Homily 39 — First Corinthians 15, verses 11 to 28

“Whether then it is I or they, so we preach, and so you believed.” [a]

Paul has raised up the apostles and lowered himself; then he has raised himself above them again, so as to make out an equality between them. For he did make them equal, when he showed that he had advantages over them just as they had advantages over him. Having in this way proved himself worthy of belief, he still does not let them go, but ranks himself with them once more, pointing out their harmony in Christ. Yet he does not do it in a way that makes him look as though he had been tacked on to them; he does it so that he too appears in the same rank. That is what served the good news.

That is why he took equal care on both sides: on the one hand, not to seem to slight them; on the other, not to be held cheap by those under his own authority because of the honor paid to the others. So now he makes himself their equal again, saying, “Whether then it is I or they, so we preach.” “Learn from whichever of us you choose to learn from; there is no difference between us.” He did not say, “If you will not believe me, believe them.” He makes himself worthy of belief and says that he is enough on his own, and he says the same of them on their own. For it made no difference which person it was, since their authority was equal.

He does the same in the letter to the Galatians. He takes them with him, not as though he needed them as well — in fact he says that he himself was enough: “For those who were of repute imparted nothing to me” (Galatians 2, verse 6). “Nevertheless, even so, I seek agreement with them.” “For they gave me,” he says, “their right hands” (Galatians 2, verse 9). If Paul’s credit had always depended on others, and had to be confirmed by what others said of him, the disciples would have suffered untold harm from it. So it is not to exalt himself that he does this, but because he fears for the good news. That is also why he says here, making himself equal to them, “Whether it is I or they, so we preach.”

He did well to say “we preach,” for it shows his great boldness in speaking. We do not speak in secret, or in a corner; we send out a voice clearer than a trumpet. And he did not say “we preached,” but, “even now, ‘so we preach.’”

“And so you believed.” Here he did not say “you believe,” but “you believed.” Because their minds were shaken, he ran back to earlier times, and goes on to add the testimony of the Corinthians themselves.

Verse 12: “Now if Christ is preached, that he has been raised from the dead, how do some among you say that there is no resurrection of the dead?” [c]

Do you see how excellently he reasons? He proves the resurrection from the fact that Christ has been raised, after first establishing that fact in many ways. “The prophets spoke of it, and the Lord himself showed it by appearing, and we preach, and you believed.” In this way he weaves together a fourfold testimony: the witness of the prophets, the witness of what actually happened, the witness of the apostles, and the witness of the disciples. Or rather, a fivefold one. For the very reason he died itself implies the resurrection: I mean that he died for the sins of others. So if this has been proved, it is plain that the other also follows: that the rest of the dead are raised too. And this is why he challenges and questions them as though about a fact already admitted, saying, “Now if Christ has been raised, how do some among you say that there is no resurrection of the dead?”

Here too, once again, he takes down the boldness of those who contradicted him. He did not say, “How do you say,” but, “How do some among you say.” He neither brings a charge against everyone, nor openly names the very people he is accusing, so as not to make them more reckless. On the other hand, he does not hide it altogether, because he means to correct them. For this purpose, then, he separates them from the rest of the congregation and strips for the contest with them. By this he both weakens them and throws them into confusion, and he holds the rest, in their struggles with these people, more firmly to the truth, and does not let them desert to those who were busy destroying them. And indeed he was ready to use forceful language.

Next, so that they could not say, “This much is clear and plain to everyone, that Christ has been raised, and no one doubts it; but it does not necessarily follow that the other is true as well, the resurrection of human beings” — for the one had been proclaimed beforehand, and had taken place, and was confirmed by his appearing: I mean Christ’s resurrection; but the other, our own part, is still only a hope — see what he does. He proves the point again from the other side, which is a sign of great power. “Why,” he says, “do some say that there is no resurrection of the dead?” Then of course, in its turn, the first fact too, that Christ has been raised, is overturned by this. That is why he goes on to say (verse 13), “But if there is no resurrection of the dead, neither has Christ been raised.”

Do you see Paul’s force, and his fighting spirit, so impossible to defeat? Do you see how he not only proves from what is plain what is doubted, but also tries to prove to those who contradict him the plain fact from what is doubted? Not that what had already taken place needed proof, but he wanted to show that the one is just as worthy of belief as the other.

