Homily 13 — Second Corinthians 6, verse 11, to 7, verse 1

“Our mouth is open to you, Corinthians; our heart is opened wide. You are not cramped in us, but you are cramped in your own affections.” [a]

Paul has set out his own trials and hardships: “in endurance,” he says, “in afflictions, in hardships, in distresses, in beatings, in imprisonments, in riots, in labors, in sleepless nights” (verses 4 and 5). He has shown that all this was a great good: “as sorrowful,” he says, “yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich”; “as disciplined,” he says, “and not killed.” He has called these things “armor.” By this he has shown how abundant God’s care and power are, for he says, “that the surpassing greatness of the power may be of God, and not of us” (Second Corinthians 4, verse 7).

He has recounted his labors, for he says, “we always carry about his dying”; and he has shown that this is a clear proof of the resurrection, for he says, “that the life of Jesus also may be revealed in our mortal flesh” (Second Corinthians 4, verse 10). He has told what he was made a sharer in, and what he had been entrusted with: “we are ambassadors on behalf of Christ,” he says, “as though God were pleading through us” (Second Corinthians 5, verse 20). And he has told whose minister he is: “not of the letter, but of the Spirit” (Second Corinthians 3, verse 6).

He has shown, too, that he deserved reverence not on this account only, but also for his trials, for he says, “Thanks be to God, who always causes us to triumph.” Now he means to rebuke them for not being very well disposed toward him. Yet although he intends this, he does not come to it at once, but only after finishing his discussion of these things. For even if the one who rebukes deserves reverence for his own good deeds, still, when he also shows the love he bears toward those he is rebuking, he makes his words less offensive. That is why the apostle stepped away from the subject of his own trials and toils and struggles and passed on to speak of his love; and in this way he touches them to the quick. [c]

What, then, are the signs of his love? “Our mouth is open to you, Corinthians.” And what kind of sign of love is this? What do the words even mean? “We cannot bear to be silent toward you. We are always wanting and longing to speak and talk with you.” That is the way of those who love. For what the clasping of hands is to the body, the exchange of words is to the soul. And along with this he hints at something else as well. What is it? That we speak to you freely. For since he means to rebuke them afterward, he asks their pardon, making the very freedom with which he rebukes them a proof that he loves them exceedingly. Adding their name, too, is a mark of great love, warmth and affection; for we tend to keep repeating the bare names of those we love.

“Our heart is opened wide.” Just as what warms a thing tends to expand it, so widening is the work of love. For virtue is warm and fervent. This is what opened Paul’s mouth and widened his heart. “I do not love with my mouth only; my heart is in agreement with it. That is why I speak openly, with my whole mouth, with my whole mind.” For nothing was wider than Paul’s heart. He loved all the faithful with all the intensity a lover could feel for the one he loves, and this love of his was whole and entire toward each one. And why wonder that it was so with the faithful, when even in the case of unbelievers Paul’s heart embraced the whole world? That is why he did not say, “I love you,” but, more forcefully, “Our mouth is open, our heart is opened wide”: we hold you all within it, and not only that, but with plenty of room. For the one who is loved walks about with great freedom inside the heart of the one who loves him. That is why he says, “You are not cramped in us, but you are cramped in your own affections.” [e]

And see how gently this reproof is given, as is the way of those who love exceedingly. He did not say, “You do not love us,” but, “not in the same measure,” for he does not want to hurt them too sharply. Indeed, one can see everywhere how he burns for the faithful, by picking out words from every one of his letters. To the Romans he says, “I long to see you”; and, “Often I planned to come to you”; and, “if somehow now at last I may succeed in coming to you” (Romans 1, verses 11, 13 and 10).

To the Galatians he says, “My little children, for whom I am again in labor” (Galatians 4, verse 19). To the Ephesians again, “For this reason I bow my knees” for you (Ephesians 3, verse 14). To the Philippians, “For what is my hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Is it not you?” And he said that he carried them about in his heart, and in his chains (Philippians 1, verse 7). To the Colossians, “I want you to know how greatly I struggle for you, and for all who have not seen my face in the flesh, that your hearts may be comforted” (Colossians 2, verses 1 and 2). [f]

To the Thessalonians, “As a nurse cherishes her children, so, longing for you tenderly, we were well pleased to share with you not the good news only, but also our own souls” (First Thessalonians 2, verses 7 and 8). To Timothy, “Remembering your tears, that I may be filled with joy” (Second Timothy 1, verse 4). To Titus, “To my beloved son” (Titus 1, verse 4); and to Philemon in the same way (Philemon, verse 1). To the Hebrews, too, he writes many other things of this kind, and never stops pleading with them and saying, “In a very little while, he who is coming will come, and will not delay” (Hebrews 10, verse 37), just like a mother with her sulking children.

