Homily 21 — First Corinthians 9, verses 1 to 12

“Am I not an apostle? Am I not free? Have I not seen Jesus Christ our Lord? Are you not my work in the Lord?” [a]

He had said, “If food makes my brother stumble, I will never eat meat again.” That was something he had not yet done, but promised he would do if the need arose. And he did not want anyone to say: “You boast carelessly. You are stern when you talk, and you make grand promises — something easy for me or for anybody. But if these words come from your heart, show us by what you do something you have given up so as not to make your brother stumble.” That is why, I say, in what follows he is compelled to take up the proof of this too, and to show that it was his habit to give up even things that were allowed him so as not to give offense, though no law made him do so.

And we have not yet come to the remarkable part. It is remarkable, of course, that he kept away even from lawful things to avoid giving offense; but more remarkable still is that he made a habit of it at the cost of so much toil and danger. So he says: “Why speak of the food sacrificed to idols? Christ commanded that those who proclaim the good news should live at the expense of their disciples. Yet I did not do so. I chose, if need be, to end my life by starvation and die the most painful of deaths, if only I could avoid taking anything from those I teach.”

He did this not because they would otherwise have been made to stumble, but because his not taking anything would build them up — a far greater thing for him to do. And he calls on them themselves as witnesses of it, since he had lived among them in toil and hunger, fed by others and hard pressed, so as not to offend them. And yet they had no grounds to take offense, since he would only have been keeping a law. Even so, going beyond what was required, he spared them.

Now if he did more than the law laid down so that they would not take offense, and kept away from permitted things to build others up, what do those deserve who will not keep away from food sacrificed to idols — and that when many are destroyed by it? That is something one ought to shrink from even apart from any stumbling, since it is “the table of demons.”

This, then, is the sum of the whole subject, which he works out over many verses. But we must go back and make a fresh start on what he has said. For he did not set it down in so many words, as I have put it, nor does he leap straight to it. He begins from another subject, and speaks like this:

“Am I not an apostle?” Besides everything already said, this too makes no small difference: that it is Paul himself who acts this way. It goes like this. To keep them from saying, “You may taste the sacrifices, as long as you seal yourself as you do it,” for a while he does not contest that claim, but argues, “Even if it were lawful, the harm done to your brothers and sisters ought to keep you from doing it.” Afterward he proves that it is not even lawful. In this place, though, he establishes the first point from his own circumstances. And since he means to say shortly that he had taken nothing from them, he does not put that down at once. What he states first is his own standing: “Am I not an apostle? Am I not free?” [d]

So, to keep them from saying, “True, you did not take anything. But the reason you did not was that it was not lawful,” he first sets down the reasons why he could fairly have taken support, had he wanted to.

Further, he did not want anything he said here to seem to cast a slur on Peter and those like Peter, for they did not usually refuse support. So he first shows that they had the right to receive it. Then, so that no one could say, “Peter had the right to receive support, but you did not,” he fills his hearer’s mind in advance with these words of praise for himself. He saw that he had to praise himself, since that was the way to correct the Corinthians; yet he disliked saying anything great about himself. See how he balanced the two feelings as the occasion demanded. He limited his praise of himself, not by what he knew of himself, but by what the subject strictly required. He could have said, “I, above all, had a right to receive, even more than they did, because ‘I worked harder than any of them.’” But he leaves this out, because it was a point on which he surpassed them. He sets down only the points in which they were great, and which gave them good grounds to receive support. It goes like this:

“Am I not an apostle? Am I not free?” That is, “Do I not have authority over myself? Is there anyone over me to overrule me and forbid me to receive?”

“But they have an advantage over you: they were with Christ.” “No, that is not denied me either.” With that in view he says, “Have I not seen Jesus Christ our Lord?” For “last of all,” he says (First Corinthians 15, verse 8), “as to one born at the wrong time, he appeared to me also.” And this too was no small honor. For “many prophets and righteous men,” says the Lord (Matthew 13, verse 17), “have longed to see the things you see, and did not see them”; and, “The days will come when you will long to see one of these days” (Luke 17, verse 22).

