Homily 2 — Second Thessalonians 1, verses 1 to 8

“Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy, to the church of the Thessalonians in God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: grace to you and peace from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” [a]

Most people do and plan everything with an eye to winning the favor of rulers and of those who are greater than themselves. They count it a great thing, and think themselves happy, if they can get it. But if winning favor with men is so great an advantage, how great must it be to find favor with God? That is why he always opens his letters this way and calls this down on them. He knows that if this is granted, nothing afterward will be hard to bear; whatever troubles there may be, all will be cleared away.

And so that you may learn this, think of Joseph. He was a slave, a young man, inexperienced, not yet formed, and suddenly the running of a household was put into his hands, and he had to give an account to an Egyptian master. You know how quick to anger and how unforgiving that people is; and when authority and power are added, their rage is greater, fanned by their power. This too is plain from what the man did afterward. When his wife brought her accusation, he accepted it. And yet it was not the ones holding the garment who had suffered violence, but the one who had been stripped of it. He ought to have said: “If he had heard you raise your voice, as you say, he would have fled. And if he had been guilty, he would not have waited for his master to come home.” But he weighed nothing of this sort. He gave himself over entirely to anger, without reason, and threw him into prison. That is how thoughtless a man he was. And yet from other things too he might have guessed the young man’s good character and intelligence. But because he was so very unreasonable, he never considered any such thing. So this young man had to deal with so harsh a master. He was entrusted with running his whole house, a foreigner, alone, and inexperienced. Yet when God poured out abundant grace on him, he passed through everything as though his trials had never even happened — his mistress’s false accusation, the danger of death, the prison — and at last he came to the royal throne.

This blessed man, then, saw how great the grace of God is, and that is why he calls it down on them. He also achieves something else. He wants to make them well disposed toward the rest of the letter, so that if he should reprove and rebuke them, they would not break away from him. That is why, before anything else, he reminds them of the grace of God, softening their hearts. Even if there is affliction, when they are reminded of the grace by which they were saved from the greater evil, they will not despair at the lesser, but will draw comfort from it. As he has said elsewhere in a letter: “For if, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, will we be saved by his life” (Romans 5, verse 10).

“Grace to you and peace,” he says, “from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Verse 3: “We are bound to give thanks to God always for you, brothers and sisters, as is fitting.”

Again, a sign of great humility. He led them to reflect and consider that if, for our good deeds, others admire not us first but God, we ought to do so all the more. In other respects too he lifts their spirits, because what they suffer calls not for tears and lament but for thanksgiving to God. But if Paul gives thanks for the good of others, what will those suffer who not only fail to give thanks, but even pine away at it?

“Because your faith is growing exceedingly, and the love of every one of you all toward one another is abounding.” [b]

But, you say: “How can faith increase?” It increases when we suffer something terrible for it. It is a great thing for faith to be established and not to be carried off by reasonings. But when the winds assail us, when the rains burst on us, when a violent storm rises on every side and the waves come one after another — then our not being shaken is proof of nothing less than this: that it grows, and grows exceedingly, and rises higher. In a flood, all the rocky and low-lying places are soon covered, but whatever stands high above, the water does not reach. In the same way, faith that has risen high is not dragged down. That is why he does not say, “your faith grows,” but “grows exceedingly, and the love of every one of you all toward one another abounds.”

Do you see how it helps them bear affliction easily, to keep close guard together and to cling to one another? From this, too, came great comfort. So afflictions shake a love and a faith that are weak, but the ones that are strong they make stronger. A soul in grief, when it is weak, can add nothing to itself; but a strong soul does so most of all at such a time.

And notice their love. They did not love one person and not another; it was equal on the part of all. This is what he hinted at by saying, “of every one of you all toward one another.” It was evenly balanced, as the love of one body is. For even now we find love among many, but a love that becomes the cause of division. When we are knit together in groups of two or three — when two, or three or four, are closely bound to one another but draw themselves off from the rest, because they can turn to these few and confide in them in everything — this is the division of love, not love.

Tell me: if the eye were to give the hand the watchful care it has for the whole body, and, withdrawing from the other members, were to attend to that one alone, would it not injure the whole? Certainly. So too, if we confine to one or two people the love that ought to reach the whole church of God, we injure ourselves, and them, and the whole. These things do not come from love but from division: schisms, and rents that tear apart. For even if I separate a member from the whole person and take it away, the part separated is united in itself, continuous, all joined together; yet even so it is a separation, since it is not united to the rest of the body.

