Homily 19 — Second Corinthians 9, verses 1 to 9

“For as for the ministry to the saints, it is superfluous for me to write to you.” [a]

He has said so much about it, and yet here he says, “It is superfluous for me to write to you.” His wisdom shows not only in this, that after saying so much he says, “It is superfluous for me to write to you,” but also in the fact that he speaks of it yet again. What he said a little above, he said about those who were taking charge of the money, to make sure they would enjoy great honor. But what he said before that — his account of the Macedonians, that “their deep poverty overflowed in the riches of their generosity,” and all the rest — was about kindness to others and almsgiving. And still, though he had said so much before and was about to speak of it again, he says, “It is superfluous for me to write to you.”

He does this all the more to win them to himself. For a man with so high a reputation that he does not even need advice is ashamed to seem inferior to that opinion of him and to fall short of it. He often does the same thing in accusation too, using the figure of speech called omission, for it is very effective. The judge, seeing how large-minded the accuser is, does not even become suspicious. He reasons, “A man who could say a great deal and yet does not say it — how would he invent what is not true?” So the speaker gives grounds to suspect even more than he says, and wraps himself in the credit of a kindly disposition. Paul does this in his advice and in his praise as well. For after saying, “It is superfluous for me to write to you,” notice how he advises them.

“For I know your readiness, of which I boast on your behalf to those of Macedonia.” Now it was a great thing that he knew it himself, but a much greater thing that he also made it public to others, for that has greater force: they would not want to be disgraced before so many. Do you see the wisdom of his plan? He urged them by the example of others, the Macedonians, for he says, “I make known to you the grace of God which has been given in the churches of Macedonia.” He urged them by their own example, for he says, “who were the first to make a beginning a year ago, not only to do, but also to be willing.” He urged them by the Lord’s example, for he says, “You know the grace of our Lord, that though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor” (Second Corinthians 8, verse 9). [c]

Here again he falls back on that strong main point, the conduct of others, for human beings are competitive. And truly the Lord’s example ought to have had the most power to win them over, and after it the thought of the reward. But because they were somewhat weak, this is what draws them most, for nothing works as well as rivalry. But notice how he brings it in, in a rather new way. He did not say, “Imitate them.” What then?

“And your zeal has stirred up very many.” What are you saying, Paul? A little before, you said they did it “of their own accord, begging us with much entreaty.” How is it now “your zeal”? “Yes,” he says, “we did not advise them, we did not urge them. We only praised you, we only boasted of you, and this was enough to spur them on.” Do you see how he rouses each by the other, these by those and those by these, and together with the rivalry has mixed in very high praise? Then, so as not to make them conceited, he follows it up in a measured tone, saying, “Your zeal has stirred up very many.” Now consider what it would mean for the very people who gave others the occasion for this generosity to fall behind in the contribution themselves. That is why he did not say, “Imitate them,” for that would not have kindled so great a rivalry. What did he say, then? “They have imitated you. See to it, then, that you, the teachers, do not turn out inferior to your pupils.” [d]

And see how, while stirring them up and setting them on fire still more, he pretends to be standing with them, as if he were taking their side in some rivalry and contest. For just as he said above, “Of their own accord, with much entreaty, they came to us, so that we urged Titus that, as he had made a beginning before, so he would also complete this grace,” so here too he says, in verse 3: “For this reason I have sent the brothers, so that our boasting on your behalf may not be made empty.”

Do you see that he is anxious and afraid, in case he should seem to have said what he said only for the sake of urging them on? “But because it really is so,” he says, “I have sent the brothers” — “so eager am I on your behalf” — “that our boasting may not be made empty.” Throughout, he seems to make himself one of the Corinthians’ party, though he cares for all alike. What he means is this: “I am very proud of you. I boast of you before everyone; I boasted of you even to them. So if you are found wanting, I share the shame.” And he says this with a limit, for he added, “in this respect,” not in everything. [e]

“That, as I said, you may be prepared.” “For I did not say, ‘They intend to,’ but, ‘Everything is ready, and nothing is lacking on their part.’ This, then,” he says, “I want to be shown by your deeds.” Then he raises the anxiety still higher, saying, in verse 4: “In case, by any chance, some from Macedonia come with me, and we — not to say you — are put to shame in this confidence.” The shame is greater when the onlookers he has lined up against them are many, and those the very people who had heard his boasting. And he did not say, “For I am bringing Macedonians with me,” or, “For there are Macedonians coming with me,” so as not to seem to be doing it on purpose. How did he put it, then? “In case, by any chance, some from Macedonia come with me.” “For this may happen,” he says; “it is a possibility.” In this way he also kept what he said free of suspicion. Had he expressed himself the other way, he would even have made them more contentious.

