Homily 9 — Philippians 2, verses 19 to 30

“But I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy to you shortly, so that I too may take heart when I know how things stand with you. For I have no one like-minded, who will truly care about how things stand with you. For they all seek their own interests, not the things of Jesus Christ.” [a]

He had said that things “have turned out for the progress of the good news, so that my chains became known in Christ throughout the whole praetorian guard” (Philippians 1, verses 12 and 13). And again: “Yes, and if I am offered up on the sacrifice and service of your faith” (Philippians 2, verse 17). By these words he had strengthened them. But perhaps they might suspect that his earlier words were said only to comfort them. What then? “I am sending Timothy to you,” he says; for they wanted to hear everything that concerned him.

And why did he not say, “so that you may know how things stand with me,” but “so that I may know how things stand with you”? Because Epaphroditus would have reported his situation before Timothy arrived. That is why further on he says, “But I thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother” (Philippians 2, verse 25). But I want to learn about your affairs. For it is likely that Epaphroditus had stayed a long time with Paul because of his bodily weakness. So he says, I want to “know how things stand with you.”

See, then, how he refers everything to Christ, even the sending of Timothy, when he says, “I hope in the Lord Jesus” — that is, I am confident that God will make this easy for me — “so that I too may take heart when I know how things stand with you.” As I refreshed you when you heard about me the very things you had prayed for — that the good news had advanced, that its enemies were put to shame, that the very means by which they thought to injure me had instead made me rejoice — so I too want to learn about your affairs, so that I too may take heart when I know how things stand with you. Here he shows that they ought to rejoice over his chains and be conformed to them, for they brought him great pleasure. For the words “so that I too may take heart” imply: just as you do.

Oh, what longing he had for Macedonia! He testifies to the same thing with the Thessalonians, as when he says, “But we, brothers, having been bereft of you for a short time,” and so on (First Thessalonians 2, verse 17). And here he says, “I hope to send Timothy,” so that I may “know how things stand with you.” That is a proof of extraordinary care. When he could not be with them himself, he sent his disciples, because he could not bear to remain ignorant of their situation even for a little while. [b]

For he did not learn everything by revelation of the Spirit, and we can see a reason for this. If the disciples had believed that he did, they would have lost all sense of shame; as it was, since they expected that things might stay hidden, they were more easily corrected. He roused them strongly by saying, “so that I too may take heart,” and made them more eager, so that when Timothy came he would not find things otherwise and have that to report to him. He seems to have done something similar in his own person when he put off coming to the Corinthians so that they might repent. That is why he wrote, “It was to spare you that I refrained from coming to Corinth” (Second Corinthians 1, verse 23). For his love showed itself not simply in reporting his own situation, but in his desire to learn about theirs. This is the mark of a soul that cares for others, that takes thought for them, that is always wrestling on their behalf.

At the same time, he also honors them by sending Timothy. What are you saying? Are you sending Timothy? And why? Because “I have no one like-minded” — that is, no one whose care is like mine, no one who “will truly care for you” (Philippians 2, verse 20). Did he have no one, then, among those who were with him? No one like-minded, that is, no one who longs for you and takes thought for you as I do. No one, he means, would readily choose to make so long a journey for this purpose. Timothy is the one here with me who loves you. I might have sent others, but there was no one like him. This, then, is what it means to be like-minded: to love the disciples as their teacher loves them. [d]

“Who,” he says, “will truly care for you” — that is, as a father would. “For they all seek their own interests, not the things of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 2, verse 21): their own comfort, their own safety. He writes this to Timothy too. But why does he lament such things? To teach us, his hearers, not to fall into the same fault; to teach his hearers not to look for relief from hard work. For whoever looks for relief from hard work is not seeking the things of Christ, but his own. We ought to be ready for every hardship, for every distress.

Verse 22: “You know his proven worth, that as a child serves a father, so he served with me in the furtherance of the good news.” [e]

And to show that I am not speaking at random, “you yourselves,” he says, “know that as a child serves a father, so he served with me in the furtherance of the good news.” So he commends Timothy to them, and with good reason, so that he might be held in great honor by them. He does the same when he writes to the Corinthians, and says, “So let no one despise him, for he is doing the work of the Lord, as I am” (First Corinthians 16, verse 10). He said this not out of concern for Timothy, but for those who would receive him, so that they might receive a great reward.

