Homily 3 — Philippians 1, verses 18 to 21

“And in this I rejoice, yes, and I will rejoice. For I know that this will turn out for my salvation through your petitions and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope that I will be put to shame in nothing, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also, Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death.” [a]

None of the painful things of this present life can sink their fangs into that lofty soul which is truly philosophical: not hostility, not accusations, not slanders, not dangers, not plots. It flees, as it were, to a mighty fortress for refuge, and there it is safely defended against everything that attacks it from this lower earth. Such was the soul of Paul. It had taken possession of a place higher than any fortress: the seat of spiritual wisdom, that is, of true philosophy. For the philosophy of those outside, the pagans, is mere words and childish toys. But it is not of these that we are speaking now; for the present we are speaking of what concerns Paul.

That blessed man had the emperor for his enemy, and many other foes besides, afflicting him in many ways, even with bitter slander. And what does he say? “Not only do I not grieve or sink under these things, but ‘I even rejoice, yes, and I will rejoice’ — not for a season; I will always rejoice over these things.” “For I know that this will turn out for my salvation” — the salvation to come — since even their hostility and jealousy toward me advance the good news. “Through your petitions,” he adds, “and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope.”

See the humility of this blessed man! He was striving in the contest; he was now close to his crown; he had done ten thousand mighty deeds — for he was Paul, and what more can one add to that? — and still he writes to the Philippians that he may be saved “through your petitions,” he who had gained salvation through countless achievements. “And the supply,” he says, “of the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” It is as though he said: “If I am counted worthy of your prayers, I will also be counted worthy of more grace.” For this is what “supply” means: if the Spirit is supplied to me, given to me more abundantly.

Or else, by “salvation” he means deliverance; that is, “I will escape the present danger too, as I escaped the former one.” Of that same matter he says, “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, verses 16 and 17). This, then, is what he now foretells: “Through your petitions and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, according to my eager expectation and hope” — for this is what I hope.

And so that he may persuade us not to leave the whole matter to the prayers made for us while contributing nothing ourselves, see how he sets down his own part, which is hope, the source of all good. As the prophet says, “Let your mercy, O Lord, be upon us, as we have hoped in you” (Psalm 33, verse 22). And as it is written in another place, “Look at the generations of old and see: did anyone hope in the Lord and was put to shame?” (Sirach 2, verse 10).

And again this same blessed man says, “Hope does not put us to shame” (Romans 5, verse 5). This is Paul’s hope: to hope that he will nowhere be put to shame. [d]

“According to my eager expectation and hope,” he says, “that I will be put to shame in nothing.” Do you see how great a thing it is to hope in God? “Whatever happens, I will not be put to shame” — that is, they will not get the mastery over me — “but with all boldness, as always, so now also, Christ will be magnified in my body.”

They, of course, expected to catch Paul in this snare and to put out the preaching of the good news, as though their cunning had any power. “This, then, will not happen. I will not die now; but ‘as always, so now also, Christ will be magnified in my body.’” How so? “Many times I have fallen into dangers, when everyone had given us up — and what is more, when I had given myself up. For ‘we had the sentence of death within ourselves’ (Second Corinthians 1, verse 9). But the Lord rescued me from them all; so now too he will be magnified in my body.”

What then? So that no one would suppose and say, “If you die, will he not be magnified then?” he answers: “Yes, I know he will. That is why I did not say that my life alone will magnify him, but my death as well.”

For the present, by “life” he means, “They will not destroy me; but even if they did, Christ will be magnified this way too.” How so? Through life, because he rescued me; through death, because even death itself could not persuade me to deny him, since he gave me such readiness and made me stronger than death. On the one hand, because he freed me from danger; on the other, because he did not let me fear the tyranny of death. That is how he will be magnified through life and through death. And he says this not as though he were about to die, but so that, if he did die, they would not be affected as people usually are.

But so that you may know that these words of his did not point to an immediate death — the thought that pained them most — see how he relieves it, all but saying, “I say these things not as one about to die.” That is why he adds soon afterward, “And being confident of this, I know that I will remain, yes, and remain with you all.” [e]

“In nothing,” he says, “will I be put to shame”; that is, “Death brings me no shame, but rather great gain.” Why so? “Because I am not immortal, and yet I will shine more brightly than if I were; for it is not the same thing for one who is immortal and for one who is mortal to despise death. So not even an immediate death is a shame to me — and yet I will not die. ‘In nothing will I be put to shame,’ neither in life nor in death; for I will bear either one nobly, whether life or death.”

