Homily 17 — Ephesians 4, verse 32, to 5, verse 4

“And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, even as God also in Christ forgave you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, even as Christ also loved you, and gave himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma.” [a]

Things that have already happened carry more weight than things still to come; they seem both more wonderful and more convincing. That is why Paul grounds his appeal on what has already been done for us, since, because of Christ, these things carry greater weight. To say, “Forgive, and you will be forgiven” (Matthew 6, verse 14), and, “If you do not forgive, you will by no means be forgiven” (Matthew 6, verse 15) — this, said to people of understanding who believe in the things to come, carries great weight. But Paul appeals to the conscience not by these arguments only, but also by what has already been done for us. By the first way we may escape punishment; by the second we may have our share in something positively good.

You are imitating Christ. This alone is enough to recommend virtue: that it is “to imitate God.” This is a higher motive than the other one, “for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous” (Matthew 5, verse 45). For he does not merely say that we are “imitating God,” but that we do so in the very things in which we ourselves receive such benefits.

He wants us to have a father’s tender heart toward one another; for “heart” here means kindness and compassion. Since it is impossible for us, being human, to avoid either causing pain or suffering it, he does the next best thing: he provides a remedy, that we should forgive one another. And yet there is no comparison. If you forgive someone at this moment, he will forgive you in return; but to God you have neither given nor forgiven anything. And you are forgiving a fellow servant, while God is forgiving a servant, and an enemy, and one who hates him.

“Even as God,” he says, “also in Christ forgave you.”

There is a lofty hint in this too. He did not simply forgive us, Paul means, and at no risk or cost, but at the sacrifice of his Son. In order to forgive you, he sacrificed the Son; yet you, often, even when you see that pardon would cost you nothing and risk nothing, still do not grant it.

“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, even as Christ also loved you, and gave himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma.”

So that you do not think it was an act of necessity, listen to how he says that “he gave himself up.” As your Master loved you, love your friend. No — you will not be able to love like that; still, do it as far as you are able. Oh, what could be more blessed than words like these! Tell me of royal power, or anything else you like: there is no comparison. Forgive another, and you are “imitating God”; you are made like God.

It is more our duty to forgive wrongs than debts of money. If you forgive debts, you have not “imitated God”; but if you forgive wrongs, you are “imitating God.” And yet how will you be able to say, “I am poor and cannot forgive it” — meaning a debt — when you do not forgive what you are able to forgive, meaning a wrong? Surely you do not think there is any loss in this case. No, is it not rather wealth, is it not abundance, is it not a rich store?

And look, here is yet another and a nobler incentive: “as beloved children,” he says. You have still another compelling reason to imitate him: not only that you have received such good things at his hands, but also that you are called his children. And since not all children imitate their fathers, but only those who are beloved, he says, “as beloved children.”

Verse 2: “Walk in love.” [b]

Look — here is the foundation of everything! Where this is, there is no “wrath, no anger, no shouting, no slander”; all of it is done away. That is why he puts the chief point last. How did you come to be made a child? Because you were forgiven. On the very same grounds on which so vast a privilege was granted to you, on those very grounds forgive your neighbor.

Tell me, I ask you: if you were in prison, with ten thousand misdeeds to answer for, and someone brought you into the palace — or rather, to pass over that example, suppose you were in a fever and in the agonies of death, and someone did you good with a medicine — would you not value him above everyone, yes, and the very name of the medicine? For if we regard the occasions and places through which we have been helped as dearly as our own souls, much more will we regard the things themselves.

Then be a lover of love; for by this you are saved, by this you were made a son. And if it is in your power to save another, will you not use the same remedy, and give this advice to everyone: “Forgive, so that you may be forgiven”? To urge one another on like this would be the mark of grateful, generous and noble spirits.

“Even as Christ also,” he adds, “loved you.” [c]

You spare only friends; he spared enemies. So the gift that comes from our Master is far greater. How, then, is the “even as” kept in our case? Clearly, by our doing good to our enemies.

“And gave himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma.”

Do you see that to suffer for one’s enemies is “a sweet-smelling aroma” and “an acceptable sacrifice”? And if you die, then you will truly be a sacrifice. This is what it means to “imitate God.”

Verse 3: “But sexual immorality, and all impurity or greed, let it not even be named among you, as is fitting for saints.”