Verse 23: “Him therefore,” he says, “I hope to send at once, as soon as I see how it will go with me” — that is, when I see where I stand, and how my affairs will end.

Verse 24: “But I trust in the Lord that I myself also will come to you shortly.”

So I am not sending him as though I myself would not come, but so that I may take heart when I know how things stand with you, and so that even in the meantime I may not be in the dark about it. “But I trust in the Lord,” he says. See how he makes everything depend on God, and says nothing on his own account. That is, God willing.

Verse 25: “But I thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother and fellow worker and fellow soldier.”

He sends this man too with the same praises as Timothy. He had commended Timothy on two points: first, that he loved them, when he says, “who will truly care for you”; and second, that he had proved himself in the service of the good news. For the same reason and in the same terms he praises this man as well. How? By calling him a brother and a fellow worker — and not stopping there, but adding “fellow soldier” — he showed how he had shared in his dangers, and he testifies of him the same things he testifies of himself. For “fellow soldier” is more than “fellow worker.” Someone might perhaps give help in quiet times, yet not in wars and dangers; but by saying “fellow soldier,” he showed this too.

Verse 25: “To send to you your messenger, who served my needs.” [f]

That is, I am giving you back your own, since I am sending you the man who is yours — or perhaps, the man who is your teacher. Again he adds much about his love when he says:

Verses 26 and 27: “Since he longed for you all and was deeply distressed because you had heard that he was sick. For indeed he was sick, close to death; but God had mercy on him, and not on him only but on me also, so that I would not have sorrow upon sorrow.”

Here he is aiming at something further: he makes it plain that Epaphroditus too knew well how much they loved him. And that is no small encouragement to love. You know that he was sick, he says, and he was grieved that after his recovery he did not see you and free you from the grief you felt over his sickness. Here, too, he gives another reason why he was so late in sending to them. It was not from any slackness. He kept Timothy because he had no one else — for, as he had written, he had “no one like-minded” — and Epaphroditus because of his sickness. Then he shows that this was a long sickness and had taken up much time, by adding, “for he was sick, close to death.”

You see how anxious Paul is to take away from his disciples every reason to feel slighted or despised, and every suspicion that he had not come because he looked down on them. For nothing has such power to draw a disciple to someone as being convinced that his superior cares for him and is heavy-hearted on his account; this is the mark of very great love. “Because you had heard,” he says, “that he was sick; for he was sick, close to death.” And to show that I am not making excuses, listen to what follows.

“But God had mercy on him.” What do you say to this, heretic? Here it is written that God’s mercy held back and brought back again a man who was on the point of departing. And yet if the world is evil, it is no mercy to leave a man in what is evil. Our answer to the heretic is easy. But what are we to say to the Christian? For he may well ask: “If to depart and to be with Christ is far better, how can Paul say that Epaphroditus obtained mercy?” I would ask in turn why the same apostle says that “to remain with you is more necessary.” For just as it was necessary for him, so it was for this man too, who would afterward depart to God with far greater riches and greater confidence. That departure would come later, even if it did not come now; but for those who have once gone there, the winning of souls is at an end. Besides, in many places Paul speaks according to the ordinary ways of thinking of his hearers, and not everywhere according to his own heavenly wisdom; for he had to speak to people of the world who still feared death. [g]

Then he shows how highly he valued Epaphroditus, and so wins respect for him, by saying that his recovery was so useful to Paul himself that the mercy shown to Epaphroditus reached him as well.

Besides, even apart from this, the present life is a good thing. If it were not, why does Paul count untimely deaths among punishments, as when he says, “That is why many among you are weak and sick, and not a few have fallen asleep” (First Corinthians 11, verse 30)? For the life to come is better, not merely than an evil state — in that case the present life would not be good — but than a good one.

“So that I would not have,” he says, “sorrow upon sorrow”: the sorrow of his death on top of the sorrow his sickness had caused. By this he shows how much he prized Epaphroditus.

Verse 28: “So I have sent him all the more eagerly.”

What does “all the more eagerly” mean? Without putting it off, without delay, with great speed. He had told him to set everything aside and go to you, so that he might be freed from his heaviness of heart. For we do not rejoice so much at hearing that those we love are well as at seeing them, and most of all when this happens against all hope, as it did with Epaphroditus.

