Homily 32 — First Corinthians 12, verse 27, to 13, verse 3

“Now you are the body of Christ, and individually members of it.” [a]

He says this so that no one could object, “What does the example of the body have to do with us? The body is a slave to nature, but our good deeds come from our own choice.” So he applies the example to our own affairs. And to show that we ought to have the same harmony of purpose that the members of a body have by nature, he says, “Now you are the body of Christ.” But if our own body must not be divided, much less the body of Christ — and so much less, as grace is more powerful than nature.

“And individually members of it.” That is, “Not only are we a body, but members too,” he says. He had spoken of both of these before. He brought the many together into one, and showed that all become one single thing, after the pattern of the body; that this one thing is made up of the many and exists in the many; and that by it the many are held together and are able to be many.

But what does “individually” mean? “As far as it concerns you, and as far as a part should naturally be built up from you.” He had said “the body,” and the whole body was not the church at Corinth but the church in every part of the world. That is why he said “individually.” In other words: the church among you is a part of the church that exists everywhere, and of the body that is made up of all the churches. So you ought to be at peace not only among yourselves, but with the whole church throughout the world — if, that is, you are members of the whole body.

Verse 28: “And God has set some in the church: first apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then miracles, then gifts of healings, helps, administrations, various kinds of tongues.” [c]

What I pointed out before, he does here as well. Because they thought highly of themselves on account of the tongues, he puts that gift last everywhere. The words “first” and “second” are not used at random here. He counts them off in order, to show which are more honorable and which are lower. That is also why he put the apostles first: they had all the gifts in themselves. He did not simply say, “God has set some in the church, apostles, or prophets.” He uses “first,” “second,” and “third,” to show the very thing I told you about.

“Second, prophets.” For the people to whom he says, “Let the prophets speak, two or three” (First Corinthians 14, verse 29), used to prophesy. And writing to Timothy, too, he said, “Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given you by prophecy” (First Timothy 4, verse 14). And those who prophesied were very many. If Christ says, “The Law and the Prophets prophesied until John” (Matthew 11, verse 13), he says it of the prophets who announced his coming beforehand.

“Third, teachers.” The one who prophesies speaks everything from the Spirit, but the one who teaches sometimes speaks from his own mind as well. That is why Paul also said, “Let the elders who rule well be counted worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in the word and in teaching” (First Timothy 5, verse 17) — whereas the one who speaks everything by the Spirit does not labor. This, then, is the reason he put the teacher after the prophet: the one is wholly a gift, while the other is also a man’s own labor. For the teacher says many things from his own mind, though always in agreement with the holy Scriptures.

“Then miracles, then gifts of healing.” Do you see how he again separates the healings from the power, as he did before as well? For the power is more than the healing: the one who has power both punishes and heals, but the one who has the gift of healing only cures. And notice how excellent the order is that he used here, putting prophecy ahead of the miracles and the healings. Above, when he said, “To one is given through the Spirit the word of wisdom, and to another the word of knowledge,” he spoke without putting them in order, naming them as they came. Here, on the other hand, he sets out a first rank and a second. [f]

Why, then, does he put prophecy first? Because even in the old covenant things stand in this order. When Isaiah, for example, was reasoning with the Jews, setting out a proof of God’s power and bringing forward the evidence that the demons are worthless, he made this the greater proof of God’s divinity: his foretelling things to come (Isaiah 41, verses 22 and 23). And Christ himself, after working so many signs, says that this was no small sign that he is God, and he keeps adding, “I have told you these things so that when it comes to pass you may believe that I am he” (John 13, verse 19; 14, verse 29; 16, verse 4).

“Very well: the gifts of healing are rightly placed below prophecy. But why below teaching as well?” Because it is not the same thing to proclaim the word of preaching and sow godliness in the hearts of those who hear, as it is to work miracles; the miracles are done only for the sake of the preaching. So when someone teaches both by word and by life, he is greater than all. Those are the ones he calls teachers in the full sense: people who teach by their deeds and instruct by their words. This, for instance, is what made the apostles themselves apostles. The other gifts, in the beginning, were received by certain others too, men of no great worth, like those who said, “Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and do mighty works?” and were afterward told, “I never knew you. Depart from me, you who practice wrongdoing” (Matthew 7, verses 22 and 23). But this twofold way of teaching, I mean by deeds and by words, no bad man would ever take up. As for his putting the prophets first, do not be surprised at it. He is not speaking of prophets simply, but of those who also teach by their prophecy and say everything for the common good; and as he goes on he makes this clearer to us.

