Homily 2 — First Thessalonians 1, verse 8, to 2, verse 8

“For from you the word of the Lord has sounded forth, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but in every place your faith toward God has gone out, so that we have no need to say anything. For they themselves report about us what kind of entrance we had among you, and how you turned to God from idols, to serve a living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, Jesus, who delivers us from the wrath to come.” [a]

A sweet-smelling perfume does not keep its fragrance shut up in itself. It spreads it far and wide, scenting the air, and so carries it to the senses of those nearby. In the same way, distinguished and admirable people do not shut their virtue up within themselves; by their good name they benefit many and make them better. And that is what happened then. That is why he said, “so that you became examples to all the believers in Macedonia and Achaia.” “For from you,” he says, “the word of the Lord has sounded forth, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but in every place your faith toward God has gone out.”

You have filled all your neighbors with instruction, then, and the world with wonder. That is what the expression “in every place” means. And he has not said, “your faith is talked about,” but “has sounded forth.” Just as everything nearby is filled with the sound of a loud trumpet, so the report of your courage is loud; and sounding out like that, it is enough to fill the world and to fall with equal force on everyone around. For great deeds are celebrated most loudly in the place where they happened. Far off they are celebrated too, but not as much.

But in your case it was not so: the sound of your good name spread through every part of the earth. “And how do we know,” someone says, “that the words were not an exaggeration?” Because this nation of the Macedonians, before the coming of Christ, was famous and celebrated everywhere, more than the Romans. And the Romans were admired for this very reason, that they took them captive. For the deeds of the Macedonian king went beyond anything report could tell. He set out from a small city, and yet he conquered the world. That is why the prophet saw him as a winged leopard, showing his swiftness, his force, his fiery nature, and how he suddenly, so to speak, flew over the whole world with the trophies of his victory. [b]

And they say that when he heard from a certain philosopher that there were countless worlds, he groaned bitterly that, when there were so many, he had not conquered even one. So high-minded he was, so great of soul, and celebrated everywhere. And the glory of the nation kept pace with the fame of the king, for he was called “Alexander the Macedonian.” So what happened there was naturally much talked about too, for nothing that concerns the famous can be hidden. The Macedonians, then, were not behind the Romans.

And this also came from their fervor. For he uses the words “has gone out” as though he were speaking of something alive, so fervent and energetic was their faith. “So that we have no need to say anything,” he says, “for they themselves report about us what kind of entrance we had among you.” They do not wait to hear it from us. Those who were not there and did not see your good deeds get in ahead of those who were there and saw them. That is how plainly your deeds were made known everywhere by report.

So we will not need to tell of your actions in order to bring others to the same zeal. The things they ought to have heard from us, they talk of themselves, getting in ahead of us. And yet with people like these there is often envy; but the sheer greatness of the thing overcame even this, and they are the heralds of your contests. Though they were left behind, even so they are not silenced, but they are ahead of us. And being what they are, they cannot possibly disbelieve our report.

What does “what kind of entrance we had among you” mean? That it was full of dangers and countless deaths, and yet none of these things troubled you. As if nothing had happened, you held fast to us; as if you had suffered no harm but had enjoyed endless good, so you received us after all this. For this was the second entrance. They went to Berea, they were persecuted, and when they came after this, the Thessalonians received them as though they had even been honored by these sufferings, so that they even laid down their lives for them. [d]

The expression “what kind of entrance we had” is a double one: it holds praise both of the Thessalonians and of the apostles themselves. But he has turned it to their credit. “And how,” he says, “you turned to God from idols, to serve a living and true God”; that is, that you did it readily, that you did it with great eagerness, that it did not take much labor to win you over. “To serve,” he says, “a living and true God.”

Here too he brought in an exhortation, which is what someone does who wants to make his words less offensive. “And to wait,” he says, “for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, Jesus, who delivers us from the wrath to come.” “And to wait,” he says, “for his Son from heaven”: the one who was crucified, the one who was buried — to wait for him from heaven. And how “from heaven”? “Whom he raised from the dead.” You see everything at once: the resurrection, his being taken up into heaven, the second coming, the judgment, the recompense of the righteous, the punishment of the wicked. [e]

“Jesus,” he says, “who delivers us from the wrath to come.” This is at once comfort, and exhortation, and encouragement. For if God raised him from the dead, and he is in heaven, and will come from there — and you believed in him; for if you had not believed in him, you would not have suffered so much — this by itself is comfort enough. Those people will be punished, as he says in his second letter, and you will have no small consolation.