Someone will say: “And what kind of reasoning is this? If Christ has not been raised, it does follow that no others will be raised either. But if others are not raised, that Christ has not been raised either — what sense can there be in that?” Since this does not seem very reasonable, see how wisely he works it out. He has scattered his seeds in advance, from the beginning, from the very foundation of the good news: that he was raised “having died for our sins,” and that he is “the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.” For the firstfruits — of what can he be the firstfruits, except of those who are raised? And how can he be the firstfruits, if those whose firstfruits he is do not rise? How, then, are they not raised? [d]

Again, if they are not raised, why was Christ raised? Why did he come? Why did he take flesh upon himself, if he was not going to raise flesh again? He did not need it for himself; he took it for our sake. But Paul sets these things down later, as he goes on. For the present he says, “If the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised,” as though the one were bound up with the other. For if he had not intended to raise himself, he would not have done that other work. Do you see how, step by step, the whole plan of salvation is overturned by those words of theirs and by their unbelief in the resurrection? But as yet he says nothing about his becoming man; he speaks only of the resurrection. For it was not his becoming man that took away death, but his dying. While he had flesh, the tyranny of death still held sway.

Verse 14: “And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain, and your faith also is in vain.”

The natural next step would have been to say, “But if Christ has not risen, you are fighting against what is plain, against so many prophets, and against the truth of the facts.” Instead he says what was far more frightening to them: “then our preaching is in vain, and your faith also is in vain.” For he wants to shake their minds thoroughly. “We have lost everything; it is all over, if he has not risen.” Do you see how great the mystery of the plan of salvation is? It stands like this: if he could not rise again after death, then sin has not been undone, death has not been taken away, and the curse has not been removed. And not only have we preached in vain, but you also have believed in vain.

Paul does not stop at showing how ungodly these evil teachings are. He goes on to fight hard against them, and says: [h]

Verse 15: “Yes, and we are found to be false witnesses of God, because we testified of God that he raised up Christ, whom he did not raise up, if in fact the dead are not raised.”

But if this is absurd (for it is an accusation against God and a slander), and he did not raise him, as you say, then not only this but other absurdities too will follow.

And again he makes the whole argument firm and takes it up once more, saying:

Verse 16: “For if the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised.”

For if he had not meant to do this, he would not have come into the world. Yet Paul does not name this, but the end of it, that is, Christ’s resurrection, and through it he draws everything along.

Verse 17: “And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is in vain.” He keeps surrounding the resurrection of Christ with everything that is clear and admitted, and by means of the stronger point he makes even what seems weak and doubtful strong and clear.

“You are still in your sins.” For if he was not raised, neither did he die; and if he did not die, neither did he take away sin, since his death was the taking away of sin. “For look,” says one, “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1, verse 29). But how does he “take it away”? By his death. That is also why he called him a Lamb, as one slain. But if he did not rise again, neither was he slain; and if he was not slain, neither was sin taken away; and if it was not taken away, you are in it; and if you are in it, we have preached in vain; and if we have preached in vain, you have believed in vain that you were reconciled. And besides, death remains immortal if he did not rise. For if he too was held by death and did not loosen its pains, how did he set all the others free while he himself was still held by it? That is why Paul adds:

Verse 18: “Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished.”

“And why do I speak of you,” he says, “when all those too have perished who have done everything and are no longer exposed to the uncertainty of what lies ahead?” By the words “in Christ” he means either “in the faith,” or “those who died for his sake, who endured many dangers and many miseries, who walked the narrow way.”

Where are those foul-mouthed Manichaeans, who say that by “resurrection” Paul here means being set free from sin? These tight, unbroken chains of reasoning, which also hold when they are turned around, point to nothing of what they say, but to what we say. It is true that “rising again” is said of one who has fallen; and that is why Paul keeps explaining himself, and does not only say that Christ was raised, but adds “from the dead.” And the Corinthians too had no doubts about the forgiveness of sins, but about the resurrection of bodies.

Besides, what necessity is there at all that, unless human beings are without sin, Christ himself should not be without it either? If, on the other hand, he were not going to raise people up, it would be natural to say, “Why, then, did he come and take our flesh and rise again?” But on our supposition it is not so. For whether people sin or do not sin, with God it is always impossible to sin. What happens to us does not reach him, and the one case does not answer to the other when the argument is turned around, as it does in the matter of the resurrection of the body.

Verse 19: “If in this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people the most to be pitied.”

What are you saying, Paul? How is it that “in this life only we have hope,” if our bodies are not raised, when the soul remains and is immortal? Because even if the soul remains, even if it is immortal without end, as indeed it is, without the flesh it will not receive those hidden good things, just as it will not be punished either. For all things will be laid bare before the judgment seat of Christ, “so that each one may receive the things done in the body, according to what he has done, whether good or bad” (Second Corinthians 5, verse 10). That is why he says, “If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all people the most to be pitied.” For if the body does not rise again, the soul remains uncrowned, without that blessedness which is in heaven. And if that is so, we will enjoy nothing at all then; and if nothing then, our reward is in the present life. “What, then, in this respect could be more wretched than we are?” he says.

