speakers as well, and shows that Abraham was counted righteous while he was uncircumcised. Then, from these grounds, he answers another objection that springs up. For if he was counted righteous while uncircumcised, someone might say, what was the point of bringing in circumcision?

Verse 11: “He received it,” he says, “as a sign and seal of the righteousness of the faith which he had while still uncircumcised.” [h]

Do you see how he shows that it is the Jews, rather than the uncircumcised, who are, so to speak, the hangers-on, and that they were added to the others? For if Abraham was counted righteous and crowned while uncircumcised, and the Jews came in afterward, then Abraham is father first of the uncircumcised, who belong to him through faith, and only then of the circumcised. He is the forefather of two lines. Do you see faith shining out? For until it came, the patriarch was not counted righteous. Do you see that being uncircumcised was no hindrance? He was uncircumcised, and yet nothing kept him from being counted righteous. So circumcision comes after faith. And why wonder that it comes after faith, when it comes even after uncircumcision? Nor does it only come after faith; it is far beneath it — as far beneath it as a sign is beneath the reality it signifies, as the seal is beneath the soldier.

“And why,” he says, “did he need a seal, then?” He did not need it himself. Then for what purpose did he receive it? So that he might be the father alike of those who believe while uncircumcised and of those who believe while circumcised. But not of the circumcised simply as such; that is why he goes on to say, “to those who are not of the circumcision only.” For if he is father to the uncircumcised, it is not because they are uncircumcised, even though he was counted righteous while uncircumcised, but because they imitated his faith. Much less is it because of circumcision that he is forefather to the circumcised, unless faith is added as well.

For Paul says the reason Abraham received circumcision was so that each of our two parties might have him for a forefather, and so that the uncircumcised might not push the circumcised aside. See how the uncircumcised had him for their forefather first! Now if circumcision has dignity because it proclaims righteousness, uncircumcision too has no small preeminence, since it received righteousness before circumcision did. So you will be able to have him as a forefather when you walk in the steps of that faith, and are not contentious, and do not cause division by bringing in the law. What faith? Tell me.

Verse 12: “Which he had while still uncircumcised.” [j]

Here again he brings down the proud spirit of the Jews by reminding them of the time when Abraham was counted righteous. And he does well to say “the steps,” so that you too, like Abraham, may believe in the resurrection of bodies that are dead; for Abraham also showed his faith on this point. So if you reject the uncircumcised, know for certain that circumcision is of no more use to you. If you do not follow in the steps of his faith, you will not be Abraham’s offspring, even if you were circumcised ten thousand times over. For he received circumcision for this very purpose: that the uncircumcised man might not cast you off. So do not demand this of him, the uncircumcised man, as well. It was you it was meant to help, not him.

But Paul calls it a sign of righteousness. This too was for your sake, since now it is not even that. Back then you needed bodily signs; now there is no need of them.

“But was it not possible to learn the goodness of his soul from his faith?” Yes, it was possible. But you needed this addition too. Since you did not imitate the goodness of his soul, and were not able to see it, you were given a circumcision of the senses, one you could see. Once you had grown used to this circumcision of the body, you might be led on little by little to the true love of wisdom in the soul as well. And having received it with great seriousness as a very great privilege, you might be taught to imitate and revere your ancestor. This was God’s purpose, not only in circumcision, but in all the other rites as well — the sacrifices, I mean, and the Sabbath, and the feasts.

Now learn from what follows that it was for your sake that Abraham received circumcision. After saying that he received a sign and a seal, Paul gives the reason as well: that he might be the father of the circumcised — of those, that is, who have received the spiritual circumcision too. For if you have only this bodily one, no further good will come to you. A sign is a sign when the reality it signifies is found in you — that is, faith. If you do not have that, the sign no longer has the force of a sign for you. For what would it be a sign of? What would it be the seal of, when there is nothing to be sealed? It is as if you were to show someone a purse sealed shut, with nothing stored inside. So circumcision is ridiculous if there is no faith within.