“So I have sent him all the more eagerly, so that when you see him again you may rejoice, and I may be less sorrowful.” How “less sorrowful”? Because if you rejoice, I rejoice too; and he too is glad at such a pleasure; and so I will be “less sorrowful.” He did not say “free from sorrow,” but “less sorrowful,” to show that his soul was never free from sorrow. For the man who said, “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I do not burn?” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 29) — when could such a man be free from sorrow? That is, this dejection I now throw off.

Verse 29: “Receive him, then, in the Lord with all joy.”

“In the Lord” means either spiritually and with great eagerness, or rather, “in the Lord” means God willing. Receive him in a way worthy of saints, as saints should be received: with all joy.

All this he does for their sake, not for the sake of his messengers; for the one who does a kindness gains more than the one who receives it. “And hold such people in honor” — that is, receive him in a way worthy of saints.

Verse 30: “Because for the work of Christ he came close to death, risking his life to make up what was lacking in your service to me.” [i]

This man had been sent officially by the city of the Philippians. He had come to serve Paul, and was perhaps bringing him some contribution; for toward the end of the letter Paul shows that he had also brought him money, when he says, “having received from Epaphroditus the things that came from you” (Philippians 4, verse 18).

It is likely, then, that when he arrived in the city of Rome he found Paul in great and pressing danger, so that those who usually visited him could not safely do so, but were themselves put in danger simply by attending him. This tends to happen in the very greatest dangers, and when kings are extremely angry. When someone has offended the king and is thrown into prison and closely guarded, even his servants are kept from reaching him — which is probably what happened to Paul then. And it is likely that Epaphroditus, being of a noble nature, despised every danger so that he could go in to him and serve him and do everything that was needed.

So he sets out two facts by which he wins their respect for him. The one is that he was in danger, close to death — for my sake, he says. The other is that in suffering this he was representing their city, so that the reward for his danger would be credited to those who sent him, as though the city had sent him as its ambassador. So a kind welcome for him, and approval of what he had done, could rather be called a share in what he had dared.

And he did not say “for my sake,” but gives his words more weight by saying, “because for the work of God.” For he acted not for my sake, but for God’s sake, when “he came close to death.” What then? Although by God’s providence he did not die, still he took no thought for his own life, and gave himself up to whatever suffering might come to him, so as not to give up attending on me. And if he gave himself up to death to attend on Paul, he would much more have endured it for the sake of the good news. Or rather, this too was for the sake of the good news, even to die for Paul.

For we may bind the crown of martyrdom around our heads not only by refusing to sacrifice; causes like these also make a death a martyrdom — and, if I may say something startling, they do so far more than the other. For whoever dares to face death for the lesser cause will much more face it for the greater. So when we see the saints in danger, let us take no thought for our own lives. Without daring it is impossible ever to do anything noble; and the one who looks out ahead of time for his safety here is bound to fall short of what is to come.

“To make up,” he says, “what was lacking in your service to me.” What does this mean? The city was not present, but by sending him it carried out through him all its service to me. So he made up what was lacking in your service; and for this reason too he deserves to be held in great honor, since what all of you should have done, he has done on your behalf. Here he shows that there is also a service owed by those in safety to those in danger, for that is why he speaks of a lack, a lack of service. [j]

Do you see the apostle’s mind? These words do not come from arrogance, but from his great care for them. He calls the matter a “service” and a “lack” so that they would not be puffed up, but think modestly of themselves, and not imagine they had done some great thing, but rather be humble.

For we owe the saints a debt; we are not doing them a favor. Just as supplies are owed by those who live in peace and do not go to war to those who stand in the ranks and fight — for these stand there on their behalf — so it is here too. For if Paul had not been teaching, who would have thrown him into prison?

