Homily 27 — Second Corinthians 12, verses 11 to 15

“I have become foolish in boasting; you compelled me. For I ought to have been commended by you.” [a]

Having fully finished what he had to say in his own praise, he does not stop there. Again he excuses himself and asks pardon for what he has said, declaring that he did it out of necessity and not by choice. And even so, though there was a necessity, he calls himself “a fool.” When he began, he said, “Receive me as foolish,” and “as in foolishness”; but now he leaves out the “as” and calls himself “foolish.” For once he had established the point he wanted by saying what he said, he afterward grapples boldly and unsparingly with every failing of this kind. He is teaching everyone never to praise himself where there is no necessity, since even where there was a reason for it, Paul called himself a fool for doing so.

Then he lays the blame for speaking this way, not on the false apostles, but wholly on the disciples. For he says, “You compelled me.” His meaning is: “If they had boasted, but had not been leading you astray and causing your destruction by it, I would not have been drawn into coming down to this kind of talk. But because they were corrupting the whole church, I was compelled to become foolish for your good.” And he did not say, “For I was afraid that if they won the highest esteem among you, they would sow their teachings.” Yet he did set this down earlier, when he said, “I am afraid that somehow, as the serpent deceived Eve, your minds may be corrupted” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 3). Here, however, he does not put it that way. He speaks in a more commanding manner and with more authority, having gained boldness from what he had said: “For I ought to have been commended by you.”

Then he gives the reason as well; and again he mentions not only his revelations and his miracles, but his trials too. “For in nothing was I behind the most eminent apostles.” See how here too he speaks out with greater authority. Before, he said, “I consider that I am not in the least behind them”; but here, after those proofs, he boldly states the fact outright, as I said. Not that even so he goes beyond the proper measure, or departs from his own character. For as though he had said something great and beyond what he deserved in counting himself among the apostles, he speaks modestly again and adds:

Verse 12: “Even though I am nothing, the signs of an apostle were performed among you.” He says: “Do not look at whether I am lowly and small, but at whether you have not enjoyed the things you had every right to enjoy from an apostle.” Yet he did not say “lowly,” but something lower still: “nothing.” For what good is it to be great, and of use to nobody? There is no advantage in a skillful physician, either, if he heals none of the sick. He says: “So do not scrutinize the fact that I am nothing. Consider this instead: in the things in which you ought to have been helped, I have fallen short in nothing, but have given proof of my apostleship. So there should have been no need for me to say anything.” Now he spoke this way, not because he wanted to be commended — how could he, when he counted heaven itself a small thing compared with his longing for Christ? — but because he desired their salvation.

Then, so that they would not say, “And what is that to us, even if you were not in the least behind the most eminent apostles?” he added, “The signs of an apostle were performed among you in all endurance, and by signs and wonders.”

Amazing! What a sea of good works he has crossed in a few words! And notice what he puts first: “endurance.” For this is the mark of an apostle, to bear all things nobly. This, then, he expressed briefly in a single word; but on the miracles, which were not his own achievement, he spends more words. Think how many prisons, how many beatings, how many dangers, how many plots, how many blizzards of trials, how many wars within, how many wars from outside, how many pains, how many attacks he has implied here in that one word, “endurance”! And by “signs,” again, how many dead raised, how many blind healed, how many lepers cleansed, how many demons driven out! Hearing these things, let us learn, if we ever fall into a necessity for such recitals, to cut our good deeds short, as he did.

Then, so that no one would say, “Well, even if you are great and have done many things, you still have not done such great things as the apostles have done in the other churches,” he added: Verse 13: “For what is there in which you were made inferior to the rest of the churches?” He means: “You received no less grace than the others.” [d]

But perhaps someone will say, “What can be the reason that he turns his speech toward the apostles, and abandons the contest with the false apostles?” Because he wants to lift their spirits still higher, and to show that he is not only superior to those men, but not even inferior to the great apostles. That is surely why, when he speaks of the false apostles, he says, “I am more”; but when he compares himself with the apostles, he thinks it a great thing not to be “behind,” even though he labored more than they did. And from this he shows that the Corinthians are insulting the apostles, by ranking him, who is the apostles’ equal, second to these men.

“Except that I myself did not become a burden to you?” Again he has delivered their rebuke with great severity. And what follows carries a still sharper sting.

“Forgive me this wrong!” And yet this severity also holds words of love, and it praises them too — if, that is, they count it a wrong done to them that the apostle would not agree to take anything from them, and did not rely on them enough to be supported by them. If they blame him for this, he does not say, “You are wrong to blame me,” but with great sweetness: “I ask your pardon; forgive me this fault.” [e]

And notice his good sense. Because bringing this up again and again tended to put them to shame, he keeps softening it. Earlier, for instance, he said, “As the truth of Christ is in me, this boasting of mine will not be silenced” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 10); and again, “Because I do not love you? God knows! But that I may cut off the opportunity from those who want an opportunity, so that in what they boast of they may be found to be just as we are” (Second Corinthians 11, verses 11 and 12). And in the former letter: “What then is my reward? Truly, that when I preach the good news, I may offer the good news free of charge” (First Corinthians 9, verse 18). And here: “Forgive me this wrong.” Everywhere he avoids showing that it is because of their weakness that he takes nothing from them; and here he speaks as he does so as not to wound them. That is why he puts it this way here: “If you think this an offense, I ask forgiveness.”

