Argument

The Philippians are from a city in Macedonia, a city that is a colony, as Luke says. It was here that the seller of purple was converted, a woman of uncommon devotion and attentiveness. Here the ruler of the synagogue believed. Here Paul was flogged, together with Silas. Here the magistrates asked them to leave, and were afraid of them, and the preaching had a glorious beginning. And Paul himself gives them many high tributes, calling them his own crown and saying that they had suffered much. For he says, “To you it has been granted by God, not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for his sake” (Philippians 1, verse 29). [a]

But when he wrote to them, he happened to be in chains. That is why he says, “So that my chains became known in Christ throughout the whole praetorium,” calling Nero’s palace the praetorium. But he was put in chains and then set free again, and he showed this to Timothy when he said, “At my first defense no one took my part, but all deserted me. May it not be counted against them. But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me” (Second Timothy 4, verse 16). So he is speaking there of the chains he wore before that defense. And it is clear that Timothy was not present at the time, for he says, “At my first defense no one took my part,” and he was informing him of this by writing it. He would not have written to him that way if Timothy had already known it.

But when he wrote this letter, Timothy was with him. He shows it by what he says: “But I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you shortly” (Philippians 2, verse 19). And again: “Him I hope to send at once, as soon as I see how it will go with me.” For he was set free from his chains, and after he had been to see them he was put in chains again. And when he says, “Yes, and I am offered upon the sacrifice and service of your faith,” it is not as though this had already happened. It is as much as to say, “And whenever this takes place, I am glad.” He is lifting them out of the dejection his chains had caused them. For that he was not about to die at that time is plain from what he says: “But I hope in the Lord that I myself also will come to you shortly” (Philippians 2, verse 24). And again: “And having this confidence, I know that I will remain, yes, and remain with you all.”

Now the Philippians had sent Epaphroditus to him, to bring him money and to find out how things stood with him, for they felt the warmest love toward him. That they sent money, listen to him say it himself: “I have everything, and more than enough; I am filled, having received from Epaphroditus the things that came from you.” At the same time they sent to find out about him. He shows this right at the beginning of the letter, where he writes about his own affairs and says, “But I want you to know that the things that happened to me have turned out rather to advance the good news” (Philippians 1, verse 12). And again: “I hope to send Timothy to you shortly, so that I too may be cheered when I know how you are.” This “I too” means, “Just as you sent for your own full assurance to find out how things are with me, so I too send, so that I may be cheered when I know how things are with you.” [f]

They had also gone a long time without sending. He proves this when he says, “Now at last you have revived your concern for me” (Philippians 4, verse 10). And then they heard that he was in chains. For if they heard about Epaphroditus, that he was sick (Philippians 2, verse 26), though he was nowhere near so remarkable a person as Paul, they must much more have heard about Paul, and it was only natural that they should be troubled. So at the opening of the letter he gives them a great deal of comfort about his chains, showing that they should not merely not be troubled, but should even rejoice. Then he counsels them about oneness of mind and humility, teaching them that this was their greatest safety, and that in this way they could easily overcome their enemies. For what pains your teachers is not being in chains, but their disciples not being of one mind. The first even helps the good news forward; the second pulls everything apart.

So he urges them to be of one mind, and shows that oneness of mind comes from humility. He aims a shot at those Jews who were everywhere corrupting the teaching under a show of Christianity, calling them “dogs” and “evil workers” (Philippians 3, verse 2); he warns them to keep away from such people and teaches them whom they ought to heed. He speaks at length on matters of conduct, sets them in order, and calls them back to themselves with the words “The Lord is at hand” (Philippians 4, verse 5). And after all this, with his usual wisdom, he also mentions what they had sent, and then gives them abundant comfort. [g]

In what he writes, he can be seen paying them special honor, and nowhere does he write anything in reproof. That is proof of their virtue: they gave their teacher no occasion for it, and he wrote to them not by way of rebuke but throughout by way of encouragement. And as I said at the start, this city showed great readiness for the faith. Why, the jailer himself — and you know that this is a trade full of every kind of wickedness — after one single miracle ran to them at once and was baptized with all his household. He alone saw the miracle that took place, but he did not reap the gain alone; he reaped it together with his wife and his whole household. Indeed, even the magistrates who had Paul flogged seem to have done it on a sudden impulse rather than out of wickedness. You can see this from their sending at once to let him go, and from their being afraid afterward.