What good is it that you love one particular person exceedingly? That is a human love. But if it is not a human love, if you love for God’s sake, then love everyone. For God has commanded us to love even our enemies. And if he has commanded us to love our enemies, how much more those who have never wronged us? But, you say: “I do love, only not in that way.” Rather, you do not love at all. When you accuse, when you envy, when you lay traps, how do you love? “But I do none of these things.” But when someone is spoken ill of, and you do not shut the speaker’s mouth, do not disbelieve what he says, do not check him — what kind of love is that a sign of? “And the love,” he says, “of every one of you all toward one another abounds.” [c]

Verse 4: “So that we ourselves boast of you in the churches of God.” In the first letter, indeed, he says that all the churches of Macedonia and Achaia rang with it when they heard of their faith. “So that we need not say anything,” he says, “for they themselves report about us what kind of welcome we had among you” (First Thessalonians 1, verse 8). But here he says, “so that we boast.” What, then, is he saying? There he says that they need no instruction from him; but here he does not say that we teach them, but “we boast,” and are proud of you. So if we both give thanks to God for you and boast of you among men, you ought all the more to do so for your own good deeds. For if your good actions are worth boasting of for others, how can they be worth lamenting for you? It is impossible to say. “So that we ourselves,” he says, “boast of you in the churches of God, for your endurance and faith.”

Here he shows that a long time had passed. Endurance is shown over a long time, not in two or three days. And he does not simply say endurance. Endurance, properly speaking, belongs to those who do not yet enjoy the blessings promised; but here he speaks of a greater endurance. What kind is that? The kind shown in persecutions. “For your endurance,” he says, “and faith in all your persecutions and in the afflictions that you endure.” They were living among enemies who were constantly trying to harm them from every side, and they were showing an endurance firm and immovable. [d]

Let all those blush who, for the sake of the patronage of men, go over to other teachings. For while the preaching was still in its beginning, poor men who lived on their daily earnings took on themselves the hostility of rulers and of the leading men of the city, when there was nowhere a king or a governor who believed. They submitted to a war that allowed no reconciliation, and even so they were not unsettled.

Verse 5: “Which is a plain sign of the righteous judgment of God.” See how he gathers comfort for them. He had said, “We give thanks to God”; he had said, “We boast among men.” These things are honorable. But what someone who is suffering seeks most is to be delivered from his troubles, and to see vengeance on those who are mistreating him. When the soul is weak it seeks these things most; for the soul that has philosophy does not even seek them. Why, then, does he say, “a sign of the righteous judgment of God”? Here he has glanced at the recompense on both sides, for those who do the wrong and for those who suffer it. It is as though he had said: so that the justice of God may be shown when he crowns you and punishes them. At the same time he comforts them, showing that they are crowned for their own labors and toils, and in proportion to what is right. But he puts their part first. For although a person may long intensely for revenge, he longs first for his reward. That is why he says, “That you may be counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you also suffer.”

So this does not happen because those who harm them are more powerful than they are, but because this is the way they must enter the kingdom. “For through many distresses,” he says, “we must enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14, verse 22). [f]

Verses 6 and 7: “If indeed it is a righteous thing with God to repay with affliction those who afflict you, and to give you who are afflicted rest with us, at the revelation of the Lord Jesus from heaven with the angels of his power.”

The words “if indeed” are used here for “because,” as we too use them when we speak of things that are perfectly plain and not to be denied. It is instead of saying, “because it is supremely just.” “If indeed,” he says, “it is a righteous thing with God” to punish these people, he will certainly punish them. It is as though he had said, “if God cares for human affairs,” or “if God gives thought to things.” He does not put it forward as his own opinion, but among the things everyone admits to be true — as if someone said, “if God hates the wicked,” to make his hearers grant that he does hate them. Sentences like this are, above all others, beyond dispute, since the hearers themselves know that it is just. For if this is just among men, much more is it with God.

“To repay with affliction,” he says, “those who afflict you, and to give you who are afflicted rest.” What then? Is the recompense equal? Not at all. See from what follows how he shows that the one is more severe, and the rest far greater. Look, here is another comfort: those who are their partners in the afflictions are their partners in the recompense too. He joins them in their crowns with those who had done countless more and greater works. Then he adds the time as well, and by his description leads their minds upward. With his words he all but opens heaven already and sets it before their eyes. He places the host of angels around the Lord, magnifying the picture both by the place and by the attendants, so that they may be refreshed a little. “And to you who are afflicted, rest with us,” he says, “at the revelation of the Lord Jesus from heaven with the angels of his power.” [g]

Verse 8: “In flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God, and on those who do not obey the good news of our Lord Jesus.”