“And to wait,” he says, “for his Son from heaven.” The terrible things are here now; the good things are in the future, when Christ comes from heaven. See how much hope is needed: that he who was crucified has been raised, that he has been taken up into heaven, that he will come to judge the living and the dead. [f]

Chapter 2, verses 1 and 2: “For you yourselves know, brothers and sisters, our entrance among you, that it was not in vain. But though we had suffered before and been shamefully treated, as you know, at Philippi, we grew bold in our God to speak to you the good news of God in the midst of much conflict.”

Your deeds were great indeed; and yet we did not fall back on human speech either. What he said above he repeats here too, so that from both sides it may be shown what kind of message this was: from the miracles, from the resolve of the preachers, and from the zeal and fervor of those who received it. “For you yourselves,” he says, “know our entrance among you, that it was not in vain”; that is, that it was not a human affair, nor of any ordinary kind. For fresh from great dangers and deaths and beatings, we fell straight into dangers again.

“But,” he says, “though we had suffered before and been shamefully treated, as you know, at Philippi, we grew bold in our God.” Do you see how once again he credits the whole thing to God? “To speak to you,” he says, “the good news of God in the midst of much conflict.” No one can say, “There we were in danger, but here we are not.” You yourselves know how great the danger was, and how much of a struggle it was for us to be among you. He says this in his letter to the Corinthians too: “And I was with you in weakness,” and in labor, “and in fear, and in much trembling” (First Corinthians 2, verse 3).

Verses 3 and 4: “For our exhortation does not come from error or from uncleanness, nor is it made with deceit. But just as we have been approved by God to be entrusted with the good news, so we speak, not as pleasing people, but God, who tests our hearts.” [g]

Do you see that, as I said, he makes their perseverance a proof that the message is divine? “For if it were not so, if it were a deception, we would not have endured so many dangers, dangers that did not even let us catch our breath. You were in distress; we were in distress. What was it, then? Unless something in the things to come had stirred us, unless we had been convinced that there is a good hope, suffering would not have filled us with all the more eagerness. For who would have chosen, for the sake of what we have here, to endure so many sufferings and to live a life of anxiety, full of dangers? And whom would such men persuade? Are these things not enough in themselves to trouble the disciples, when they see their teachers in danger? But this was not so in your case.”

“For our exhortation,” that is, our teaching, “does not come from error.” The thing, he says, is not trickery or deceit, that we should give it up. It is not for abominable ends, like the tricks of conjurers and sorcerers. “Nor from uncleanness,” he says, “nor made with deceit”: not aimed at any uprising, like what Theudas did. “But just as we have been approved by God to be entrusted with the good news, so we speak, not as pleasing people, but God.” Do you see that it is not empty glory? “But God,” he says, “who tests our hearts.” “We do nothing for the sake of pleasing people,” he says. “For on whose account would we do these things?” [h]

Then, having praised them, he says: not as wishing to please people, nor seeking the honors that come from people — and he adds, “But just as we have been approved by God to be entrusted with the good news.” “Unless he had seen that we were free of every worldly motive, he would not have chosen us. As, then, he approved us, so we remain, as men ‘approved by God.’ On what grounds did he approve us and entrust us with the good news? We showed ourselves approved before God, and so we remain. That we are entrusted with the good news is a proof of our virtue; if there had been anything bad in us, God would not have approved us.”

But the expression “he approved us” does not mean here that he made an examination. What we do by testing, he does without testing. That is: as he found us tested and trusted us, so we speak — as it is reasonable that those should speak who have been approved and entrusted with the good news, so as to be worthy of it — so we speak, “not as pleasing people”; that is, it is not on your account that we do all these things. Because he had praised them earlier, so that he would not bring his words under suspicion, he says:

Verses 5 and 6: “For neither at any time were we found using words of flattery, as you know, nor a cloak for greed, God is witness; nor seeking glory from people, either from you or from others, when we could have been a burden, as apostles of Christ.”

“For neither at any time,” he says, “were we found using words of flattery”; that is, we did not flatter, which is what deceivers do, who want to get possession of people and lord it over them. No one can say that we flattered in order to rule, or that we resorted to it for the sake of wealth. On this point, which was plain to see, he then calls them as witnesses.

“Whether we flattered,” he says, “you know.” But about what could not be seen — whether it was done out of greed — he calls God as witness. “Nor seeking glory from people, either from you or from others, when we could have been a burden, as apostles of Christ”; that is, we did not go after honors either, or put on airs, or demand an escort of guards. And yet even if we had done this, we would have done nothing out of keeping with our position. For if men sent out by kings are held in honor, how much more might we be.

