Homily 6 — First Thessalonians 4, verses 9 to 12

“But concerning love for the brothers and sisters, we have no need to write to you, for you yourselves are taught by God to love one another. And indeed you do it toward all the brothers and sisters, and those who are in all Macedonia.”

Why, then, when he has spoken to them so earnestly about chastity, and is about to speak about the duty of working and about not grieving for those who have died, does he bring in the chief of all good things, love, as though he were passing it over, and say, “We have no need to write to you”? This too comes from his great wisdom, and belongs to spiritual teaching. He shows two things here. First, that the thing is so necessary that it needs no teaching, for things that are very important are plain to everyone. Second, by saying this he makes them more ashamed than if he had admonished them. For the one who thinks they have behaved rightly, and for that reason does not admonish them, would lead them to it all the sooner, even if they had not behaved rightly.

And notice: he does not speak of love toward everyone, but of love toward the brothers and sisters. “We have no need to write to you.” Then he ought to have kept silent and said nothing, if there was no need. But as it is, by saying there is no need, he has done something greater than if he had said it.

“For you yourselves are taught by God.” See with what high praise he has made God their Teacher in this matter. You do not need to learn from a human being, he says. The prophet says this too: “And they will all be taught by God” (Isaiah 54, verse 13). “For you yourselves,” he says, “are taught by God to love one another. And indeed you do it toward all the brothers and sisters, and those who are in all Macedonia” — and toward all the others, he means. These words are a strong encouragement to make them do so. And I do not merely say that you are taught by God; I know it from the things you do. And on this point he bore witness to them many times. [a]

“But we urge you, brothers and sisters, to abound more and more, and to strive” — that is, to grow, and to strive.

Verses 11 and 12: “To be quiet, to mind your own business, and to work with your hands, just as we commanded you, so that you may walk decently toward those outside, and may have need of nothing.”

He shows how many evils idleness causes, and how many benefits come from hard work. And he makes this plain from things that happen among us, as he often does, and wisely. For most people are led on more by things of this kind than by spiritual things. It is a mark of love for our neighbors not to take from them but to give to them. [b]

And notice this. When he is about to urge and admonish them, he places their good conduct in the middle. He does it so that they may recover from the admonition that came before, and from the threat, when he said, “So whoever rejects, rejects not a human being but God,” and so that they may not chafe at what follows. And this is what working does: a person does not take from others, nor live idly, but by working gives to others. For it is said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20, verse 35).

“And to work,” he says, “with your hands.” Where are those who go looking for spiritual work? Do you see how he takes every excuse away from them by saying, “with your hands”? Does anyone fast with his hands? Or keep all-night vigils, or sleep on the ground? No one can say so. But he is speaking of spiritual work. For this is truly spiritual: that a person should work and give to others, and there is nothing equal to it.

“So that you may walk,” he says, “decently.” Do you see where he touches them? He has not said, “so that you may not be put to shame by begging.” He has hinted at the same thing, but he puts it more mildly, so as to strike them without striking harshly. For if those among us take offense at these things, much more those outside, who find countless accusations and pretexts when they see a man in good health, able to support himself, begging and asking others for help. That is why they call us Christ-peddlers. On this account, he means, “the name of God is blasphemed” (Romans 2, verse 24). But he has said none of these things. He has said only what could touch them most closely: the disgrace of the thing.

Verse 13: “But we do not want you to be ignorant, brothers and sisters, concerning those who are asleep, so that you may not grieve as the rest do, who have no hope.” [e]

These two things, poverty and dejection, distressed them most, and they touch everyone. See, then, how he remedies them. Their poverty came from their goods being taken from them. And if he commands those whose goods had been taken from them for Christ’s sake to support themselves by working, how much more everyone else! That their goods had been taken away is plain from his saying, “You became partners with the churches of God.” How partners with them? “And you accepted joyfully the plundering of your possessions” (Hebrews 10, verse 34).

Here he now begins his discussion of the resurrection. And why? Had he not already discussed that point with them? Yes, but here he touches on some further mystery. What is it? “That we who are alive,” he says, “who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means go ahead of those who have fallen asleep.” The discussion of the resurrection was enough to comfort one who was grieving. But what is said now is enough also to make the resurrection supremely believable.

But first let us speak of what comes before: “But we do not want you to be ignorant, brothers and sisters, concerning those who are asleep, so that you may not grieve as the rest do, who have no hope.” See how mildly he treats them here too. He does not say, “Are you so lacking in understanding” — as he called the Corinthians “foolish” — “that, knowing there is a resurrection, you grieve like those who do not believe?” Instead he speaks very gently, out of respect for their other virtues. And he has not said “concerning the dead,” but “concerning those who are asleep,” offering them comfort from the very start.

“So that you may not grieve,” he says, “as the rest do, who have no hope.” So to torment yourselves over those who have died is to act like those who have no hope. And they do it with reason. For a soul that knows nothing of the resurrection, but thinks this death is death, naturally torments itself, and weeps and mourns beyond bearing, as over those who are lost. But you, who expect a resurrection, why do you mourn? Mourning, then, belongs to those who have no hope.