If those who have not obeyed the good news suffer vengeance, what will those not suffer who, besides their disobedience, also afflict you? And see his good sense. Here he does not say “those who afflict you,” but “those who do not obey.” So even if not on your account, then on his own account it is necessary to punish them. This is said to give full assurance that it is altogether necessary for them to be punished. What was said before was said so that the Thessalonians too might be honored, because their enemies suffer these things on their account. The one makes them believe in the punishment; the other makes them glad, because it is for what was done to them that their enemies suffer these things.

All this was said to them, but it applies to us too. So when we are in affliction, let us think about these things. Let us not rejoice at the punishment of others as though we were being avenged, but as ourselves escaping such punishment and vengeance. What good is it to us when others are punished? Let us not, I beg you, have souls like that. Let the kingdom draw us on to virtue. The one who is exceedingly virtuous is moved neither by fear nor by the kingdom, but acts for Christ’s sake alone, as Paul did. Still, let us think even in this way about the blessings of the kingdom and the miseries of hell, and so govern and train ourselves; let us bring ourselves in this way to the things we must practice.

When you see anything good and great in this present life, think of the kingdom, and you will count it nothing. When you see anything terrible, think of hell, and you will laugh at it. When you are gripped by the desire of the flesh, think of the fire; think too of the pleasure of sin itself, that it is worth nothing, that it does not even have pleasure in it. If the fear of the laws made here has such power to hold us back from wicked actions, how much more should the memory of the things to come — the vengeance that never dies, the punishment that is everlasting? If the fear of an earthly king holds us back from so many evils, how much more the fear of the eternal King?

How, then, can we have this fear constantly? If we listen continually to the Scriptures. If the mere sight of a dead body so weighs down the mind, how much more must hell and the unquenchable fire, how much more the worm that never dies! If we always think of hell, we will not quickly fall into it. That is why God has threatened punishment. If thinking of it did not bring great benefit, God would not have threatened it. But because remembering it can work great good, he has planted the terror of it in our souls like a healthy medicine. [h]

So let us not overlook the great benefit that comes from it, but let us turn to it constantly, at our midday meals and at our evening meals. Talk about pleasant things does the soul no good; it makes it slacker. But talk about painful and sorrowful things cuts away everything loose and undisciplined in it, turns it around, and braces it when it has gone limp. The one who talks about theaters and actors does the soul no good, but inflames it further and makes it more careless. The one who busies himself with other people’s affairs often even drags it into dangers by this curiosity. But the one who talks about hell runs into no danger, and makes the soul more sober.

But are you afraid of how unpleasant such words are? If you keep silent, have you put out hell? Or if you speak of it, have you lit it? Whether you speak of it or not, the fire is boiling up. Let it be spoken of constantly, so that you may never fall into it. It is not possible for a soul anxious about hell to sin readily. Listen to that most excellent advice: “Remember your last end,” it says, “and you will never sin” (Sirach 7, verse 36). A soul afraid of giving an account cannot help being slow to wrongdoing. For fear, when it is strong in the soul, does not allow anything worldly to live in it. If talk about hell, once raised, so humbles the soul and brings it low, will not the thought of it, dwelling constantly in the soul, purify it more than any fire? [i]

Let us not remember the kingdom so much as hell, for fear has more power than the promise. And I know that many would despise ten thousand blessings if they were rid of the punishment, since even now it is enough for me to escape vengeance and not be punished. No one who keeps hell before his eyes will fall into hell. No one who despises hell will escape hell. Among us, those who fear the courts are not caught by them, while those who despise them are the ones who mostly end up before them; so it is here too.

If the people of Nineveh had not feared destruction, they would have been overthrown; but because they feared, they were not overthrown. If the people of Noah’s time had feared the flood, they would not have been drowned. And if the people of Sodom had feared, they would not have been burned up by fire. It is a great evil to despise a threat. The one who despises a threat will soon learn its reality when it is carried out. Nothing is so profitable as to talk about hell. It makes our souls purer than any silver. Listen to the prophet saying, “Your judgments are always before me” (from Psalm 17, verse 22, in the Greek Old Testament). For although it pains the hearer, it benefits him very much.

All things that do good are like this. Medicines too, and food, first annoy the sick person and afterward do him good. And if we cannot bear harsh words, it is plain that we will not be able to bear affliction when it comes in fact. If no one can stand a talk about hell, it is evident that if persecution came, no one would ever stand firm against fire and against the sword. Let us train our ears not to be too soft and tender, for from this we will come to endure even the realities. If we grow used to hearing of terrible things, we will grow used to enduring terrible things too. But if we are so slack that we cannot bear even words, when will we stand against deeds? [l]

Do you see how the blessed Paul despises everything here, and dangers one after another, as not even trials? Why? Because he had practiced despising hell for the sake of what God willed. He counted even the experience of hell as nothing for the love of Christ, while we cannot even bear a talk about it for our own good.