If it is a sign of righteousness, and you do not have righteousness, then you do not have the sign either. The reason you received a sign was so that you might diligently seek the reality of which you have the sign. So if you could have been relied on to seek it diligently without the sign, you would not have needed it. But circumcision does not proclaim righteousness alone; it proclaims righteousness in a man who was uncircumcised. All that circumcision proclaims, then, is that there is no need of circumcision.

Verse 14: “For if those who are of the law are heirs, faith is made empty, and the promise is made of no effect.” [k]

He had shown that faith is necessary, that it is older than circumcision, that it is mightier than the law, and that it upholds the law. It is necessary, if all have sinned. It is older, if a man was counted righteous while uncircumcised. It is mightier, if the knowledge of sin comes through the law and yet it was made plain apart from the law. And if the law bears witness to it, and it upholds the law, then it is not opposed to the law, but friendly and allied to it.

Now he shows on other grounds as well that it was not even possible to reach the inheritance through the law. Having matched faith against circumcision and won it the victory, he now sets it against the law as well, in these words: “For if those who are of the law are heirs, faith is made empty.” To keep anyone from saying that one can have faith and keep up the law as well, he shows that this cannot be done. For the one who clings to the law as if it had saving power belittles the power of faith. That is why he says “faith is made empty” — that is, there is no need of salvation by grace, since then faith cannot show its own proper power. “And the promise is made of no effect.” He says this because the Jew might say, “What need do I have of faith?” If that held, the things that were promised would be taken away along with faith.

See how at every point he contends with them from the earliest times and from the patriarch. Having shown from there that righteousness and faith went together in the inheritance, he now shows that the promise did too. For to keep the Jew from saying, “What does it matter to me if Abraham was counted righteous by faith?”, Paul says that not even the thing you care about, the promise of the inheritance, can come into effect apart from faith. And this is what alarmed them most. But what promise is he speaking of? That Abraham would be “the heir of the world,” and that in him all would be blessed. And how does he say that this promise is made of no effect?

Verse 15: “Because the law brings about wrath; for where there is no law, there is no transgression.” [m]

Now if the law brings about wrath, and makes people liable for transgression, it is plain that it makes them liable to a curse as well. But those who are liable to a curse, to punishments, and for transgression are not worthy to inherit; they are worthy to be punished and rejected. What happens, then? Faith comes, drawing grace along with it, so that the promise comes into effect. For where grace is, there is forgiveness; and where there is forgiveness, there is no punishment. So once punishment is removed, and righteousness follows from faith, nothing stands in the way of our becoming heirs of the promise.

Verse 16: “That is why it is of faith,” he says, “so that it may be by grace, in order that the promise may be sure to all the offspring.”

You see that faith not only upholds the law; it will not let God’s promise fall to the ground either. The law, on the other hand, when it is clung to at the wrong time, even makes faith of no effect and hinders the promise. By this he shows that faith, far from being superfluous, is so necessary that without it no one can be saved. For the law brings about wrath, since all have broken it. But this does not even let wrath arise at all: for “where there is no law,” he says, “there is no transgression.” Do you see how he not only does away with sin after it has come to be, but does not even let it be produced? That is why he says, “by grace.”

To what end? Not so that they might be put to shame, but “in order that the promise may be sure to all the offspring.” Here he sets down two blessings: that the things given are sure, and that they are for all the offspring. In this way he gathers in those from the Gentiles, and shows that the Jews are left outside if they fight against faith. For this is a surer thing than that. Faith does you no harm — do not be contentious — but when you are in danger from the law, it keeps you safe.

Next, having said “to all the offspring,” he defines which offspring he means: the offspring that is of faith, he says. So he joins their kinship with the Gentiles to it, and shows that those who do not believe as Abraham did must not pride themselves on him. And see a third thing that faith accomplished besides: it makes the kinship with that righteous man more exact, and shows him to be the ancestor of a more numerous family. That is why he does not simply say “Abraham,” but “our father” — ours, who believe. Then he seals what he has said with the testimony of Scripture. Verse 17: “As it is written,” he says, “I have made you a father of many nations.”