He said these things both to confirm them in the teaching of the resurrection of the body and to persuade them about that immortal life, so that they would not suppose that everything we have ends with the present world. He had sufficiently established what he set out to prove by the earlier arguments, and had said, “If the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised; but if Christ was not raised, we have perished, and we are still in our sins.” Now he adds this as well, tearing their arrogance down completely. For whenever he means to bring in one of the necessary teachings, he first shakes their hardness of heart thoroughly with fear. And that is what he did here. Above, he had scattered those seeds and made them anxious, as people who had lost everything; and now again, in another way, and so that they would feel it most sharply, he does the same thing, and says: “‘We are of all people the most to be pitied’ if, after such great struggles and deaths and those countless evils, we are to lose such great blessings, and our happiness is bounded by the present life.”

For in fact everything hangs on the resurrection. So even from this it is plain that his discussion was not about a resurrection from sins, but about bodies, and about the present life and the life to come.

Verse 20: “But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who are asleep.”

Having shown how great are the evils that grow from not believing in the resurrection, he takes up the discussion again and says, “But now Christ has been raised from the dead,” continually adding “from the dead,” so as to stop the mouths of the heretics. “The firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.” But if he is their firstfruits, then they themselves must certainly rise again as well. Whereas if he were speaking of the resurrection from sins — and no one is without sin, for even Paul says, “I know nothing against myself, yet I am not by this shown to be in the right” — then how, by your account, will there be anyone who rises again? Do you see that his discussion was about bodies? And to make it believable, he keeps bringing forward Christ, who rose again in the flesh.

Next he also gives a reason. For, as I have said, when someone asserts a thing and does not state the reason, what he says is not easily accepted by most people. What, then, is the reason?

Verse 21: “For since by a man came death, by a man came also the resurrection of the dead.”

But if by a man, then certainly by one who has a body. And notice his care, how he makes his argument unavoidable on another ground as well. It goes like this: “The one who was defeated,” he says, “must himself take up the fight again; the nature that was thrown down must itself also win the victory. For that is how the disgrace was wiped away.”

But let us see what kind of death he is speaking of.

Verse 22: “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive.”

What then? Tell me: did all die the death of sin in Adam? Then how was Noah righteous in his generation? And how was Abraham? And how Job? And how all the rest? And what, I ask you — will all be made alive in Christ? Then where are those who are led away into the fire of hell? So if this is said of the body, the teaching stands; but if it is said of righteousness and sin, it no longer does.

Further, so that when you hear that the making alive is common to all you do not suppose that sinners are saved too, he adds:

Verse 23: “But each one in his own order.”

Do not imagine, because you hear of a resurrection, that everyone enjoys the same benefits. For if in the punishment not all will suffer alike, but the difference is great, then much more, where there are sinners and righteous people, will the separation be wider still.

“Christ the firstfruits, then those who are Christ’s,” that is, the faithful and those who have been proved.

Verse 24: “Then comes the end.”

For when these have risen again, all things will have come to their end — not as now, when after Christ’s resurrection things still hang in suspense.

That is why he added “at his coming,” so that you may learn that he is speaking of that time, “when he delivers up the kingdom to God, even the Father; when he has abolished all rule and all authority and power.”

Now pay close attention to me here, and see that no part of what I say escapes you. For our contest is with enemies, and so we must first use the kind of argument that Paul himself often uses, which shows the absurdities an opponent’s view leads to. That is the way we will find what they say easiest to expose. Let us first ask them, then, what this saying means: “When he delivers up the kingdom to God, even the Father.” For if we take it just as it stands, and not in the sense fitting for God, he will not keep the kingdom after this. For one who has handed a thing over to another no longer keeps it himself. And not only will that absurdity follow, but also this: the one who receives it will turn out not to have possessed it before he received it. So by their account the Father was not King before, governing our affairs, and the Son will not appear to be King after these things. Then how, first of all, does the Son himself say of the Father, “My Father is working until now, and I am working” (John 5, verse 17)? And how does Daniel say of him, “His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, which will not pass away” (Daniel 7, verse 14)? Do you see how many absurdities arise, and how they contradict the Scriptures, when one takes what is said in a merely human way?

But what “rule,” then, does he say here that Christ “puts down”? That of the angels? Far from it! That of the faithful? It is not that either. What rule, then? That of the demons, about which he says, “Our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the world rulers of this darkness” (Ephesians 6, verse 12). For now it is not yet completely “put down,” since they are at work in many places; but then they will cease.

Verse 25: “For he must reign until he has put all enemies under his feet.” Here again another absurdity arises, unless we take this too in the way fitting for God. For the word “until” marks an end and a limit; but with God there is no such thing.

Verse 26: “The last enemy that will be abolished is death.”

How is it the last? After everything — after the devil, after all the other things. For in the beginning, too, death came in last: first came the devil’s scheme, then our disobedience, and then death. So in power it is abolished even now; but in actual fact, at that time.

Verse 27: “For he has put all things in subjection under his feet. But when he says, ‘All things are put in subjection,’ it is evident that he is excepted who put all things in subjection to him.”