“Well, what if you are ‘an apostle,’ and ‘free,’ and have ‘seen Christ’? If you have not shown any work of an apostle, how can it be right for you to receive support?” That is why he then adds, “Are you not my work in the Lord?” This is the great thing; without it, the others count for nothing. Even Judas was “an apostle,” and “free,” and “saw Christ”; but because he did not have “the work of an apostle,” none of those things did him any good. You see, then, why he adds this too, and calls on them themselves as witnesses to it.

Then, because what he had said was a great thing, see how he tones it down by adding “in the Lord.” That is, “The work is God’s, not mine.”

Verse 2: “If I am not an apostle to others, at least I am to you.” Do you see how far he is from saying more than he needs to here? And yet he had the whole world to speak of — barbarian nations, sea and land. Still, he mentions none of these things. He makes his point by conceding, and even grants more than he needed to. It is as if he had said, “Why should I dwell on things beyond what is needed, when these alone are enough for my present purpose? Notice that I am not speaking of what I achieved in other places, but of what you yourselves have witnessed. It follows that, if from no one else, then from you at least I have a right to receive. And yet from the very people I had the most right to receive from — you, whose teacher I was — from you I took nothing.”

“If I am not an apostle to others, at least I am to you.” Again he makes his point by conceding it. For the whole world had him as its apostle. “However,” he says, “I do not say that. I am not contending or arguing. I am setting down what concerns you. ‘For you are the seal of my apostleship’” — that is, its proof. “And if anyone wants to learn how I am an apostle, you are the ones I bring forward. For I have shown among you all the signs of an apostle, and I did not fall short in a single one.” As he also says in the second letter (Second Corinthians 12, verses 12 and 13): “Though I am nothing, the signs of an apostle were truly worked among you with all endurance, by signs and wonders and mighty works. For in what were you made inferior to the rest of the churches?” That is why he says, “You are the seal of my apostleship.”

“For I both worked miracles and taught by word, and faced dangers, and showed a blameless life.” And you can see these points fully set out in these two letters — how he lays before them the proof of each one with complete exactness.

Verse 3: “My defense to those who examine me is this.” [h]

What does “My defense to those who examine me is this” mean? “To those who want to know how I am shown to be an apostle, or who accuse me of taking money, or ask why I do not take it, or would like to show that I am not an apostle — to all of these, my teaching among you and what I am about to say can stand as a full explanation and defense.” What, then, are these things?

Verses 4 and 5: “Do we not have the right to eat and to drink? Do we not have the right to take along a wife who is a believer?”

Why, how are these words a defense? “Because when it is plain that I hold back even from things that are allowed, it cannot be fair to suspect me of being a deceiver, or of acting for gain.”

“So from what I said earlier, from my having taught you, and from what I have just said, I have enough to make my defense to you. And all who examine me I meet on this ground, pointing both to what went before and to what follows: ‘Do we not have the right to eat and to drink? Do we not have the right to take along a wife who is a believer?’ And yet, though I have the right, I hold back.”

What then? Did he not eat or drink? It would be quite true to say that in many places he really did not eat or drink. For we lived, he says, “in hunger, and in thirst, and in nakedness” (First Corinthians 4, verse 11). Here, though, that is not his meaning. What is it? “We do not eat and drink by taking from those we teach, though we have the right to take.”

“Do we not have the right to take along a wife who is a believer, as the rest of the apostles do, and the brothers of the Lord, and Cephas?” Notice his skill. He puts the leader of the chorus last in his list, since that is the place for the strongest of all one’s points. It was not so remarkable to be able to point to examples of this practice in the rest as in the foremost champion, the one entrusted with the keys of heaven. Yet he does not mention Peter alone, but all of them, as if he had said, “Whether you look to the lesser or to the more eminent, in all of them you find examples of this.”

