Homily 12 — Philippians 3, verses 13 to 17

“Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have laid hold of it; but one thing I do: forgetting the things that are behind, and stretching forward to the things that are ahead, I press on toward the goal, for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” [a]

Nothing so empties our real achievements and blows them away as remembering the good deeds we have done. It produces two evils: it makes us slack, and it lifts us up into arrogance. So see how Paul handles it. He knew that our nature slides easily into slackness, and he had given the Philippians great praise. So he has already brought their minds down by many other things he said above, but above all by the words now before us. And what are they? “Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself to have laid hold of it.” But if Paul had not yet laid hold of it, and is not confident about the resurrection and the things to come, those who have not reached the smallest fraction of his excellence could hardly be confident.

What he means is this: I consider that I have not yet laid hold of all virtue — as though he were speaking of a runner. Not yet, he says, have I completed it all. And if in another place he says, “I have fought the good fight” (Second Timothy 4, verse 7), but here, “I do not consider myself yet to have laid hold of it,” anyone who reads carefully will know well the reason for both those words and these (there is no need to dwell continually on the same point), and will know that he spoke these words at a much earlier date, but the others near his death.

But I am busy with “one thing” only, he says: “stretching forward to the things that are ahead.” But “one thing,” he says, “forgetting the things that are behind, and stretching forward to the things that are ahead, I press on toward the goal, for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” What made him reach forward to the things ahead was his forgetting the things behind. So the man who thinks that everything has been accomplished, and that he lacks nothing for the perfecting of virtue, may stop running, as one who has laid hold of it all. But the man who thinks he is still far from the goal will never stop running.

This, then, is what we should always keep in mind, even if we have done ten thousand good deeds. If Paul kept it in mind after ten thousand deaths, after so many dangers, how much more should we? I did not lose heart, he says, though after running so far I had not yet succeeded; I did not despair. I am still running, still striving. This one thing only I think about: how I may truly advance. We too should act like this. We should forget our successes and throw them behind us. The runner does not count up how many laps he has finished, but how many are left. We too should count up, not how far we have come in virtue, but how much still remains for us. What good does what is finished do us, when what is lacking is not added to it? And notice, he did not say, “I do not count them up,” but, “I do not even remember them.” For this is how we become eager: when we give all our effort to what is left and hand everything else over to forgetfulness.

“Stretching forward,” he says. Before we arrive, we strive to take hold of it. The man who stretches forward is one who, though his feet are running, tries to get ahead of them with the rest of his body, leaning toward the front and reaching out his hands, so as to cover a little more of the course. This comes from great eagerness, from much warmth. That is how the runner should run: with great earnestness, with that much eagerness, without letting up. As far as a man running like this differs from one lying on his back, that is how far Paul differs from us. He died daily; he proved himself daily. There was no season, no moment, in which his course did not move forward. He did not want to take the prize, but to seize it; for that is how we may take it.

The one who gives the prize stands on high; the prize is laid up on high. See how great a distance must be run! See how steep the climb! We must fly up there on the wings of the Spirit; otherwise it is impossible to get over this height. We must go there with the body too, for that is permitted. “For our citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3, verse 20); the prize is there. Do you see the runners, how they live by rule, how they touch nothing that saps their strength, how they exercise every day in the training ground, under a trainer and by rule? Imitate them — or rather, show even greater eagerness, for the prizes are not equal.

Many are those who would hinder you: live by rule. Many are the things that sap your strength: make the soul’s feet nimble. It can be done; it does not come by nature, but by our will. Let us make it light, so that the speed of our feet is not held back by the weight of other things. Teach your feet to keep steady, for there are many slippery places, and if you fall, you lose a great deal at once. Yet even if you fall, get up again; even so you may win the victory. Never set foot on slippery ground, and you will not fall. Walk on firm ground — head up, eyes up. These are the commands the trainers give their runners. That way your strength holds; but if you stoop downward, you fall, you go slack. Look upward, where the prize is. The sight of the prize strengthens the resolve of our will. The hope of taking it keeps us from feeling the toil, and it makes the distance seem short.

And what is this prize? Not a palm branch. What, then? The kingdom of heaven, everlasting rest, glory together with Christ, the inheritance, brotherhood, ten thousand good things that cannot be named. The beauty of that prize cannot be described. Only the one who has it knows it, and the one who is about to receive it. It is not made of gold, it is not set with jewels; it is far more precious. Gold is mud compared with that prize; precious stones are mere bricks beside its beauty. If you have it when you depart for heaven, you will be able to walk there with great honor. The angels will show you reverence when you carry this prize, and you will approach them all with great confidence.

“In Christ Jesus.” See the humility of his mind. This I do, he says, “in Christ Jesus,” for without the impulse that comes from him it is impossible to cross so vast a distance. We need a great deal of help, a mighty alliance. He has willed that you should struggle down here; on high he crowns you. It is not as it is in this world. The crown is not here, where the contest is, but in that bright place. Do you not see even here that the most honored of the wrestlers and charioteers are not crowned down on the course, but the king calls them up and crowns them there? So it is here too: in heaven you receive the prize.