Verse 28: “And when all things have been subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to him who put all things in subjection to him.”

And yet before this he did not say that it was the Father who “put things under him,” but that the Son himself “abolishes.” For “when he has abolished,” he says, “all rule and authority”; and again, “For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet.” How, then, does he speak here of “the Father”?

And there is not only this apparent difficulty. He is also afraid, with a fear that seems quite unaccountable, and he adds a correction, saying, “He is excepted who put all things in subjection to him,” as though some might suspect that the Father himself might be subject to the Son. What could be more irrational than that? Yet he is afraid of it. How, then, does the matter stand? For in truth there are many questions here, one following on another. Well then, give me your close attention. For we must first speak of Paul’s aim and of his mind, which you can find shining out everywhere, and then add our solution; for this itself is part of the solution.

What, then, is Paul’s mind, and what is his habit? He speaks in one way when he is discussing only his being God, and in another when he comes to the argument of the plan of salvation. Once he has taken hold of our Lord’s flesh, he freely uses from then on all the sayings that make him lowly, without fear, as though the flesh could bear all such expressions. So let us see here too whether his discussion is simply of his being God, or whether he says these things of him with his becoming man in view. Or rather, let us first point out where he has done what I have described. Where, then, did he do it? Writing to the Philippians, he says, “Who, being in the form of God, did not count it a prize to be equal with God, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men; and being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself, becoming obedient even to death, yes, the death of the cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him” (Philippians 2, verses 6 to 9).

Do you see how, when he was discussing only his being God, he spoke those great words — that he “was in the form of God,” and that he was “equal with” the one who begot him — and credited everything to him? But when he showed him to you made flesh, he lowered his language again. For unless you distinguish these things, there is a great contradiction between the things that are said. If he was “equal with God,” how did God highly exalt one equal to himself? If he was “in the form of God,” how did God “give” him “a name”? For whoever gives, gives to one who does not have; and whoever exalts, exalts one who was lower before. Then he will turn out to have been imperfect and in need before he received the “exaltation” and “the name,” and many other absurd consequences will follow from this. But if you bring in his becoming man, you will not be wrong in saying these things. Consider these things here too, then, and take the words in this frame of mind.

Along with these, we will also give other reasons why this passage of Scripture was written as it is. But for now it is necessary to say this. First, Paul’s discussion was about the resurrection, a thing thought impossible and very much disbelieved. Next, he was writing to Corinthians, among whom there were many philosophers who always mocked such things. For though they quarreled with one another about everything else, on this they all conspired as with one mouth, laying it down as settled teaching that there is no resurrection. So he was contending for a subject disbelieved and ridiculed in this way, both because of the prejudice already formed against it and because of the difficulty of the thing itself. Wanting to prove that it is possible, he first does this from the resurrection of Christ. And having proved that from the prophets, from those who had seen him, and from those who believed, once he had an absurdity that had to be admitted, he goes on to prove the resurrection of human beings as well. “For if the dead do not rise,” he says, “neither has Christ been raised.”

Further, having pressed these arguments hard in the earlier verses, running them both ways, he tries again in another way, calling Christ the “firstfruits,” and pointing to his “abolishing all rule and authority and power, and death last.” “How could death be put down,” he says, “unless he first lets go of the bodies he held?” Now he had said great things of the only Son: that he “delivers up the kingdom,” that is, that he himself brings these things about, and that he himself is victor in the war, and “puts all things under his feet.” So, to correct the unbelief of the many, he adds, “For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet.” He did not use the word “until” as though putting an end to the kingdom, but to make what he said believable and to give them confidence. “Do not,” he says, “because you have heard that he will abolish all rule and authority and power” — that is, the devil, and the bands of demons, many as they are, and the crowds of unbelievers, and the tyranny of death, and all evils — “do not be afraid, as though his strength were used up. For until he has done all these things, ‘he must reign.’” He does not say this to mean that after he has brought it about he does not reign, but to establish this other point: that even if it is not so now, it certainly will be. For his kingdom is not cut off. No, he rules and prevails and remains until he has set all things right.

You can find this way of speaking in the Old Testament too, as when it is said, “But the word of the Lord remains forever” (Psalm 119, verse 89), and, “You are the same, and your years will not fail” (Psalm 102, verse 27). The prophet says these and similar things when he is telling of things that a long stretch of time must bring about, and that must come to pass without fail; he is driving out the fearfulness of the duller sort of hearers.

But to show that the words “until” and “to,” spoken of God, do not signify an end, hear what one says: “From everlasting to everlasting you are God” (Psalm 90, verse 2); and again, “I am, I am,” and, “Even to your old age I am he” (Isaiah 46, verse 4).

This is why he sets death last: so that, from the victory over the rest, this one too might be easily accepted by the unbeliever. For when he destroys the devil, who brought death in, much more will he put an end to the devil’s work.