Well said! This is what a Christian soul is like! But he adds, “with all boldness.” “Do you see how completely I am freed from shame? If the fear of death had cut my boldness short, then death would have been a shameful thing. But if death, when it comes near, strikes no terror into me, there is no shame here. Whether it is through life, I will not be put to shame, for I still preach the message; or whether it is through death, I will not be put to shame, for fear does not hold me back, since I still show the same boldness. When I speak of my chains, do not think the matter shameful. They have brought me so much good that they have even given confidence to others. For to be in chains for Christ is no shame; but to betray anything that belongs to Christ for fear of chains — that is shame.”

“When there is nothing of that kind, chains are even a cause of boldness. But since I have often escaped dangers, and have this to boast of before the unbelievers, do not immediately think I am put to shame if it should turn out otherwise this time. The one outcome, no less than the other, gives you boldness.” [f]

Notice how he puts this forward in his own person, as he does in many places. So in the letter to the Romans: “For I am not ashamed of the good news” (Romans 1, verse 16). And again in the letter to the Corinthians: “And I have transferred these things in a figure to myself and Apollos” (First Corinthians 4, verse 6). “Whether by life or by death”: he says this not as though he did not know (for he knew that he was not to die then, but some time later); yet even now he is preparing their souls.

Verse 21: “For to me,” he says, “to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” What he means is this: “Even in dying I will not have died, for I have my life within myself. They would really have killed me only if they had had the power, through this fear, to drive faith out of my soul. But as long as Christ is with me, even if death overtakes me, I still live; and in this present life too, it is not this life but Christ that is my life. Since, then, not even in the present life is it this life I live — ‘the life I now live in the flesh I live in faith’ — so in that state also I say, ‘I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me’ (Galatians 2, verse 20).”

This is what a Christian ought to be! “I do not live the common life.” How, then, do you live, blessed Paul? Do you not see the sun? Do you not breathe the common air? Are you not fed with the same food as others? Do you not walk the earth as we do? Do you not need sleep, or clothing, or shoes? What do you mean by “I do not live”? How is it that you do not live? Why do you boast about yourself?

There is no boasting here. If the facts did not bear witness for him, one might with some show of reason have called it boasting; but when the facts bear witness, how is it boasting? Let us learn, then, how he does not live; for he himself says in another place, “I have been crucified to the world, and the world to me” (Galatians 6, verse 14). Hear, then, how he says, “I no longer live,” and how he says, “For me to live is Christ.”

The word “life” has many meanings, beloved, and so does the word “death.” There is this life of the body. There is the life of sin, as he himself says elsewhere: “But if we died to sin, how will we still live in it?” (Romans 6, verse 2). So it is possible to live the life of sin. Pay careful attention, I beg you, so that my labor is not in vain. There is the everlasting and immortal life, and, along with eternal life, the heavenly one: “For our citizenship,” he says, “is in heaven” (Philippians 3, verse 20). There is the life of the body, of which he says, “Through him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17, verse 28).

So he does not deny that he lives the natural life, but that he lives the life of sin, which everyone lives. The one who does not desire the present life — how does he live it? The one who is hurrying toward another life — how does he live this one? The one who despises death — how does he live this life? The one who desires nothing — how does he live it? Just as a man made of diamond, struck a thousand blows, would never take notice of them, neither would Paul. And “I live,” he says, “yet no longer I” — that is, no longer the old self; as again he says elsewhere, “Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from the body of this death?” (Romans 7, verse 24).

How, too, does he live who does nothing for the sake of food, nothing for the sake of clothing, nothing for any of these present things? Such a person does not even live the natural life. The one who gives thought to none of the things that sustain life does not live. We live this life, since everything we do looks to it. But he did not live it; he busied himself with none of the things here.

How, then, did he live? Just as we are used to saying in everyday matters, “So-and-so is not with me,” when he does nothing that concerns me; or again, in the same way, “Such a man does not live for me.” Elsewhere he shows that he does not reject the natural life: “The life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2, verse 20) — that is, “I live a certain new life, a changed one.”