See how he leads them on, not only by spiritual motives but by human ones as well. “For even if you think little of me,” he says, “and count confidently on my excusing you, still, think of those from Macedonia” — “in case, by any chance, they come and find you.” And he did not say “unwilling,” but “unprepared,” that is, not having everything completed. But if it is a disgrace not to contribute quickly, consider how great a disgrace it would be to contribute either not at all, or less than you should. Then he sets down what would follow, in words both gentle and stinging: “We — not to say you — are put to shame.” And he softens it again by saying, “in this confidence.” He does this not to make them more careless, but to show that people who had proved themselves in every other respect ought to be able to stand without fear in this one as well.

Verse 5: “I thought it necessary, therefore, to urge the brothers to arrange beforehand this blessing of yours, so that it might be ready as a blessing and not as extortion.” [f]

Again he takes up the subject in a different way. And so that he might not seem to be saying these things for no purpose, he states that the only reason for this journey was that they might not be put to shame. Do you see how his words, “It is superfluous for me to write,” were the beginning of his advice? You see, at any rate, how much he says about this ministry. And besides this, one may also notice that, so as not to seem to contradict himself by saying “It is superfluous” and then speaking about it at length, he passed on to speak of quickness, largeness and eagerness in giving, and by this means secured that point too. For these are the three things he requires.

Indeed, he had raised these three main points at the very start. When he says, “In a great test of affliction, the abundance of their joy and their deep poverty overflowed in the riches of their generosity,” he is saying nothing else than that they contributed much, gladly and quickly — and that not only did giving much not pain them, but not even being in trials did, which is harder to bear than giving. And the words, “they gave themselves to us,” also show both their eagerness and the greatness of their faith.

Here too he deals with the same heads. Generosity and eagerness pull against each other: one person who has given much is often sorry, while another, so as not to be sorry, gives less. So notice how he takes care of each, with the wisdom that belongs to him. He did not say, “It is better to give a little freely than much under compulsion,” because he wanted them to contribute both much and freely. How does he put it, then? “That they might arrange beforehand this blessing of yours, so that it might be ready as a blessing and not as extortion.” He begins with what is pleasantest and lightest, the “not under compulsion,” for it is a “blessing,” he says. Notice how in the very form of his appeal he pictures at once the fruit springing up and the givers filled with blessing. By the word he used he won them over, for no one gives a blessing with pain. Yet he was not content even with this, but added, “not as extortion.” “Do not think,” he says, “that we take it from you as extortioners do, but that we may be the cause of a blessing to you.” For extortion belongs to the unwilling, so that whoever gives alms unwillingly gives under extortion. Then from this he passed on again to the other point, giving generously.

Verse 6: “But this I say” — that is, along with this I also say that. What? [g]

“He who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” He did not say “stingily,” but used a milder word, “sparingly.” And he called the thing sowing, so that you might look at once to the reward, and with the harvest in mind might feel that you receive more than you give. That is why he did not say, “He who gives,” but, “He who sows.” And he did not say, “you, if you sow,” but made what he said general. Nor did he say “largely,” but “bountifully,” which is far greater than that.

Then he turns back to that earlier point, gladness, saying, in verse 7: “Let each man do as he has purposed in his heart.” For a man left to himself does a thing more readily than when he is compelled. That is why he dwells on this; after saying, “as he is disposed,” he added, “not grudgingly, nor under compulsion.” And he was not content even with this, but adds a testimony from Scripture as well, saying, “For God loves a cheerful giver.” Do you see how often he sets this down? “I do not speak by way of command,” and, “In this I give my advice,” and, “as a blessing and not as extortion,” and again, “not grudgingly, nor under compulsion; for God loves a cheerful giver.”

In this passage I think it is a large giver that is meant; the apostle, however, has taken it of giving with readiness. For since the example of the Macedonians and all those other things were enough to produce lavish giving, he does not say much on that head, but speaks rather of giving without reluctance. For if almsgiving is a work of virtue, and yet everything done under compulsion is stripped of its reward, it is with good reason that he labors this point.

