Homily 1 — Philippians 1, verses 1 to 7

“Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus, to all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, the fellow bishops and deacons: Grace to you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” [a]

Here, since he is writing to people of equal honor, he does not set down his rank as teacher, but another one, and a great one. What is that? He calls himself a “servant,” not an apostle. For this too is truly a great rank, and the sum of all good things: to be a servant of Christ, and not merely to be called one. “The servant of Christ” — such a man is truly free where sin is concerned. And being a genuine servant, he is no servant to anyone else; otherwise he would be Christ’s servant only by halves. Writing to the Romans too, he says, “Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ” (Romans 1, verse 1). But writing to the Corinthians and to Timothy he calls himself an “apostle.”

Why is this? Not because they were superior to Timothy. Far from it. Rather, he honors them and shows them attention beyond all the others he wrote to. For he also bears witness to great virtue in them. Besides, in those letters he was about to give many orders, and so he took up his rank as an apostle. But here he gives them no instructions except those they could see for themselves.

“To the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi.” It was likely that the Jews too would call themselves “saints” because of the first oracle, when they were called “a holy people, a people for God’s own possession” (Exodus 19, verse 6; Deuteronomy 7, verse 6, and elsewhere). That is why he added, “to the saints in Christ Jesus.” For these alone are holy, and those others are from now on unholy. “To the fellow bishops and deacons.” What is this? Were there several bishops of one city? Certainly not. He called the presbyters by that name. [c]

For at that time they still used the titles interchangeably, and the bishop was called a deacon. That is why, writing to Timothy, he said, “Fulfill your ministry,” when Timothy was a bishop. That he was a bishop is clear from his saying to him, “Do not lay hands hastily on anyone” (First Timothy 5, verse 22), and again, “which was given you with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery” (First Timothy 4, verse 14). Yet presbyters would not have laid hands on a bishop.

And again, writing to Titus, he says, “This is why I left you in Crete: that you should appoint elders in every city, as I directed you. If any man is blameless, the husband of one wife” (Titus 1, verses 5 and 6) — which he says of the bishop. And right after saying this he adds, “For the bishop must be blameless, as God’s steward, not self-willed” (Titus 1, verse 7). So, as I said, in the old days the presbyters were called bishops and deacons of Christ, and the bishops were called presbyters. That is why even now many bishops write, “To my fellow presbyter” and “To my fellow deacon.” But otherwise each has its own distinct name, the bishop and the presbyter.

“To the fellow bishops,” he says, “and deacons.” Verse 2: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

How is it that he nowhere else writes to the clergy — not at Rome, not at Corinth, not at Ephesus, not anywhere, but to everyone in general, “to all the saints, the believers, the beloved” — and yet here he writes to the clergy? Because it was they who did the sending and bore fruit; it was they who sent Epaphroditus off to him. [d]

Verse 3: “I thank my God,” he says, “in all my remembrance of you.”

He said in another of his writings, “Obey those who rule over you, and submit to them; for they keep watch on behalf of your souls, as those who will give an account, so that they may do this with joy and not with grief” (Hebrews 13, verse 17). If, then, the “grief” comes from the wickedness of the disciples, doing it “with joy” would come from their progress. As often as I remember you, he says, I give glory to God. He does this because he knows of many good things in them. I both give glory, he says, and I pray. I do not stop praying for you just because you have made progress in virtue. But “I thank my God,” he says, “in all my remembrance of you.”

Verse 4: “Always, in every prayer of mine for you all, making my request with joy as well.” “Always” — not only while I am praying. “With joy” — for it is possible to do this with grief too, as when he says elsewhere, “For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you with many tears” (Second Corinthians 2, verse 4). [e]

Verse 5: “For your fellowship in the furtherance of the good news from the first day until now.”

Great is the witness he bears to them here, very great — the kind of thing one might have said of apostles and evangelists. You did not, he says, care only for your own city just because one city was entrusted to you. No, you leave nothing undone to share in my labors. You are at hand everywhere, working with me and taking part in my preaching. And not once, or twice, or three times, but always, from the time you believed until now, you have shown the readiness of apostles. See how, by contrast, those in Rome turned away from him. Listen to him saying, “You know this, that all who are in Asia turned away from me” (Second Timothy 1, verse 15).