“Helps, administrations.” What does “helps” mean? Supporting the weak. Is this a gift, then? Tell me. In the first place, this too comes from God’s gift: fitness for the work of a patron, and the managing of spiritual things. Besides, he calls many even of our own good deeds “gifts.” He does not mean us to lose heart; he is showing that in every case we need God’s help. He is training them to be thankful, and in this way making them more eager and stirring up their minds.

“Various kinds of tongues.” Do you see where he has put this gift, and how everywhere he gives it the last place?

Now by this list he had again pointed out a great difference, and stirred up the sickness we spoke of in those who had the lesser gifts. So in what follows he comes down on them with great force, since he had already given them all those proofs that they had not been left far behind. What I mean is this. It was likely that when they heard these things they would say, “And why were we not all made apostles?” Above, he had used a gentler tone, proving at length that things had to be this way. He proved it from the image of the body: “The body,” he says, “is not one member,” and again, “If all were one member, where would the body be?” He proved it from the fact that the gifts were given for use: to each one is given “the manifestation of the Spirit,” he says, “for the common good.” He proved it from all being watered by the same Spirit; and from what is bestowed being a free gift and not a debt, for “there are varieties of gifts,” he says, “but the same Spirit”; and from the Spirit being shown alike through them all, for “to each one,” he says, “is given the manifestation through the Spirit”; and from these things being shaped as the Spirit and God were pleased to shape them, for “all these,” he says, “are worked by one and the same Spirit, dividing to each one individually as he wills,” and, “God has set the members, each one of them, in the body, as it pleased him.”

He proved it from the lesser members also being necessary, for “the members that seem to be weaker,” he says, “are necessary”; and from their being necessary alike, since the greater too need the less, for “the head,” he says, “cannot say to the feet, I have no need of you”; and from the lesser members even enjoying more honor, for “to the part that lacked,” he says, “he has given more abundant honor”; and from the care of them being shared and equal, for “all the members have the same care for one another”; and from their all having one honor and one grief, for “whether one member suffers,” he says, “all the members suffer with it; or one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.”

Above, I say, he had encouraged them with these arguments. Here and from now on he speaks so as to bear them down and rebuke them. For, as I said, we must neither always encourage people nor always silence them. That is why Paul himself, having encouraged them at length, now attacks them sharply, saying, Verse 29: “Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Do all have gifts of healing?” And he does not stop at the first and second gifts, but goes on to the last. Either he means that not everyone can be everything, as he says there, “If all were one member, where would the body be?”, or he is also establishing another point along with this, one that may again serve to comfort them. What is it? That even the lesser gifts are sought after as eagerly as the greater, since not even these were given to everyone without exception. “Why do you grieve that you do not have gifts of healing? Consider that what you have, even if it is less, is often not possessed by the one who has the greater.” That is why he says, Verse 30: “Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret?”

For just as God did not grant all the great gifts to everyone, but this one to some and that one to others, so he did with the lesser ones too, not offering even these to all. He did this to secure great harmony and love, so that each one, needing the other, might be drawn close to his brother. He set up this same arrangement in the crafts, in the elements, in the plants, in our own limbs, and in absolutely everything.

Then he adds the most powerful comfort of all, enough to restore them and quiet their troubled souls. What is it? Verse 31: “Earnestly desire,” he says, “the better gifts. And yet I show you a still more excellent way.”

By saying this he gently hinted that they themselves were the reason they had received the lesser gifts, and that it was in their power, if they wished, to receive the greater. For when he says, “earnestly desire,” he asks of them all diligence and longing for spiritual things. And he did not say “the greater gifts” but “the better,” that is, the more useful, the ones that would do good. What he means is this: “Go on desiring gifts; and I will point you to a fountain of gifts.” For he did not say “a gift” but “a way,” to lift still higher the thing he meant to speak of. It is as if he said, It is not one gift, or two, or three that I point you to, but one way that leads to all of them; and not merely a way, but “a more excellent way,” and one that lies open to all alike. It is not like the gifts, which are granted to some in one form and to others in another, but not all to all. This is a gift for everyone. That is why he invites everyone to it.