And to the Corinthians themselves he says, “You are not cramped in us.” But he does not say only that he loves; he also says that he is loved by them, so that this too may win them over all the more. Bearing witness to this in them, he says that Titus came and “told us of your longing, your mourning, your zeal” (Second Corinthians 7, verse 7). And to the Galatians, “If possible, you would have plucked out your own eyes and given them to me” (Galatians 4, verse 15). And to the Thessalonians, “what kind of entrance we had among you” (First Thessalonians 1, verse 9). And to Timothy too, “Remembering your tears, that I may be filled with joy” (Second Timothy 1, verse 4).

All through his letters, in fact, one can find him bearing this witness to his disciples: both that he loved them and that he was loved, though not equally. And here he says, “Though the more abundantly I love you, the less I am loved” (Second Corinthians 12, verse 15). That, however, comes near the end. For now he says it more forcefully: “You are not cramped in us, but you are cramped in your own affections.” “You have only one person to take in; I take in a whole city, and so great a population.” And he did not say, “You do not take us in,” but, “You are cramped” — implying the same thing, but gently, and without wounding them too deeply.

Verse 13: “Now in return, the same in kind — I speak as to my children — you too be opened wide.”

And yet it is not an equal return, to be loved first and to love afterward. For even if someone gives back the same amount, he falls short, because he comes to it second. “Still, I am not going to count strictly. If, after receiving the first advances from me, you only show the same amount, I am pleased and satisfied.” Then, to show that doing this was actually a debt they owed, and that what he said had no flattery in it, he says, “I speak as to my children.” What does “as to my children” mean? “I am asking nothing great if, being your father, I want to be loved by you.”

And see his wisdom and modesty. He does not mention here his dangers for their sake, his labors and his deaths, although he had many to tell of — so free is he from pride! — but his love; and on this ground he claims to be loved. “Because I was your father, because I burn for you exceedingly.” For it is often especially offensive to the person who is loved when someone sets out his own benefits to him, since he seems to be reproaching him. That is why Paul does not do this, but says, “Love your father, as children do” — which comes rather from nature, and is owed to every father. Then, so that he would not seem to be saying these things for his own sake, he shows that it is for their own benefit that he invites this love from them. And so he added:

Verse 14: “Do not be unequally yoked together with unbelievers.”

He did not say, “Do not mix with unbelievers,” but, dealing sharply with them as people who were breaking what was right, he says, “Do not let yourselves swerve aside. For what partnership has righteousness with wrongdoing?” In what follows he draws a comparison — not between his own love and the love of those who were corrupting them, but between the Corinthians’ nobility and the others’ disgrace. That way his words became more dignified and more fitting for him, and were more likely to win them over.

It is as if someone were to say to a son who despised his parents and had given himself over to vicious people: “What are you doing, child? Do you despise your father, and prefer impure men full of countless vices? Don’t you know how much better and more respectable you are than they are?” Speaking this way, he pulls him away from their company more readily than if he voiced his admiration for the father. For if he were to say, “Don’t you know how much better your father is than they are?” he will not have as much effect. But if he leaves out any mention of the father and brings the young man himself forward, saying, “Don’t you know who you are, and what they are? Don’t you remember your own noble birth and good family, and their disgrace? What fellowship do you have with them — those thieves, those adulterers, those cheats?” then by lifting him up with this praise of himself, he will quickly make him ready to break with them.

The first appeal the young man will not welcome very readily, because exalting his father is an accusation against himself, when he is shown to be grieving not just a father, but such a father. In the second case he will feel nothing of the kind. For no one would choose not to be praised; and so, together with praise of the one who hears it, the rebuke becomes easy to swallow. The listener is softened, filled with high thoughts, and looks down on the company of those people.