Do you see that this was arranged by God’s providence long ago? “What, then?” he means. “Does God say this because of the Ishmaelites, or the Amalekites, or the Hagarenes?” As he goes on, he proves more plainly that it is not said of these. For the moment, though, he presses on to another point, and by it he proves this very thing: he defines what kind of relationship this is, and he establishes it with a vast reach of mind. What, then, does he say? [p]

“Before him whom he believed, God.” What he means is something like this: as God is not the God of one part of the world but the Father of all, so Abraham is too. And again, as God is a Father not by a relationship of nature but by the bond of faith, so is Abraham, since it is obedience that makes him the father of us all. They thought nothing of this relationship, because they clung to the cruder one; so Paul shows that this is the truer relationship by lifting his argument up to God. And along with this he makes it plain that this was the reward of faith that Abraham received. So if it were not so, and he were the father of all who live on the earth, the word “before” would be out of place, and the gift of God would be cut short. For “before” here amounts to “in the same way as.” Where is the wonder, tell me, in a man’s being the father of those born from himself? That is every man’s lot. But the extraordinary thing is that those whom he did not have by nature, he received by the gift of God. So if you want to believe that the patriarch was honored, believe that he is the father of all.

But after saying, “before him whom he believed, God,” he does not stop there, but goes on: “who gives life to the dead, and calls the things that are not as though they were.” In this way he lays the foundations beforehand for what he will say about the resurrection. And it served his present purpose too. For if God could “give life to the dead” and bring in “the things that were not as though they were,” then he could also make those who were not born of Abraham to be his children. This is why he does not say, “bringing in the things that are not,” but “calling” them, to show how much easier it is. For as it is easy for us to call by name the things that exist, so it is easy for him — no, much easier — to give existence to things that are not. Having said that the gift of God was great and beyond words, and having spoken about his power, he goes on to show that Abraham’s faith deserved the gift, so that you would not suppose he was honored for no reason. He had roused his hearers’ attention, so that the Jew would not raise an outcry and make difficulties, saying, “And how is it possible for those who are not children to become children?” Then he passes on to speak of the patriarch, and says:

Verse 18: “Who against hope believed in hope, that he might become the father of many nations, according to what had been spoken, ‘So will your offspring be.’”

How was it that he “believed in hope against hope”? It was against human hope, in the hope that comes from God. (For he is showing how lofty the deed was, and leaving no room to disbelieve what is said.) The two things are opposed to each other, yet faith blends them together. Now if he were speaking of those descended from Ishmael, this language would be pointless, for it was not by faith but by nature that they were born. But he brings Isaac before us as well. For it was not about those nations that Abraham believed, but about the son who was to come from his barren wife. So if it is a reward to be the father of many nations, it is plainly as the father of those nations about whom he believed in this way. And so that you may know that he is speaking of them, listen to what follows. [r]

Verse 19: “And not being weak in faith, he considered his own body, now dead.” Do you see how he sets out the obstacles, and also the high spirit of the righteous man that rises above them all? What was promised, he says, was “against hope”: that is the first obstacle. For Abraham had no one else to look to who had received a son in this way. Those who came after him looked to him, but he looked to no one except God alone. That is why he said, “against hope.” Then, “his body, now dead”: this is a second. And “the deadness of Sarah’s womb”: this is a third, yes, and a fourth obstacle.

Verse 20: “But he did not waver at the promise of God through unbelief.” For God gave no proof and worked no sign; there were only bare words, promising things that nature held out no hope of. And still he says, “he did not waver.” He does not say, “he did not disbelieve,” but, “he did not waver” — that is, he neither doubted nor hesitated, though the hindrances were so great. From this we learn that if God promises even countless impossible things, and the one who hears does not accept them, the fault lies not in the nature of things but in the senselessness of the one who does not accept them. [t]

“But was strong in faith.” See Paul’s tenacity! Since this discussion was about those who work and those who believe, he shows that the believer works more than the other, needs more power and great strength, and bears no ordinary labor. For they counted faith worthless, as though there were no labor in it. Pressing this point, then, he shows that it is not only the one who succeeds in self-control, or in any other virtue of this kind, who needs power, but also the one who shows faith — and he needs even greater power. For as the one needs strength to beat off the arguments of the lack of self-control, so the believer too needs a soul endowed with power, to thrust aside the suggestions of unbelief. How, then, did he become “strong”? By entrusting the matter to faith, Paul answers, and not to reasonings; otherwise he would have fallen. But how did he come to thrive in faith itself? “By giving glory to God,” he says.