Now then, having heard a little, go your way. But I beg you, if there is any love in you, turn back constantly to talk about these things. It can do you no harm, even if it should not help; but it certainly will help you too. For the soul takes its shape from what we talk about. “Evil conversations,” he says, “corrupt good character.” So good conversations improve it, and fearful talk makes it sober. The soul is a kind of wax. If you apply cold words to it, you harden it and make it callous; but if fiery ones, you melt it, and once you have melted it, you shape it to whatever you want and engrave the royal image on it. So let us stop our ears against empty talk. It is no small evil, for from it come all evils.

If our mind had been trained to turn to divine talk, it would not turn to other kinds; and not turning to others, neither would it go on to evil actions. Words are the road to deeds. First we think, then we speak, then we act. Many people who were self-controlled before have often gone on from disgraceful words to disgraceful deeds. For our soul is neither good nor evil by nature; it becomes one or the other by choice. The sail carries the ship wherever the wind may blow — or rather, the rudder steers the ship, if the wind is favorable. In the same way thought will sail without danger if good words waft it from a favorable quarter; but if the opposite, they will often even swamp its reason. What winds are to ships, words are to souls. You can move it and turn it wherever you want. That is why someone giving advice says, “Let all your talk be in the law of the Most High” (Sirach 9, verse 15). [n]

So I urge you: when we receive our children back from the nurse, let us not accustom them to old wives’ tales. From their earliest youth let them learn that there is a judgment, that there is a punishment; let it be fixed in their minds. This fear, once rooted in them, produces great good. A soul that has learned from its earliest youth to be held in check by this expectation will not quickly shake off this fear. Like a horse obedient to the bridle, with the thought of hell seated on it, it will walk in good order, and will both speak and utter things that are profitable. Neither youth, nor riches, nor being orphaned, nor anything else will be able to harm it, since it has its reason so firm and so able to hold out against everything.

With these words let us bring into order both ourselves and our wives, our servants, our children, our friends, and, if possible, our enemies. With these words we can cut away the greater part of our sins. And it is better to dwell on painful things than on pleasant ones, as is plain from this. Tell me: if you go into a house where a wedding is being celebrated, for a while you are delighted by the sight; but afterward, when you have gone away, you pine with grief that you do not have as much. But if you go into the house of mourners, even if they are very rich, you will come away rather refreshed. There you have not conceived envy, but comfort and consolation in your poverty. You have seen from the facts themselves that riches are no good and poverty no evil, but that they are things indifferent. [o]

So also now: if you talk about luxury, you vex your soul all the more, since perhaps it cannot live in luxury. But if you speak against luxury and bring in talk about hell, the thing will cheer you and bring you much pleasure. When you consider that luxury will not be able to defend us at all against that fire, you will not seek it; and if you reflect that it usually kindles that fire even more, you will not only not seek it, but will turn away from it and reject it.

Let us not avoid talk about hell, so that we may avoid hell. Let us not banish the memory of punishment, so that we may escape punishment. If the rich man had reflected on that fire, he would not have sinned; but because he never kept it in mind, he fell into it. Tell me, my friend: when you are about to stand before the judgment seat of Christ, do you talk about everything rather than that? When you have a case before a judge, often about nothing more than words, day and night, at every hour and season, you talk of nothing else, but always of that business. And when you are about to give an account of your whole life and to undergo a trial, can you not bear even to have others remind you of that judgment? [p]

This is why everything is ruined and undone. When we are about to stand before a human court over the matters of this life, we set everything in motion, we appeal to everyone, we are constantly anxious about it, we do everything for its sake. But when we are about, before long, to come before the judgment seat of Christ, we do nothing, either by ourselves or through others; we do not plead with the Judge. And yet he grants us a long season of forbearance. He does not snatch us away in the middle of our sins, but gives us time to put them away, and that goodness and love for humankind leaves nothing undone of all that is his part. But it is all to no avail; and for this reason the punishment will be the heavier.

But far from it — may it not be so! So, I beg you, let us become watchful, even if only now. Let us keep hell before our eyes. Let us think about that reckoning which no plea can bend, so that, thinking of those things, we may both avoid vice and choose virtue, and may be able to obtain the blessings promised to those who love him, by 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 always, and forever and ever. Amen.