“Earnestly desire,” he says, “the better gifts; and yet I show you a more excellent way,” meaning love toward our neighbor. Then, as he is about to go on to his account of love and his praise of this virtue, he first brings the gifts down by comparing them with it, showing that they are nothing without it. He does this very wisely. If he had spoken of love at once — if, having said, “I show you a way,” he had added, “and this is love,” without building his argument through the comparison — some might perhaps have scoffed at what was said, not seeing clearly the force of the thing, and still gaping after the gifts. So he does not unfold it at once. First he rouses the hearer with the promise, saying, “I show you a more excellent way.” And having made him long for it, even then he does not go straight to it. Increasing their desire still more and drawing it out, he first speaks of the gifts themselves and shows that without love they are nothing. In this way he brings them under the strongest necessity of loving one another, since it was from neglecting love that the thing had sprung which caused all their troubles.

So in this respect too love would rightly appear great: the gifts not only failed to bring them together, but divided them even when they were united, while love, when many were so divided, would unite them again by its own power and make them one body. Yet he does not say this at once. He sets down what they most longed for: that the thing was a gift, and a most excellent way to all the gifts. So even if you will not love your brother for friendship’s sake, then love for the sake of gaining a better sign and an abundant gift.

And see where he begins: with what was marvelous and great in their eyes, the gift of tongues. And in bringing that gift forward he does not speak of it in the measure they had it, but in a far greater one. He did not say, “If I speak with tongues,” but, Chapter 13, verse 1: “If I speak with the tongues of men.” What does “of men” mean? Of all the nations in every part of the world. Nor was he content with this enlargement; he uses another, much greater one, adding the words, “and of angels, and do not have love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.”

Do you see how high he first raised the gift, and how low he then brought it down and threw it? He did not simply say, “I am nothing,” but, “I have become sounding brass,” a thing without sense or life. And how “sounding brass”? Giving out a sound, yes, but at random and to no purpose, for no good end. For besides my gaining nothing, most people count me a pointless nuisance, an annoying and tiresome sort of person. Do you see how one who lacks love is like things without life or sense?

He speaks here of “the tongues of angels” not to give angels a body. What he means is this: “Even if I were to speak the way angels talk with one another, without love I am nothing; worse, I am a burden and a nuisance.” To mention one more example: when he says, “To him every knee will bow, of things in heaven and things on earth and things under the earth” (Philippians 2, verse 10), he does not say it as though he gave angels knees and bones — far from it! — but he means their intense worship. So here too he calls it “a tongue,” not meaning an organ of flesh, but meaning to show their talk with one another in terms we know.

Then, to make his words acceptable, he does not stop at the gift of tongues but goes on to the other gifts as well; and having shown that all of them are worth little when love is absent, he then paints her portrait. And because he chose to build his argument by heightening it, he begins from the lesser and climbs to the greater. When he was showing their order he put the gift of tongues last; now he counts it first, climbing, as I said, little by little to the greater gifts. So having spoken of tongues, he goes straight on to prophecy and says, Verse 2: “And if I have the gift of prophecy.”

And this gift too he states at its height. Just as there he spoke not of tongues but of the tongues of all mankind, and then, going further, of angels, and then showed that the gift was nothing without love, so here too he speaks not of prophecy alone but of prophecy at its very peak. Having said, “If I have prophecy,” he added, “and understand all mysteries and all knowledge,” expressing this gift too at its full strength.

Then after this he goes on to the other gifts. And again, so as not to seem to weary them by naming every gift one by one, he sets down the mother and fountain of them all, and this again at its height, saying, “And if I have all faith.” Nor was he content with this; he added the very thing Christ spoke of as greatest, saying, “so as to remove mountains, and do not have love, I am nothing.” And notice how here too he again lowers the standing of tongues. With prophecy he points out the great advantage that comes from it, “understanding mysteries and having all knowledge”; and with faith, no trifling work, “removing mountains”; but with tongues he names the gift itself and leaves it there.

But I ask you to consider this too: how briefly he took in all the gifts when he named prophecy and faith. For miracles are either in words or in deeds. And how is it that Christ says the least degree of faith is being able to remove a mountain? He spoke as though it were something very small when he said, “If you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, Move, and it will move” (Matthew 17, verse 20), whereas Paul says that this is “all faith.” What should we say, then? Since moving a mountain was a great thing, he mentioned it for that reason — not as though “all faith” could do only this, but because it seemed great to the simpler sort, on account of the bulk of the mass they could see. So from this too he raises his subject high. What he says is this: “If I have all faith, and can remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.”