And truly, he said all these things to comfort the Philippians. “Do not think that I will be deprived of this life. Even while I was alive I did not live this life, but the one Christ willed.”

For tell me: the one who despises money, luxury, hunger, thirst, dangers, health, safety — does he live this life? The one who has nothing here, who is often willing to throw his life away if need be, and does not cling to it — does he live this life? Not at all. I must make this clear to you by a kind of example. Let us imagine someone with great wealth, many servants and much gold, who makes no use of any of it. Is such a man rich, for all his wealth? Not at all. Let him see his children squandering his property and idling about, and let him feel no concern for them; even when he is struck, let him feel no pain. Will we call him a man of wealth? Not at all, even though the wealth is his own.

“For to me,” he says, “to live is Christ.” “If you ask about my life, it is he. ‘And to die is gain.’” Why? “Because I will be present with him more clearly; so my death is rather a coming to life. Those who kill me will do nothing terrible to me. They will only send me on to my own true life, and free me from the life that is not mine.” What then? While you were here, were you not Christ’s? Yes, and to a high degree.

Verse 22: “But if I am to live in the flesh — if this is the fruit of my work — then what I will choose I do not know.” [g]

So that no one would say, “If what you describe is life, why has Christ left you here?” he says, “It is the fruit of my work.” So it is possible to use the present life to good purpose while not living it. He says this so that you would not think any reproach is being cast on life. For if we gain no advantage here, why do we not do away with ourselves, why do we not kill ourselves? “By no means. It is open to us to profit even here, if we live not this life but another.” But perhaps someone will say, “Does this bear you fruit?” “Yes.” Where are the heretics now? See: “to live in the flesh” — this is “the fruit of his work.” “The life I now live in the flesh I live in faith”; therefore it is “the fruit of my work.”

“And what I will choose I do not know.” Wonderful! How great was his philosophy! How he has both driven out the desire for the present life and yet cast no reproach on it! For when he says, “to die is gain,” he drives out the desire; but when he says, “to live in the flesh is the fruit of my work,” he shows that the present life too is necessary — if we use it as we ought, if we bear fruit. If it is fruitless, it is no longer life. For we despise trees that bear no fruit, as though they were dead wood, and give them up to the fire.

Life itself belongs to that middle class of things that are indifferent, while living well or badly is up to us. So we do not hate life, for we may also live well. And even if we use it badly, we do not lay the blame on life even then. Why? Because it is not life itself that is to blame, but the free choice of those who use it badly. For God has made you live so that you may live for him. But you, by living in corruption for sin, make yourself liable to every blame.

What are you saying, tell me? You do not know what to choose? Here he has revealed a great mystery: that his departure was in his own power. For where there is choice, there we have power. “What I will choose,” he says, “I do not know.” Is it in your own power, then? “Yes, if I were to ask this grace of God.”

Verse 23: “I am hard pressed between the two, having the desire.” [h]

See the affection of this blessed man! In this way too he comforts them, when they see that he is master of his own choice, and that what happens comes about not by human sin but by God’s arrangement. “Why do you mourn over my death? It would have been far better to have departed long ago.” “For to depart,” he says, “and to be with Christ is very far better.”

Verse 24: “Yet to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake.”

These words were meant to prepare them for his death when it came, so that they might bear it nobly. This was teaching them true wisdom. “It is good for me to depart and be with Christ.” For even death is a thing indifferent: death itself is no evil, but to be punished after death is an evil. Nor is death a good; but it is good, after our departure, “to be with Christ.” What follows death is either good or evil.

So let us not grieve for the dead simply because they are dead, nor rejoice for the living simply because they live. How, then? Let us grieve for sinners, not only when they die but also while they live. Let us rejoice for the righteous, not only while they live but also when they have died. [i]

For the first, though living, are dead; the second, though dead, are alive. The first are to be pitied by everyone even while they are here, because they are at enmity with God. The second, even when they have departed to the other world, are blessed, because they have gone to Christ. Sinners, wherever they are, are far from the King. That is why they are to be wept over. But the righteous, whether they are here or there, are with the King — and there more closely and more fully, not through a mirror, not by faith, but “face to face” (First Corinthians 13, verse 12).