And he bears witness to them not only in faith, or in dangers, but also in doing good, where he says, “That even in the beginning of the good news, you sent once and again for my need” (Philippians 4, verses 15 and 16), when no one else did so. For he says, “No church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving.” And he shows that their long pause had come from lack of opportunity rather than from choice, saying, “Not that you took no thought for me, but you lacked opportunity” (Philippians 4, verse 10). So let us too, knowing these things, and having so many examples before us, and seeing the love he bore them — for that he loved them greatly is clear from his saying, “For I have no one like-minded, who will truly care for how you are” (Philippians 2, verse 20); and again, “Because I have you in my heart, and in my chains” —

let us, I say, knowing these things, show ourselves worthy of such examples by being ready to suffer for Christ. But now persecution is no more. Well then, if there is nothing else, let us imitate their earnestness in doing good, and not think that if we have given once or twice, we have done everything. We must do this our whole life long. For it is not once that we must please God, but always. A runner who has run even ten laps and leaves the one remaining lap unrun has lost everything. And we, if we begin with good works and afterward lose heart, have lost everything, have spoiled everything. [i]

Listen to that helpful counsel which says, “Do not let mercy and truth forsake you” (Proverbs 3, verse 3). He does not say, Do this once, or a second time, or a third, or a tenth, or a hundredth, but continually: “Do not let them forsake you.” And he did not say, Do not forsake them, but, “Do not let them forsake you,” showing that we need them, and not they us, and teaching us that we ought to make every effort to keep them with us. “And bind them,” he says, “around your neck.” For just as the children of the wealthy wear a gold ornament around their necks and never take it off, because it displays the mark of their high birth, so we too should wear mercy about us always, showing that we are children of the Compassionate One, “who makes the sun rise on the evil and the good” (Matthew 5, verse 45). “But the unbelievers do not believe it,” you say. Then I say that this is how they will come to believe: if we do these works. If they see that we take pity on everyone, and are enrolled under him as our Teacher, they will know that we act this way in imitation of him. For it says, “mercy and true faith.” He did well to say “true.” For he does not want it to come from plunder or fraud. That would not be “faith”; that would not be “truth.” For whoever plunders must lie and perjure himself. So do not do that, he says, but have faith along with your mercy.

Let us put on this ornament. Let us make a golden chain for our soul — a chain of mercy, I mean — while we are here. For once this age passes, we can no longer use it. And why? Because there, there are no poor; there, there is no wealth; there, there is no more need. While we are children, let us not rob ourselves of this ornament. For just as with children, when they become men, these things are taken off and they move on to another kind of adornment, so it is with us too. There will be no more almsgiving with money, but another kind, far nobler. So let us not deprive ourselves of this! Let us make our soul appear beautiful!

Almsgiving is a great thing, beautiful and honorable; great is that gift, but greater still is goodness. If we learn to despise wealth, we will learn other things besides. See how many good things spring from this! The one who gives alms as he ought to give learns to despise wealth. The one who has learned to despise wealth has torn up the root of evils. So he does not do more good than he receives — not only because there is a fitting recompense and return for alms, but also because his soul becomes philosophic, lofty, and rich. The one who gives alms is taught not to admire wealth or gold. And once this lesson is fixed in his mind, he has taken a great step toward climbing up to heaven, and has cut away ten thousand occasions of strife and contention and envy and dejection.

For you know — you know it yourselves — that everything is done for wealth, and countless wars are waged for wealth. But the one who has learned to despise it has set himself in a quiet harbor; he no longer fears loss. Almsgiving has taught him this. He no longer desires what belongs to his neighbor — how could he, when he parts with his own and gives it away? He no longer envies the rich man — how could he, when he is willing to become poor? He clears the eye of his soul. And these are only the rewards here. But the blessings he will win hereafter are beyond telling. He will not stay outside with the foolish virgins, but will go in with the wise ones, together with the Bridegroom, his lamps burning bright. And though they endured the hardships of virginity, he who has not so much as tasted those hardships will be better than they.

Such is the power of Mercy. She brings in those she has nursed with great boldness. For she is known to the doorkeepers in heaven who keep the gates of the bridal chamber — and not only known, but revered. And those she knows have honored her, she will bring in with great boldness, and no one will object; all will make way. For if she brought God down to earth and persuaded him to become man, much more will she be able to raise a man to heaven, for great is her might. If, then, God became man out of mercy and love for humankind, and persuaded himself to become a servant, much more will he bring his servants into his own house.

Let us love her, then; let us set our affection on her, not for one day or two, but all our life long, so that she may acknowledge us. If she acknowledges us, the Lord will acknowledge us too. If she disowns us, the Lord too will disown us and will say, “I do not know you.” But may it not be ours to hear that voice, but that blessed one instead: “Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Matthew 25, verse 34). May we all obtain it, by his grace and love for humankind, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father and the Holy Spirit be glory, strength, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.