Verse 3: “And if I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and if I give my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.”

What a wonderful heightening! Even these things he states with a further addition. He did not say, “If I give half my goods to the poor,” or “two or three parts,” but, “though I give all my goods.” And he did not say “give,” but “dole out in morsels,” so that to the cost is added the serving of it out with every care.

“And if I give my body to be burned.” He did not say, “If I die,” but this too he puts at its extreme. He names the most terrible of all deaths, being burned alive, and says that even this without love is no great thing. And so he adds, “it profits me nothing.”

But I have not yet shown the whole of this heightening until I bring forward the testimonies of Christ that were spoken about almsgiving and death. What are his testimonies, then? To the rich man he says, “If you would be perfect, sell what you have and give to the poor, and come, follow me” (Matthew 19, verse 21). And speaking likewise of love for one’s neighbor, he says, “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15, verse 13). From this it is plain that even in God’s sight this is the greatest of all. But Paul says: “I declare that even if we lay down our life for God’s sake, and not merely lay it down but even so as to be burned, we will gain no great advantage if we do not love our neighbor.” For that is the meaning of “if I give my body to be burned.”

Well then, the saying that the gifts are of no great profit without love is no wonder, since our gifts come second to our way of life. At any rate, many have displayed gifts and then, turning wicked, have been punished, like those who “prophesied in his name, and cast out many demons, and did many mighty works,” and like Judas the traitor; while others, showing a pure life as believers, have needed nothing else for their salvation. So, as I said, it is no wonder that the gifts should need love. But that even a strict life should be worth nothing without it — this is what raises a difficulty. For Christ appears to award his great rewards to both of these, I mean to giving up our possessions and to the dangers of martyrdom. To the rich man, as I said before, he says, “If you would be perfect, sell your goods, and give to the poor, and come, follow me”; and speaking with the disciples about martyrdom he says, “Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it,” and, “Whoever confesses me before men, I will also confess him before my Father who is in heaven.” For great indeed is the toil of this achievement, all but surpassing nature itself, as those know well who have been granted these crowns. No words can set it before us, so noble is the soul to which the deed belongs, and so utterly wonderful is it.

Nevertheless, Paul said that this thing, wonderful as it is, was of no great profit without love, even when the giving up of one’s goods goes with it. Why, then, has he spoken this way? I will now try to explain, first asking this: how can someone who gives all his goods to feed the poor be lacking in love? I grant that one who is ready to be burned and has the gifts might possibly not have love. But one who not only gives his goods but even doles them out in morsels — how does he not have love? What are we to say, then?

Either that he supposed an unreal case as though it were real. He always does this when he means to set something before us at its extreme. So when writing to the Galatians he says, “If we or an angel from heaven preach to you any other good news than what you received, let him be accursed” (Galatians 1, verse 8). Yet neither he himself nor an angel was about to do so; but to show that he meant to carry the matter as far as it could go, he set down even what could never possibly happen. And again, writing to the Romans, he says, “Neither angels, nor rulers, nor authorities will be able to separate us from the love of God.” This was not about to be done by any angels either; here too he supposes a thing that was not. So also in what comes next, when he says, “nor any other creature,” though there is no other creature, since he had taken in the whole creation by speaking of all things above and below. Still, here too he mentions by way of supposition what did not exist, to show how overwhelming his desire was. He does the same here, saying, “If a man gives everything and does not have love, it profits him nothing.”

Either, then, we may say this, or that his meaning is that those who give should also be closely joined to those who receive, and should not merely give without fellow-feeling, but with pity, stooping down to them, bending low and grieving with the needy. For this is why God made almsgiving a law. God could have fed the poor without it; but so that he might bind us together in love, and so that we might be warm toward one another, he commanded that they be fed by us. That is why someone says elsewhere, “A good word is better than a gift,” and, “Look, a word is more than a good gift” (Sirach 18, verses 16 and 17). And the Lord himself says, “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice” (Matthew 9, verse 13; Hosea 6, verse 6). For since people commonly love those they have done good to, and those who receive kindness are more warmly disposed toward those who showed it, he made this law, establishing it as a bond of friendship.