So let us not raise wailing for the dead simply because they are dead, but for those who have died in their sins. They deserve wailing; they deserve beating of the breast and tears. For tell me, what hope is there when our sins go with us to that place where there is no putting sins off? As long as they were here, there was perhaps great hope that they would change, that they would become better. But when they have gone to Hades, where nothing can be gained from repentance — for it is written, “In Sheol who will give you thanks?” (Psalm 6, verse 5) — are they not worthy of our lamentation?

Let us wail for those who depart from here in such a state. Wail — I do not stop you — but not in an unseemly way: not tearing our hair, or baring our arms, or gashing our faces, or wearing black clothes, but only in the soul, shedding bitter tears in quiet. For we can weep bitterly without all that display.

And not as a game, either. For the laments many people make are no different from a game. Those public mournings do not come from sympathy but from display, from rivalry and empty glory. Many women do this as a trade. Weep bitterly; groan at home, when no one sees you. This is what true sympathy does, and by it you benefit yourself as well. For whoever laments another in this way will be much more earnest never to fall into the same sins. From then on, sin will be something you dread. [k]

Weep for the unbelievers. Weep for those who are no different from them, those who depart from here without the enlightenment, without the seal! They truly deserve our wailing; they deserve our groans. They are outside the palace, with the guilty, with the condemned. For “Truly I tell you, unless a person is born of water and the Spirit, he will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Mourn for those who died in wealth and did not use their wealth to think of any comfort for their souls, who had the power to wash away their sins and would not. Let us all weep for these, in private and in public, but with propriety and dignity, not making a spectacle of ourselves. Let us weep for them not for one day or two, but all our lives. Such tears do not spring from senseless passion but from true affection. The other kind come from senseless passion; that is why they are quickly put out, whereas tears that spring from the fear of God stay with us always.

Let us weep for these. Let us help them as far as we can; let us think of some help for them — small, perhaps, but still let us help them. How, and in what way? By praying for them and asking others to pray for them, and by giving to the poor continually on their behalf. This deed brings some comfort. For hear the words of God himself, when he says, “I will defend this city for my own sake and for the sake of my servant David” (Second Kings 20, verse 6). If the mere memory of a righteous man had such power, how much power will it not have when deeds are done for someone? [l]

It was not for nothing that the apostles laid down that the dead should be remembered at the awe-inspiring mysteries. They know that great gain comes to the dead from it, great benefit. For when the whole people stands with hands lifted up, a priestly assembly, and that awe-inspiring sacrifice lies displayed, how will we not prevail with God as we plead for them? And this we do for those who have departed in faith. The catechumens are not counted worthy even of this comfort; they are deprived of every means of help but one. And what is that? We may give to the poor on their behalf.

This deed in some way refreshes them. For God wants us to help one another. Otherwise, why has he commanded us to pray for peace and for the good order of the world? Why for all people? For among them are robbers, grave robbers, thieves, men loaded with countless crimes; and yet we pray for all — perhaps they may turn. So just as we pray for the living who are no different from the dead, we may also pray for the dead. [m]

Job offered sacrifice for his children and freed them from their sins. “It may be,” he said, “that they have renounced God in their hearts” (Job 1, verse 5). This is how one provides for one’s children! He did not say, as many do nowadays, “I will leave them property.” He did not say, “I will get them honors.” He did not say, “I will buy an office.” He did not say, “I will buy them land.” He said, “It may be that they have renounced God in their hearts.” For what profit is there in those other things? None at all, in things that stay behind here. “I will make the King of all things favorable to them, and then they will lack nothing more.”

“The Lord,” someone says, “is my shepherd; I will not lack anything” (Psalm 23, verse 1). This is great wealth; this is treasure. If we have the fear of God, we lack nothing; if we do not have it, even if we have royalty itself, we are the poorest of all people. Nothing is equal to the one who fears the Lord. For “the fear of the Lord,” it says, “surpasses everything” (Sirach 25, verse 11).

Let us gain this; let us do everything for its sake. If we must lay down our lives, if our bodies must be torn apart, let us not spare them; let us do everything to gain this fear. For this is how we will be richer than all people, and will gain those good things to come, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.