Verse 21: “And being fully persuaded that what he had promised, he was able also to perform.” [u]

So to hold back from prying questions is to glorify God, just as indulging in them is to transgress. And if by prying into curious questions and searching out things here below we fail to glorify him, much more, if we pry too curiously into the Lord’s birth, will we suffer to the utmost for our insolence. For if the foreshadowing of the resurrection is not to be searched into, much less are those things that are beyond words and full of awe. And he does not simply use the word “believed,” but, “being fully persuaded.” For that is what faith is like: it is clearer than proof by reasoning, and it persuades more fully. No other argument that comes after it can shake it later. The one who has been persuaded by words can also have his persuasion changed by words. But the one who rests himself on faith has, from then on, walled off his hearing against words that might do it harm.

Having said, then, that Abraham was counted righteous by faith, he shows that he glorified God by that faith — something that belongs especially to a good life. For “Let your light so shine before people, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5, verse 16). But look! This is shown to belong to faith as well! Again, as works need power, so does faith. For in works the body often shares the toil, but in faith the good deed belongs to the soul alone. So the labor is greater, since the soul has no one to share its struggles. Do you see how he shows that everything belonging to works belongs to faith in a far greater degree? It has something to boast about before God; it needs power and labor; and again, it glorifies God.

And when he says that “what he had promised, he is able also to perform,” he seems to me to be speaking beforehand of things to come. For God promises not only things present but also things to come, since the present things are a foreshadowing of those others. So not to believe is the mark of a weak, small and pitiable mind. And so when anyone makes our faith a charge against us, let us in return charge them with their lack of faith, as pitiable, small-minded, foolish and weak, and in disposition no better than donkeys. For as believing belongs to a lofty and noble soul, so disbelieving belongs to one that is utterly senseless and worthless, sunk in a drowsy stupor into the senselessness of animals without reason. So let us leave these people behind, and let us imitate the patriarch and glorify God as he gave him glory. And what does “gave him glory” mean? He kept in mind God’s majesty and his boundless power. And having formed a right idea of him, he was also “fully persuaded” about his promises.

Let us, then, glorify him too, by faith as well as by works, so that we may also win the reward of being glorified by him. “Those who glorify me, I will glorify” (First Samuel 2, verse 30), he says. And indeed, even if there were no reward, the very privilege of glorifying God would itself be a glory. For if people take pride in the mere fact of speaking the praises of kings, even when nothing else comes of it, think how glorious it must be that our Lord is glorified by us — and again, how great a punishment it is to cause him to be blasphemed because of us. And yet even this being glorified he wants brought about for our sakes, since he does not need it himself. [x]

For how great a distance do you suppose there is between God and man? As great as between men and worms? Or as great as between angels and worms? But when I have named even so great a distance, I have not expressed it at all, since its greatness cannot be expressed. Now, would you want to have a great and distinguished reputation among worms? Surely not. Then if you, who love glory, would not want this, how could he, who is far removed from that passion and so much farther above us, stand in need of glory from you? Nevertheless, though he has no need of it, he still says that he desires it for your sake. For if he endured to become a slave for your sake, why wonder that on the same ground he lays claim to the rest as well? For he counts nothing unworthy of himself that may help toward our salvation.