But this is not the only thing to admire in him, that he pursued his comparison this way. He also devised something else, still greater and more striking. In the first place, he frames his words as questions, which suits things that are clear and agreed on; and then he expands them with a quick succession of many terms. He uses not one or two or three, but several. Besides this, instead of persons he uses the names of the things themselves, painting high virtue on one side and utter vice on the other, and he shows the difference between them to be so great and so boundless that it needs no proof. “For what partnership,” he says, “has righteousness with wrongdoing?” [g]

“And what fellowship has light with darkness?” “And what harmony has Christ with Beliar? Or what portion has a believer with an unbeliever? Or what agreement has a temple of God with idols?” (verses 15 and 16)

Do you see how he uses the bare names, and how well they serve his purpose of turning them away? He did not say “neglect of righteousness,” but something stronger: “wrongdoing.” Nor did he speak of those who belong to the light and those who belong to the darkness; he used the opposites themselves, which cannot admit each other: “light and darkness.” Nor did he say those who are Christ’s and those who are the devil’s, but, what was far wider apart, “Christ and Beliar” — the Hebrew name he gives that apostate.

“Or what portion has a believer with an unbeliever?” Here at last, so that he would not seem simply to be running through a condemnation of vice and a praise of virtue, he mentions persons too, though without naming anyone. And he did not say “fellowship,” but spoke of the rewards, using the word “portion.” “What agreement has a temple of God with idols?”

“For you are a temple of the living God.” What he means is this: your King has nothing in common with that one — “for what harmony has Christ with Beliar?” — nor do the things themselves have anything in common — “for what fellowship has light with darkness?” So neither should you. He mentions their King first, and then themselves, and by this he separates them most effectively. [h]

Then, having said, “a temple of God with idols,” and having declared, “For you are a temple of the living God,” he is obliged to add the testimony for this as well, to show that it is not flattery. For the one who praises without also giving proof seems to be flattering. What, then, is his testimony? “I will dwell in them,” he says, “and walk in them.” “I will dwell in them,” as in temples; “and walk in them,” showing a still closer bond with them. “And they will be my people, and I will be their God.” “What? You carry God within you, and you run to them — to those with whom God has nothing in common? How can this deserve forgiveness? Remember who walks in you, who dwells in you.”

Verse 17: “Therefore come out from among them, and be separate, and touch no unclean thing; and I will receive you, says the Lord.” [i]

He did not say, “Do not do unclean things,” but, demanding greater strictness, “Do not even touch them,” he says, “or go near them.” But what is filthiness of the flesh? Adultery, sexual immorality, lewdness of every kind. And what is filthiness of the soul? Unclean thoughts, such as gazing with unchaste eyes; malice, deceit, and everything of that sort. He wants them, then, to be clean in both. Do you see how great the prize is? To be delivered from what is evil, to be made one with God. Listen to what follows as well.

Verse 18: “And I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord.”

Do you see how the prophet announces from the beginning the noble birth we now have, the new birth by grace?

Chapter 7, verse 1: “Having therefore these promises, beloved.”

What promises? That we would be temples of God, his sons and daughters; that we would have him dwelling and walking in us; that we would be his people, and have him for our God and Father.

“Let us cleanse ourselves from all defilement of flesh and spirit.” Let us not touch unclean things, for this is cleansing of the flesh; nor the things that defile the soul, for this is cleansing of the spirit. Yet he is not content with this alone, but adds, “perfecting holiness in the fear of God.” For not touching the unclean thing does not make us clean; something more is needed for us to become holy: earnestness, watchfulness, godliness. And he did well to say, “in the fear of God.” For it is possible to perfect chastity not in the fear of God but for empty glory. [j]

And by saying “in the fear of God,” he points to something else as well: the way in which holiness may be perfected. For even if craving is a domineering thing, still, if you occupy its territory with the fear of God, you have checked its frenzy. By holiness here he means not chastity alone, but freedom from every kind of sin; for the holy person is the one who is pure. And a person will become pure not by being free from sexual immorality only, but from greed as well, and envy, and pride, and empty glory — yes, above all from empty glory. It must be avoided in everything, but much more in almsgiving; for with this disease it will not even be almsgiving, but display and cruelty. When you give not out of mercy but for show, the deed is not only no almsgiving but actually an insult, for you have put your brother to open shame.

Almsgiving, then, is not giving money, but giving it out of mercy. People at the theaters give too — to boy prostitutes and to others on the stage — but that deed is not almsgiving. Men who abuse the bodies of prostitutes give as well; but this is not kindness, it is an outrage. The man who gives for empty glory is like this. Just as the man who abuses a prostitute’s body pays her a price for that abuse, so you too charge a price from the one who receives from you: the insult you do him, and the bad name you fasten on him as well as on yourself.