Verse 15: “Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, be of this mind,” he says. “And if in anything you are otherwise minded, God will reveal even this to you.” [d]

Of what mind? That we should “forget the things that are behind.” So it belongs to the perfect man not to consider himself perfect. Then how can you say, “as many as are perfect”? Tell me, are we to be of the same mind as you? If you have not attained it and have not yet been made perfect, how can you command those who are perfect to be of the same mind as you, who are not yet perfect? Yes, he says, for this is perfection. And “if in anything you are otherwise minded, God will reveal even this to you” — that is, if anyone considers that he has attained all excellence.

He puts them on their guard, but not by speaking openly. What does he say? “If in anything you are otherwise minded, God will reveal even this to you.” See how humbly he says it! God will teach you — that is, God will persuade you. Not teach, for Paul was the one teaching; but God will lead them on. And he did not say, “will lead you on,” but “will reveal,” so that this might seem rather to come from ignorance. These words were not spoken about doctrines, but about perfection of life, and about our not considering ourselves perfect. For the man who thinks he has laid hold of everything has nothing.

Verse 16: “Only, whatever point we have already reached, let us walk by that same rule, let us be of the same mind.” [e]

“Only, whatever point we have reached.” What does this mean? Let us hold fast, he says, to what we have succeeded in: love, harmony and peace; for in these we have succeeded. “Whatever we have reached: to walk by the same rule, to be of the same mind.” “Whatever we have reached” — that is, in this we have already succeeded. Do you see that he wants his instructions to be a rule for us? And a rule admits neither addition nor subtraction, since either one destroys its being a rule. “By the same rule” — that is, by the same faith, within the same limits.

Verse 17: “Brothers and sisters, be imitators of me, and mark those who walk this way, just as you have us for an example.”

Earlier he had said, “Beware of the dogs,” and led them away from such people; now he brings them close to those they ought to imitate. If anyone, he says, wants to imitate me, if anyone wants to walk the same road, let him pay attention to these people. Even though I am not present, you know the manner of my walk, that is, my conduct in life. For he taught not by words only, but by deeds too. It is like a chorus or an army: the rest must imitate the leader of the chorus or of the army, and so advance in good order. For it is possible for the order to be broken up by rebellion.

So the apostles were a pattern, and kept throughout to a kind of original model. Consider how exact their life was in every respect, so that they are set before us as an original and an example, as living laws. What was said in their writings, they showed to everyone in their actions. This is the best teaching; this is how a teacher will be able to carry his disciple forward. But if he speaks like a philosopher and yet does the opposite in his actions, he is no longer a teacher. Philosophy in words alone is easy even for the disciple; what is needed is the teaching and leading that comes from deeds. This makes the teacher respected, and it prepares the disciple to obey. [g]

How so? When the disciple sees his teacher delivering philosophy in words, he will say that he is commanding impossible things; and the teacher himself is the first to show that they are impossible, since he does not practice them. But if he sees the teacher’s virtue fully carried out in action, he will no longer be able to talk that way. Yet even if the life of our teacher is careless, let us pay attention to ourselves, and let us listen to the words of the prophet:

“They will all be taught by God” (Isaiah 54, verse 13). “And they will no longer teach each man his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest of them” (Jeremiah 31, verse 34). Do you have a teacher who is not virtuous? You still have the one who is truly a Teacher, the only one you should call Teacher. Learn from him. He has said, “Learn from me, for I am gentle” (Matthew 11, verse 29). So do not pay attention to your teacher, but to him and to his lessons. Take your examples from there. You have a most excellent model: shape yourself to it. [h]

Countless models of virtuous lives are laid before you in the Scriptures. Whichever one you like, come and find it — after the Teacher — in the disciples. One shone through poverty, another through riches: Elijah, for example, through poverty, Abraham through riches. Go to the example you think easiest, most suited to your own practice. Again, one shone through marriage, the other through virginity: Abraham through marriage, the other through virginity. Follow whichever you like, for both lead to heaven. One shone through fasting, as John did; another without fasting, as Job did. Again, Job had the care of his wife, his children, his daughters, his household, and owned great wealth; the other owned nothing but his garment of hair.

But why do I mention a household, or wealth, or money, when even a man on a throne can take hold of virtue? For a king’s house would be found fuller of trouble than any private family. Yet David shone on his throne; the purple and the diadem did not make him slack at all. Another was entrusted with governing a whole people — Moses, I mean — which was a harder task, for the power there was greater, and so the difficulty was greater too.