Since, then, we know this, let us flee from sin altogether, because through it he is blasphemed. For it says, “Flee from sin as from the face of a serpent; if you come too near it, it will bite you” (Sirach 21, verse 2). For it is not sin that comes to us; it is we who desert to it. God has so ordered things that the devil should not prevail over us by force, since otherwise no one could have stood against his might. That is why God set him a dwelling far off, like a bandit and a usurper. And unless he finds a person unarmed and alone, he does not dare to attack. Unless he sees us traveling through the wilderness, he does not have the courage to come near us. But the wilderness, the devil’s own haunt, is nothing else than sin.

So we need the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit — not only so that we will not be harmed, but so that, if he should ever decide to spring on us, we may cut off his head. We need constant prayer, too, that he may be crushed under our feet. For he is shameless and full of audacity, and this even though he fights from below. Yet even so he wins, and the reason is that we are not in earnest about getting above his blows. For he does not even have the power to raise himself very high; he crawls along the ground. And the serpent is a figure of this. But if God put him in that place from the beginning, much more will he do so now.

But if you do not know what fighting from below means, I will try to explain to you how this war is waged. What, then, is this fighting “from beneath” (John 8, verse 23)? It is standing on the lower things of the world to strike at us — things like pleasure and wealth and all the goods of this life. And so, whenever he sees someone flying toward heaven, first, he will not even be able to leap that far; second, even if he tries, he will quickly fall. For he has no feet — do not be afraid. He has no wings — have no fear. He crawls on the earth and on the things of the earth. So have nothing in common with the earth, and you will not even need to struggle. For he does not know how to fight in the open. Like a serpent he hides in the thorns, nesting always in “the deceitfulness of riches” (Matthew 13, verse 22). If you cut away the thorns, he will easily be put to flight, once he is found out. And if you know how to charm him with the inspired charms, he will be struck down at once. For we have — we certainly have — spiritual charms: the name of our Lord Jesus Christ and the power of the cross. This charm not only brings the serpent out of his hiding places and throws him into the fire (Acts 28, verse 5); it even heals wounds.

But if some who have spoken this name have not been healed, that came from their own little faith, not from any weakness in what they said. For some crowded around Jesus and pressed against him (Luke 8, verses 44 and 45) and got no good from it. But the woman with the flow of blood, without even touching his body — touching only the hem of his garment — stopped a flow of blood of such long standing. This name is fearful to demons, to passions and to diseases alike. Let us, then, take our delight in it; let us fortify ourselves with it. This is how Paul grew great — and yet he was of the same nature as we are — and so did the whole band of disciples. But faith had made him an entirely different person, and it so abounded in them that even their clothing had great power (Acts 19, verse 12). What excuse, then, will we deserve, if even the shadows and the garments of those men drove away death (Acts 5, verse 15), while our prayers do not so much as bring our passions down? What is the reason for it? Our disposition is very different. For what nature gives is as much ours as theirs. He was born and brought up just as we are; he lived on the earth and breathed the air, as we do. But in other things he was far greater and better than we are — in zeal, in faith and in love.

Let us, then, imitate him. Let us allow Christ to speak through us. He wants this more than we do, and that is why he fashioned this instrument: he would not have it lie useless and idle, but wishes to keep it always in his hand. Why, then, do you not make it fit for the Maker’s hand? Instead you let it go unstrung, you slacken it with luxury, and you make the whole harp useless to him, when you ought to keep its members at full stretch, well strung and braced with spiritual salt. For if Christ sees our soul tuned in this way, he will send out his music even through it. And when this happens, then you will see angels leaping for joy, and archangels too, and the cherubim.

Let us, then, become worthy of his spotless hands. Let us invite him to play upon our heart too. Or rather, he does not need any invitation. Only make it worthy of that touch, and he will be the first to run to you. For if he runs to people with an eye to the progress they have not yet reached — for when Paul was not yet so far advanced, he still spoke that praise of him — what will he not do when he sees someone fully equipped? And if Christ sounds forth, and the Spirit truly rests upon us, we will be better than heaven itself: we will have fixed in our body not the sun and the moon, but the Lord of sun and moon and angels, dwelling in us and walking in us.

