Homily 21 — Second Corinthians 10, verses 1 to 6

“Now I, Paul, myself appeal to you by the gentleness and mildness of Christ — I who am lowly among you when I am face to face with you, but full of courage toward you when I am away. Yes, I beg you that when I am present I may not have to show courage with the confidence with which I reckon to be bold against some, who reckon us as if we walked according to the flesh.” [a]

He has finished his discussion of almsgiving as it deserved. He has shown that he loves them more than he is loved by them, and he has told all that he went through in his endurance and his trials. Now, at the right moment, he turns to matters that carry more rebuke. He is alluding to the false apostles, and he closes his letter with the more unpleasant things and with praises of himself. For he makes this his business throughout the letter as well. He is aware of it, too, and that is why he often corrects himself, saying in so many words, “Are we beginning to commend ourselves again?” (Second Corinthians 3, verse 1); and further on, “We are not commending ourselves to you again, but giving you an occasion to boast” (Second Corinthians 5, verse 12); and later, “I have become a fool in boasting; you forced me to it” (Second Corinthians 12, verse 11). He uses many correctives of this kind. And anyone who called this letter a speech in praise of Paul would not be wrong, so much does he say both of the grace given to him and of his endurance.

For there were some among them who thought great things of themselves and set themselves above the apostle. They accused him of being a boaster, of being nothing, and of teaching nothing sound. (This in itself was the surest proof of their own corruption.) See, then, how he begins his rebuke of them.

“Now I, Paul, myself.” Do you see what severity, what dignity there is here? What he means is this: “I beg you, do not force me, do not leave me no choice but to use my power against those who make light of us and think of us as fleshly.” This is more severe than the threats he made to them in the former letter: “Shall I come to you with a rod, or in love and a spirit of gentleness?” (First Corinthians 4, verse 21); and again, “Now some are puffed up, as though I were not coming to you. But I will come, and I will find out not the talk of those who are puffed up, but their power” (First Corinthians 4, verses 18 and 19). For here he shows both things: his power, and also his philosophy and forbearance. He begs them, and so earnestly, that he may not be forced to put on display the avenging power that belongs to him, and to strike them, discipline them, and exact the utmost penalty. This is what he was hinting at when he said, “But I beg you that when I am present I may not have to show courage with the confidence with which I reckon to be bold against some, who reckon us as if we walked according to the flesh.” For now, though, let us speak about the opening words. [b]

“Now I, Paul, myself.” There is great emphasis, great weight here. So he says elsewhere, “Look, I, Paul, say to you” (Galatians 5, verse 2); and again, “as Paul, an old man” (Philemon, verse 9); and again in another place, “who has been a helper of many, and of me” (Romans 16, verse 2). So here too: “Now I, Paul, myself.” It is a great thing even that he himself should appeal to them. But what he added is greater still: “by the gentleness and mildness of Christ.” Wanting to put them thoroughly to shame, he sets that “gentleness and mildness” before them, and so makes his appeal more forceful, as if he had said, “Show reverence for the gentleness of Christ, by which I appeal to you.” In saying this he was also showing that however strong the pressure they might put on him, he himself leans toward gentleness. It is because he is gentle, not because he lacks power, that he does not move against them; for Christ did the same. [c]

“I who am lowly among you when face to face, but full of courage toward you when I am away.” What, may I ask, does this mean? He is surely speaking with irony, using their own talk. For this is what they were saying: “When he is here in person he is worth nothing; he is poor and contemptible. But when he is away he swells up, brags, sets himself up against us, and threatens.” At any rate, he hints at this further on as well, when he says, “For his letters,” they say, “are weighty, but his bodily presence is weak, and his speech is of no account” (verse 10). So either he is speaking with irony, showing great severity, and saying, “I, the lowly one, I, the mean one when present (as they say), and lofty when away”; or else he means that even if he says great things, it is not out of pride, but out of the confidence he has in them.

“But I beg you that when I am present I may not have to show courage with the confidence with which I reckon to be bold against some, who reckon us as if we walked according to the flesh.” Do you see how great his indignation is, and how completely he refutes those sayings of theirs? For he says, “I beg you, do not force me to show that even when present I am strong and have power.” Since they were saying, “When he is away he is very bold against us and exalts himself,” he uses their very words: “I beg you, then, that they not force me to use my power.” For this is what “the confidence” means. And he did not say, “with which I am prepared,” but “with which I reckon.” “For I have not yet made up my mind to it. They give me reason enough, it is true, but even so I do not want it.” [d]

And yet he was doing this to defend not himself but the good news. Now if, where the message needed defending, he is not harsh, but holds back, delays, and begs that no such necessity may arise, much less would he ever have done anything of the kind to defend himself. “Grant me this favor, then,” he says, “that you not force me to show that even when present I am able to be bold against whoever it may be necessary — that is, to discipline and punish them.” Do you see how free he was from love of show, how he did nothing for display? Even where it was a matter of necessity, he does not hesitate to call the act boldness.

