Homily 14 — Ephesians 4, verses 25 to 30

“So put away falsehood, and speak the truth, each one with his neighbor, for we are members of one another. Be angry, and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not give place to the devil.” [a]

Having spoken of the “old man” in general terms, he now sketches him in detail as well, for this kind of teaching is easier to learn when we learn it point by point. And what does he say? “So put away falsehood.” What sort of falsehood? Does he mean idols? Surely not. Not that idols are not falsehood too; but he is not speaking of them now, because these people had nothing to do with them. He is speaking of what passes between one person and another, meaning whatever is deceitful and false. “Speak the truth, each one,” he says, “with his neighbor.” Then he adds what touches the conscience still more: “for we are members of one another.” Let no one deceive his neighbor. As the Psalmist says in one place, “With flattering lips and with a double heart they speak” (Psalm 12, verse 2). For there is nothing, no, nothing, that breeds hostility so much as deceit and trickery.

See how everywhere he shames them with this picture of the body. Do not let the eye lie to the foot, he says, or the foot to the eye. For example, suppose there is a deep pit, and reeds have been laid across its mouth at ground level and hidden under a covering of earth, so that by its look it leads the eye to expect solid ground. Will the eye not make use of the foot, to find out whether the ground gives way and is hollow underneath, or whether it is firm and holds? Will the foot tell a lie, and not report the truth as it is? And again: if the eye were to spot a snake or a wild animal, will it lie to the foot? Will it not tell it at once, and the foot, once told, stop going forward? And again: when neither the foot nor the eye knows how to tell the difference, and everything depends on the sense of smell — whether a drug is deadly or not, for example — will the smell lie to the mouth? Why not? Because it would be destroying itself as well. No, it tells the truth as it sees it. And again: will the tongue lie to the stomach? When a thing is bitter, does it not reject it, and when it is sweet, pass it on?

Look at the service they do one another and the exchange of help between them. Look at the thoughtful care that springs from truth and, one might say, comes freely from the heart. Surely it should be the same with us. Let us not lie, since we are “members of one another.” This is a sure sign of friendship, and the opposite is a sign of hostility. You will ask: “What if someone acts treacherously toward me?” Listen to the truth of it. If he acts treacherously, he is not a member; and what Paul says is, “Do not lie to the members.”

“Be angry, and do not sin.”

See his wisdom. He speaks to keep us from sinning; and if we do not listen, he still does not abandon us, for his fatherly compassion does not leave him. A physician tells a sick man what he must do; and if the man does not follow it, he still does not despise him, but adds what advice he can by persuasion and goes on with the cure again. Paul does the same. The one who acts otherwise is after nothing but his own reputation, and is annoyed at being ignored. But the one who in every case is after the patient’s recovery has this single aim in view: how he may restore the patient and raise him up again. This, then, is what Paul is doing. He has said, “Do not lie.” Yet if lying should ever produce anger, he goes on to cure this too. For what does he say? “Be angry, and do not sin.” It would be good never to be angry at all. But if anyone should ever fall into anger, still let him not fall so far.

“For do not let the sun,” he says, “go down on your anger.” Do you want to have your fill of anger? One hour, or two, or three, is enough for you. Do not let the sun set and leave the two of you enemies. It was by God’s goodness that it rose; do not let it set having shone on the undeserving. For if the Lord in his great goodness sent it, and has himself forgiven you your sins, and you do not forgive your neighbor, see how great an evil this is!

And there is another reason besides. The blessed Paul fears the night, in case it finds the man who was wronged alone, still burning with anger, and kindles the fire again. As long as it is day, with many things to drive the anger off, you have some room to give way to it. But as soon as evening comes on, be reconciled; put out the evil while it is still fresh. For if night overtakes it, the next day will not be able to put out the further evil that will have gathered during the night. Even if you cut away the greater part of it and cannot cut away the whole, what is left will feed the following night and make the blaze fiercer. It is like the air. If the sun cannot soften and scatter by the heat of the day the part of the air that thickened into cloud during the night, that cloud supplies the matter for a storm, as night overtakes what remains and feeds it again with fresh vapors. So it is with anger too.