You have seen men proved in wealth, and you have seen them in poverty too; you have seen them in marriage, and you have seen them in virginity too. Now look, on the other hand, at some who were lost in marriage and in virginity, in wealth and in poverty. Many men, for example, have perished in marriage, like Samson — yet not because of marriage, but because of their own deliberate choice. So too in virginity, like the five virgins. In wealth, like the rich man who paid no attention to Lazarus. In poverty, countless poor people are being lost even now. On the throne I can point to many who have perished, and in governing the people. Would you like to see men saved in the rank of a soldier? There is Cornelius. In managing a household? There is the eunuch of the queen of the Ethiopians. It is the same everywhere. If we use our wealth as we should, nothing will destroy us; but if not, everything will destroy us, whether a kingdom, or poverty, or wealth. But nothing will be able to harm the man who stays wide awake.

Tell me, did captivity do any harm? None at all. Think, please, of Joseph, who became a slave and kept his virtue. Think of Daniel and the three young men, who became captives, and how much more brightly they shone. For virtue shines everywhere; it cannot be conquered, and nothing can put obstacles in its way. But why do I mention poverty, captivity and slavery, hunger and sores and serious disease? Disease is harder to bear than slavery. Such was Lazarus, such was Job, such too was Timothy, hard pressed by his “frequent illnesses” (First Timothy 5, verse 23). You see that nothing can get the mastery over virtue: not wealth, not poverty, not power, not subjection, not a high place in public affairs, not disease, not contempt, not being abandoned. It leaves all these things below, on the earth, and hurries toward heaven. Only let the soul be noble, and nothing can keep it from being virtuous. [k]

When the worker is strong, nothing outside him can hinder him. It is like the crafts. When the craftsman is experienced and persevering and knows his craft thoroughly, if disease overtakes him, he still has it; if he becomes poor, he still has it. Whether he has his tools in his hand or not, whether he is working or not, he loses nothing of his craft, for the knowledge of it is contained within him. So too the virtuous man who is devoted to God shows his craft whether you throw him into wealth or into poverty, into disease or into health, into dishonor or into great honor. Did not the apostles work at it in every condition, “by glory and dishonor, by good report and evil report” (Second Corinthians 6, verse 8)? That is what an athlete is: someone prepared for everything. And such is the nature of virtue too.

Suppose you say: “I am not able to take charge of many people; I ought to live the solitary life.” Then you are insulting virtue. It can make use of every condition and shine through them all — only let it be in the soul. Is there famine? Or plenty? It shows its own strength, as Paul says: “I know how to abound, and how to be in want” (Philippians 4, verse 12). Did he have to work? He was not ashamed, but worked for two years (Acts 28, verse 30). Did he have to go hungry? He did not sink under it or waver. Did he have to face death? He was not dejected. Through everything he showed his nobility of mind and his craft. Let us imitate him, then, and we will have no cause for grief. For tell me, what will be able to grieve such a man? Nothing. As long as no one takes this craft away from us, such a man will be the most blessed of all people, in this life as well as in the life to come. [l]

Suppose the good man has a wife and children, riches and great honor: with all these he remains just as virtuous. Take them away, and he will be virtuous in just the same way, neither overwhelmed by misfortune nor puffed up by prosperity. A rock stands equally unmoved in the raging sea and in the calm, neither broken by the waves nor affected at all by the calm; so too the solid mind stands firm in calm and in storm alike. Little children sailing in a ship are tossed about, while the helmsman sits by, laughing and untroubled and enjoying their confusion. In the same way the truly wise soul, when everyone else is in confusion, or else is smiling at the wrong moment over some change of fortune, sits unmoved at the tiller and helm, so to speak, of godliness.

For tell me, what can disturb the godly soul? Death? That is the beginning of a better life. Poverty? That helps her on toward virtue. Disease? She pays no attention to its presence. She takes no account of either comfort or hardship, for she has got ahead of hardship by afflicting herself first. Dishonor? The world has been crucified to her. The loss of children? She does not fear it, since she is fully convinced of the resurrection. What, then, can take her by surprise? None of these things. Does wealth lift her up? Not at all; she knows that money is nothing. Does glory? She has been taught that “all the glory of man is like the flower of grass” (Isaiah 40, verse 6). Does luxury? She has heard Paul say, “She who gives herself to pleasure is dead while she lives” (First Timothy 5, verse 6). Since, then, she is neither feverish nor cramped, what health could equal this?

Other souls, meanwhile, are not like this. They change more often than the sea or the chameleon, so that you have good reason to smile when you see the same man laughing one moment and weeping the next, now full of care, now slack and listless beyond measure. That is why Paul says, “Do not be fashioned according to this world” (Romans 12, verse 2). For we are citizens of heaven, where there is no turning. Prizes that never change are held out to us. Let us show this citizenship of ours; let us receive our good things from there even now. But why do we throw ourselves into the Euripus, into tempest, into storm, into foam? Let us stay in the calm. [n]

It all depends not on wealth or poverty, not on honor or dishonor, not on sickness or health or weakness, but on our own soul. If it is solid, and well trained in the knowledge of virtue, everything will be easy for it. Even from here it will already see its rest and that quiet harbor, and when it departs, it will gain countless good things there. May we all gain them, by the grace and love of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, dominion and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.