Now he had referred everything to the Son: the “abolishing of rule and authority,” the perfecting of his kingdom (I mean the salvation of the faithful, the peace of the world, the taking away of evils, for this is what it is to perfect his kingdom), and the putting an end to death. He did not say, “the Father through him,” but, “he himself will put down, and he himself will put under his feet,” and he nowhere mentioned the one who begot him. So afterward he was afraid that because of this, among some of the more irrational people, the Son might seem either to be greater than the Father, or to be some separate first principle, unbegotten. And so, gently guarding himself, he tempers the grandeur of his words, saying, “For he put all things in subjection under his feet,” again referring these great achievements to the Father — not as though the Son were without power. For how could he be, when Paul had borne witness to such great things of him before, and had referred to him everything that was said? No, it was for the reason I mentioned, and to show that everything done on our behalf is common to Father and Son. For hear Paul again, showing that the Son by himself was able to “put all things in subjection under him”: “Who will transform the body of our humiliation, so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, according to the working by which he is able even to subject all things to himself” (Philippians 3, verse 21).

Then he also uses a correction, saying, “But when he says, ‘All things are put in subjection,’ it is evident that he is excepted who put all things in subjection to him.” Even by this he bears witness to no small glory of the only Son. For if the Son were lesser and much inferior, Paul would never have had this fear. Nor is he content with this; he adds something more, as follows. Someone might ask, doubting: “And what if the Father has not been ‘put under him’? That does not at all prevent the Son from being the more powerful.” Fearing this ungodly supposition, since that expression was not enough to rule this out too, he added something that goes far beyond it: “But when all things have been subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected.” By this he shows the Son’s great harmony with the Father, and that the Father is the source of all other good things and the first cause, who has begotten one so great in power and in achievements.

But if he said more than the subject required, do not be surprised. He does it in imitation of his Teacher. For Christ too, meaning to show his harmony with the one who begot him, and that he had not come without the Father’s will, lowers himself — I will not say as far as the proof of harmony required, but as far as the weakness of those present required. For he prays to his Father for no other reason than this, and giving the reason he says, “that they may believe that you sent me” (John 11, verse 42). In imitation of him, then, Paul here goes beyond what was required in his way of speaking — not so that you would suspect any forced servitude, far from it, but so that he might drive out those ungodly teachings all the more completely. For when he means to pull something up by the roots, this is how he usually does it, and he does much more besides.

For example, when he spoke of a believing wife and an unbelieving husband living together under the law of marriage, so that the wife would not think herself defiled by that union and the embraces of the unbeliever, he did not say, “The wife is not unclean,” or, “She is not harmed at all by the unbeliever,” but something much more: that the unbeliever is even “made holy” by her. He did not mean that the pagan was made holy through her; by the great force of the expression he was anxious to remove her fear. So also here, his eagerness to take away that ungodly teaching with a very strong statement was the reason he expressed himself as he did. For just as it is extreme ungodliness to suspect the Son of weakness — which is why he corrects it, saying, “He will put all enemies under his feet” — so, on the other hand, it is still more ungodly to consider the Father inferior to him. That is why he removes this too with exceptional force. And notice how he puts it. He did not simply say, “He is excepted who put all things under him,” but, “it is evident.” “For even if it is admitted,” he says, “still I make it certain.”

And so that you may learn that this is the reason for what is said, I would ask you this: Does some further “subjection” come upon the Son at that time? And how could that be anything but ungodly and unworthy of God? For the greatest subjection and obedience is this: that he who is God took the form of a servant. How, then, will he be “subjected”? Do you see that he used this expression to take away the ungodly notion? And that he used it in a fitting, though guarded, sense? For he obeys as befits a Son and a divine person — not in a human way, but as one who acts freely and has all authority. Otherwise, how does he share the throne? How is it that “as the Father raises up, so does he, whom he will” (John 5, verse 21)? How are “all things that the Father has his,” and all that he has the Father’s (John 16, verse 15)? For these sayings show us an authority measured exactly by that of the one who begot him.

But what does this mean: “When he delivers up the kingdom”? Scripture recognizes two kingdoms of God: one by his making people his own, the other by creation. He is King over all — Greeks and Jews and demons and his adversaries — by right of creation; but he is King of the faithful, the willing, those who submit, by right of making them his own. This is the kingdom that is also said to have a beginning. For of this kingdom he says in the second Psalm, “Ask of me, and I will give you the nations for your inheritance” (Psalm 2, verse 8). Of this too he himself said to his disciples, “All authority has been given to me by my Father” (Matthew 28, verse 18), referring everything to the one who begot him — not as though he were not sufficient by himself, but to signify that he is a Son and not unbegotten. This is the kingdom, then, that he “delivers up,” that is, “brings to its right end.”