For the brothers of the Lord too, once freed from their first unbelief (see John 7, verse 5), had come to be among those who were approved, though they did not reach the rank of the apostles. And so he gave them the middle place, setting those at the two ends before and after them.

Verse 6: “Or is it only I and Barnabas who have no right to refrain from working?”

See his humble mind, and his soul free of envy — how careful he is not to hide the man he knew shared this high standard with him. For if the other things are shared, how is this not shared? “Both they and we are apostles, and free, and have seen Christ, and have shown the works of apostles. So we too have the right to live without working and to be supported by our disciples.”

Verse 7: “What soldier ever serves at his own expense?” [j]

He had proved from the apostles that it is lawful to do this, and that was the strongest point. So next he turns to examples and to common practice, as he usually does. “What soldier serves at his own expense?” he says. But notice, please, how well suited the examples are to his subject, and how he first mentions the one that involves danger: soldiering, arms and wars. For the apostles’ calling was that kind of thing — in fact, far more dangerous. Their warfare was not with men only but with demons too, and their battle line was drawn up against the prince of those beings. So what he says is this: “Not even pagan governors, cruel and unjust as they are, require their soldiers to endure service and danger and live on their own means. How then could Christ ever have required this?”

Nor is he content with one example. For someone rather simple and slow, it usually comes as a great relief to see that common custom agrees with the laws of God as well. So he moves on to another point and says, “Who plants a vineyard and does not eat of its fruit?” As the first example pointed to his dangers, this one points to his labor, his heavy toil and his care.

He adds a third example as well: “Who tends a flock and does not take any of its milk?” Here he shows the great concern a teacher ought to have for those in his charge. For in fact the apostles were soldiers and farmers and shepherds — not of the earth, nor of animals without reason, nor in wars the senses can perceive, but of souls endowed with reason, and in battle against the demons.

Notice too how everywhere he keeps his claims moderate, looking only for what is useful, not for anything beyond it. He did not say, “What soldier serves and does not get rich?” but, “What soldier ever serves at his own expense?” He did not say, “Who plants a vineyard and does not collect gold, or holds back from gathering the whole harvest?” but, “Who does not eat of its fruit?” Nor did he say, “Who tends a flock and does not sell the lambs?” What then? “And does not take any of its milk.” Not of the lambs, but of the milk — showing that a little relief should be enough for the teacher, only his necessary food. (This is aimed at those who would devour everything and gather the whole harvest.) “In the same way the Lord commanded,” saying, “The worker deserves his food” (Matthew 10, verse 10).

And he does not establish only this by his illustrations. He also shows what kind of man a priest ought to be. He ought to have a soldier’s courage, a farmer’s diligence and a shepherd’s watchful care, and with all that, to look for nothing beyond what he needs.

Having shown, as you see, both from the apostles and from illustrations drawn from ordinary life that the teacher is not forbidden to receive, he goes on to a third point as well, and says, Verse 8: “Do I say these things on merely human grounds? Or does the law not say the same?” [l]

Up to now he had brought forward nothing from the Scriptures, only common custom. So he says, “Do not think that I rely on these alone, or that I go to human opinion for the basis of these rules. I can show that these things please God as well, and I read an ancient law that commands them.” That is why he frames what he says as a question, which is usually done with things everyone admits: “Do I say these things on merely human grounds?” That is, “Do I support my case only with human examples?” “Or does the law not say the same?”

Verse 9: “For it is written in the law of Moses, ‘You shall not muzzle the ox when it treads out the grain.’”

And why did he mention this, when he had the example of the priests? Because he wanted to establish the point far beyond what the case required. Further, so that no one could say, “And what does the saying about oxen have to do with us?” he works it out more precisely, saying, “Is it for the oxen that God is concerned?” Tell me, then, does God take no care for oxen? Yes, he does care for them, but not so as to make a law about a thing like this. So if he had not been hinting at something important — training the Jews to be merciful in the case of animals without reason, and through them speaking to them about teachers too — he would not have taken so much interest as actually to make a law forbidding the muzzling of oxen.