That is why we ought to provide for the saints. Is it not absurd to supply an earthly king at war with everything he wants, clothing and food, not just by his need but in abundance, while to the King of heaven, who is at war and contending against far more bitter enemies — for it is written, “our wrestling is not against flesh and blood” (Ephesians 6, verse 12) — we will not supply even what is urgently needed? What folly this is! What ingratitude! What mean love of gain! But it seems the fear of people has more force with us than hell and the torments to come. [l]

This, in truth, is why everything is turned upside down. The city’s business is carried out every day with great earnestness, and no one may be left behind in it, while of spiritual things no account is taken at all. The things demanded of us by necessity and compulsion, as though we were slaves, and against our will, we pay out with great readiness; while the things asked of us as of willing minds, as of free people, fall short again. I am not speaking against everyone, but against those who are behind with these supplies.

For could God not have made these contributions compulsory? Yet he would not, because he cares more for you than for those you support. That is why he did not want you to contribute under compulsion, since then there is no reward.

And yet many of those standing here are meaner-spirited than the Jews. Think how much the Jews gave: tithes, firstfruits, tithes again, and yet other tithes, and on top of this thirteenths, and the shekel. And no one said, “How much they devour!” For the more they receive, the greater the reward. They did not say, “They receive a great deal; they are gluttons” — words I now hear from some. These people, while they are building houses and buying estates, still think they have nothing. But if a priest is dressed in clothing a little brighter than usual, or has more than he strictly needs to live on, or has an attendant so that he himself is not forced to do anything unseemly, they put it down as riches.

And in truth we are rich even on these terms, and they admit it against their will. For we, though we have little, are rich, while they, though they gather everything around them, are poor.

How far will our folly go? Is it not punishment enough that we do no good deed, without adding to it the punishment for speaking evil? If what he has came from your gifts, you lose your reward by reproaching him for what you gave. In a word, if you gave it, why do you reproach him? By saying that what he has came from your gifts, you have already borne witness to his poverty. Why, then, do you reproach him? If you meant to do that, you should not have given at all. Or do you talk like this when someone else gives? Then it is worse still: you have given nothing yourself, and you reproach him over another man’s good deeds.

How great a reward do you think those who are spoken of like this will receive? It is for God’s sake that they suffer it. How, and why? If they had wanted to, they could have taken up a trader’s life, even if they had not inherited one from their ancestors. For I hear many talking loosely like this when we say that some man is poor: “If he had wanted to, he could have been rich.” And then they add with a sneer: “His father was rich, and his grandfather, and who knows who else — but look now at the robe he wears!”

But what? Tell me, should he go about naked? You raise these fine questions, but watch that you are not speaking against yourself. Listen to that warning of Christ: “Do not judge, so that you will not be judged” (Matthew 7, verse 1). It is true that he could have led a trader’s or a merchant’s life if he had wanted to, and he would certainly not have gone short. But he did not want to.

“Well then, what does he gain here?” Yes, tell me, what does he gain? Does he wear silk robes? Does he make his way proudly through the marketplace with a troop of followers clearing the road? Is he carried about on horseback? Does he build houses when he already has a place to live? If he does such things, I accuse him too, and I do not spare him; I declare that he is unworthy of the priesthood. For how can he urge others not to spend their time on such extravagances when he cannot advise himself? But if he has enough to live on, is he doing wrong because of that?

Would you have him wander about and beg? Would you not be put to shame too, you, his disciple? If your father in the flesh did this, you would be ashamed of it. If your spiritual father is forced to do it, will you not cover your head, and feel as though you were sinking into the ground? It is written, “A father’s dishonor is a disgrace to his children” (Sirach 3, verse 11). [n]

But what then? Should he die of hunger? That would not be like a godly man, for God does not want it. But what is the fine moral they draw at once? “It is written, ‘Get no gold, nor silver, nor copper in your purses, nor two coats, nor staffs’ (Matthew 10, verses 9 and 10) — and these men have three or four garments, and beds well spread!”

It makes me groan bitterly, and if it were not unseemly, I would weep as well. Why? Because we are such curious searchers into the specks of others, while we do not feel the beams in our own eyes. Tell me, why don’t you say this to yourself? “Because the command is laid only on our teachers.”

Then when Paul says, “Having food and covering, we will be content with these” (First Timothy 6, verse 8), does he say this only to teachers? By no means, but to everyone; and this is clear if we begin a little further back. For what does he say? “Godliness with contentment is great gain” (First Timothy 6, verse 6); “for we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain that we can carry nothing out” (First Timothy 6, verse 7). Then he immediately adds, “And having food and covering, we will be content with these. But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and harmful cravings” (First Timothy 6, verses 8 and 9).