“What, then,” someone says, “could be the reason he said nothing about the Spirit?” Because he was not discussing the Spirit now, and he does not mix everything together. So too where he says, “There is one God, the Father, and one Lord, Jesus,” he is silent about the Spirit, certainly not because he admits the Spirit to be inferior, but because at that moment it was not pressing; that is why he spoke as he did. For he often mentions the Father alone, yet we must not therefore cast out the Son; and he often speaks of the Son and the Spirit alone, yet we are not for that reason to deny the Father.

But what does it mean, “that God may be all in all”? That all things may depend on him; that no one may suppose two authorities without a beginning, or another kingdom split off; that nothing may exist independently of him. For when the enemies are lying under the feet of the Son, and he, having them cast under his feet, is not at odds with his Father but in perfect harmony with him, then he himself will “be all in all.”

But some say that he said this to declare the removal of wickedness, as though from then on all would yield, and none would resist or do wrong. For when there is no sin, it is plain that “God will be all in all.”

But if bodies do not rise again, how are these things true? For the worst enemy of all, death, remains, having done whatever he pleased.

“No,” someone says, “for they will sin no more.” And what of that? He is not discussing the death of the soul here, but the death of the body. How, then, is death “put down”? For victory means winning back the things that were carried off and held captive. But if people’s bodies are to be held in the earth, it follows that the tyranny of death remains, since those bodies for their part are still held, and there is no other body in which he can be defeated. But if what Paul spoke of comes about, as it certainly will, God’s victory will be seen, and a glorious one, in his being able to raise again the bodies that death held. For an enemy is defeated when a man takes the spoils, not when he leaves them in the other’s possession. Unless someone dares to take what is the enemy’s, how can we say the enemy is defeated? It is this kind of victory that Christ himself says in the Gospels he has won, speaking this way: “When he has bound the strong man, then he will also plunder his goods” (Matthew 12, verse 29). For if it were not so, it would not be a plain victory at all.

Take the death of the soul: “He who has died is set free from sin” (Romans 6, verse 7). And yet we cannot call this a victory, for the victor is not the one who adds nothing more to his wickedness, but the one who has undone the former captivity of his passions. In just the same way here too, I would not call it a splendid victory that death is stopped from feeding on human bodies, but rather that the bodies he held before should be snatched away from him.

But if they still want to argue, and say that these things were spoken of the soul’s death, how is that death “destroyed last,” when in each person’s case it has been completely destroyed at his baptism? If, however, you speak of the body, the expression makes sense — I mean the saying that death will be “destroyed last.”

And if anyone should wonder why, while discussing the resurrection, he did not bring forward the bodies that rose again in our Lord’s time, our answer might be this: that they could not be cited in support of this resurrection. For to point to people who rose and then died again did not suit someone whose task was to prove that death is completely destroyed. Indeed, this is the very reason he said that death is “destroyed last”: so that you would never again suspect that it rises again. For when sin is taken away, much more will death cease. It is altogether unreasonable, when the spring has dried up, for the stream flowing from it still to run; or, when the root has been destroyed, for the fruit to remain.

Since, then, on the last day the enemies of God will be destroyed, together with death and the devil and the evil spirits, let us not be downcast at the prosperity of God’s enemies. For the enemies of the Lord fail at the very moment of their glory and exaltation: “Like smoke they have vanished away” (Psalm 37, verse 20). When you see an enemy of God who is wealthy, with armed attendants and many flatterers, do not be cast down, but grieve, weep, call on God to enroll him among his friends. And the more he prospers while he is God’s enemy, the more you should mourn for him. For we ought always to weep over sinners, but especially when they enjoy wealth and an abundance of good days, just as one weeps over the sick when they eat and drink to excess.

But there are some who, when they hear this, are so unhappily disposed that they sigh bitterly at it and say: “Tears are due to me, who have nothing.” You have said it well — “who have nothing” — not because you do not have what someone else has, but because you think such a thing worth calling happy. For this very reason you deserve endless weeping. It is as if a man in good health should count a sick man happy because he lies on a soft couch: the sick man is not nearly so wretched and miserable as he is, because he has no sense of his own advantages. You can see just the same thing in these people. Indeed, this is how our whole life is thrown into confusion and disorder. For such sayings have ruined many, handed them over to the devil, and made them more pitiable than people wasting away with hunger. That those who long for more are more wretched than beggars, because a greater and more bitter sorrow has hold of them, is plain from what follows.