And again, “Demas has forsaken me,” and “At my first defense no one took my part” (Second Timothy 4, verses 10 and 16). But these Philippians, though absent, shared in his distress. They sent men to him, they served him as far as they were able, and they left nothing at all undone. And you do this, he says, not only now but always, helping me in every way. So it is a “fellowship in the furtherance of the good news.” For when one person preaches and you wait on the preacher, you share in his crowns. [f]

Even in the contests of the world outside, the crown is not only for the one who competes, but also for the trainer, the attendant, and everyone who helps prepare the athlete. Those who build up his strength and nurse him back may fairly share in his victory. And in wars too, not only the man who wins the prize for bravery, but all who attend him may fairly claim a share in the trophies and take part in the glory, since by serving him they shared in his struggle.

Waiting on the saints counts for no little, but for a great deal. It makes us sharers in the rewards stored up for them. Suppose, for instance, that someone has given up great possessions for God, devotes himself to God continually, practices great virtue, and keeps the strictest watch over his words, over his thoughts, over everything. It is open to you too, even without showing such strictness, to have a share in the rewards stored up for him for these things. How? If you help him both in word and in deed; if you encourage him by supplying his needs and by doing him every service you can. For then you yourself will be the one who smooths that rough road.

So if you admire those in the deserts who have taken up the life of angels, and those in the churches who practice the same virtues as they do — if you admire them, and grieve that you are so far behind them — you can share with them in another way, by waiting on them and helping them. For this too comes from God’s love for humankind: to bring those who are less zealous, who are not able to take on the hard, rough, strict life — to bring even these, I say, by another road into the same rank as the others.

This is what Paul means by “fellowship.” They give us a share, he means, in material things, and we give them a share in spiritual things. For if God grants the kingdom in return for small and worthless things, his servants too, in return for small and material things, give a share in spiritual things. Or rather, it is he who gives both the one and the other through them.

You cannot fast, or live alone, or sleep on the ground, or keep vigil all night? Still, you can win the reward for all these things if you go about it another way: by attending on the one who labors at them, refreshing him and anointing him constantly, and lightening the pains of these works. He, for his part, stands fighting and taking blows. Wait on him yourself when he comes back from the fight. Take him in your arms, wipe off the sweat, refresh him; comfort, soothe and restore his weary soul. If only we will serve the saints with such readiness, we will share in their rewards. Christ too tells us this: “Make friends for yourselves by means of the mammon of unrighteousness, so that they may receive you into their eternal dwellings” (Luke 16, verse 9). Do you see that they have become sharers?

“From the first day,” he says, “until now.” And “I rejoice” not only over what is past but also over the future; for from the past I can guess the future too. [h]

Verse 6: “Being confident of this very thing, that he who began a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.”

See how he also teaches them to be unassuming. He had borne witness to a great thing in them; so, to keep them from being affected the way people usually are, he at once teaches them to credit both the past and the future to Christ. How? He does not say, “Being confident that as you began, you will also finish.” What, then? “He who began a good work in you will complete it.” He did not rob them of the achievement, for he had said, “I rejoice for your fellowship,” plainly treating it as their own act. Nor did he call their good deeds theirs alone, but God’s first of all. “For I am confident,” he says, “that he who began a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” That is, God will.

And it is not about you yourselves, he implies, that I feel this way, but about those who descend from you. And indeed it is no small praise that God should be at work in someone. For if he “shows no partiality” — as indeed he shows none — but looks to our intention when he helps us in good deeds, it is clear that we ourselves have a hand in drawing him to us. So even in this respect he did not rob them of their praise.

For if his working were indiscriminate, nothing would have prevented even the pagans and everyone else from having him at work in them — that is, if he moved us like logs and stones and did not require our part. So in saying “God will complete it,” this again becomes their praise: they have drawn God’s grace to themselves, so that he helps them to go beyond human nature. And it is praise in another way too, as if to say, “Your good deeds are such that they cannot come from a man; they need an impulse from God.” But if God will complete it, then there will not be much labor either. Rather, it is right to take courage, since with his help they will easily accomplish everything. [j]

Verse 7: “Just as it is right for me to think this way about all of you, because I have you in my heart, since both in my chains and in the defense and confirmation of the good news, you are all partakers with me of grace.”