But the question raised above is this: when Christ has said that both these things belong to perfection, how does Paul declare that without love they are imperfect? Not by contradicting him — far from it! — but by agreeing with him, and exactly. For in the case of the rich man Christ did not merely say, “Sell your goods and give to the poor,” but added, “and come, follow me.” And not even following him proves anyone a disciple of Christ so completely as loving one another does. “By this,” he says, “all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” And when he says, “Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10, verse 39), and, “Whoever confesses me before men, I will also confess him before my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 10, verse 32), he does not mean that it is unnecessary to have love; he is declaring the reward stored up for these labors.

That along with martyrdom he requires love as well, he shows strongly elsewhere, saying, “You will indeed drink my cup, and be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with” (Matthew 20, verse 23) — that is, you will be martyrs, you will be killed for my sake — “but to sit at my right hand and at my left” — not that anyone sits at the right and the left; he means the highest precedence and honor — “is not mine to give,” he says, “but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.” Then, to show for whom it has been prepared, he calls them and says, “Whoever among you would be first, let him be the servant of you all” (Matthew 20, verse 26), setting forth humility and love. And the love he requires is intense. That is why he did not stop even there, but added, “even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many,” showing that we ought to love so much as even to be killed for those we love. For this above all is loving him. That is why he says to Peter, “If you love me, feed my sheep” (John 21, verse 16).

And so that you may learn how great a work of virtue it is, let us sketch it in words, since in deeds we see it appearing nowhere. Let us consider how great the benefits would be if it were everywhere in abundance. There would be no need then of laws, or courts, or punishments, or penalties, or anything of the kind; for if everyone loved and was loved, no one would wrong another. Murders and quarrels and wars and divisions and plunder and frauds and all evils would be taken away, and vice would be unknown even by name. Miracles, however, would not have brought this about; rather, they puff up those who are off their guard into empty glory and folly.

Again, here is what is truly marvelous about love. All the other good things have their evils yoked to them, as the one who gives up his . . . But take the one who has come to love. Why, he will live on earth as if it were heaven, everywhere enjoying calm and weaving for himself countless crowns. He will keep his soul pure of envy and anger and jealousy and pride and empty glory and evil craving, of every unholy love and every sickness of soul. Just as no one would harm himself, so this man would not harm his neighbors. And being such, he will stand with Gabriel himself, even while he walks on earth.

Such, then, is the one who has love. But the one who works miracles and has perfect knowledge without it, though he raise ten thousand from the dead, will not gain much, broken off as he is from everyone and refusing to mix with any of his fellow servants. For no other reason did Christ say that the sign of perfect love toward him is loving one’s neighbors. “If you love me, Peter,” he says, “more than these, feed my sheep” (John 21, verse 15). Do you see how here too he quietly hints in what respect this is greater than martyrdom? Suppose someone had a beloved child for whom he would even give up his life, and suppose someone loved the father but paid no attention at all to the son. He would greatly anger the father, and the father would not even feel the love shown to himself, because his son had been overlooked. Now if this happens with a father and a son, much more with God and human beings, since surely God is more loving than any parent.

That is why, having said, “The first and great commandment is, You shall love the Lord your God,” he added, “and the second” — he does not pass it over in silence, but sets it down too — “is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” And see how he asks for this too with almost the same intensity. Concerning God he says, “with all your heart,” and concerning your neighbor, “as yourself,” which amounts to “with all your heart.”

Yes, and if this were properly kept, there would be neither slave nor free, neither ruler nor ruled, neither rich nor poor, neither small nor great; nor would any demon ever have been known. I do not mean Satan only, but any other such spirit there may be; were there a hundred of them, or ten thousand, they would have no power while love existed. Grass would sooner endure the touch of fire than the devil the flame of love. She is stronger than any wall, firmer than any diamond; or if you can name any material stronger than that, the firmness of love surpasses them all. Neither wealth nor poverty overcomes her. Rather, if there were love, there would be no poverty and no boundless wealth, but only the good parts of each condition. From the one we would reap its abundance, and from the other its freedom from care; and we would suffer neither the anxieties of riches nor the dread of poverty.

But why do I mention the advantages that come from it? Consider rather how great a blessing it is in itself to practice love: what cheerfulness it produces, in how great a grace it settles the soul — and this above all is its special excellence. For the other parts of virtue each have their troubles yoked to them: fasting, self-control and keeping vigil have envy, craving and contempt. But love, along with its gain, has great pleasure too, and no trouble; and like a busy bee gathering the sweetness from every flower, it lays it up in the soul of the one who loves. Though someone be a slave, it makes slavery sweeter than . . . although to command is sweet. But love changes the nature of things, and comes to us with every blessing in her hands, gentler than any mother, wealthier than any queen. She makes hard things light and easy, makes our virtues come easily, and makes us shun vice as an evil.