A drought once came upon our city, and everyone was trembling at the prospect of the worst of evils, and begging God to rid them of this fear. You could see then what Moses spoke of: “the heavens become bronze” (Deuteronomy 28, verse 23), and every day people were waiting for a death more horrible than any other. But afterward, when it pleased the merciful God, beyond all expectation a great and plentiful rain was sent down from heaven, and from then on everyone was keeping holiday and feasting, as people who had come up from the very gates of death. But in the midst of such great blessings and the common gladness of all, one of those extremely wealthy men went about with a gloomy, downcast face, quite dead with grief. When many asked him why he alone was sorrowful in the common joy of everyone, he could not even keep his savage passion to himself, but, goaded by the tyranny of his disease, told them all the reason. “Why,” he said, “I have ten thousand measures of wheat in my possession, and now I have no way left to sell them.” Tell me, shall we count him happy for these words, for which he deserved to be stoned? A man crueler than any wild beast, the common enemy of all? What are you saying, my friend? Are you sad because not everyone perished, so that you could gather gold? Have you not heard what Solomon says: “Whoever holds back grain, the people will curse him” (Proverbs 11, verse 26)? Yet you go about as the common enemy of the world’s blessings, a foe to the generosity of the world’s Lord, a friend of mammon — or rather, his slave! Does not that tongue deserve to be cut out, and the heart that brought forth these words to be quenched?

Do you see how gold does not let people be people, but makes them wild beasts and demons? For what could be more pitiful than this rich man, whose daily prayer is for famine, so that he may get a little gold? And by now his passion has turned round into its own opposite: he does not even rejoice in his abundant store of the fruits of the earth, but on this very account grieves all the more — that is how far gone he is — because his possessions are endless. One who has much ought to be glad; but this man is downcast for that very reason. Do you see that, as I said, the rich do not get as much pleasure from what they have as they suffer grief over what has not yet been added? For the man with countless quantities of wheat grieved and lamented more than the man who was going hungry. The one, merely because he had his necessary food, was putting on garlands, leaping for joy, and giving thanks to God; the other, who had so much, was fretting and thought himself ruined.

So it is not abundance that gives us pleasure, but a self-controlled mind. Without this, even if a man obtains and has everything, he will feel as though he has been robbed of everything, and will mourn accordingly. This man we are speaking of, too, even if he had sold everything he had for as large a sum as he wanted, would have grieved again that it was not for more; and if he could have had more, he would have looked for yet another rise; and if he had sold the bushel for a pound, he would even then have been beside himself with grief that the half bushel could not be sold for as much. And if the price was not set so high at first, do not be surprised. Drunkards too are not inflamed at first, but when they have loaded themselves with much wine, then they fan the flame to greater fierceness. So too these people: the more they grab, the greater the poverty they find themselves in, and those who gain more than others are the very ones most in want.

But I say these things not only to this man, but also to each of those who have this disease — those, I mean, who raise the price of their goods and make a business out of their neighbors’ poverty. For no one anywhere takes any account of kindness to others; everywhere it is greed that brings many out at selling time. Oil and wine are sold by one more quickly and by another more slowly, but by neither out of regard for others: the one is looking for gain, the other trying to avoid loss when his produce spoils. So, because most people take little account of the laws of God, and shut everything up and keep it indoors, God has led them to kindness by other means, so that, if only out of necessity, they may do something kind. He has put into them the fear of a greater loss, by not letting the fruits of the earth keep for any long time, so that from sheer dread of the damage when they spoil they may put up for sale to the needy, even against their will, the things they wickedly bury and keep at home.

Yet even after all this, some are so insatiable that not even this corrects them. Many, for example, have gone so far as to empty whole casks. They would not give even a cupful to a poor man, or a coin to the needy; but once the wine has turned to vinegar they pour it all out on the ground, and ruin their casks along with the produce. Others, who would not give part of a single loaf to the hungry, have thrown whole granaries into some river. Because they did not listen to God, who told them to give to the needy, at the bidding of the moth they emptied out, even against their will, all they had in their houses, to utter destruction and waste, and brought down on their own heads, along with the loss, much scorn and many a curse.

Such is the course of their affairs here. But the life hereafter — what words will set it before us? For just as these people in this world throw their moth-eaten grain, grown useless, into rivers, so God throws those who do such things, having become useless for this very reason, into the river of fire. For as the grain is devoured by moth and worm, so their souls are devoured by cruelty and inhumanity. And the reason for all this is that they are nailed to present things and gape after this life alone. That is also why such people are full of endless sadness. Name any pleasure you like: the fear of their end is enough to destroy it all, and such a person “is dead while he is still alive” (First Timothy 5, verse 6).

Now it is no wonder that unbelievers should feel this way. But when those who have shared in such great mysteries, and have learned such lofty lessons of self-denial about the things to come, love to dwell among present things, what pardon do they deserve?

Where, then, does their love of dwelling among present things come from? From giving their minds to luxury, fattening their flesh, making their soul soft, and making their burden heavy, their darkness great, and their veil thick. For in luxury the better part is enslaved and the worse prevails. The better is blinded on every side and dragged along in its crippled state, while the other drags people around and leads them everywhere, though it ought to be among the things that are led.