And he does not merely advise, but adds a prayer as well, as is his habit, saying, in verse 8: “And may God, who is able, fulfill all grace toward you.” By this prayer he removes a thought that lay in wait against this generosity, and which even now holds many people back. For many are afraid to give alms, saying, “What if I become poor? What if I come to need help from others?” To do away with this fear, then, he adds the prayer that he may “make all grace abound toward you” — not merely “fulfill,” but “make it abound.” And what is “make grace abound”? “May he fill you,” he means, “with such great things that you may be able to abound in this generosity.”

“That you, always having all sufficiency in everything, may abound in every good work.” [i]

Notice, even in this prayer of his, his great philosophy. He prays not for riches, nor for abundance, but for all sufficiency. Nor is this all that is admirable in him. Just as he did not pray for more than enough, so he does not press hard on them or compel them to give out of their need, but makes allowance for their weakness. He asks for “sufficiency,” and shows at the same time that they ought not to misuse the gifts they have received from God. “That you may abound,” he says, “in every good work.” “This is why I ask for it,” he says, “so that you may give to others too.” Yet he did not say “give,” but “abound.” For in the things of the body he asks sufficiency for them, but in spiritual things even abundance — and not in almsgiving only, but in everything else as well: “in every good work.”

Then he brings in the prophet as their counselor, having found a testimony that invites them to generosity, and says, in verse 9: “As it is written, He has scattered abroad, he has given to the poor; his righteousness remains forever.” [k]

This is what “abound” means, for the words “he has scattered abroad” signify nothing else than giving plentifully. Even if the things themselves do not remain, what comes of them remains. And this is what is wonderful: when they are kept they are lost, but when they are scattered abroad they remain — yes, remain forever. Now by “righteousness” here he means love for other people. For this makes a person righteous, burning up sins like a fire when it is poured out plentifully.

So let us not calculate too finely, but sow with a lavish hand. Do you not see how much others give to actors and prostitutes? At least give Christ half of what they give to dancers. As much as they give for show to the people on the stage, at least that much give to the hungry. They even dress the bodies of loose women in untold gold, but you do not clothe the flesh of Christ even with a threadbare garment, and that though you see it naked. What forgiveness does this deserve — or rather, what punishment does it not deserve — when he spends so much on the woman who ruins him and shames him, but you spend not the least thing on the one who saves you and makes you shine brighter?

As long as you are spending on your belly, on drunkenness and loose living, you never think of poverty. But when there is need to relieve poverty, you have become poorer than anyone. When you are feeding hangers-on and flatterers, you are as cheerful as if you had fountains to draw from; but if you happen to see a poor man, then the fear of poverty grips you. That is why on that day we will surely be condemned, both by ourselves and by others, both by those who have done well and by those who have done wrong. For he will say to you: “Why were you not this great-hearted where it was fitting? Here is a man who, when he was giving to a prostitute, thought of none of these things; while you, when giving to your Master, who told you ‘not to be anxious’ (Matthew 6, verse 25), are full of fear and trembling.” And what forgiveness will you deserve then? If a man who has received a favor will not overlook it but will repay it, much more will Christ. For he who gives even without receiving — how will he not give after receiving?

“What then,” someone says, “when some who have spent a great deal come to need other people’s help?” You talk of those who have spent everything, when you yourself do not give a penny. Promise to strip yourself of everything, and then ask questions about such people. But as long as you are stingy and give little of your wealth, why throw excuses and pretexts at me? I am not leading you to the lofty peak of total poverty. For the present, I ask you to cut off what is superfluous and to want only enough. Now the boundary of enough is the use of those things without which it is impossible to live. No one bars you from these, nor forbids you your daily food. I say food, not feasting; clothing, not ornament. Or rather, if one looks into it carefully, this is feasting in the truest sense.