“And do not give place to the devil.” [d]

So to be at war with one another is to “give place to the devil.” We ought all to be standing in close ranks and making our stand against him; instead we have let our hostility toward him go slack and are sounding the signal to turn on one another. For the devil never has such room as he has in our quarrels. Countless evils come from them. Think of stones in a building. As long as they are closely fitted together and leave no gap, they stand firm; but if there is a passage only the width of a needle, or a crack no broader than a hair, it undoes and ruins everything. So it is with the devil. As long as we are closely set and bound together, he cannot slip in a single one of his schemes; but once he makes us loosen a little, he rushes in like a flood. In every case all he needs is a beginning, and that is the hard thing to get. Once he has it, he makes room for himself on every side.

From then on he opens the ear to slanders, and liars are believed all the more, for it is hostility that pleads the case, not truth that judges fairly. Where there is friendship, even faults that are real seem false; and where there is hostility, even false ones seem true. It is a different mind, a different court, one that does not hear fairly but with great bias and partiality. In a pair of scales, if lead is thrown into one pan, it drags the whole thing down. So it is here too, except that the weight of hostility is far heavier than any lead.

So I beg you, let us do all we can to put out our quarrels before the sun goes down. If you fail to master it on the very first day, you will drag it out through the next day, and often even for a year, and from then on the hostility grows by itself and needs nothing to help it along. It makes us suspect that words spoken in one sense were meant in another, and gestures too, and everything; it enrages and embitters us, and makes us sicker than madmen, so that we cannot bear to say the other person’s name or to hear it, but say everything as insult and abuse.

How, then, are we to calm this passion? How will we put out the flame? By thinking about our own sins, and how much we have to answer for to God; by thinking that we are taking revenge not on an enemy but on ourselves; by thinking that we are delighting the devil, that we are strengthening our enemy — our real enemy — and for his sake wronging our own members. Do you want to take revenge and be at enmity? Be at enmity — but with the devil, not with a member of your own body. This is why God armed us with anger: not so that we would thrust the sword into our own bodies, but so that we would plunge the whole blade into the devil’s breast. Bury the sword there up to the hilt — yes, hilt and all, if you like — and never draw it out again, but add another and another. And this really happens when we are merciful to those of our own spiritual family and at peace with one another. Let money perish, let glory and reputation perish; a member of my own body is dearer to me than all of them. Let us say this to ourselves, and let us not do violence to our own nature to gain wealth or to win glory.

Verse 28: “Let him who stole,” he says, “steal no more.” [e]

Do you see what the members of the old man are? Falsehood, revenge, theft. Why did he not say, “Let him who stole be punished, be tortured, be put on the rack,” but, “Let him steal no more”? “But rather let him labor, working with his hands at what is good, so that he may have something to give to the one in need.”

Where are those who are called the Pure — who are full of every defilement and yet dare to give themselves a name like that? For it is possible, very possible, to put off the disgrace, not only by stopping the sin but also by doing some good. Do you see how we ought to be rid of sin? “They stole”: that is the sin. “They steal no more”: that does not do away with the sin. How, then, will they do it? If they labor and share with others in love, that is how they will do away with the sin. He does not simply want us to work, but to “work” in such a way that we “labor,” so that we may “share” with others. For the thief works too, but at what is evil.

Verse 29: “Let no corrupt speech come out of your mouth.” [g]

What is “corrupt speech”? It is what is called elsewhere “idle talk, slander, filthy talk, coarse joking, foolish talk.” Do you see how he is cutting out the very roots of anger? Lying, theft, talk out of season. As for the words “Let him steal no more,” he does not say them so much to excuse the thieves as to calm the people they wronged, and to urge them to be content if they never suffer the same again. And he is right to give advice about talk as well, since we will pay the penalty not for our deeds only but also for our words.