“For I beg you,” he says, “that when I am present I may not have to show courage with the confidence with which I think to be bold” against some. For this above all is the mark of a teacher: not to be quick to take vengeance, but to bring about reform, and always to be reluctant and slow to punish. And how, may I ask, does he describe the people he threatens?

“Those who reckon us as if we walked according to the flesh.” For they were accusing him of being a hypocrite, a wicked man, and a boaster.

Verse 3: “For though we walk in the flesh, we do not wage war according to the flesh.”

Here he goes on to alarm them by the figure of speech he uses as well. “We are indeed wrapped in flesh,” he says; “I admit it. But we do not live by the flesh.” Or rather, he did not even say this. He is saving it for later, since it belongs to the praise of his own life. First he speaks about the preaching, and shows that it is not of human origin and needs no help from below. That is why he did not say, “we do not live according to the flesh,” but “we do not wage war according to the flesh.” That is: “We have taken on a war and a combat, but we do not fight with fleshly weapons, or with the help of any human support.”

Verse 4: “For our weapons are not fleshly.” [e]

What kind of weapons are fleshly? Wealth, glory, power, fluent speech, cleverness, trickery, flattery, hypocrisy, and anything else like these. But ours are not of this kind. Of what kind are they, then?

“Mighty before God.”

And he did not say, “we are not fleshly,” but “our weapons.” For, as I said, for the moment he is speaking about the preaching, and he credits all its power to God. And he does not say “spiritual,” although that was the natural opposite of “fleshly,” but “mighty.” In this he implies the other as well, and shows that their weapons are weak and powerless. And notice how free he is from pride. He did not say, “we are mighty,” but “our weapons are mighty before God.” “We did not make them so; God himself did.” For they were beaten with whips, persecuted, and made to suffer countless wrongs past all remedy, and these were proofs of weakness. So to show the strength of God he says, “but they are mighty before God.” For this above all shows his strength: that he wins the victory through these very things. So even though we are beset by these things, it is he who wages the war and works through them. Then he goes on to a long praise of these weapons, saying, “for the pulling down of strongholds.” And so that when you hear of strongholds you will not think of anything material, he says, Verse 5: “Casting down reasonings.”

He first gave the thought emphasis by the figure, and then, by this added expression, made plain that the warfare is spiritual. For these strongholds lay siege to souls, not bodies. That is why they are stronger than the others, and why the weapons they call for are mightier too. By strongholds he means the pride of the Greeks, and the strength of their sophistries and their syllogisms. And yet, “these weapons threw into confusion everything that rose up against them. For they cast down reasonings, ‘and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God.’” He kept up the metaphor to make the emphasis greater. “For though there be strongholds,” he says, “though there be fortifications, though there be anything else at all, they yield and give way before these weapons.” [f]

“And bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ.” And yet the word “captivity” has an ugly sound, for it means the destruction of freedom. Why, then, has he used it? He used it with a meaning of its own, with a view to another point. For the word “captivity” carries two ideas: the loss of freedom, and being overpowered so violently that one cannot rise again. It is in this second sense that he took it. When he says, “I robbed other churches” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 8), he does not mean taking by stealth, but stripping them and taking everything they had; and so it is here too, when he says, “bringing into captivity.” For the fight was not an even one; he won with great ease. That is why he did not say only, “we conquer and get the upper hand,” but “we even bring them into captivity”; just as above he did not say, “we bring up siege engines against the strongholds,” but “we cast them down, for the superiority of our weapons is great.” “For we do not fight with words,” he says, “but with deeds against words; not with fleshly wisdom, but with the spirit of gentleness and of power. How likely was it, then, that I would chase after honor, and boast in words, and threaten by letters,” (for so they accused him, saying, “his letters are weighty”), “when our strength did not lie in these things?”

But having said, “bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ,” because the word “captivity” was unpleasant, he at once put an end to the metaphor with the words “to the obedience of Christ”: from slavery to freedom, from death to life, from destruction to salvation. “For we did not come merely to strike down those who oppose us, but to bring them over to the truth.”

Verse 6: “And being ready to punish all disobedience, when your obedience is complete.” [g]

Here he alarmed these people too, not only the others. “For,” he says, “we were waiting for you. When by our urging and our threats we have reformed you, and cleansed you, and separated you from fellowship with them, then, when only those are left who are diseased beyond cure, we may visit them with punishment, once we see that you have truly separated yourselves from them. For even now, it is true, you obey, but not completely.” “And yet if you had done it now,” someone says, “you would have accomplished more good.” “Not at all. If I had done it now, I would have involved you too in the punishment. They had to be punished, certainly, but you had to be spared. Yet if I had spared you, I would have seemed to be doing it out of favoritism. That is not what I want. I want first to set you right, and then to move against them.”