Here again he shows how deeply he longs for them: he had them in his heart, and in prison itself, though in chains, he remembered the Philippians. And this is no small praise of these men, since this holy man did not conceive his love out of partiality, but out of judgment and sound reasons. So to be loved so earnestly by Paul is proof that a person is something great and admirable. “And in the defense,” he says, “and confirmation of the good news.” And what wonder is it if he had them in mind when he was in prison, when not even at the moment I was going before the court to make my defense, he says, did you slip from my memory? [k]

For spiritual love is so kingly a thing that it yields to no season. It always keeps hold of the soul of the one who loves, and lets no trouble or pain overcome that soul. In the Babylonian furnace, when so vast a flame was raised, it was dew to those blessed young men. In the same way friendship, when it takes possession of the soul of one who loves and who pleases God, shakes off every flame and produces a marvelous dew.

“And in the confirmation of the good news,” he says. So his chains were a confirmation of the good news, and a defense. And most truly so. How? If he had run from chains, he might have been thought a deceiver. But the man who endures everything, both chains and hardship, shows that he suffers this for no human reason, but for God, who rewards. No one would have been willing to die, or to face such great dangers; no one would have chosen to collide with such a king — I mean Nero — unless he was looking to another King, far greater. His chains truly were a “confirmation of the good news.” [l]

See how completely he turned everything into its opposite. What they supposed was a weakness and a discredit, he calls a confirmation; and if it had not happened, that would have been the weakness. Then he shows that his love did not come from partiality but from judgment. Why? I have you in my heart, he says, in my chains and in my defense, because you are “partakers of my grace.” What is this?

Was this the apostle’s “grace”: to be bound, to be driven from place to place, to suffer ten thousand evils? Yes. For the Lord says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (Second Corinthians 12, verse 9). “That is why,” Paul says, “I take pleasure in weaknesses, in insults.” [m]

Since, then, I see you proving your virtue by your actions, and being partakers of this grace, and readily too, I have good reason to suppose this much. I have put you to the test; more than anyone I have come to know you and your good deeds. Even when you are so far away from us, you strive not to fail us in our troubles, but to share in our trials for the sake of the good news, and to take no smaller share than I do, who am engaged in the combat — far off as you are. So I am only doing what is just when I bear witness to these things.

And why did he not say “partakers,” but “partakers with me”? I myself, he means, also share with another, so that I may be a partaker of the good news — that is, so that I may share in the good things stored up for the good news. And the wonder is that they were all of this mind, for he says, “You are all partakers with me of grace.” From such beginnings, then, I am confident that you will be like this to the very end. For it cannot be that so bright a beginning should be put out and fail; it points to great results.

Since, then, it is possible in other ways too to share in grace, and in trials, and in distress, let us also be partakers, I beg you. How many of those standing here — or rather, all of them — would gladly share with Paul in the good things to come! It is in your power, if you are willing. When those who have succeeded to his ministry suffer any hardship for Christ’s sake, take their part and help them. Have you seen your brother in a trial? Hold out a hand! Have you seen your teacher in a struggle? Stand by him! But someone says: “There is no one like Paul!” Here comes the disdain! Here comes the fault-finding! So there is no one like Paul? Well, I grant it.

But the Lord says, “He who receives a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward” (Matthew 10, verse 41). Was it for this that these men were honored, that they worked together with Paul? Not for this, but because they worked together with one who had taken on the preaching. And Paul was honored for this: that he suffered these things for Christ’s sake.

There is indeed no one like Paul — no, not even anyone who comes a little near that blessed man. But the preaching is the same as it was then. [n]

And they shared with him not only in his chains, but from the beginning. Listen to him saying, “And you yourselves also know, you Philippians, that in the beginning of the good news no church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving, but you only” (Philippians 4, verse 15). And even apart from trials, the teacher has much labor: sleepless nights, toil at the word, teaching, complaints, accusations, blame, envy. Is it a small matter to put up with ten thousand tongues, when one might have only one’s own worries?

Alas, what am I to do? I am hard pressed between two things. I long to urge you on and encourage you to stand with the saints of God and help them. But I am afraid someone may suspect something else: that I say this not for your sakes, but for theirs. Know, though, that it is not for their sakes that I say these things, but for your own. And if you are willing to pay attention, I will convince you from my very words that the gain is not equal for you and for them. If you give, you will be giving things that, whether you like it or not, you must soon part with and leave to others; but what you receive is great and far more abundant.