Listen to this, you women — all of you who love to wail, all of you who in times of mourning bear your sorrow without patience — you are acting like the pagans. And if grieving for the dead is what pagans do, then tell me, whose part is it to beat oneself and tear one’s cheeks? Why do you mourn, if you believe he will rise again, that he has not perished, that the whole thing is only a slumber and a sleep? You answer: Because of his companionship, his protection, the way he cared for our affairs, and all his other services. Then when you lose a child at an early age, who cannot yet do anything, why do you mourn? Why do you long to have him back? He was showing great promise, you say, and I was expecting him to be my support. That is why I miss my husband, that is why I miss my son, that is why I wail and mourn — not because I disbelieve the resurrection, but because I have been left without support and have lost my protector, my companion, who shared everything with me, my comforter. That is why I mourn. I know he will rise again, but I cannot bear the separation in between. A flood of troubles rushes in on me. I am exposed to everyone who wants to harm me. Those of my servants who used to fear me now despise me and trample on me. If anyone received a kindness from him, he has forgotten it. If anyone was wronged by the one who died, he takes out his anger on me to pay back the grudge. These things do not let me bear my widowhood. It is for these things that I torment myself; for these things I weep. [g]

How, then, shall we comfort women like these? What shall we say? How shall we drive away their grief? First, I will try to prove to them that their wailing does not come from the things they mention, but from a passion that has no reason in it. For if you mourn for these things, you ought to mourn the dead always. But if, once a year has gone by, you forget him as though he had never lived, then you are not mourning the dead man or his protection. [h]

Is it that you cannot bear the separation, and the breaking off of your life together? Then what can those women say who even marry a second time? Of course — it is their former husbands they long for! But let us not aim our words at them. Let us speak to those who keep a tender affection for the dead. Why do you mourn your child? Why your husband? The one, because I never had the joy of him; the other, because I expected to have the joy of him longer, you say.

And this very thing — what lack of faith it shows, to think that your husband or your son is your safety, and not God! How can you not think you are provoking him? For often he takes them away for this very reason: so that you may not be so bound to them, and so that he may draw your hopes away from them. For God is jealous, and wants to be loved by us more than anything else — and that is because he loves us exceedingly. You know this is the way of those who are madly in love. They are fiercely jealous, and would rather throw away their life than be outdone in affection by any of their rivals. For this reason too God has taken him: because of words like these.

For tell me, why were there no widowhoods in old times, and no orphans left before their time? Why did he let Abraham and Isaac live so long? Because even while Isaac was living, Abraham put God before him. God said, “Kill him,” and he killed him. Why did he bring Sarah to such a great age? Because even while she was living, Abraham listened to God rather than to her. That is why God said to him, “Listen to Sarah your wife” (from Genesis 21, verse 12). No one, then, provoked God to anger out of love for a husband or a wife, or for the sake of a child’s protection. [i]

But now, because we are sliding downward and have fallen very far, we men love our wives more than God, and we women honor our husbands more than God. That is why he draws us, even against our will, to love him. Do not love your husband more than God, and you will never know widowhood. Or rather, even if it happens, you will not feel it. Why? Because you have an immortal Protector who loves you better. If you love God more, do not mourn; for the one who is more loved is immortal, and he does not let you feel the loss of the one who is less loved.

Let me make this plain to you with an example. Tell me: suppose you have a husband who goes along with you in everything, who is respected, and who makes you honored everywhere and not looked down on — a man respected by all, intelligent and wise, and loving you, so that you are counted happy because of him. And suppose you bear a child with him, and then, before the child reaches maturity, the child dies. Will you feel the grief then? Not at all. For the one who is more loved makes it vanish.

So now, if you love God more than your husband, he will certainly not take him away soon. But even if he should take him, you will not feel the grief. That is why blessed Job felt no crushing pain when he heard of the death of all his children at once: because he loved God more than them. And while the One he loved was living, those things could not grieve him. [j]

What are you saying, my friend? Your husband or your son was your protector? But does your God not care for you? Who gave you your husband himself? Was it not he? And who made you? Was it not he? Surely he who brought you out of nothing into being, and breathed a soul into you, and put a mind in you, and graciously gave you the knowledge of himself, and for your sake did not spare his only Son — does he not care for you? And does your fellow servant care for you? What anger such words deserve!

What have you had of this kind from your husband? You cannot name anything. For if he did you some kindness, it was after he had received kindness, since you began it first. But with God no one can say anything of the sort. For God does not do us good because he has received favors from us. He needs nothing, and does good to humankind out of his goodness alone. He has promised you a kingdom; he has given you immortal life, glory, brotherhood, adoption. He has made you a fellow heir with his only Son. And after such great benefits, do you still think of your husband? What has he given you of this kind?

He has made his sun shine, he has given rain, he feeds you with the harvest year by year. Woe to us for our great ingratitude! [l]

This is why he takes your husband: so that you may not look to him. And do you still cling to him, though he is gone, and forsake God, when your duty was to give thanks and cast it all on him? For what have you received from your husband? The pains of childbirth, and toil, and often insults and reproaches, scoldings and outbursts of anger. Are these not the things that come from husbands? But there are other things too, good ones, you say. What sort are these, then? Did he set off your beauty with costly clothes? Did he put gold ornaments about your face? Did he make you respected by everyone?