In this he also points to something else: that the labor of teachers is, and ought to be, great.

And again something else. What is it? That whatever the Old Testament says about care for animals without reason bears, in its main meaning, on the instruction of human beings — as indeed all the rest does too: the rules, for example, about different kinds of garments, and those about vineyards and seeds and not making the ground bear mixed crops, and those about leprosy, and, in a word, all the rest. Since they were rather slow, he was speaking to them through these subjects, bringing them forward little by little.

And see how, in what follows, he does not even argue it, since it is clear and obvious. Having said, “Is it for the oxen that God is concerned?” he added, “Or does he say it entirely for our sake?” And he did not add even the “entirely” at random, but so as to leave the hearer nothing whatever to answer.

He dwells on the image, saying plainly, “Yes, it was written for our sake, because the one who plows ought to plow in hope” — that is, the teacher ought to enjoy the returns of his labors — “and the one who threshes ought to thresh in hope of sharing.” And notice his wisdom: from the seed he moved the matter to the threshing floor, here too showing the many labors of teachers, since they both plow and tread the floor themselves. For the plowing, since there was nothing yet to reap, only labor, he used the word “hope.” But for treading the floor he at once grants the fruit, saying, “The one who threshes shares in his hope.”

Further, so that no one could say, “Is this, then, the return for so many labors?” he adds “in hope” — that is, the hope of what is to come. So the unmuzzled mouth of this animal declares nothing other than this: that teachers who labor ought also to enjoy some return.

Verse 11: “If we sowed spiritual things among you, is it a great thing if we reap your fleshly things?” [o]

See, he adds a fourth argument as well for the duty of supporting them. He had said, “What soldier ever serves at his own expense?” and, “Who plants a vineyard?” and, “Who tends a flock?” and had brought in the ox that treads out the grain. Now he points to another, most reasonable ground on which they might fairly receive: they had given far greater gifts, and had not merely labored. What is it, then? “If we sowed spiritual things among you, is it a great thing if we reap your fleshly things?” Do you see an argument most just, and more reasonable than all the earlier ones? “In those cases,” he says, “the seed is fleshly and the fruit is fleshly too. Not so here: the seed is spiritual, the return fleshly.” So, to keep those who contribute to their teachers from thinking highly of themselves, he showed that they receive more than they give. It is as if he had said, “Farmers get back whatever they sow. But we sow spiritual things in your souls, and reap fleshly ones.” For that is the kind of support they give. Then, to put them to shame still more, he goes on:

Verse 12: “If others share in this right over you, do not we still more?” See again another argument, this one too from examples, though not of the same kind. For it is not Peter he mentions here, nor the apostles, but certain others who were counterfeits, with whom he later comes to grips, and of whom he says (Second Corinthians 11, verse 20), “If someone devours you, if someone takes you captive, if someone exalts himself, if someone strikes you on the face.” Already he is sounding the opening notes of the battle with them. That is why he did not say, “If others take from you.” Pointing to their insolence, their tyranny and their making a trade of them, he says, “If others share in this right over you” — that is, “rule you, exercise authority over you, use you as servants, not merely taking you captive, but doing it with great authority.” That is why he added, “do not we still more?” He would not have said this if he were speaking about the apostles. It is plain that he is hinting at certain public pests who were deceiving them. “So, besides the law of Moses, you yourselves have made a law for the duty of supporting teachers.”

And having said, “do not we still more?” he does not prove why “still more,” but leaves it to their consciences to convince them of it, wanting both to alarm them and to shame them more thoroughly.