And he has not said, “we were dishonored,” or “we did not receive honors,” which would have been a reproach to them, but “we did not seek them.” We, then, who could have sought them and did not, even when the preaching called for it — how would we do anything for the sake of glory? And yet even if we had sought them, even then there would have been no blame. For it is fitting that men sent from God, ambassadors come now from heaven, should enjoy great honor. But out of great restraint we do none of these things, so that we may stop the mouths of our opponents.

And no one can say that we act this way with you but not with others. For he said the same in his letter to the Corinthians: “For you put up with it if someone enslaves you, if someone devours you, if someone takes you captive, if someone puts on airs, if someone strikes you in the face” (Second Corinthians 11, verse 20). And again: “His bodily presence is weak, and his speech of no account” (Second Corinthians 10, verse 10). And again: “Forgive me this wrong” (Second Corinthians 12, verse 13). There too he shows that he was exceedingly humble, from his suffering so many things. But here he also speaks about money: “when we could have been a burden, as apostles of Christ.”

Verses 7 and 8: “But we were gentle among you, like a nurse cherishing her own children. So, longing for you tenderly, we were glad to share with you not only the good news of God but also our own souls, because you had become very dear to us.” [k]

“But we were gentle,” he says: we showed nothing offensive or troublesome, nothing unpleasant or boastful. And the expression “among you” is as if someone said, “We were like one of you, not taking the higher place.” “Like a nurse cherishing her own children.” That is how a teacher ought to be. Does a nurse flatter to win glory? Does she ask her little ones for money? Is she offensive or a burden to them? Are nurses not more indulgent to them than mothers are? Here he shows his affection. “So, longing for you tenderly,” he says — “We are so bound to you,” he says, “that not only do we take nothing from you, but if it were necessary even to give you our souls, we would not have refused.”

Tell me, then: is this a merely human way of thinking? And who is so foolish as to say so? “We were glad to share with you,” he says, “not only the good news of God but also our own souls.” So this is greater than the other. And where is the gain? The good news brings gain; but to give our souls is, as far as difficulty goes, a greater thing than that. For merely to preach is not the same as to give one’s soul. The first is more precious, but the second is harder. “We were willing,” he says, “if it had been possible, even to spend our souls on you. And we would have been willing to do it; for if we had not been willing, we would not have endured what we were forced to endure.”

Since, then, he had praised them and is praising them still, he says for this reason that we do this without seeking money, without flattering you, without wanting glory. For notice: they had struggled hard, and so they had to be praised and admired, even extraordinarily, so that they would stand firmer; yet the praise was open to suspicion. That is why he says all these things, to ward off the suspicion. And he also mentions the dangers. And again, so that he would not be thought to speak of the dangers for this reason — as though he had labored for their sake and were claiming to be honored for it — since he had to mention the dangers, he added, “because you had become very dear to us.” We would gladly have given our souls for you, because we were deeply attached to you. The good news we proclaim because God commanded it; but we love you so much that, if it were possible, we would have given you even our souls.

Whoever loves ought to love in such a way that if he were asked even for his soul, and it were possible, he would not refuse it. I do not say “if he were asked”; he should love so that he would even run to offer the gift himself. For nothing, nothing can be sweeter than such love; nothing painful will come of it. Truly, “a faithful friend is the medicine of life” (Sirach 6, verse 16). Truly, “a faithful friend is a strong defense” (Sirach 6, verse 14). For what will a true friend not do? What pleasure will he not give? What benefit? What security? You may name endless treasures; none of them compares with a true friend. [l]

And first let us speak of the great delight of friendship itself. A friend rejoices at the sight of his friend and glows with joy. He is knit to him in a union of soul that gives a pleasure beyond words. And if he only calls him to mind, his spirit rises and he is carried away.

I am speaking of genuine friends, men of one soul, who would even die for each other, who love fervently. Do not think of those who barely love — table companions, friends in name only — and suppose that what I say is refuted. If anyone has a friend such as I am describing, he will recognize the truth of my words. Though he sees his friend every day, he never has his fill of him. He prays for the same things for him as for himself. I know someone who, when he asked holy men to pray for his friend, begged them to pray first for the friend and then for himself.

So dear a thing is a good friend that times and places are loved because of him. Just as bodies that give off light spread their radiance to the places around them, so friends leave a grace of their own in the places they have been. And often, when our friends were away, we have stood in those places and wept, and remembering the days we spent together, we have sighed. It is impossible to put into words how great a pleasure the company of friends gives; only those who have experienced it know.

