Homily 5 — Colossians 1, verse 26, to 2, verse 5

John Chrysostom: Homilies on the New Testament

Homilies on Colossians

Homily 5 — Colossians 1, verse 26, to 2, verse 5

Colossians 1, verse 26, to 2, verse 5

“Even the mystery that has been hidden from all ages and generations, but has now been revealed to his saints, to whom God was pleased to make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory, whom we proclaim, admonishing everyone and teaching everyone in all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ.”

Having told us what we have come to, and having shown God’s love for humankind and the honor he has given us by the greatness of his gifts, Paul brings in yet another point that makes them greater still: that before us no one knew him. He does the same in the letter to the Ephesians, where he says that neither angels, nor rulers, nor any other created power knew it, but only the Son of God (Ephesians 3, verses 5, 9 and 10).

And he did not say simply “hidden,” but “hidden away.” He means that even if it has only now come to pass, it is from long ago: from the beginning God willed these things, and they were planned out this way. But why, he does not yet say. “From the ages” means from the beginning, as one might put it. And he is right to call it a mystery, since no one knew it except God. And where was it hidden? In Christ, as he says in the letter to the Ephesians (Ephesians 3, verse 9); or it is like the prophet’s words, “From everlasting to everlasting you are” (Psalm 90, verse 2).

“But now it has been revealed,” he says, “to his saints.” So the whole thing belongs to God’s plan of salvation. “But now it has been revealed,” he says. He does not say, “it has come to pass,” but, “it has been revealed to his saints.” So even now it is still hidden, since it has been revealed to his saints alone.

So do not let others deceive you, for they do not know it. Why to the saints alone? “To whom he was pleased,” he says. See how at every point he stops the mouths of those who would question. “To whom God was pleased to make known,” he says. Yet his will is not without a reason. He said, “to whom he was pleased to make known,” to make them see that they owed it to grace, instead of letting them think highly of themselves, as though it were their own achievement.

“What is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles.” He has spoken in lofty terms and piled emphasis on emphasis, reaching in his great earnestness for one amplification after another. For this too is an amplification: to say, without defining it, “the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles.” For it shows most of all among the Gentiles, as he also says elsewhere, “and that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy” (Romans 15, verse 9). The great glory of this mystery shows among others too, but far more among these.

For suddenly to have brought people more senseless than stones to the dignity of angels, simply by bare words and by faith alone, without any hard labor — this truly is glory and riches of mystery. It is as if someone took a dog wasted with hunger and mange, filthy and disgusting to look at, too weak even to move, lying where it had been thrown out, and all at once turned it into a man and displayed him on the royal throne.

They used to worship stones and the earth; but they learned that they themselves are better than both the heavens and the sun, and that the whole world serves them. They were captives and prisoners of the devil; suddenly they are placed above his head, and they give him orders and whip him. From being captives and slaves of demons, they have become the body of the Master of the angels and the archangels. From not knowing even what God is, they have all at once become sharers even in God’s throne.

Would you like to see the countless steps they leaped over? First, they had to learn that stones are not gods. Second, that stones are not only not gods, but lower even than human beings. Third, lower even than the animals without reason. Fourth, lower even than plants. Fifth, they had to bring the extremes together: that not only stones, but not even the earth, nor animals, nor plants, nor man, nor the heavens — or, to begin again, that not stones, not animals, not plants, not the elements, not things above, not things below, not man, not demons, not angels, not archangels, not any of the powers above ought to be worshiped by human nature.

Drawn up, as it were, out of some deep, they had to learn that the Lord of all is God, and that he alone may rightly be worshiped; that a life of virtue is a good thing; that this present death is not death, nor this life life; that the body is raised, that it becomes incorruptible, that it will ascend into heaven, that it even gains immortality, that it stands with angels, that it is taken up there.

But the one who was down there below, God has set on high upon the throne, clearing all these steps at a single bound. He has made the one who was lower than the stones higher in rule than the angels and the archangels and the thrones and the dominions. Truly, “What is the riches of the glory of this mystery?” It is as if someone were to show a fool made a philosopher all at once. Or rather, whatever one might say would be nothing to it; for even Paul’s own words leave it undefined: “What is the riches,” he says, “of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you?” Again, they had to learn that he who is above, who rules angels and dominions and all the other powers, came down below, became man, suffered countless things, rose again, and was taken up into heaven.