“Nevertheless, we did not use this right” — that is, we did not receive. Do you see how, after proving by so many arguments that receiving is not unlawful, he next says, “We do not receive,” so that he would not seem to be keeping away from it as from something forbidden? He says: “It is not because it is unlawful that I do not receive. It is lawful, and we have shown this in many ways: from the apostles; from the affairs of everyday life — the soldier, the farmer and the shepherd; from the law of Moses; from the very nature of the case, since we have sown spiritual things among you; and from what you yourselves have done for others.” [q]

He had set all this down so that he would not seem to put to shame the apostles who were in the habit of receiving, and to make the Corinthians feel abashed and show them that he was not keeping away from it as from something forbidden. But now there was the opposite danger. With his great store of proof, and all the examples and reasonings by which he had shown that it is right to receive, he might seem to be eager to receive himself, and to be saying these things for that reason. So he corrects that now. Later he put it more plainly, where he says, “I have not written these things so that it may be done so in my case.” But here his words are, “We did not use this right.”

And what is greater still: no one could even say that we declined it because we had plenty. No — when necessity pressed hard on us, we would not give in to necessity. He says this in the second letter too: “I robbed other churches, taking wages from them in order to serve you; and when I was with you and in need, I was not a burden to anyone” (Second Corinthians 11, verses 8 and 9). And again in this letter: “We hunger and thirst, we are naked and beaten” (First Corinthians 4, verse 11). And here too he hints at the same thing when he says, “But we bear all things.” By saying “we bear all things,” he points to hunger, and great hardship, and everything else besides. He says: “But not even so have we been forced to break the law we laid down for ourselves.” Why? “So that we may put no hindrance in the way of the good news of Christ.” The Corinthians were rather weak-minded, and so he says: “So as not to wound you by receiving, we chose to do even more than was commanded, rather than hinder the good news.” By the good news he means your instruction. He says: “In a matter left free to us, when we were enduring great hardship and had the apostles for our pattern, we still held back, so as not to put any hindrance in the way —” and notice that he did not say “overthrow” but “hindrance,” and not simply “hindrance” but “any hindrance” — “so that we would not cause, so to speak, even the slightest pause or delay in the course of the word. Now if we took such great care, how much more ought you to keep away! You fall far short of the apostles, and you have no law you can point to that gives you permission. On the contrary, you are putting your hand to forbidden things, things that do great injury to the good news and do not merely hinder it — and you do not even have any pressing necessity in view.” He raised this whole discussion because of these Corinthians, who were making their weaker brothers stumble by eating food sacrificed to idols.

Let us listen to these things too, beloved, so that we do not despise those who stumble, nor “put any hindrance in the way of the good news of Christ,” and so that we do not betray our own salvation. When your brother stumbles, do not say, “This thing he is stumbling over has not been forbidden; it is permitted.” I have something greater to say to you: even if Christ himself has permitted it, if you see anyone being harmed, stop, and do not use the permission. Paul did exactly this. He could have received, since Christ had granted permission, yet he did not receive. [r]

This is how our Lord in his mercy has mixed a great deal of gentleness into his commands: so that not everything would be a matter of command, but we might also do much of our own free will. If he had wished, he could have stretched the commandments further and said, “Whoever does not fast continually, let him be disciplined; whoever does not keep his virginity, let him be punished; whoever does not strip himself of everything he has, let him suffer the severest penalty.” But he did not do so. He gave you room, if you are willing, to press forward and do more. That is why, when he was speaking about virginity, he said, “Let the one who is able to accept it accept it.” And in the case of the rich man, some things he commanded, but others he left to the man’s own choice. He did not say, “Sell what you have,” but, “If you want to be perfect, sell.”