You see that this is said to everyone. And what about when he says again, “Make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill its cravings” (Romans 13, verse 14)? Is this not said to everyone without exception? And what about when he says, “Food is for the stomach, and the stomach for food, but God will bring both the one and the other to nothing” (First Corinthians 6, verse 13)? Or when he says, “But she who gives herself to pleasure is dead while she lives” (First Timothy 5, verse 6) — speaking of a widow?

Is the widow a teacher, then? Did he not say himself, “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man” (First Timothy 2, verse 12)? Now think of a widow. She is old, and old age needs a great deal of care; she has a woman’s nature too, and the female sex, being weak, needs more refreshment. Yet where both the age and the nature are present, he does not allow her to live in luxury. He even says she is dead — for he did not simply forbid a life of luxury, but said, “She who gives herself to luxury is dead while she lives” — and so he has cut her off, since one who is dead is cut off. What allowance, then, will any man have who does the very things for which a woman, and an old one at that, is punished? [p]

Yet no one gives these things a thought; no one looks into them. And I have been compelled to say this, not from any wish to clear the priests of these charges, but to spare you. They suffer no harm at your hands, even if the charge that they are greedy for gain is made with good cause and justly. Whether you speak or keep silent, they must give an account there, before the Judge, so your words do them no harm at all. And if your words are false as well, they actually gain by these false accusations, while you hurt yourselves by them. But it is not so with you. Whether the things you bring against them are true or false, you speak ill of them to your own hurt. How so? If they are true, you do yourselves harm by judging your teachers and overturning order. For if we must not judge a brother, much less a teacher. But if they are false, the punishment and retribution are unbearable, for “you will give an account of every idle word” (Matthew 12, verse 36). So it is for your sake that I act and labor as I do.

But, as I said, no one looks into these things, no one troubles himself about them, no one thinks any of them over in his own heart. Do you want me to add still more? “Whoever does not forsake all that he has,” says Christ, “is not worthy of me” (Luke 14, verse 33; Matthew 10, verse 37). What about when he says, “It is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19, verse 23; Mark 10, verse 24)? What about when he says again, “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation” (Luke 6, verse 24)? No one looks into this, no one keeps it in mind, no one reasons it out with himself; instead, everyone sits as a strict investigator of other people’s cases. Yet this is to make themselves sharers in the charges. [q]

But listen, so that for your own sake I may clear the priests of the charges you say lie against them; for the belief that they are breaking God’s law pushes you not a little toward evil. Come, then, let us examine the matter. Christ said, “Provide neither gold nor silver, nor two coats, nor sandals, nor a belt, nor staffs” (Matthew 10, verses 9 and 10). What then? Tell me, did Peter break this command? Surely he did, for he had a belt and a garment and sandals. Listen to the angel’s words: “Put on your belt and tie on your sandals” (Acts 12, verse 8). And yet he had no great need of sandals, for at that season a man can even go barefoot; their great use is in winter. Still, he had them.

And what are we to say of Paul, when he writes to Timothy, “Do your best to come before winter” (Second Timothy 4, verse 21)? He gives him instructions too: “When you come, bring the cloak that I left at Troas with Carpus, and the books, especially the parchments” (Second Timothy 4, verse 13). See, he speaks of a cloak, and no one can say he did not have another one that he was wearing. If he wore none at all, there would have been no point in ordering this one brought; and if he could not do without one to wear, he plainly had a second.

And what are we to say of his staying “two whole years in his own rented house” (Acts 28, verse 30)? Did this chosen vessel disobey Christ, then — this man who said, “I live, yet no longer I, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2, verse 20), the man of whom Christ himself testified, “He is a chosen vessel to me” (Acts 9, verse 15)? [t]

I ought to leave you with this difficulty and give no answer to the question at all. I ought to make you pay this penalty for your neglect of the Scriptures, for that is where all such difficulties come from. We do not know the Scriptures, we are not trained in the law of God, and so we become sharp investigators of other people’s faults, while we take no account of our own. I ought, then, to have made you pay this penalty. But what am I to do? Fathers freely give their sons many things beyond what is fitting. When their fatherly compassion is stirred, and they see their child with his eyes cast down and wasting away with grief, they themselves feel sharper pangs than he does, and they do not rest until they have taken away the cause of his dejection.