Again, speaking ill of someone seems pleasant; but in love it is not so, for nothing is as sweet to us as praising someone we love. Again, anger has a kind of pleasure; but here it no longer does. Rather, all its sinews are cut. Even if the one who is loved should grieve the one who loves him, anger shows itself nowhere, but only tears and pleading and entreaties; so far is love from being provoked. And if she sees someone going astray, she mourns and is in pain; yet even this pain brings pleasure. The very tears and grief of love are sweeter than any merriment and joy. Those who laugh, for instance, are not as refreshed as those who weep for their friends. If you doubt it, stop their tears, and they will resent it just like people who have been intolerably wronged.

“But there is an improper pleasure in love.” So someone said. Away with you, and be quiet, whoever you are! Nothing is so free of such pleasure as genuine love. Do not tell me of this common kind, the low-minded kind that is a disease rather than love; think of the love Paul is seeking, which looks to the good of those who are loved, and you will see that no fathers are as tender as people of this kind. And just as those who love money cannot bear to spend money, and would sooner be in want than see their wealth shrink, so the one who is warmly disposed toward someone would choose to suffer ten thousand evils rather than see the one he loves harmed.

“How then did the Egyptian woman who loved Joseph want to harm him?” Because she loved with this devilish love. Joseph, however, loved not with this love, but with the love Paul requires. Consider, then, what kind of love her words showed, and the deed she was asking for: “Insult me and make me an adulteress; wrong my husband and overturn my whole house; and throw away your own confidence toward God.” These were the words of someone who, far from loving him, did not even love herself.

But that he truly loved, and tried to turn her from it, and was anxious for her, you can learn from his advice. He did not only push her away; he also brought in an exhortation able to quench every flame. “Because of me,” he says, “my master knows nothing of anything in his house.” At once he reminds her of her husband, to put her to shame. And he did not say “your husband,” but “my master,” to remind her what she was: a mistress, with a slave. “If he is lord, then you are mistress. Be ashamed, then, of intimacy with a servant. Think whose wife you are, and whom you would be joined with, and toward whom you are becoming ungrateful and thoughtless; and see how I repay him with greater goodwill.”

And see how he makes much of his master’s kindnesses. Since that barbarian and shameless woman could hold no lofty thought, he shames her with human considerations, saying, “Because of me he knows nothing,” that is: “He is a great benefactor to me, and I cannot strike my patron a mortal blow. He has made me a second lord of his house, and nothing has been kept back from me except you.” Here he tries to raise her mind, so that at least he might persuade her to be ashamed, and to show her the greatness of her honor. Nor did he stop even there, but added a name able to restrain her, saying, “Because you are his wife. How then can I do this wicked thing?” “What do you say? That your husband is not here, and does not know that he is being wronged? But God will see it.”

She, however, gained nothing from his advice, but still tried to draw him on. It was to satisfy her own frenzy, not out of love for Joseph, that she did these things, and this is plain from what she did afterward. She sets up a trial, brings an accusation, bears false witness, throws the man who had done no wrong to a wild beast, and casts him into prison. Or rather, as far as it lay with her, she even killed him, so thoroughly did she arm the judge against him.

What then? Was Joseph like her? No, quite the opposite. He neither contradicted nor accused the woman. “Yes, because he would not have been believed.” So it may be said. And yet he was greatly loved, and this is plain not only from the beginning but also from the end. If his barbarian master had not loved him greatly, he would have killed him as he stood there silent, making no defense: an Egyptian, and a ruler, wronged in his marriage bed as he supposed, and by a servant, and a servant to whom he had been so great a benefactor. But all these things gave way to his regard for him, and to the grace God poured on him. And besides this grace and love, Joseph had other proofs, and no small ones, had he chosen to defend himself: the garments themselves. If it was she who had suffered violence, her own clothing should have been torn and her face scratched, instead of her keeping his garments. But she says, “He heard that I lifted up my voice, and he left his garments and went out.” Then why did you take them from him? For someone suffering violence, the one thing to be wished for is to be rid of the attacker.