He has spoken of the bitter passion, of wrath; now he comes to the lesser evil. That lust is the lesser evil, hear how Moses too says in the law, first, “You shall not murder” (Exodus 20, verse 13), which is the work of wrath, and then, “You shall not commit adultery” (Exodus 20, verse 14), which is the work of lust. For just as “bitterness” and “shouting” and “all malice” and “slander” and the like are the works of the man ruled by anger, so “sexual immorality, impurity, greed” are the works of the man ruled by lust; for greed and sensuality spring from the same passion. And just as in the former case he took away “shouting” as the vehicle of “anger,” so now he takes away “filthy talk” and “joking” as the vehicle of lust. For he goes on:

Verse 4: “Nor filthiness, nor foolish talk, nor joking, which are not fitting, but rather giving of thanks.”

Have no witty jokes, no obscenities, either in word or in deed, and you will put out the flame. “Let them not even be named,” he says, “among you” — that is, let them not show themselves anywhere at all. He says this also when writing to the Corinthians: “It is actually reported that there is sexual immorality among you” (First Corinthians 5, verse 1) — as much as to say, Be pure, all of you. For words are the road to deeds. [d]

Then, so that he will not seem a forbidding and austere sort of person who kills all playfulness, he adds the reason, saying, “which are not fitting” — which have nothing to do with us — “but rather giving of thanks.” What good is there in making a witty remark? You only raise a laugh. Tell me, will a shoemaker ever busy himself with anything that does not belong to or suit his trade? Will he buy any tool of that kind? Never. The things we do not need are nothing to us.

Let there not be a single idle word; for from idle words we fall into foul words as well. This is no season for loose merriment, but for mourning, distress and lament — and are you playing the joker? What wrestler, on entering the ring, neglects the struggle with his opponent and makes witty remarks? The devil stands close at hand, “going about roaring” (First Peter 5, verse 8) to catch you. He is moving everything and turning everything against your life; he is scheming to drive you from your stronghold; he is grinding his teeth and bellowing, breathing fire against your salvation — and do you sit making witty remarks, and “talking foolishly,” and saying things “which are not fitting”? A fine job you will make of overcoming him, then! We are playing games, beloved.

Would you like to know the life of the saints? Listen to what Paul says: “For three years I did not stop admonishing everyone night and day with tears” (Acts 20, verse 31). If he showed such zeal on behalf of the people of Miletus and Ephesus, not making pleasant speeches but bringing his admonition with tears, what should one say of the rest? Listen again to what he says to the Corinthians: “Out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you with many tears” (Second Corinthians 2, verse 4). And again, “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 29). And listen again to what he says elsewhere, longing, so to speak, every day to depart out of the world: “For indeed we who are in this tent groan” (Second Corinthians 5, verse 4). And do you laugh and play?

It is wartime, and are you handling the dancers’ instruments? Look at the faces of men in battle, dark and knitted, their brows fearsome and full of dread. Notice the stern eye, the heart eager and pounding and throbbing, the spirit gathered up, trembling and intensely anxious. All is good order, all is good discipline, all is silence in the camps of armies drawn up against each other. They do not speak — I do not say an impertinent word — they do not utter a single sound. Now if those who have visible enemies, and who are in no way harmed by words, keep such silence, do you, whose warfare is in words, and the chief part of your warfare at that, leave this part naked and exposed? Or do you not know that it is here that we are most beset with snares? Are you amusing and enjoying yourself, making witty remarks and raising laughs, and treating the matter as a mere nothing? How many false oaths, how many injuries, how many filthy speeches have come out of witty remarks!

But you will say: “No, pleasantries are nothing like that.” Yet hear how he rules out every kind of joking. It is now a time of war and fighting, of watch and guard, of arming and drawing up for battle. The time for laughter can have no place here; that belongs to the world. Hear what Christ says: “The world will rejoice, but you will be sorrowful” (John 16, verse 20). Christ was crucified for your troubles, and do you laugh? He was struck with fists, and endured such great sufferings because of your disaster and the storm that had overtaken you — and are you carrying on like a reveler? How will you not provoke him instead? [g]

But since the matter seems to some to be a thing indifferent, and hard to guard against besides, let us discuss this point a little, to show you how great an evil it is. For this is indeed a work of the devil: to make us disregard things indifferent. First of all, even if it were indifferent, it still would not be right to disregard it, when one knows that the greatest evils are both produced and increased by it, and that it often ends in sexual immorality. But that it is not even indifferent is evident from this. Let us see, then, where it comes from — or rather, let us see what sort of person a saint ought to be: mild, gentle, sorrowful, mourning, crushed in heart. So the man who deals in jokes is no saint. Why, even if he were a Greek, such a person would be scorned. These things are allowed only to those on the stage.