So let it be here too, at least. Be downcast, at least, at not receiving, so that you may receive well. What is the answer, then? They did not go against the command — far from it! They carefully followed the commands of Christ, for those commands were only for a time, and not meant to last. I do not say this from guesswork, but from the divine Scriptures. How so? Luke relates that Christ said to his disciples, “When I sent you out without purse and bag and belt and sandals, did you lack anything?” And they said, “Nothing” (Luke 22, verse 35). “But from now on, provide them.” [u]

But tell me, what else could Paul do? Could he have only one coat? How would that work? If it needed washing, was he to stay at home because he had nothing else? Was he to go out without it, in an unseemly state, when need called? Think what it would have meant for Paul, who went around the world with such great success, to stay at home for lack of clothing and so hold up his noble work. And what if bitter cold had set in, or rain had soaked the garment, or even frozen it stiff? How could he dry his clothing? Must he go without it again? And what if the cold had drained his body of strength? Must he waste away with illness and be unable to speak?

Listen to what he says to Timothy, to show that they were not given bodies of diamond: “Use a little wine for your stomach’s sake and your frequent illnesses” (First Timothy 5, verse 23). And again, when he speaks of another man: “I thought it necessary to send to you your messenger, who served my needs” (Philippians 2, verse 25). “For indeed he was ill, near to death; but God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me as well” (Philippians 2, verse 27). So they were subject to every kind of sickness. What then? Were they to die? Of course not. Why, then, did Christ give them that command at the time? To show his own power, and to prove that in later times too he was able to do the same, even though he did not do it. But why did he not do it?

They were far more admirable than the Israelites, whose sandals did not wear out, nor their clothes, and that while they were journeying through a desert where the blazing rays of the sun strike so hot that they can burn up even stones (Deuteronomy 29, verse 5). [w]

Why, then, did he do this? For your sake. Since you would not stay healthy but were full of wounds, he gave you something that could serve as medicine. And this is clear from the following. Could he not have fed them himself? He gave to you, when you were his enemy; would he not much rather have given to Paul? He gave to the Israelites — those grumblers, those sexually immoral men, those idolaters; would he not much rather have given to Peter, who spent everything for his sake? He allowed wicked men to own things; would he not much rather have freely given to John, who for his sake left even his father? Yet he would not. He feeds them through your hands, so that you may be made holy. And see how far his love for humankind goes: he chose that his disciples should be in want, so that you might be a little refreshed.

For if he had freed them from all want, they would have been far more admirable, far more glorious. But then what is salvation for you would have been cut off. So God did not will that they should be admired — so that you might be saved — but rather that they should be brought low. He let them be held in less esteem so that you might be able to be saved. The teacher who receives is not reverenced as much; the one who receives nothing is held in the highest honor. But then, in that second case, the disciple gains nothing; he is kept from his fruit. [y]

Do you see the wisdom of God, who loves humankind so much? He himself did not seek his own glory or look to his own interest, but, though he was in glory, chose to be dishonored for your sake. So it is with your teachers too. When they might have been highly reverenced, he preferred that they be exposed to contempt for your sake, so that you might be able to profit, so that you might be able to become rich. For the teacher is in want of the things of this life so that you may abound in spiritual things. So, although he could have set them above all want, he has shown that it is for your sake that he lets them be in want.

Knowing these things, then, let us turn ourselves to doing good, not to making accusations. Let us not pry into the failings of others, but take account of our own. Let us count up other people’s good deeds and keep our own faults in mind; and so we will be pleasing to God. For the one who looks at the faults of others and at his own good deeds is harmed in two ways: his own good deeds carry him up into arrogance, and the faults of others drop him into carelessness. When he sees that someone else has sinned, he will very easily sin himself; when he sees that he has done well in something, he very easily becomes arrogant.

But the one who hands his own good deeds over to forgetfulness and looks only at his failings, while he looks eagerly into the good deeds of others, not their sins, gains in many ways. How so? When he sees that someone has done well, he is roused to do the same; when he sees that he himself has sinned, he is made humble and modest. If we act this way, if we order our lives this way, we will be able to obtain the good things that are promised, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and forever and ever. Amen.