And besides this, the loss is beyond words. As a wild beast or a mad dog might spring on us, so this evil disease, this inhumanity, preys on our good things. For that is what such conduct is: inhumanity and cruelty — or rather, something even worse. The cruel man would not give to someone who asked; but you do more than that: you hinder those who want to give. For when you parade your giving, you have lowered the reputation of the one who receives, and you have held back the one who was about to give, if he is a careless sort. He will not give to that poor man from then on, on the ground that he has already received and so is not in need. Often he will even accuse him, if after receiving he comes asking again, and will think him shameless.

What sort of almsgiving is this, then, when you shame both yourself and the one who receives — and, in two ways, the One who commanded it? First, because though you have him watching your almsgiving, you look for the eyes of your fellow servants besides him; and second, because you break the law he laid down forbidding these things.

I would have liked to carry this over into those other subjects as well, fasting and prayer, and to show in how many ways empty glory does harm there too. But I remember that in the sermon before this one I left a necessary point unfinished. What was the point? I was saying that the poor have the advantage over the rich in the things of this life, when I spoke about health and pleasure; and this was shown only dimly. Come, then: today let us show that the advantage is theirs not only in the things of this life, but also in the higher things. [k]

Which leads to a kingdom, riches or poverty? Let us hear the Lord of the heavens himself. Of the rich he says that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19, verse 24). Of the poor he says the opposite: “If you want to be perfect, sell what you have and give to the poor; and come, follow me; and you will have treasure in heaven” (Matthew 19, verse 21). But if you like, let us see what is said on each side. “Narrow and hard is the way,” he says, “that leads to life” (Matthew 7, verse 14). Who, then, treads the narrow way: the man who lives in luxury, or the man in poverty? The independent man, or the one who carries countless burdens? The slack and loose-living, or the thoughtful and careworn?

But why do we need these arguments, when the best thing is to turn to the people themselves? Lazarus was poor — yes, very poor; and the man who passed him by as he lay at his gate was rich. Which of them entered the kingdom and enjoyed delights in Abraham’s bosom? And which of them was scorched, without even a drop at his command? But someone says: “Many poor people will be lost too, and many rich people will enjoy those good things beyond words.” No; rather, one sees the opposite: few of the rich are saved, and far more of the poor.

Consider it, then, weighing exactly the hindrances of wealth and the failings of poverty — or rather, they belong not to wealth or to poverty but to each of those who have wealth or poverty; still, let us at least see which is the more serviceable weapon. What failing, then, does poverty seem to have? Lying. And wealth? Pride, the mother of evils, which made the devil a devil, though he was not one before. Again, “the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” (First Timothy 6, verse 10). Who, then, stands nearer this root, the rich man or the poor? Is it not very plainly the rich? For the more a man surrounds himself with, the more he desires. Empty glory, again, ruins countless good deeds, and here too the rich man makes his home close by. “But you do not mention the poor man’s evils: his hardship, his distress.” But this is common to the rich man too, and it is more his than the poor man’s. So the things that look like the evils of poverty are common to both, while the evils of wealth belong to wealth alone. “But what about when the poor man, for lack of necessities, commits many terrible crimes?” But no poor man — not one — commits as many terrible things out of need as the rich do in order to surround themselves with more and not to lose the stores they have. The poor man does not desire necessities as eagerly as the rich man desires what is superfluous; nor does he have the strength to carry out wickedness that the rich man has the power to. If, then, the rich man is both more willing and more able, it is quite plain that he is the one who will commit such things, and more of them. Nor is the poor man as afraid of hunger as the rich man trembles and frets over losing what he has, and over not yet having got hold of everyone’s possessions. Since, then, he lives close to empty glory and arrogance and the love of money, the root of all evils, what hope of salvation will he have, unless he shows great wisdom? And how will he walk the narrow way?

So let us not carry around the opinions of the crowd, but look into the facts. Is it not absurd that where money is concerned we do not trust others, but rely on figures and calculation, yet when we reckon up the facts we are easily led astray by other people’s opinions — and that, though we have an exact balance, a square and a rule for everything: the pronouncements of the divine laws? So I urge and beg you all: pay no attention to what this person or that one thinks about these things, but inquire into all of them from the Scriptures. And having learned what the true riches are, let us pursue them, so that we may also obtain the eternal good things. May we all obtain them, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory, might and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.