He spoke this way at once to wound and to heal. Please do not say, “If you mean to wound, why make excuses? And if you make excuses, why wound?” For this is the part of wisdom: to lance the sore and bind it up at the same time. Then, so that he would not seem — as he himself said before — to keep harping on this in order to get something from them, he corrects that suspicion. He did so in his former letter too, saying, “But I am not writing these things so that it may be done so in my case; for it would be better for me to die than to have anyone make my boasting empty” (First Corinthians 9, verse 15). But here he does it with more sweetness and gentleness. How, and in what way?

Verse 14: “Look, this is the third time I am ready to come to you, and I will not be a burden to you; for I do not seek what is yours, but you. For the children ought not to save up for the parents, but the parents for the children.” What he means is this: “It is not because I take nothing from you that I do not come to you. No, I have already come twice, and I am ready to come this third time, and I will not be a burden to you.” And the reason he gives is a noble one. He did not say, “because you are stingy,” or “because you are hurt by it,” or “because you are weak.” What then? “For I do not seek what is yours, but you.” “I seek greater things: souls instead of possessions, salvation instead of gold.”

Then, because some suspicion still hung about the matter, as though he were displeased with them, he even gives an argument. Since they were likely to say, “Can’t you have both us and what is ours?” he adds, with much grace, this excuse on their behalf: “For the children ought not to save up for the parents, but the parents for the children.” Instead of teachers and disciples he uses the words parents and children, and shows that he is doing as a duty what was not a duty. For Christ gave no such command; he says this to spare them. That is why he adds something more. He did not only say that “the children ought not to save up,” but also that the parents ought to. Since, then, it is right to give:

Verse 15: “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls.” “The law of nature has commanded parents to save up for their children; but I do not do only this — I give myself as well.” And this lavishness of his — not only not taking, but giving as well — is not of the ordinary kind. It comes with great generosity, and out of his own need; for the words “I will be spent” are those of someone who means to imply this. “If it should be necessary to spend my very flesh, I will not spare it for your salvation.” And what follows holds at once an accusation and love: “though the more abundantly I love you, the less I am loved.” He says: “And I do this for the sake of those I love, even though they do not love me as much in return.”

Now see how many steps there are in this matter. He had a right to take, but he did not take: that is the first good work. And this though he was in need: the second. And though he was preaching to them: the third. He gives besides: the fourth. And he gives not merely, but lavishly: the fifth. Not money only, but himself: the sixth. For those who did not love him much: the seventh. And for those whom he loved greatly: the eighth.

Let us, then, imitate this man too! It is a serious charge not to love at all; but it becomes more serious when someone who is loved does not love in return. For if the one who loves those who love him is no better than the tax collectors (Matthew 5, verse 46), then the one who does not do even this ranks with the wild animals — or rather, is even below them. What are you saying, my friend? Do you not love the one who loves you? Then what do you live for? What use will you be from now on? In what kind of affairs — public ones? private ones? Not at all; for nothing is more useless than a person who does not know how to love. [f]

Even robbers have often respected this law, and murderers, and burglars. Having merely shared salt with someone, they have become his friends, letting the table change their temper. And you, who share with him not salt only but words and deeds, comings in and goings out — do you not love him? Why, those who live impure lives squander whole estates on their prostitutes; and you, whose love is a worthy one, are you so cold and weak and unmanly that you are unwilling to love even when it costs you nothing?

Someone asks: “And who would be so vile, who such a wild beast, as to turn away from the one who loves him and hate him?” You are right not to believe it, because the thing is so unnatural. But if I show you that there are many such people, how will we bear the shame? When you speak ill of the one you love; when you hear someone else speak ill of him and you do not defend him; when you begrudge him a good name — what sort of affection is this? And yet it is not proof enough of love merely not to begrudge, or again merely not to be at enmity or at war with him. Only supporting and advancing the one who loves you is proof enough. But when someone does and says everything to pull down even his neighbor, what could be more wretched than such a spirit?

Yesterday and the day before he was your friend; you talked and ate with him. Then, all at once, because you saw your own fellow member well thought of, you threw off the mask of friendship and put on the mask of enmity — or rather, of madness. For it is plain madness to be annoyed at the goodness of your neighbors; this is what mad and rabid dogs do. Like them, these people too fly at everyone’s face, maddened by envy.