All these things belonged to the mystery, and he sets them all down together with lofty praise when he says, “which is Christ in you.” But if he is in you, why do you go looking for angels? “Of this mystery,” he says, for there are other mysteries besides. But this one is truly a mystery: no one knew it; it is marvelous; it is beyond what anyone expected; it was hidden.

“Which is Christ in you,” he says, “the hope of glory, whom we proclaim” — bringing him from above. “Whom we” proclaim, not angels. “Teaching” and “admonishing” — not imperiously, and not by force; for this too belongs to God’s love for humankind, that he does not bring people to himself the way a tyrant does. Since “teaching” was a great word to have used, he added “admonishing,” which is more like a father than a teacher.

“Whom we proclaim,” he says, “admonishing everyone and teaching everyone in all wisdom.” So all wisdom is needed; that is, saying everything with wisdom. For not everyone has the ability to learn such things. “So that we may present everyone perfect in Christ Jesus.” What are you saying — “everyone”? “Yes,” he says, “this is what we are earnestly eager to do.” And what if it does not come to pass? Still, the blessed Paul made the attempt.

“Perfect.” This, then, is perfection, and the other is imperfect; so if someone does not have the whole of wisdom, he is imperfect. “Perfect in Christ Jesus” — not in the law, and not in angels, for that is not perfection. “In Christ”: that is, in the knowledge of Christ.

For whoever knows what Christ has done will set his thoughts too high to be content with angels.

“In Christ Jesus.” Verse 29: “For this I also labor, striving.” He did not merely say, “I am eager,” or say it in any offhand way, but “I labor, striving” — with great earnestness, with much sleepless care. “If I keep watch like this for your good, how much more should you!” Then again, to show that it comes from God, he says, “according to his working, which works in me mightily.” He shows that this is God’s work. The one who makes me strong for this plainly wills it. That is why at the very beginning he says, “through the will of God” (verse 1). So he does not speak this way only out of modesty, but also because he insists on the truth of the word. “And striving”: by saying this he shows that many are fighting against him. It shows, too, how great his tender affection is.

Chapter 2, verse 1: “For I want you to know how greatly I strive for you, and for those at Laodicea.” Then, so that this would not seem to come from some weakness peculiar to them, he joined others with them; and he did not yet condemn them. But why does he say, “and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh”? Here he shows, in a divine way, that they saw him constantly in the Spirit. And he bears witness to their great love.

Verses 2 and 3: “That their hearts may be comforted, being knit together in love, and to all the riches of the full assurance of understanding, so that they may know the mystery of God the Father and of Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”

From here on he is hurrying, in labor pains as it were, to take up his teaching, neither accusing them nor clearing them of blame. “I strive,” he says. To what end? “That they may be knit together.” What he means is something like this: that they may stand firm in the faith. But he does not put it that way; he softens the charge. That is, that they may be united by love, not by compulsion or by force. For, as I have said, he always avoids giving offense by leaving the matter to them. That is why he says “striving”: “Because I want it to come about in love, and willingly. For I do not want it on the lips only, nor only that they be brought together, but ‘that their hearts may be comforted.’”

“Being knit together in love, to all the riches of the full assurance of understanding.” That is, that they may doubt nothing, that they may be fully assured in all things. And I mean the full assurance that comes by faith; there is also a full assurance that comes from arguments, but it deserves no consideration. He says: “I know that you believe, but I want you to be fully assured — not ‘to riches’ only, but ‘to all riches’ — so that your full assurance may be intense as well as reaching to all things.”

And notice the wisdom of this blessed man. He did not say, “You are doing wrong in not being fully assured,” and he did not accuse them. Instead he says: “You do not know how much I long for you to be fully assured — and not merely that, but with understanding.” For since he had spoken of faith, he says: “Do not suppose that I mean it barely and without profit; I mean it with understanding and love.”

“So that they may know the mystery of God the Father and of Christ.” So this is the mystery of God: to be brought to him through the Son. “And of Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” But if they are in him, then surely it was with wisdom, too, that he came at this particular time. Why, then, do some foolish people object to him, saying, “Look how he talks with the simpler sort!”

“In whom are all the treasures.” He himself knows all things. “Hidden”: do not really think that you already have everything. They are hidden even from angels, not from you only; so you ought to ask him for everything. He himself gives wisdom and knowledge. By saying “treasures,” he shows how great they are; by “all,” that there is nothing he does not know; by “hidden,” that he alone knows them.

Verse 4: “I say this so that no one may delude you with persuasive speech.” Do you see? He says, “I have said this so that you will not look for it from men.” “Delude you,” he says, “with persuasive speech.” For what does it matter if someone speaks, and speaks persuasively?