For great indeed is the bond between the soul and the body. The Maker contrived this so that no one could persuade us to loathe the body as something foreign to us. God told us to love our enemies; but the devil has prevailed so far as to persuade some people even to hate their own body. When someone says the body is from the devil, he proves nothing but this, which is the very height of senile folly. For if it is from the devil, where does this perfect harmony come from, which makes it fit in every way for the workings of a self-controlled soul?

“No,” someone says, “if it is fit, how does the body blind the soul?” It is not the body that blinds the soul — far from it, my friend! — but luxury. And where does our desire for luxury come from? Not from having a body, by no means, but from an evil choice. The body needs feeding, not high feeding; the body needs nourishing, not being broken up and falling apart. You see that luxury is hostile not to the soul only, but to the very body that receives the nourishment. For the body becomes weak instead of strong, soft instead of firm, sickly instead of healthy, heavy instead of light, loose instead of compact, ugly instead of handsome, foul-smelling instead of fragrant, unclean instead of clean, full of pain instead of at ease, useless instead of useful, old instead of young, decaying instead of strong, slow and dull instead of quick, crippled instead of whole. Yet if the body were from the devil, it ought not to be injured by the things of the devil — I mean, by sin.

But neither the body nor food is from the devil, only luxury. For through it that malicious fiend brings about his countless evils. That is how he made victims of a whole people. “For the beloved grew fat,” says one, “and grew thick, and was enlarged, and kicked” (Deuteronomy 32, verse 15). From this also came the beginning of those thunderbolts on Sodom. To make this known, Ezekiel said, “But this was the wrongdoing of Sodom: in pride, and in plenty of bread, and in luxuries they ran riot” (Ezekiel 16, verse 49). That is also why Paul said, “She who gives herself to pleasure is dead while she lives” (First Timothy 5, verse 6). How so? Because she carries her body about like a tomb, bound fast to countless evils. And if the body is ruined in this way, what will become of the soul? What disorder, what waves, what a storm will fill it? By this, you see, it becomes unfit for every duty; it will have no power to speak easily, or hear, or take counsel, or do anything that is needed. Just as a helmsman, when the storm has got the better of his skill, is plunged into the deep, ship and sailors and all, so the soul too, together with the body, is drowned in the terrible abyss of insensibility.

For God has set the stomach in our bodies as a kind of mill, giving it a proportionate power and fixing a set measure that it ought to grind each day. So if someone throws in more, it stays undigested and injures the whole body. From this come diseases, weaknesses, and disfigurements. For luxury makes a beautiful woman not only sickly but also ugly to look at. When she is constantly giving off unpleasant odors, and breathes out the fumes of stale wine, and is more flushed than she should be, and spoils the proportions that suit a woman, and loses all her grace; when her body grows flabby, her eyelids bloodshot and swollen, her bulk too great, and her flesh a useless load — think what disgust all this produces.

What is more, I have heard a physician say that many have been kept from reaching their proper height by nothing so much as luxurious living. For the breath is blocked by the mass of things thrown in, and is taken up with digesting them, so that what ought to serve for growth is spent on digesting the excess. Why speak of gout, of rheum spread everywhere, of the other diseases that arise from this, of the whole loathsome business? For nothing is so disgusting as a woman pampering herself with much food. That is why you can see more beauty among the poorer women: the excess is used up and does not cling to them like so much useless clay, of no use or benefit. Their daily exercise, their labors and hardships, their frugal table and spare diet give them great soundness of body, and from that great bloom as well.

But if you talk about the pleasure of luxury, you will find it goes no further than the throat. As soon as it has passed the tongue it has flown away, leaving behind in the body much that is disgusting. Please do not look at the pleasure-lovers only while they are at table. When you see them get up, follow them, and you will see bodies more like those of wild beasts and animals without reason than of human beings. You will see them with headaches, bloated, bandaged, needing a bed and a couch and plenty of rest, like men tossed in a great storm who need others to rescue them, and longing for the state they were in before they swelled up to bursting. They carry their bellies about with a burden like that of women with child; they can scarcely step forward, scarcely see, scarcely speak, scarcely do anything. And if they happen to sleep a little, again they see strange dreams, full of all kinds of fancies.

And what should one say of that other madness of theirs — the madness of lust, I mean, for this too has its springs here? Like stallions wild for the mares, goaded by the sting of their drunkenness, they leap on everyone, more irrational than the horses and more frantic in their plunging, and they commit many more indecencies that it is not right even to name. For in fact they no longer know what they suffer or what they do.

But the man who keeps away from luxury is not like this. He sits in harbor, watching other people’s shipwrecks, and enjoys a pleasure that is pure and lasting, following the life that befits a free man. Knowing these things, then, let us flee from the evil banquets of luxury and hold fast to a spare table, so that, being in good health of both soul and body, we may practice every virtue and attain the good things to come, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.