I say this not so that we may raise the dead or cleanse lepers, but so that we may show something that is a greater miracle than all these: love. For wherever this glorious thing is, there the Son makes his home along with the Father, and the grace of the Spirit is a frequent guest. For “where two or three are gathered together in my name,” it says, “there am I in the midst of them” (Matthew 18, verse 20). Now it is a mark of great affection, and of those who are very close friends, to have the ones they love on either side of them. Who, then, the saying implies, is so wretched as not to want Christ in the midst? We are — we who are at odds with one another!

Perhaps someone will laugh at me and ask: “What do you mean? Do you not see that we are all within the same walls, inside the same enclosure of the church, standing in the same fold in oneness of mind? That no one is fighting, that we are under the same shepherd, crying out together, listening together to what is being said, sending up our prayers together — and yet you talk of fighting and strife?” Fighting I do talk of, and I am not mad or out of my right mind. I see what I see, and I know that we are in the same fold and under the same shepherd. Yet this is the very reason I lament all the more: though there are so many things to draw us together, we are at odds.

Someone will say: “And what faction do you see here?” Here, truly, I see none. But when we have gone our separate ways, one man accuses another; another insults openly; another is envious; another cheats and robs and uses violence; another indulges in unlawful love; another devises countless schemes of deceit. If it were possible to open up your souls, you would see all these things plainly and know that I am not mad.

Do you not see in an army camp that when there is peace, men lay down their arms and cross over, unarmed and unprotected, into the camp of the enemy? But when they are protected with arms, and with guards and outposts, when the nights are spent in watching and the fires are kept burning all the time, that state of things is no longer peace but war. Now this is what can be seen among us. We are on our guard against one another, we fear one another, and each of us whispers into his neighbor’s ear. And if we see anyone else present, we fall silent and hold back everything we were going to say. This is not how people act who feel confident, but how those act who are strictly on their guard.

Someone may say: “But we do these things not to do wrong, but to escape being wronged.” Yes, and this is what grieves me: that living as we do among brothers and sisters, we need to be on guard against being wronged, and we light so many fires and post guards and outposts! The reason is that falsehood prevails, cunning prevails, love has gone away, and there is war without truce. That is how one can find people who feel more confidence in the Greeks than in Christians. And yet how ashamed we ought to be of this! How we ought to weep and lament over it!

Someone may say: “What, then, is to become of me? So-and-so has an awkward temper and is troublesome.” Then where is your philosophy? Where are the laws of the apostles, which tell us to bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6, verse 2)? If you have no idea how to treat your brother well, when will you ever be able to do so with a stranger? If you have not learned how to treat a member of your own self, when are you likely to draw in anyone from outside and bind him to yourself?

As for me, how am I to feel? I am grieved beyond measure, almost to tears. I could send out great fountains from my eyes (Jeremiah 9, verse 1), as that prophet says, since I see countless enemies on the plain, more galling than the ones he saw. For when he saw the foreigners coming against them, he said, “My inward parts! I am in pain in my inward parts!” (Jeremiah 4, verse 19). But when I see men drawn up under one commander, yet standing against one another, biting and tearing their own members — some for money, some for glory, and others for no reason at all, ridiculing and mocking and wounding one another in countless ways — and corpses treated worse than those in war, and nothing left now but the bare name of brothers and sisters, I feel unable to devise any lament fitting such a disaster as this.

Revere, oh, revere this table, of which we all partake (First Corinthians 10, verses 16 to 18) — Christ, who was slain for us, the sacrifice that is laid upon it (Hebrews 13, verse 10)! Robbers, once they have shared salt, stop being robbers toward those they have shared it with. That table changes their character, and men fiercer than wild beasts it makes gentler than lambs. But we, though we share such a table and such food as that, arm ourselves against one another, when we ought to arm against the one who wages war on all of us — the devil. And this is why we grow weaker every day and he grows stronger. For we do not close ranks against him; instead we stand with him against one another, and use him as the commander of these hostile ranks, when he is the only one we ought to be fighting. But as it is, we let him pass by and bend the bow against our brothers alone.