But we are not only unwilling to press forward, to do more, and to go beyond the commands; we fall far short even of the measure of what is commanded. Paul went hungry so as not to hinder the good news; we do not have the heart even to touch what is lying in our own storerooms, though we see countless souls ruined. Someone says: “Yes, let the moth eat, and not the poor. Let the worm devour, and let not the naked be clothed. Let everything waste away with time, and let not Christ be fed — and that when he is hungry.” Someone will ask: “Why, who ever said such a thing?” No — this is the very thing that grieves me: these things are said not in words but in deeds. It would be less grievous to say them in words than to do them in deeds. Is this not what Greed, that inhuman and cruel tyrant, cries out day after day to those she has taken captive? “Let your goods lie open for informers and robbers and traitors to live in luxury on, and not for the hungry and the needy to live on.” Is it not you, then, who make robbers? Is it not you who feed the fire of the envious? Is it not you who make drifters and traitors, by setting your wealth before them as bait? What madness is this — for it is madness, and plain derangement — to fill your chests with clothes, and to overlook one who was made in God’s image and likeness, standing naked, trembling with cold, and hardly able to keep himself upright?

Someone says: “But he is faking this trembling and weakness.” And are you not afraid that a thunderbolt from heaven, kindled by that word, will fall on you? (I am bursting with anger; bear with me.) You — I mean you — who pamper and fatten yourself, who stretch your drinking into the dead of night and wrap yourself in soft blankets, do you not think you will be judged for using God’s gifts so lawlessly? (For wine was not made for us to get drunk, nor food for us to pamper our appetites, nor rich dishes for us to stretch our bellies.) Yet from the poor, from the wretched, from a man who is as good as dead, you demand a strict account — and are you not afraid of the judgment seat of Christ, so full of awe and terror?

Why, if he does play a part, he does it out of necessity and want. It is your cruelty and inhumanity that make such masks necessary, and that refuse every movement toward mercy. For who is so wretched and miserable that, with no urgent necessity, he would submit to such disgrace for one loaf of bread, lament over himself, and endure so severe a punishment? So this pretending of his goes about as the herald of your inhumanity. By begging and pleading, by saying pitiful things, by lamenting and weeping and going around all day long, he does not get even the food he needs; and so perhaps he has thought up this trick as well. But the disgrace and blame for it fall not so much on him as on you. He deserves pity, because he has fallen into such great necessity; but we deserve countless punishments, because we force the poor to suffer such things. If we were quick to give, he would never have chosen to endure them.

And why do I speak of nakedness and trembling? I will tell you something more to be shuddered at. Some have been driven even to blind their children at an early age, so that they might touch our hardness of heart. When the children could see and went about naked, neither their youth nor their misfortunes could win any favor from the pitiless. So the parents added to all those evils another, still harsher tragedy, to relieve their hunger. They thought it a lighter thing to be robbed of this common light, this sunshine given to everyone, than to struggle with endless famine and endure the most miserable of deaths. Since you have not learned to pity poverty, but take pleasure in misfortunes, they satisfy your insatiable appetite — and for themselves and for us alike they kindle a fiercer flame in hell.

To convince you that this is the reason these things, and things like them, are done, I will give you an acknowledged proof that no one can dispute. There are other poor men, of light and unsteady minds, who do not know how to bear hunger but would rather endure anything than that. Time and again they have tried to move us with pitiful gestures and words, and found that these did them no good. So they have given up those pleas, and now even our conjurers are outdone by them. Some chew the leather of worn-out shoes; some drive sharp nails into their heads; others lie about in frozen pools with their bellies bare; and others endure things still more horrible than these, to draw a crowd of godless spectators around them. [t]

And while this goes on, you stand there laughing and marveling, making a fine show out of other men’s miseries, while our common nature disgraces itself. What more could a savage demon do? Then you give the man money in plenty, so that he will do these things all the more readily. But to the one who prays, and calls on God, and comes to you modestly, you do not grant so much as an answer or a look. Instead, when he keeps pestering you, you say those disgusting things: “Should this fellow even live? Should he breathe at all, and see this sun?” Yet to the other kind you are cheerful and generous, as though you had been appointed to hand out the prizes for this ridiculous and satanic indecency.