From a friend we can both ask a favor and receive one without suspicion. When our friends give us some task, then we feel we are in their debt; but when they are slow to do so, then we are sad. We have nothing that is not theirs. Often, though we despise everything here, we do not want to leave this life because of them, and we long for them more than for the light. For in all truth a friend is more to be longed for than the light — I mean a genuine one. And do not be surprised. It would be better for us that the sun were put out than that we were deprived of friends; better to live in darkness than to be without friends. And I will tell you why: many who see the sun are in darkness, but those who are rich in friends can never even be in distress.

I am speaking of spiritual friends, who put nothing ahead of friendship. Such was Paul, who would gladly have given his own soul for them even without being asked — no, would even have plunged into hell for them. With a feeling that burns like that we ought to love.

I want to give you an example of friendship. Friends — friends according to Christ, that is — surpass fathers and sons. Do not tell me about the friends of the present day, for this good thing too has passed away along with others. But think of the time of the apostles. I do not mean the leading men, but the believers themselves in general. “All,” he says, “were of one heart and soul, and not one of them said that any of the things he possessed was his own… and distribution was made to each, as anyone had need” (Acts 4, verses 32 and 35). There were no such words then as “mine” and “yours.” This is friendship: that a man should not consider his goods his own but his neighbor’s, that his possessions belong to another; that he should care for his friend’s soul as for his own; and the friend likewise. [n]

“And where,” someone says, “can such a person be found?” It is because we do not have the will; for it is possible. If it were not possible, Christ would not have commanded it, and he would not have spoken so much about love. Friendship is a great thing, and how great, no one can learn and no words can show, only experience itself. It is this that has caused the heresies. This is what keeps the Greeks Greeks.

The one who loves does not want to command or to rule; he is rather grateful when he is ruled and commanded. He would rather do a favor than receive one, for he loves, and he feels as though he has not yet satisfied his longing. He is not so much pleased when good is done to him as when he is doing good. He wants to put his friend under obligation rather than be in his debt; or rather, he wants both to be indebted to him and to have him as his debtor. And he wants both to do favors and not to seem to do them, but to seem to be the debtor himself.

I think perhaps many of you do not understand what has been said. He wants to be the first to do a kindness, and yet not to seem to be first, but to be returning a kindness. This is what God too has done with humankind. He meant to give his own Son for us; but so that he would not seem to be doing a favor, but to be in our debt, he commanded Abraham to offer his son, so that while doing a great kindness he might seem to be doing nothing great.

For when there is no love, we both throw our kindnesses in people’s faces and blow small ones up into great ones. But when there is love, we both hide them and want to make the great ones look small, so that we may seem not to have our friend in our debt, but to be in his debt, even while he is in ours. [p]

I know that most of you do not understand what is being said, and the reason is that I am speaking of a thing that now lives in heaven. If I were speaking of some plant that grows in India, which no one had ever seen for himself, no words could show it to you, though I spoke ten thousand of them. So now too, whatever I say, I say in vain, for no one will be able to understand me. This is a plant planted in heaven, and for its branches it bears not heavy clusters of pearls, but a virtuous life, far more pleasing than they.

What pleasure would you name, the shameful kind or the honorable? The pleasure of friendship surpasses them all, even if you speak of the sweetness of honey. For honey cloys, but a friend never does, as long as he is a friend; rather, the desire for him grows, and such pleasure never reaches the point of having had enough. And a friend is sweeter than this present life. That is why many, after the death of their friends, have not wanted to live any longer. With a friend a person would bear even exile; but without a friend he would not choose to live even in his own country. With a friend even poverty is bearable; but without him both health and riches are unbearable. He has another self. I am at a loss, because I cannot illustrate it with an example; for then I would show that what has been said falls far short of what it ought to be.

These things, then, are so here. But the reward God gives for friendship is so great that it cannot be expressed. He gives a reward for our loving one another — the very thing for which we owe him a reward. “Pray,” he says, “and receive a reward” — for the very thing for which we owe a reward, since it is good things we are asking for. “For what you ask,” he says, “receive a reward. Fast, and receive a reward. Be virtuous, and receive a reward” — though it is rather you who owe a reward. But just as fathers, when they have made their children virtuous, then give them a reward besides — for they are in their children’s debt, because the children have given them pleasure — so God also acts.

“Receive a reward,” he says, “if you are virtuous, for you delight your Father, and for this I owe you a reward. But if you are evil, not so; for you provoke the one who fathered you.” Let us not provoke God, then, but let us delight him, so that we may obtain the kingdom of heaven, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and strength forever and ever. Amen.