It would be better to have a snake coiled in one’s insides than envy crawling within us. A snake one can often vomit up with medicines, or quiet with food; but envy does not coil in the insides. It lodges in the depths of the soul, and it is a passion hard to rub out. And indeed, if such a snake were inside someone, it would not touch his body as long as it had a supply of food. But envy, even if you spread for it a banquet without end, devours the soul itself, gnawing it on every side, tearing and tugging. And there is no soothing remedy to be found that will make it give up its madness, except one alone: that those who are doing well should meet with misfortune. That is how it is appeased — or rather, not even so. For even if this man meets with misfortune, the envious one still sees someone else doing well and is seized by the same pangs; and everywhere there are wounds, everywhere blows. It is not possible to live in the world and not see people who are well spoken of. And so extreme is this sickness that even if you shut its victim up at home, he envies the men of old who are dead.

Now for people who live in the world to feel this way is indeed a grievous thing, yet it is not so very dreadful. But that those who have been set free from the turmoil of busy life should be seized by this sickness — this is the most grievous of all. I could have wished to be silent; and if silence also took away the disgrace of these doings, it would be a gain to say nothing. But if, though I hold my peace, the doings will cry out more loudly than my tongue, then no harm will come from my words for setting these evils before us, but perhaps some gain and benefit. For this sickness has infected even the church. It has turned everything upside down and torn apart the joints of the body; we stand against one another, and envy supplies our weapons. That is why the breakup is so great. For if, when everyone is building up, it is a great thing if our disciples stand firm, what will the end be when everyone at once is pulling down?

What are you doing, my friend? You think you are pulling down your neighbor’s work; but before his, you are pulling down your own. Do you not see how gardeners and farmers all work together toward one goal? One has dug the soil, another planted, a third carefully covered the roots; another waters what was planted, another fences it around and protects it, another drives off the cattle; and all look to one end, the safety of the plant. Here, though, it is not so. I plant, and another shakes and unsettles the plant. At least let it take root properly, so that it may be strong enough to stand up to the attack! You are not destroying my work; you are abandoning your own. I planted; you ought to have watered. If you shake it, you have torn it up by the roots, and you have nothing left on which to show your watering.

But you see the one who planted highly esteemed? Do not be afraid: neither am I anything, nor are you. “For neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything” (First Corinthians 3, verse 7). The work belongs to one, to God. So it is he whom you are fighting and warring against when you pull up what has been planted.

Let us, then, come to our senses again at last; let us keep watch. For I do not fear the battle outside so much as the fight within. A root that is well set into the ground will take no harm from the winds; but if it is shaken itself, with a worm gnawing through it from inside, the tree will fall even though no one touches it. How long will we gnaw at the root of the church like worms? For such thoughts are born of the earth — or rather, not of earth but of dung, having rot for their mother — and they never get free of that detestable flattery that comes from women. Let us at last be men of noble spirit; let us be champions of philosophy; let us drive back the violent rush of these evils.

For I see the whole body of the church lying flat now, like a corpse. In a body newly dead one can see eyes and hands and feet and neck and head, and yet not one limb doing its proper work. So it truly is here too: all who are here are among the faithful, but their faith is not active, for we have put out its warmth and made the body of Christ a corpse. If this sounds dreadful when it is said, it is much more dreadful when it shows itself in actions. We have the name of brothers and sisters, but we do the deeds of enemies; and while all are called members, we are divided against one another like wild animals. I have said this not because I want to parade our condition, but to shame you and make you stop.

So-and-so goes into a house, and honor is paid to him. You ought to give thanks to God, because your fellow member is honored and God is glorified. But you do the opposite: you speak ill of him to the man who honored him, so that you trip up both of them, and disgrace yourself besides. And why, you wretched and miserable one? Have you heard your brother praised, whether among men or among women? Add to his praises, for in that way you will praise yourself too. But if you knock down his praise, first you have spoken ill of yourself, since you have gained a bad name by it; and second, you have raised him higher.

When you hear someone praised, become a partner in what is said — if not in his life and virtue, then at least in rejoicing over his good qualities. Has someone praised him? Admire him too; then that person will praise you in turn as good and generous-minded. Do not be afraid that you are ruining your own interests by praising another. That is what comes, rather, from accusing him. For people are contentious by nature: when they see you speaking ill of someone, they heap on their praises of him, wanting to spite you by doing so; and they condemn accusers, both in their own minds and to others.

Do you see what disgrace we bring on ourselves? How we destroy and tear apart the flock? Let us at last be members of one another; let us become one body. Let the one who is praised refuse the praises and pass the tribute on to his brother; and let the one who hears another praised take pleasure in it as though it were his own. If we come together in this way, we will also draw the Head to ourselves; but if we live apart from one another, we will also push away the help that comes from there. And when that is pushed away, the body will suffer great harm, not being held together from above.

So that this does not happen, let us banish ill will and envy, and, despising what the many think of us, embrace love and harmony. For in this way we will gain both the good things of the present and those to come. May we all attain them, 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.