“But such as is good,” he goes on, “for building up, as the need may be, so that it may give grace to those who hear.”

That is to say: speak only what builds up your neighbor, not a word more. For this is why God gave you a mouth and a tongue: so that you would give thanks to him and build up your neighbor. So if you tear that building down, it would be better to be silent and never speak at all. If the hands of workmen learned to pull walls down instead of raising them, they would deserve to be cut off. That is what the Psalmist says too: “The Lord will cut off all flattering lips” (Psalm 12, verse 3). The mouth is the cause of every evil — or rather not the mouth, but those who make evil use of it. From it come insults, abuse, blasphemies, incitements to cravings, murders, adulteries, thefts; they all have their start there. You will say: “How do murders come from it?” Because from an insult you go on to anger, from anger to blows, from blows to murder. And how does adultery come from it? “Such-and-such a woman loves you,” someone will say; “she said something nice about you.” At once your resolve comes loose, and so your passions are kindled within you. That is why Paul said, “such as is good.”

Since there is such a vast flood of words, he rightly speaks in general terms, telling us to use speech of that kind and giving us a pattern for our talk. What, then, is it? By saying “for building up,” he may mean this: that the one who hears you should be grateful to you. For instance, a brother has committed sexual immorality. Do not make a show of the offense, or gloat over it. You will do no good to the one who hears you; more likely you will harm him by spurring him on. But advise him what to do, and you do him a great kindness. Train him to keep silent, teach him to insult no one, and you have taught him his best lesson; you will have done him the greatest kindness. Talk with him about a crushed heart, about godliness, about almsgiving. All these things will soften his soul, and for all of them he will be grateful to you. But by making him laugh, or by filthy talk, you will only inflame him. Applaud the wickedness, and you will overturn and ruin him.

Or else he means, “so that it may make them — the hearers — full of grace.” For as fragrant ointment gives grace to those who share in it, so does good speech. That is also why someone said, “Your name is like ointment poured out” (Song of Songs 1, verse 3). It made them breathe out that sweet perfume. You see that what he urges constantly, he is saying now too, charging everyone to build up his neighbors as far as each is able. And you who give such advice to others — how much more should you give it to yourself! [j]

Verse 30: “And do not grieve,” he adds, “the Holy Spirit of God.”

This is a more fearful and startling thing. He says the same in the letter to the Thessalonians, for there too he uses an expression of this kind: “He who rejects rejects not man, but God” (First Thessalonians 4, verse 8). So it is here too. If you speak an abusive word, if you strike your brother, it is not him you are striking; you are “grieving the Holy Spirit.” And then he goes on to add the gift we were given, to make the rebuke sharper.

“And do not grieve the Holy Spirit,” he says, “in whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.”

It is he who marks us as a royal flock; he who sets us apart from all that went before; he who does not let us lie among those who are exposed to the wrath of God. And do you grieve him? See how startling his words are there: “For he who rejects,” he says, “rejects not man, but God”; and how cutting they are here: “Do not grieve the Holy Spirit,” he says, “in whom you were sealed.”

Let this seal, then, stay on your mouth, and never wear away its impression. A spiritual mouth never utters anything of the kind. Do not say: “It is nothing if I do let slip an indecent word, if I do insult so-and-so.” This is exactly why it is a great evil: because it seems to be nothing. Things that seem to be nothing are easily made light of; things made light of keep growing; and things that keep growing become incurable.