You will ask: “What bows?” The bows of the tongue and the mouth. For it is not only javelins and arrows that inflict wounds, but words too, far sharper than arrows.

Someone will ask: “And how will we be able to bring this war to an end?” If you realize that when you speak ill of your brother you are spewing mud out of your mouth; if you realize that it is a member of Christ you are slandering, that you are eating up your own flesh (Psalm 27, verse 2), that you are making the judgment that awaits you more bitter — fearful and incorruptible as it is — and that the arrow kills not the one it strikes, but you who shot it.

But perhaps he did you some wrong and injured you? Groan over it, and do not revile him. Weep — not for the wrong done to you, but for his destruction, as your Master also wept over Judas, not because he himself was to be crucified, but because Judas was a traitor. Has he insulted you and abused you? Pray to God for him, that God may soon be appeased toward him. He is your brother; he is a member of you, born of the same birth pangs as you; he has been invited to the same table.

It may be said: “But he keeps making fresh attacks on me.” Then your reward is all the greater for it. And on this ground there is the best of reasons for letting go of your anger: he has received a mortal wound, since the devil has wounded him. So do not strike him a further blow, and do not throw yourself down along with him. For as long as you stand, you have the means of saving him too. But if you dash yourself down by insulting him in return, who is then to lift you both up? The wounded man? No, he cannot, now that he is down. You, then, who have fallen with him? And how will you, who could not hold yourself up, be able to lend a hand to another? So stand firm now, nobly; set your shield before you, and by your patience drag him — dead as he now is — out of the battle. Anger has wounded him; do not wound him too, but pull out even that first arrow. For if we deal with one another on such terms, we will soon all be healthy. But if we arm ourselves against one another, there will be no further need even of the devil to ruin us.

For all war is an evil, and civil war most of all. But this is a worse evil even than civil war, as our bonds with one another are greater than those of citizenship — yes, greater even than those of kinship itself. Long ago Abel’s brother killed him and shed the blood of his own kin. But this murder is more lawless than that one, since the bonds of kinship here are greater and the death is a worse evil. For he wounded the body, but you have sharpened your sword against the soul.

Someone may say: “But you were wronged first.” Yes, but it is not suffering evil, but doing it, that is truly suffering evil. Now consider: Cain was the killer, Abel the one killed. Which of them, then, was the dead one? The one who cries out after death — for God says, “The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to me” (Genesis 4, verse 10) — or the one who, while he was still alive, went on trembling and afraid? He was — he certainly was — more to be pitied than any dead man. Do you see that to be wronged is better, even if a man comes to be murdered? Learn, then, that to do wrong is worse, even if a man is strong enough to kill. Cain struck his brother and threw him down, yet the one was crowned and the other punished. Abel was done away with and killed unjustly, yet even in death he accused, convicted and prevailed (compare John 5, verse 45). The other, though alive, was speechless and ashamed and convicted, and brought about the opposite of what he intended. For he did away with him because he saw that he was loved, expecting to push him out of that love as well. Yet he only made the love more intense, and God asked after him all the more when he was dead, saying, “Where is Abel your brother?” (Genesis 4, verse 9).

You did not put out the longing for him by your envy; you kindled it all the more. You did not lessen his honor by killing him; you made it greater. Before this, God had even made him subject to you; but now that you have killed him, even in death he will take vengeance on you. “So great was my love for him.” Who, then, was the condemned one — the one who punished or the one who was punished? The one who enjoyed such honor from God, or the one who was handed over to a new and unheard-of punishment? He would say to him: “You did not fear him while he was alive; so you will fear him now that he is dead. You did not tremble when you were about to thrust in the sword; now that the blood is shed, you will be seized with a trembling that never stops. While he lived he was your servant, and you showed him no forbearance. For this reason, now that he is dead, he has become a master you will be afraid of.”

Thinking on these things, then, beloved, let us flee from envy, let us put out malice, let us repay one another with love, so that we may reap the blessings that come from it, both in the present life and in the life to come, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. Amen.