Verse 5: “For though I am absent in the flesh, yet I am with you in the spirit.” The straightforward thing to say here would have been, “Even though I am absent in the flesh, I know the deceivers all the same.” Instead he has ended with praise: “rejoicing and seeing your order, and the steadfastness of your faith in Christ.” By “your order” he means your good order. “And the steadfastness of your faith in Christ” goes further still in praise. He did not say “faith,” but “steadfastness,” as one speaks of soldiers standing in good order and firm. Now what is steadfast, neither deceit nor trial can shake apart. “Not only have you not fallen, but no one has so much as thrown you into disorder.”

He has set himself over them, so that they will fear him as though he were there; for this is how order is kept. From solidness follows close binding; for you produce solidness when you bring many things together and cement them tightly and inseparably. That is how solidness is produced, as in a wall. But this is the special work of love: those who stood each by himself, love cements tightly, knits together, and makes solid. And faith does the same, when it does not let reasonings force their way in. For just as reasonings divide and shake things loose, faith makes things solid and compact.

What Reasoning Cannot Grasp

Since God has given us benefits beyond human reasoning, it was fitting that he brought in faith. It is not possible to stand steadfast while demanding reasons. Look at all our lofty teachings: how empty they are of reasonings, and how they hang on faith alone. God is not anywhere, and he is everywhere. What could have less reason in it than this? Each half by itself is full of difficulty. For indeed, he is not in a place, and there is no place in which he is. He was not made; he did not make himself; he never began to be. What reasoning will accept this without faith? Does it not seem utterly ridiculous, and more endless than any riddle?

Now that he has no beginning, is uncreated, unbounded and infinite is, as we have said, plainly a difficulty. But let us consider his being bodiless, and see whether we can search this out by reasoning. God is bodiless. What is “bodiless”? A bare word and nothing more; for the mind has taken nothing in and stamped no image on itself. If it does stamp an image, it arrives at a nature, and at what makes up a body. So the mouth does speak, but the understanding does not know what it is saying, except for one thing only: that it is not a body. That is all it knows.

And why do I speak of God? Take the soul, which is created, enclosed and bounded: what is its being bodiless? Tell me! Show me! You cannot. Is it air? But air is a body, even though it is not dense; many proofs make it plain that it is a body that gives way. Fire is a body, while the working of the soul is bodiless. Why? Because it passes through everything. If the soul is not itself a body, then something bodiless exists in a place, and so it is bounded; what is bounded has a shape; shapes are made of lines, and lines belong to bodies. Again, what idea can you form of something without shape? It has no shape, no form, no outline. Do you see how the understanding grows dizzy?

Again: that Nature — God’s — is not capable of evil. Yet he is also good by his own will; so it is capable of it. But one may not say this — far from it! Again: did he come into being willing it, or not willing it? One may not say this either. Again: does he set bounds to the world, or not? If he does not bound it, he is himself bounded; but if he bounds it, he is infinite in his nature. Again: does he set bounds to himself? If he bounds himself, then he is without beginning not to himself but only to us; so he is not without beginning in his nature. Everywhere one is forced to grant contradictions.

Do you see how great the darkness is, and how everywhere there is need of faith? This is what is solid. But, if you like, let us come to matters smaller than these. That essence has an activity. And what is activity in his case? Is it some kind of motion? Then he is not unchangeable, for what is moved is not unchangeable: from being motionless it comes to be in motion. And yet he is in motion and never stands still. But what kind of motion, tell me? Among us there are seven kinds: down, up, in, out, right, left, and in a circle; or, if not these, then growth, shrinking, coming into being, passing away, and change. Is his motion none of these, but the kind the mind is moved with? No, not that either. Far from it! For in many things the mind is moved even absurdly.

Is willing the same as acting, or not? If willing is acting, and he wills all people to be good and to be saved (First Timothy 2, verse 4), how is it that this does not come to pass? But willing is one thing and acting another; so willing is not enough for acting. How, then, does the Scripture say, “He has done whatever he willed” (Psalm 115, verse 3)?

And again, the leper says to Christ, “If you will, you can make me clean” (Matthew 8, verse 2). For if the deed follows hand in hand with the will, what are we to say?

Would you like me to mention yet another thing? How were the things that are made out of things that are not? How will they be dissolved into nothing? What is above the heavens? And again, what is above that? And what above that, and beyond that, and so on without end? What is below the earth? The sea — and beyond this, what? And beyond that again? And to the right and to the left, is there not the same difficulty?