It would be far more fitting to say those words to the people who stage these shows and give nothing until they see others torturing themselves: “Should these people even live? Should they breathe at all, or see the sun — people who sin against our common nature and insult God?” God says, “Give alms, and I will give you the kingdom of heaven,” and you do not listen. But when the devil shows you a head pierced with nails, you suddenly become generous. The scheme of the evil spirit, pregnant with so much harm, has moved you more than the promise of God, which brings countless blessings. If you had to lay down gold to stop these things from being done, or to keep from watching them when they are done, there is nothing you ought not to do and endure to be rid of such extreme madness. But you do everything to have them done, and you stand and watch them being done.

Tell me, do you still ask what hell-fire is for? Do not ask that any more. Ask instead how there can be only one hell! How many punishments do they not deserve, those who put on this cruel and merciless spectacle and laugh at what both they and you ought to weep over? Or rather, of the two, it is you who deserve them more, since you force those men into such indecent acts.

You say: “But I do not force them.” What else is it but forcing them, I would like to know? Those who are more modest, who shed tears and call on God, you cannot bear even to listen to. But for these men you find silver in plenty, and you gather many around you to admire them.

You say: “Well then, let us stop pitying them. Is that what you are telling us to do too?” No, my friend: it is not pity to demand so severe a punishment for a few pennies, to order men to maim themselves for the food they need, and to cut the skin of their heads into many pieces, so mercilessly and so pitiably.

You say: “Not so fast. We are not the ones piercing those heads.” I wish it were you! Then the horror would not be so horrible. A man who kills another does something far less grievous than one who orders a man to kill himself — and that is exactly what happens with these people. They suffer more bitter pain when they are ordered to carry out these wicked commands on themselves.

And all this in Antioch, where people were first called Christians, where the most cultured of people are raised, where long ago the fruit of almsgiving flourished so richly! They used to send help not only to those close at hand but to those very far away, and that when a famine was only expected.

You say: “What, then, ought we to do?” Stop this savage practice. Convince everyone in need that by doing these things they will gain nothing, but that if they come to you modestly, they will find you very generous. Once they know this, even if they are the most miserable of all people, they will never choose to punish themselves so severely — I give you my word. They will even thank you for setting them free from both the mockery and the pain of that way of life. [w]

But as things are, for charioteers you would give up even your own children, and for dancers you would throw away your very souls; yet for Christ when he is hungry you will not spare the smallest part of what you have. And if you give a little silver, you think as much of it as if you had spent everything you own. You do not know that true almsgiving is not giving, but giving generously. That is why the prophet does not proclaim and call blessed those who simply give, but those who give freely. He does not simply say, “He has given,” but what? “He has scattered abroad; he has given to the poor” (Psalm 112, verse 9). What good is it when out of everything you have you give, as it were, a cup of water out of the sea, and the widow’s greatness of heart is far beyond anything you would try to match?

How will you say, “Have pity on me, O Lord, according to your great pity, and according to the multitude of your mercies blot out my transgression,” when you yourself show pity according to no great pity — perhaps not even according to a small one? I confess I am deeply ashamed when I see many of the rich riding on horses with golden bits, with a train of servants dressed in gold, with couches of silver and still more display, and yet, when there is need to give to a poor man, becoming more beggarly than the very poorest.

But what do they keep saying? “He gets the church’s common allowance.” And what is that to you? You will not be saved because I give; and if the church gives, you have not wiped out your own sins by it. Is that why you do not give — because the church ought to give to the needy? Because the priests pray, will you never pray yourself? And because others fast, will you be drunk all the time? Do you not know that God made almsgiving a law not so much for the sake of the poor as for the sake of those who give? [y]

Do you suspect the priest? To begin with, that in itself is a grievous sin. But I will not look into the matter too closely. Do it all yourself, in person, and you will reap a double reward. In fact, when we speak on behalf of almsgiving, we do not say it so that you will bring your gifts to us, but so that you will serve the poor with your own hands. If you bring your alms to me, perhaps you will even be taken captive by empty glory, and often you will also go away offended because you suspect something wrong. But if you do everything yourselves, you will be rid both of offense and of unreasonable suspicion, and your reward will be greater.