For consider. Which would we say feasted more truly: the man who lived on vegetables, was in sound health and suffered no discomfort, or the man who had the table of a Sybarite and was full of ten thousand ailments? Very plainly the first. So let us seek nothing more than this, if we want to live both luxuriously and healthily, and let us set these boundaries to what is enough. Let the one who can be satisfied with beans and stay in good health seek nothing more. But let the one who is weaker and needs a diet of garden vegetables not be kept from it. And if anyone is weaker still and needs the support of meat in moderation, we will not bar him from this either. We do not give this advice to kill people or to harm them, but to cut off what is superfluous; and what is more than we need is superfluous. When we are able to live healthily and respectably even without a thing, the addition of that thing is certainly superfluous. Let us think this way also about clothing, about the table, about a house to live in, and about all our other needs, and in everything ask what is necessary. For what is superfluous is also useless.

When you have practiced living on what is enough, then, if you have a mind to rival that widow, we will lead you on to greater things than these. For you have not yet reached that woman’s philosophy while you are anxious about what is enough. She soared higher even than this: what was to have been her living, she threw in, all of it. Will you still torment yourself over the necessities? Are you not ashamed to be beaten by a woman — not only failing to rival her, but left far behind her? She did not say what we say, “But what if, when I have spent everything, I am forced to beg from someone else?” No, in her generosity she stripped herself of all she had.

And what shall we say of the widow in the Old Testament, in the time of the prophet Elijah? The risk she ran was not poverty, but death and extinction, and not her own only, but her children’s too. For she had no hope of receiving anything from others, only of dying very soon. “But,” someone says, “she saw the prophet, and that made her generous.” But do you not see holy people without number? And why do I speak of holy people? You see the Lord of the prophets asking for alms, and not even then do you become kind to others. Though you have strongboxes spilling over into one another, you do not share even from what you have to spare.

What are you saying? It was a prophet who came to her, and this persuaded her to such great-heartedness? This in itself deserves great admiration, that she was persuaded he was a great and wonderful man. How was it that she did not say, as a barbarian woman and a foreigner would likely have reasoned: “If he were a prophet, he would not have begged from me. If he were a friend of God, God would not have neglected him. Granted that the Jews suffer this punishment because of their sins — but from where, and why, does this man suffer?” But she entertained none of these thoughts. She opened her house to him, and before her house, her heart. She set before him everything she had, and, putting nature aside and disregarding her children, she preferred the stranger to them all.

Consider, then, how great a punishment will be stored up for us if we fall behind and prove weaker than a woman — a widow, poor, a foreigner, a barbarian, a mother of children, knowing nothing of the things we know! Just because we have strength of body, we are not therefore manly. He alone has this virtue, even if he is lying on his bed, whose strength is from within. Without this, even if a man could tear up a mountain with the strength of his body, I would call him no stronger than a girl or a wretched old woman. For the one wrestles with bodiless evils, while the other does not even dare to look them in the face. And so that you may learn that this is the measure of manliness, gather it from this very example. What could be more manly than that woman, who stood nobly firm against the tyranny of nature, against the force of hunger and against the threat of death, and proved stronger than them all? Hear, at any rate, how Christ proclaims her: “There were many widows,” he says, “in the days of Elijah, and to none of them was the prophet sent but to her” (Luke 4, verses 25 and 26).

Shall I say something great and startling? This woman gave more in hospitality than our father Abraham. She did not “run to the herd,” as he did (Genesis 18, verse 7); yet by that “handful” (First Kings 17, verse 12) she outstripped everyone who has been famous for hospitality. His excellence lay in setting himself to that service; hers, in not sparing even her children for the stranger’s sake, and that though she did not look for the things to come. But we, though there is a heaven, though hell is threatened, and though (what is greater than all) God has done such great things for us and is glad and rejoices over such deeds, sink back idly. Not so, I beg you! Let us “scatter abroad”; let us “give to the poor” as we ought to give.

For what is much and what is little, God measures not by the amount given but by the size of the giver’s wealth. Often, surely, you who threw in a hundred staters of gold have offered less than the one who offered a single obol, for you threw in out of what you had to spare. Even so, do at least this much, and you will quickly come to still greater generosity. Scatter wealth so that you may gather righteousness. Righteousness refuses to come to us together with wealth; yet through wealth, though not with it, it becomes ours. For the craving for wealth and righteousness cannot live together; they pitch their tents apart. So do not stubbornly strive to bring together things that cannot be joined, but drive out that usurper, greed, if you want to gain the kingdom. For righteousness is the rightful queen, and makes free people out of slaves, the opposite of what the other does.

So with all earnestness let us flee the one and welcome the other, so that we may gain freedom in this life and obtain the kingdom of heaven, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.