You have a spiritual mouth. Think what words you spoke immediately upon being born, and what words are worthy of your mouth. You call God “Father,” and do you then at once insult your brother? Think: how is it that you call God “Father”? Is it by nature? No, you could never say that. Is it because of your own goodness? No, not that either. Where does it come from, then? From pure love for humankind, from tenderness, from his great mercy. So whenever you call God “Father,” think not only that by insulting others you are doing things unworthy of that noble birth of yours, but also that it is out of love for humankind that you have that noble birth. Do not disgrace it, then, when you received it out of pure love for humankind, by showing cruelty to your brothers. [l]

Do you call God “Father,” and yet insult others? No, these are not the works of the Son of God; they are very far from him. The work of the Son of God was to forgive his enemies, to pray for those who crucified him, to shed his blood for those who hated him. These are works worthy of the Son of God: to take his enemies — the ungrateful, the dishonest, the reckless, the treacherous — and make them brothers and heirs; not to treat those who have become brothers with contempt, as if they were slaves.

Think what words your mouth has spoken, and what table those words are worthy of. Think what your mouth touches, what it tastes, what kind of food it shares in! Do you think you are doing nothing serious when you abuse your brother? Then how can you call him brother? And if he is not a brother, how do you say “Our Father”? For the word “Our” points to many people. Think whom you stand with at the time of the mysteries: with the cherubim, with the seraphim! The seraphim do not insult anyone. No, their mouths fulfill this one duty only: to sing the hymn of praise, to glorify God. How, then, will you be able to say with them, “Holy, holy, holy,” if you use your mouth for insults? [m]

Tell me, please: suppose there were a royal vessel, always full of royal delicacies and set apart for that purpose, and one of the servants took it and used it to hold dung. Would he ever dare, after it had been filled with dung, to store it away again with those other vessels set apart for their own uses? Surely not. Well, abusive talk is like this; insult is like this.

“Our Father!” But what? Is that all? Listen also to the words that follow: “who are in heaven.” The moment you say, “Our Father, who are in heaven,” the word lifts you up, gives wings to your mind, and shows you that you have a Father in heaven. So do nothing and say nothing of earthly things. He has set you among that host above; he has counted you in that heavenly choir. Why do you drag yourself down? You are standing beside the royal throne, and you insult others? Are you not afraid that the king will take it as an outrage? Why, even among us, if a servant beats his fellow servant or attacks him, even if he does it with good reason, we rebuke him at once and count the act an outrage. And do you, standing with the cherubim beside the king’s throne, insult your brother?

Do you not see these holy vessels? Are they not always used for one purpose only? Does anyone ever dare to use them for any other? Yet you are holier than these vessels — yes, far holier. Why, then, do you defile and pollute yourself? You stand in heaven, and you insult others? You are a citizen with the angels, and you insult others? You are counted worthy of the Lord’s kiss, and you insult others? God has honored your mouth with so many great things — with the hymns of angels, with food not of angels, no, but beyond what angels have, with his own kiss, with his own embrace — and do you insult others? Oh, no, I beg you. Great are the evils this is the source of; let it be far from a Christian soul.

Do my words not persuade you as I speak? Do they not shame you? Then it becomes my duty now to frighten you. For hear what Christ says: “Whoever says to his brother, ‘You fool,’ will be liable to the hell of fire” (Matthew 5, verse 22). Now if the lightest insult of all leads to hell, what will the man not deserve who utters presumptuous words? Let us train our mouths to silence. Great is the gain from it, and great the harm from evil speech. We must not spend our riches here. Let us put a door and a bolt on them. Let us eat ourselves up alive if ever a hurtful word slips out of our mouths. Let us plead with God; let us plead with the one we have insulted. Let us not think it beneath us to do so. It is ourselves we have wounded, not him. Let us apply the remedy: prayer, and reconciliation with the one we insulted.

If we must take such care over our words, how much more must we set laws for ourselves over our deeds! Yes, and if we have friends, whoever they may be, and they speak evil of anyone or insult him, let us call them to account and demand that they make amends. Let us by all means learn that such conduct is actually a sin; for if we learn this, we will soon give it up.

Now may the God of peace guard both your mind and your tongue, and fence you with a sure fence, his fear, through Jesus Christ our Lord, with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, forever. Amen.