Or are you not of this mind, that in giving you will receive? If you are not of this mind, I do not even want you to give. So far am I from making a speech on their behalf! Unless a person has first set his mind this way — that he is receiving rather than giving, gaining ten thousandfold, being helped rather than doing the helping — let him not give. If he gives as though he were doing the receiver a favor, let him not give. For my main concern is not that the saints be supported; even if you do not give, someone else will. What I want is this: that you may find relief from your own sins. But the one who does not give in this way will find no relief. For it is not the giving that makes almsgiving, but doing it readily: rejoicing, and feeling grateful to the one who receives. “Not grudgingly,” he says, “or under compulsion; for God loves a cheerful giver” (Second Corinthians 9, verse 7). Unless, then, a person gives this way, let him not give; for that is loss, not almsgiving.

If, then, you know that it is you who will gain, not they, know that your gain grows greater still. For them, the body is fed; but your soul wins approval. For them, not one of their sins is forgiven when they receive; but for you, the greater part of your offenses is taken away. Let us, then, share with them in their great prizes. When people adopt kings, they do not think they are giving more than they receive. Adopt Christ, and you will have great safety. Do you want to share with Paul too? But why do I say Paul, when it is Christ who receives?

But so that you may know that everything I say and do is for your sakes, and not out of concern for other people’s comfort: if any of those who preside in the church lives in plenty and wants for nothing, then even if he is a saint, do not give to him. Prefer to him someone who is in need, even if he is not so admirable. Why? Because Christ too wants it so, as when he says, “When you give a supper or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your relatives, but the crippled, the lame, the blind, who cannot repay you” (Luke 14, verse 12). [p]

For such kindnesses should not be paid out indiscriminately, but to the hungry, to the thirsty, to those who need clothing, to strangers, to those who have fallen from riches into poverty. He did not say simply, “I was fed,” but “I was hungry”: “You saw me hungry,” he says, “and fed me” (Matthew 25, verse 35). The claim is twofold: that he is a saint, and that he is hungry. If the one who is simply hungry ought to be fed, how much more when the one who is hungry is a saint as well! So if he is a saint but not in need, do not give; that would be no gain. Christ did not command it — or rather, the man who lives in plenty and still takes is no saint. Do you see that these things have not been said to you for the sake of shameful gain, but for your profit?

Feed the hungry, so that you may not feed the fire of hell. When he eats of what is yours, he makes the rest holy as well (Luke 11, verse 41). Think how the widow supported Elijah. She did not feed him more than she was fed; she did not give more than she received. The same thing happens now too, and in something far greater. For the reward for such people is not a “jar of flour” or “a jug of oil” (First Kings 17, verse 14), but what? “A hundredfold, and eternal life” (Matthew 19, verses 21 and 29). You become the mercy of God; the spiritual food; a pure yeast.

She was a widow, famine was pressing, and none of these things held her back. She had children too, and not even that restrained her (First Kings 17, verse 12). This woman has become the equal of the one who put in the two small coins. She did not say to herself: “What will I get from this man? He is the one who needs me. If he had any power, he would not be hungry; he would have broken the drought; he would not be suffering the same things we are. Perhaps he too is offending God.” She thought of none of these things. Do you see how good a thing it is to do good with simplicity, and not to pry too curiously into the person you are helping? If she had chosen to be curious, she would have doubted; she would not have believed. So too Abraham: if he had chosen to be curious, he would not have received angels. [s]

For it cannot be — truly it cannot be — that someone who is overly fussy in these matters should ever meet with such people. No, a person like that usually comes upon impostors, and I will tell you how that happens. The truly devout man does not want to appear devout; he does not dress himself up for show, and so he is likely to be turned away. But the impostor makes a business of it, and puts on a great show of piety that is hard to see through.

So the one who does good even to those who do not seem devout will come upon those who are, while the one who looks only for those who are thought devout will often come upon those who are not. So I beg you, let us do everything in simplicity. Let us even suppose that the one who comes to you is an impostor: you have not been told to pry into that. For he says, “Give to everyone who asks you” (Luke 6, verse 30), and, “Do not hold back from ransoming the one who is about to be put to death” (Proverbs 24, verse 11). Yet most of those who are put to death suffer it for some crime they have been convicted of; still he says, “Do not hold back.” [u]

For in this way we will be like God; in this way we will be admired, and will obtain those undying blessings. May we all be counted worthy of them, through the grace and love for humankind of Jesus Christ our Lord, with whom be glory, power and honor to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and forever and ever. Amen.