But not from this alone, but also from what followed, I can show his goodwill and his love. Even when he was forced to mention the reason for his imprisonment and his staying there, he did not even then tell the whole course of the story. What does he say? “I have done nothing either; but indeed I was stolen out of the land of the Hebrews.” Nowhere did he mention the adulteress, nor does he make much of himself over the matter, as anyone would have felt like doing — if not out of empty glory, then at least so as not to seem to have been thrown into that cell for some wrongdoing. For if people who are actually doing wrong still do not hold back from blaming others for the very same things, even though it brings reproach on themselves, how much admiration does he deserve, who, pure as he was, did not mention the woman’s passion or make a show of her sin; nor, when he rose to the throne and became ruler of all Egypt, remembered the wrong the woman had done him or exacted any punishment?

Do you see how he cared for her? But hers was not love but madness. It was not Joseph she loved; she was seeking to satisfy her own craving. And her very words, if one examines them closely, were full of rage and great bloodthirstiness. For what does she say? “You have brought in a Hebrew servant to mock us” — reproaching her husband for his kindness. And she showed the garments, having become more savage than any wild beast. But he was not like that. And why do I speak of his goodwill toward her, when we know he was the same toward his brothers who wanted to kill him, and never said one harsh word about them, in private or in public?

That is why Paul says that the love we are speaking of is the mother of all good things, and puts it ahead of miracles and all the other gifts. Where there are robes and sandals of gold, we still need some other garment to pick out the king; but if we see the purple and the diadem, we need no other sign of his royalty. Just so here: when the diadem of love is on our head, it is enough to point out the genuine disciple of Christ, not only to ourselves but to unbelievers as well. “By this,” he says, “all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13, verse 35). So this sign is surely greater than all signs, since the disciple is recognized by it. Though some should work ten thousand signs, if they are at odds with one another they will be a laughingstock to the unbelievers; just as, if they work no sign but love one another perfectly, they will remain respected and untouchable by all.

Indeed, we admire Paul himself for this — not for the dead he raised, nor for the lepers he cleansed, but because he said, “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 29). Should you have ten thousand miracles to set beside this, you will have nothing to say that equals it. Paul himself also said that a great reward was stored up for him, not because he worked miracles, but because to the weak he became as weak. “For what is my reward?” he says. “That when I preach the good news, I may offer the good news free of charge” (First Corinthians 9, verse 18). And when he ranks himself ahead of the apostles, he does not say, “I have worked more miracles than they,” but, “I labored more abundantly than they” (First Corinthians 15, verse 10). He was even willing to perish of hunger for the salvation of the disciples: “For it would be better for me to die,” he says, “than that anyone should make my boasting empty” (First Corinthians 9, verse 15) — not because he was boasting, but so as not to seem to reproach them. For he is nowhere in the habit of boasting of his own achievements when the moment does not call for it; and even if he is forced to, he calls himself “a fool.” But if he ever boasts, it is “in weaknesses,” in wrongs suffered, in feeling deeply with those who are wronged, as here too he says, “Who is weak, and I am not weak?” These words are greater even than dangers. That is why he puts them last, as he builds his account to its height.

What, then, can we be worth compared with him — we who neither despise wealth for our own sake nor give up what we have beyond our needs? Paul was not like that. He was ready to give up both soul and body, so that those who stoned him and beat him with rods might gain the kingdom. “For this is how Christ taught me to love.” Christ left behind him the new commandment about love, and he fulfilled it himself in deed. Though he was Lord of all, and of that blessed nature, he did not turn away from human beings — whom he created out of nothing, and on whom he had poured countless benefits — when they insulted him and spat on him. No, he even became man for their sake, spent time with prostitutes and tax collectors, healed the demon-possessed, and promised heaven. And after all this they arrested him, beat him with rods, bound him, whipped him, mocked him, and at last crucified him. Even so he did not turn away. When he was lifted high on the cross he said, “Father, forgive them their sin.” The thief who had reviled him before this he brought into paradise itself; he made Paul the persecutor an apostle; and he gave up his own disciples, his close friends who were wholly devoted to him, to death for the sake of the Jews who crucified him.

Calling all these things to mind, then, both what God has done and what people have done, let us strive to match these noble deeds, and take hold of the love that is above all gifts, so that we may gain both the present and the future blessings. May we all gain them, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, power and honor to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.