But these, of course, are things unseen. Would you like me to turn the discussion to things that are seen, things that have already happened? Tell me, how did the beast hold Jonah in its belly without his dying? Is it not without reason, its movements beyond control? How did it spare the righteous man? How was it that the heat did not suffocate him? How was it that it did not make him rot? If merely being in the deep is beyond all contriving, being in the creature’s bowels, and in that heat, is far harder still to account for. If we breathe by drawing air inside us, how was there breath enough for two living creatures? And how did it also vomit him out unharmed? And how did he speak? And how did he keep his wits and pray? Are these things not incredible? If we test them by reasonings, they are incredible; if by faith, they are entirely credible.

God Teaches Little by Little

Shall I say something more than this? The wheat decays in the lap of the earth, and rises again. Here are wonders that are opposites, each surpassing the other: it is marvelous not to decay, and marvelous, after decaying, to rise again. Where are those who mock at such things, who disbelieve the resurrection and say, “How will this bone be fastened to that one?” and bring up silly tales like that?

Tell me, how did Elijah go up in a chariot of fire? Fire usually burns; it does not carry things aloft. How does he live so long a time? In what place is he? Why was this done? Where was Enoch taken away to? Does he live on the same food as we do? And what keeps him from being here? Or does he not eat? And why was he taken away?

See how God trains us little by little. He took Enoch away; that was no very great thing. This prepared us for Elijah’s being taken up. He shut Noah into the ark (Genesis 7, verse 7); this too was no very great thing. This prepared us for the prophet’s being shut up inside the whale.

So even the events of old needed forerunners and types. On a ladder the first rung sends you on to the second, and from the first you cannot step to the fourth; each sends you on to the next, so that it may be the way to the one after; and you cannot get to the second before the first. So it is here too.

Look at the signs of signs, and you will see this in the ladder Jacob saw. “Above,” it says, “the Lord stood firm, and below, angels were going up and coming down” (Genesis 28, verse 13). It was prophesied that the Father has a Son; this had to be believed. Where would you like me to show you the signs of it from — from above downward, or from below upward? Because he begets without passion, for this reason a barren woman bore first. But let us rather go higher. It had to be believed that he begot from himself. What then? The thing happens dimly, as in type and shadow, but still it happens, and as it goes on it becomes somehow clearer: a woman is formed out of man alone, and he remains whole and entire.

Again, there had to be some sure sign of a virgin’s conceiving. So the barren woman bears — not once only, but a second time and a third, and many times. Of his birth from a virgin, then, the barren woman is a type, and she sends the mind on ahead to faith. Again, this was a type of God’s being able to beget alone. For if the man is the chief agent, and a birth takes place without him in a more excellent way, far more surely is One begotten of the supreme Agent.

There is yet another birth that is a type of the truth: I mean ours, by the Spirit. Of this, again, the barren woman is a type, in that it is “not of blood” (John 1, verse 13); this belongs to the birth on high. The one, like the types, shows that the birth was to be without passion; the other, that it could come from one who is above.

Christ is above, ruling over all things; this had to be believed. The same thing takes place on earth in the case of man: “Let us make man in our image and likeness” (Genesis 1, verse 26), to rule over all the animals without reason. So he instructed us not by words but by deeds. Paradise showed that man’s nature was set apart, and that man was the best thing of all. Christ was to rise again: see now how many sure signs there were — Enoch, Elijah, Jonah, the fiery furnace, what happened to Noah, baptism, seeds, plants, our own birth, and the birth of all animals. Since everything was at stake on this point, it had more types than anything else.

That the universe is not without providence we can gather from things among ourselves: nothing will go on existing unless it is cared for; even herds, and everything else, need someone to govern them. And that the universe was not made by chance, hell is a proof, and so was the flood in Noah’s day, the fire, the drowning of the Egyptians in the sea, and the things that happened in the wilderness.

Many things also had to prepare the way for baptism — yes, thousands of things: those in the Old Testament, for instance; those at the pool; the cleansing of the man who was not sound in health; the flood itself, and everything that has been done in water; the baptism of John.

It had to be believed that God gives up his Son; a man did this beforehand, Abraham the patriarch. So if we are willing, we will find types of all these things by searching the Scriptures. But let us not grow weary; let us tune ourselves by these things. Let us hold the faith firmly and show a strict life, so that, having given thanks to God for everything, we may be counted worthy of the good things promised to those who love him, 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.