So I do not say these things to make you bring your money here, nor out of indignation that the priests are spoken ill of. If we must be indignant and grieve, our grief should be for you who speak this ill. For those who are spoken ill of falsely and for nothing, the reward is greater; but for those who speak it, the condemnation and punishment are heavier. So I do not say these things on the priests’ behalf, but out of concern and care for you.

And what wonder is it if some in our generation are suspected? Even in the case of those holy men who imitated the angels and had nothing of their own — I mean the apostles — there was grumbling over the service to the widows, that the poor were being overlooked (Acts 6, verse 1). And that was when “no one said that any of the things he possessed was his own, but they had everything in common” (Acts 4, verse 32).

So let us not put forward these pretexts, and let us not count it an excuse that the church is wealthy. When you see how great her resources are, keep in mind as well the crowds of poor people on her list, the multitudes of her sick, the endless calls on her purse. Look into it, examine it closely; no one forbids you. In fact, they are ready to give you an account.

But I want to go much further. Suppose we have given in our accounts and shown that what we spend is no less than what we take in — sometimes even more. Then I would gladly ask you this further question: when we leave this world and hear Christ saying, “You saw me hungry and gave me nothing to eat; naked, and you did not clothe me,” what will we say? What defense will we make? Will we bring forward this person or that who disobeyed these commands, or some of the priests who were under suspicion? “What is that to you? I am accusing you of the sins you yourself committed. Your defense here would be to have washed away your own offenses, not to point to others whose failings were the same as yours.”

In fact, it is because of your stinginess that the church is forced to hold the property it now holds. If people did everything according to the laws of the apostles, her income would have been your goodwill, which would be both a safe strongbox and a treasury that never runs out. But as it is, you store up treasures for yourselves on earth and lock everything away in your own storerooms, while the church is forced to bear the costs of companies of widows, choirs of virgins, strangers to be lodged, foreigners in distress, prisoners in their misfortunes, the sick and the maimed in their needs, and other causes like these. What is to be done? Turn away from all of them, and close so many harbors? Then who could endure the shipwrecks that would follow — the weeping, the lamentations, the wailing that would reach us from every side?

So let us not say at random whatever comes into our heads. As I said just now, we really are prepared to give you our accounts. But even if it were the other way around, and you had corrupt teachers plundering and grabbing at everything, not even then would their wickedness be a defense for you. For the only Son of God, who loves humankind and is all-wise, saw everything. He knew it was likely that over so great a length of time and in so vast a world there would be many corrupt priests. So that the carelessness of those under them would not grow through the priests’ neglect, he took away every excuse for indifference and said, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat; so whatever they tell you to do, do it, but do not do what they do.” He meant that even if you have a bad teacher, this will not help you if you do not pay attention to what is said.

God does not pass sentence on you for what your teacher has done, but for what you have heard and disobeyed. So if you do what is commanded, you will then stand with great confidence. But if you disobey what is said, even if you point to ten thousand corrupt priests, it will not plead for you at all. Judas too was an apostle; yet this will never be any defense for those who rob sacred things, or for the greedy. No one, when he is accused, will be able to say, “Why, the apostle was a thief, and a robber of sacred things, and a traitor.” No — this very thing will be above all our punishment and our condemnation: that not even the evils of others corrected us. That is also why these things were written: so that we might shun all imitation of such things.

So let us leave this person and that aside, and pay attention to ourselves. For “each of us will give an account of himself to God.” So that we may give that account with a good defense, let us set our own lives in order and stretch out a generous hand to the needy, knowing that this is our only defense: to show that we have rightly done what was commanded. There is no other whatever. If we can bring this forward, we will escape those unbearable pains of hell and gain the good things to come. May we all attain them, by the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory, power and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.