But if you are willing, you can adorn yourself with a much better ornament than the one who died gave you. For dignity makes its owner far more admirable than gold ornaments do. This King too has garments — not of that sort, but much better. Clothe yourself in those, if you are willing. What sort are they? There is a clothing with golden fringes; if you are willing, dress your soul in it.

But did he keep you from being looked down on by people? And what is so great about that? Your widowhood keeps you from being looked down on by the demons. Back then you ruled over your servants — if you ruled over them at all. But now, instead of your servants, you have mastery over bodiless powers, rulers, authorities, the ruler of this world. And you do not mention the troubles you shared with him: sometimes the fear of the magistrates, sometimes the preference shown to neighbors. From all these things you are now set free, from dread and fear.

But are you worried about who will support the children left to you? The “Father of the fatherless” will. For tell me, who gave them to you? Do you not hear Christ saying in the Gospels, “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” (Matthew 6, verse 25).

Do you see that your mourning comes not from the loss of his company but from lack of faith? But the children of a father who has died are not as distinguished. Why not? They have God for their Father — and are they not distinguished? How many I can show you, raised by widows, who have become famous, and how many who were raised under their fathers and have been ruined! For if you raise them from their earliest youth as they ought to be raised, they will enjoy an advantage far greater than a father’s protection. That this is the widow’s task — I mean the raising of children — hear Paul saying, “If she has brought up children” (First Timothy 5, verse 10); and again, “She will be saved through childbearing” — he has not said through her husband — “if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control” (First Timothy 2, verse 15). [o]

Instill the fear of God in them from their earliest youth, and he will protect them better than any father. This will be a wall that cannot be broken. For when a guard is posted within, we have no need of defenses outside; but where he is absent, all our outward defenses are useless. This will be wealth to them, and glory too, and ornament. This will make them distinguished, not on earth, but even in heaven.

So do not look at those who are wrapped in golden belts, or those who are carried on horseback, or those who shine in the palaces of kings because of their fathers, or those who have attendants and tutors. For these are perhaps the things that make widows weep over their orphans, as they think: This son of mine too, if only his father were living, would have enjoyed so much happiness. But now he is downcast and without honor, and counts for nothing. Do not think of these things, my friend. Open the gates of heaven in your mind; consider the palace there; see the King who is seated there. Consider whether those on earth can be more distinguished than your son there — and then groan. And if some are well thought of on earth, that is worth no consideration. If you are willing, he may be a soldier in heaven; you may enlist him in the ranks of that army.

For those enlisted there are carried not on horses but in the clouds. They do not walk on earth but are caught up into heaven. They do not have slaves to go before them, but the angels themselves. They do not stand in the presence of a mortal king, but of him who is immortal, the King of kings and Lord of lords. They do not have a leather belt about their waists, but a glory beyond words, and they are more splendid than kings, or than whoever has been most distinguished. For in those royal courts no wealth is required, nor noble birth, nothing but virtue alone; and where that is present, nothing is lacking for winning the highest place. [p]

Nothing is painful to us, if we are willing to pursue wisdom. Look up to heaven, and see how much more splendid it is than the roofs of palaces. And if the floor of the palaces above is so much grander than the palaces below that these may be counted as dirt beside it, then if anyone should be counted worthy to see those palaces fully, what blessedness will not be his!

“But she who is truly a widow, and left all alone, has set her hope on God” (First Timothy 5, verse 5). To whom is this said? To those who have no children, because they are more highly approved and have a greater opportunity to please God, since all their chains have been loosed. There is no one to hold them fast, no one to force them to drag their chains behind them.

You are separated from your husband, but you are united to God. You do not have a fellow servant as your companion; you have your Lord. When you pray, tell me, do you not converse with God? When you read, hear him conversing with you. And what does he say to you? Far kinder words than your husband’s. For even if your husband woos you with sweet words, the honor is not great, since he is your fellow servant. But when the Lord woos his slave, then the courtship is great. How, then, does he court us? Listen to the means he uses: “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11, verse 28). And again, through the prophet, he calls, saying, “Will a woman forget to have compassion on the child of her womb?

But even if a woman should forget, yet I will not forget you, says the Lord” (Isaiah 49, verse 15, in the Greek Old Testament). How great a love these words show! And again, “Turn to me” (Isaiah 45, verse 22); and again elsewhere, “Turn to me, and you will be saved” (Isaiah 44, verse 22). And if someone wanted to choose from the Song of Songs as well, taking it in its more hidden, spiritual sense, he will hear him conversing and saying to every soul that is fitted for him, “My fair one, my dove” (Song of Songs 2, verse 10). What is sweeter than these words? [q]

Do you see how God converses with you? But what? Tell me, do you not see how many children of those blessed women have gone and lie in their tombs? How many have suffered more heavily, and lost their children along with their husbands? Let us pay attention to these things; let us be concerned about these things, and nothing will be hard for us. We will go on spending all our time in spiritual joy, and we will enjoy the eternal blessings. May we all have a share in them, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, strength, honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.