Where filthiness is, there joking is too; where unseasonable laughter is, there joking is too. Listen to what the prophet says: “Serve the Lord in fear, and rejoice with trembling” (Psalm 2, verse 11). Joking makes the soul soft and lazy. It stirs the soul up beyond measure; often it teems with acts of violence and starts wars. What more? In short, have you not grown to be a man? Then “put away childish things” (First Corinthians 13, verse 11). Why, you would not let your own servant say an impertinent word in the marketplace — and do you, who say you are a servant of God, go around making your witty remarks in the public square? It is well if even the soul that is “sober” is not stolen away; but a soul that is relaxed and loose — who could not carry it off? It will be its own murderer, and will have no need of the devil’s schemes or attacks.

But further, to understand this, look also at the very name. It means the versatile man, the man of every color, the unstable, the pliable, the man who can be anything and everything. But this is far from those who serve the Rock. A character like that quickly turns and changes; for he has to mimic gesture and speech, laughter and walk, and everything else — yes, and such a person is obliged to invent jokes, since he needs this too. But far be it from a Christian to play the clown. Further, the man who plays the joker is bound to earn the bitter hatred of the targets of his random ridicule, whether they are present, or are absent and hear of it. [j]

If the thing is creditable, why is it left to street hucksters? What — do you make yourself a street huckster and not feel ashamed? Why do you not allow your respectable women to do it? Is it not because you count it the mark of an immodest character and not of a discreet one? Great are the evils that live in a soul given to joking; great is the ruin and desolation. Its firmness is broken, the building has decayed, fear is banished, reverence is gone. You have a tongue not so that you may ridicule another man, but so that you may give thanks to God.

Look at your merrymakers, as they are called, those clowns. These are your jokers. Banish this graceless talent from your souls, I beg you. It is the business of hangers-on, of street hucksters, of dancers, of prostitutes; far be it from a generous soul, far from a well-born one, yes, far even from slaves. If there is anyone who has lost all self-respect, if there is anyone base, that man is also a joker. To many, indeed, the thing even seems to be a virtue, and this truly calls for our grief. Just as lust, little by little, drives a man headlong into sexual immorality, so does a taste for joking. It seems to have charm, yet nothing is more graceless. For hear the Scripture that says, “Lightning goes before the thunder, and favor goes before a modest man.” Now nothing is more shameless than the joker; so his mouth is full not of favor but of pain.

Let us banish this custom from our tables. Yet there are some who teach it even to the poor! How monstrous! They make people in distress play the joker. Where will this pest not be found next? It has already been brought into the church itself. It has already laid hold of the Scriptures themselves. Need I say anything to prove how monstrous the evil is? I am ashamed, but I will speak all the same; for I want to show how far the mischief has gone, so that I will not seem to be trifling, or to be preaching to you on some trifling subject, and so that even in this way I may draw you away from this delusion.

And let no one think I am making this up; I will tell you what I have actually heard. A certain man happened to be in company with one of those who pride themselves highly on their learning — now I know I will raise a smile, but I will say it all the same — and when the dish was set before him, he said, “Take and eat, children, so that your belly will not be angry!” Others again say, “Woe to you, Mammon, and to the one who does not have you!” And joking has brought in many outrages like these, as when they say, “Now there is no horoscope.” I say this to show how monstrous this base temper is; for these are the expressions of a soul stripped of all reverence. Are not these things enough to call down thunderbolts? And one could find many other such things that these people have said.

So, I beg you, let us banish this custom everywhere, and speak the things that suit us. Let not holy mouths utter the words of dishonorable and base men. “For what fellowship do righteousness and wrongdoing have, or what communion does light have with darkness?” (Second Corinthians 6, verse 14). Happy will we be if, having kept ourselves apart from all such foul things, we are able in this way to attain the promised blessings — and not drag such a train of them behind us, soiling the purity of our minds with so many. For the man who plays the joker will soon go on to be a slanderer, and the slanderer will go on to heap ten thousand other mischiefs on himself. [p]

When, then, we have trained these two powers of the soul, anger and desire, and have put them like well-broken horses under the yoke of reason, then let us set the mind over them as charioteer, so that we may “gain the prize of our high calling” (Philippians 3, verse 14). May God grant that we may all attain it, through Jesus Christ our Lord, with whom, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might and honor to the Father, now and always and to all the ages. Amen.