What could be more tender than the apostle’s heart? He saw his own people mixed up with outsiders. He wants to strike the blow, but he holds back, and restrains his indignation until his own have withdrawn, so that he may strike the others alone. Or rather, not even them. For this is why he threatens this, and says he wants to set them apart for punishment by themselves: so that they too may be reformed by fear and change, and he may unleash his anger on no one.

Like an excellent physician, a father to all, a patron and a guardian, so he did everything; so he cared for everyone, removing obstacles, checking the public pests, hurrying about in every direction. It was not by fighting that he accomplished the work as he did. Rather, advancing as if to a ready and easy victory, he set up his trophies, undermining, casting down, and overthrowing the strongholds of the devil and the siege engines of the demons, and he carried off all their plunder to the camp of Christ. He did not even stop to catch his breath for a moment, but leaped from these to those, and from those again to others, like some very able general, raising trophies every day, or rather every hour. For the tongue of Paul went into battle with nothing but a little tunic, and took the cities of his enemies, men, bows, spears, darts and all.

For he only spoke, and his words, falling on his enemies more fiercely than any fire, drove out the demons and brought over to him the people possessed by them. For when he drove out that demon, the evil one, fifty thousand sorcerers came together, burned their books of magic, and went over to the truth (see Acts 19, verse 19). In a war, when a tower has fallen or a usurper has been brought low, all his supporters throw down their arms and run over to the opposing general. That is exactly what happened then too. When the demon was cast out, all those who had been under siege threw away their books — or rather, destroyed them — and ran to Paul’s feet. [h]

And he, setting himself against the world as though against a single army, never once halted his march, but did everything as if he were a man with wings. Now he set a lame man on his feet, now he raised a dead man, now he blinded a third (I mean the sorcerer). Not even when he was shut up in prison did he give himself a rest; even there he won the jailer over to himself, carrying out the good captivity we are speaking of.

Let us imitate him too, as far as we are able. But why do I say, as far as we are able? Anyone who is willing can come even close to him, and see his courage, and imitate his heroism. For he is still doing this work, “casting down reasonings, and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God.” Many heretics have tried to cut him in pieces, yet even torn limb from limb he still shows great strength. Both Marcion and Mani use him, it is true, but only after cutting him to pieces; and even so they are refuted by his separate limbs. For even a hand of this champion, found by itself among them, puts them utterly to flight; and a foot alone, left among others, chases them down and lays them flat. So you may learn how overflowing his power is, and that even stripped of his limbs he is able to destroy all his opponents. “But this is a sign of something twisted,” someone says, “that people who are fighting one another should all use him.” A sign of something twisted, certainly — but not in Paul (far from it!), rather in those who use him. For he was not a patchwork of many colors, but all of one piece and clear. They twisted his words to suit their own notions. “But why,” someone says, “were they spoken in such a way as to give a handle to those who wanted one?” [j]

He did not give them handles; it was their madness that misused his words. This whole world, too, is wonderful and great, and a sure proof of the wisdom of God: “the heavens declare the glory of God, and day to day pours out speech, and night to night declares knowledge” (Psalm 19, verses 1 and 2). And yet many have stumbled over it, and in opposite directions. Some admired it so far beyond its worth that they thought it was God. Others were so blind to its beauty that they said it was unworthy of God’s creating hand, and credited the greater part of it to some evil matter. Yet God provided against both errors. He made it beautiful and great, so that no one would think it foreign to his wisdom; but also lacking something and not sufficient for itself, so that no one would suspect it was God. Nevertheless, those who were blinded by their own reasonings fell into contradictory notions, refuting one another, each becoming the other’s accuser, and defending the wisdom of God by the very reasonings that led them astray.

And why do I speak of the sun and the sky? The Jews saw so many wonders happen before their eyes, and at once worshiped a calf. Again, they saw Christ casting out demons, and called him a man who had a demon. But this was no charge against the one who cast them out; it was an indictment of the understanding of those who were so blind. So do not condemn Paul because of the judgment of those who have misused him. Understand well the treasures that are in him, and bring his riches to light; so you will make a noble stand against everyone, fenced about with his armor. So you will be able to stop the mouths of both Greeks and Jews. “And how,” someone says, “since they do not believe him?” By the things done through him, by the reform brought about in the world. For such great things could not have been done by human power. It was the might of the Crucified, breathing on him, that made him what he was, and showed him more powerful than orators and philosophers and usurpers and kings and all people. He was able not only to arm himself and strike down his opponents, but to make others like himself as well.

So, in order that we may be useful both to ourselves and to others, let us keep him always in our hands, using his writings as a meadow and a garden of delight. For so we will be able both to be set free from vice and to choose virtue, and to obtain the good things promised, which may we all attain, by 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.